I hitch her legs up so she can straddle my waist and take my dick in hand. Her eyes flutter shut as I slide the broad head between the wet folds from her pussy to her clit but we can’t spend too much time playing, and from the way her nails are digging into my shoulders, I don’t think she wants to wait.
“Now,” she orders. Yup. No waiting for her.
I guide the blunt tip to her opening and slide in, slow and gentle so I don’t hurt her. Her bare walls grip me tight, eroding my control. The impulse to jackhammer inside her until the back of my head explodes takes over. My hips start thrusting as I work my way into her hot passage.
“Sorry. Fuck.” I mutter incomplete phrases, hoping she understands that she’s just so fucking hot, I can’t stop myself.
She laughs, a breathy sort of chuckle, and grips my face in both hands. Her brown eyes are full of happiness and love. She bares her teeth and squeezes her cunt so hard I nearly pass out. “I want you. I want you to fuck me as hard and fast as you can, Matty. ”
Oh, God. Her permission makes me wild. I palm an ass cheek in either hand and do exactly what she told me to because, as she is my girl, I am totally, completely, irrevocably hers.
* * *
Our victory fucking doesn’t last near long enough. As soon as we exit the bathroom—disheveled but blissed out—Hammer jumps me.
“We got to jet, brother.”
Reluctantly, I nod. We were hours past curfew and all of us were going to be toast for tomorrow’s spring game.
“I’ll see you back at Western, Goldie. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She rises on her tiptoes to give me another kiss but Hammer drags me away before it lands.
“You kiss her again and you’ll be back in that bathroom stall for another fifteen minutes,” he grouses with his big hand on my shoulder, pointing me in the opposite direction of Luce.
He’s not wrong.
As it turns out, we don’t even play because when we pull into the Playground, the entire staff of coaches is lined up on the sidewalk waiting for us.
Coach Lowe wastes no time delivering his pronouncement.
“You’re all seven hours late for curfew. None of you will play in the game tomorrow. You are all benched. You and you,” he points to Ace and I, “are suspended for the first game of the season. This is my team.” He paces in front of us. “Not yours. Mine.” He stops in front of Ace. “Have you made a decision yet?”
The implication is that Ace better have made a decision and it better be the right one.
Ace has no sense of self-preservation. “I’ll know at the start of summer camp.”
Coach swings narrowed eyes in my direction. “And you—where do you stand on this?”
I step up next to Ace and put my hand on his shoulder. “With my QB. We play, sir, for each other. You call the plays. You help us train. You keep us in top athletic form. Our minds sharp. But we do all this because of our brothers. When we’re on the field, the only people next to us are those wearing helmets and pads. Ace is our teammate. Barr, he has yet to earn the gold and blue. Maybe he will. We’ll definitely give him a chance, but for now, Ace is our QB.”
It’s dead silent as Coach Lowe absorbs the loss of his team. We may have been his team at the end of the season, but he lost us in his pursuit of revenge or job security. I don’t know what’s going to happen this fall, but when we hit the field, it won’t be with Lowe on our minds. We’ll be doing it for each other.
That feels right, no matter how many games he decides to suspend me for.
37
Matty
June
“Coming, Matty?”
“Nah, I think I’ll hang here.”
“Fuck that. She has your balls in your purse now?” Sophomore linebacker Hank Coleman mocks.
I cup myself. “Nope. Still here. You can get on your knees and check it out for yourself if you’re unsure.”
Hammer smacks Coleman on the back of the head. “Go get the cab for us, rook.”
“I’m not a rookie,” Coleman protests.
“First year starter? Sounds like a rookie to me.” He shoves Coleman toward the door. Bishop comes up behind me.
“We’ll watch out for you,” Bish says in low tones. “No pictures. No random jockeys.”
It wasn’t pictures that got me into trouble before, but it’s hard to explain to Bish or even Hammer because they’re still in nail-anything-that-moves mode, which is fine. I totally respect that. I enjoyed that time in my life, but I don’t miss it. Not one bit.
“Nah, I’m good.” Tonight is the first night of summer camp. We’re holed up in some monastery five hours north of the Western campus. The town is small, but there are a few bars. I have zero interest in going out.
Bish tilts his head. “Between you and Masters, I’m wondering if I’m missing something.”
“What can I say?” I spread my hands. “It’s good.”
It’s been better than good. Classes finished up and Luce and I spent a month just hanging around before I had to come back for summer school. She worked, and I met her dad. He likes to play golf in his downtime, which is cool. I’m not much of a golfer, but he was a patient tutor and didn’t give me a hard time for being Luce’s boyfriend.
I even met her mom, who came off as sad more than anything. She asked about Ace’s dad, and Luce and I left shortly after. I took her home to Colorado Springs to meet my parents. We hiked on Pike’s Peak where I gave Luce my second present.
It wasn’t a piece of jewelry this time. It was a twenty-four-hour glucose monitor. The thing was more expensive than a diamond, but the features are amazing. Through a little needle pack stuck to her stomach or arm, it constantly monitors her blood sugar level and feeds the information to an app on her phone. If the numbers are off, she’ll get an alert.
Okay, so maybe the gift was just as much for me as it was for her, but her eyes glowed so bright, I thought she might explode. Safe to say she loved it. Better than a piece of jewelry, in my opinion, although I like seeing my necklace around her collar. Every time I look at it, I think I bought that. She’s mine.
The guys go off in search of town strange, and I wander back into the hotel.
“Come on.” Ahmed pulls me toward a conference room.
“What the fuck is this?” Inside the double doors are a few couches arranged around eight televisions and several game consoles. I see a number of guys there…Jesse shoves me onto one of the cushions and hands me a controller.
“Who do you want to be?”
I check out my options. “Princess Daisy.”
“Alright.” He picks Bowser.
“What is this?” I ask him.
“Mario Kart.” He gives me a you’re an idiot look.
“I know what the game is, but what is this?” I wave the controller around the room. “And how did I not know about it before?”
“You didn’t want to know about it before.”
And it occurs to me that this is why the guys who have serious partners are not out getting photographed with a bunch of girls hanging off of them. I shrug and settle in for a hardcore game of Mario Kart, and I have as much fun at summer camp as I can remember.
* * *
Lucy
“Hey, Ace.” I only open the door a crack when I see him standing on the front porch. Matt’s out back grilling, and I don’t really want my Fourth of July to be ruined by a fight between them. Dad’s working today to get the double-time pay but will be home tonight for fireworks.
“Can we talk?” He reminds me so much of that sad little boy I found on my steps crying because his dad left. All I knew at the time was that my mom made him sad, and I wasn’t going to hurt him like my mom had.
But so much time and so many things have gone on since then, I’m not sure what kind of friendship I can have with him anymore. Still, I can’t close the door in his face.
“Sure.” I step out onto the porch.
“I…I want to apologize for what happened betw
een us.”
A little tension seeps away. “Thank you.”
“I’m not going to be seeing you much.”
“Oh?”
“You heard of MU?”
I shake my head. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“It’s a football school in Kentucky. Knox Masters' brother goes there. Plays Defensive End.” There goes Ace again, getting into the weeds of football talk. I try not to let my eyes glaze over. “Anyway, their quarterback got hurt last season. Tore his ACL and he announced he wasn’t coming back. Guess he’s a med student and decided that he’d had enough. They’ve contacted me and offered me the scholarship. No guarantee at starting, but I can compete for the job.”
“Oh, Ace. I’m happy for you.” I reach out and grab his hand.
“I know it might be a stupid decision. That I might be throwing away a chance at the pros by not going to safety, but I’d always regret not trying to follow my dream, particularly when one of them closed here.”
I don’t know if he’s talking about me or the team, but I don’t ask. It’s a question that doesn’t need to be asked. But after this past semester, I fully believe in the try it, what’s the worst thing that can happen philosophy because oh, Lord, the rewards are so good.
“I’m going to miss you, but if this is your dream, I fully support it.”
“Thanks.”
“Hug?”
“Yeah.”
I wrap my arms around his solid waist and squeeze him tight. He holds me in return. I love this boy as the brother I never had and I try to convey that in my embrace. He gives me a kiss on my forehead and then releases me to walk down my sidewalk and out of my life.
A few tears fall as I re-enter my house. Matt’s just inside the door.
“He tell you?”
“Yeah.” I give him a watery smile.
“You doing okay?” He draws me into his arms and places his lips on the same spot Ace kissed.
“I am. I’m going to miss him. He’s been a big part of my life.”
“Yeah?”
There’s a little defensiveness in that word. I lean back and stroke Matt’s cheek, which is tenser than usual. “Yeah, but my heart’s not going with him. It’s here with you.”
He loosens up. “I knew that.”
“‘Course you did.”
Matty wraps his arm around my shoulder. “He’ll come back to you in a better place.”
“I hope so.”
“What’s this?” Matty leans over the table and fingers the LSAT application.
“I’m applying for law school.”
“You can still do that?” he asks excitedly.
My eyes shine with glee. “I can.”
“That’s fucking awesome, Lucy.”
“I know.”
He wraps both arms around me. “Where are you going to go?”
“I dunno. Part of it depends on where my boyfriend gets drafted. I’d like to attend near him.”
If it’s possible, Matty’s smile grows even bigger. “You have the best plans for the future, Goldie.”
“I have a good one for the present, too.”
“Please tell me it involves nudity and possibly a bit of whipped cream.”
“I was thinking more chocolate sauce and rope, but I can add in the whipped cream. The nudity’s a given.”
Matty’s already peeling off his T-shirt by the time I get my last words out. He looks over his bare shoulder, the action making his muscles bunch in the back. Had I at one time really said I wasn’t into muscles? I must have been doped up on some too-serious-sauce. “You coming?”
“I hope so. I really, really hope so.”
Then I race forward and jump on his back, and we tumble into my room, ripping off each other’s clothes and kissing each other like we haven’t touched each other in weeks.
Matty might have been my biggest risk, but he is sure as hell the best reward a girl could ever have.
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Author’s Note
National Signing Day is generally the first Wednesday of February, but for the sake of the story, I pushed it back a few weeks. I also took a lot of liberties with how the mock trial tournament in college is run to make the final scene more exciting. I hope those familiar with both will forgive me these literary licenses.
Acknowledgments
If you can’t tell from the book, I love football. The idea for this book grew out of the story of Braxton Miller from Ohio State University. Miller was a heralded quarterback for 2011, 2012, and 2013. He missed the 2014 season due to injury and when he returned, he had to compete with two other players for the QB position. In June of 2015, he announced he would move to wide receiver.
He handled the transition with such grace and aplomb that I couldn’t help but admire him. Plus, he made a kick-ass wide receiver. I hope I get to see him play in the NFL.
This book would not have been written without my family’s support and that of a few amazing friends. Thank you to Elle, Daphne, Jess, Meljean, Michelle, Mel, Nina, Nicole (an amazing assistant), Lea (wands up!), Lisa, and Robin.
Special thanks goes out to Nicole McCurdy and Joy Ann Jumaud who tirelessly recommend my book to others. Thank you so much, ladies!
And finally, a shout out to the ladies of the Locker Room, The Chroniclers, and all the amazing bloggers who share their love of books with others. The romance community would be lost without you. I know I would be.
And to all the readers who love books, I salute you!
#GetSacked
by Jen Frederick
What he wants he gets...
Knox Masters is a quarterback's worst nightmare. Warrior. Champion. And...virgin. Knox knows what he wants--and he gets it. All American Football player? Check. NFL pros scouting him? Check. Now, he's set his sight on two things. The national title. And Ellie Campbell. Sure, she's the sister of his fellow teammate, but that's not going to stop him. Especially not when he’s convinced Ellie is the one.
...but he's never met her before.
But Ellie isn't as sure. She's trying to start a new life and she's not interested in a relationship...with anyone. Beside it's not just her cardinal rule of never dating her brother's teammates that keeps her away, but Ellie has a dark secret that would jeopardize everything Knox is pursuing.
Knox has no intention of losing. Ellie has no intention of giving in.
SACKED
Knox
Preseason
“Thunderstruck” is the song that plays before the Florida Gators and the Alabama Crimson Tide take the field. When future hall of fame John Smoltz walked out of the bullpen to close out a game for the Braves, the distinctive licks hailed down from the sound system and the crowd screamed thunder in unison.
It’s the soundtrack of the beat down the assholes in Varsity Blues receive after their trip to the strip club on Friday night, like none of them had ever seen tits or ass before. Shit, even the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders run out to the fucking song. I’ve kind of hated it, mostly because we don’t play the sick grind when we run onto the field.
Right now, as the sun peeks over the top of the stands and lays a solid ray of love on the field of my greatest accomplishments to date, and the girl sitting by me waxes poetic about the greatest game in the world, I get it.
Her.
This one.
The universe is talking to me. I don’t need lightning or a tornado throwing a car at my head. I don’t need a running back barreling through the line at top speed to drive home the message. It’s in the curve of her cheek, the delicate arch of her neck. It’s in her sweet legs and the longing in her face. She loves this place as I love it. She understands that winning at this game is about the head and the heart, not just the bo
dy.
I’d like to press her down on the concrete risers and show her exactly how well my head, heart and body work in unison. I breathe deep and try to get a grip on my rampaging emotions.
“And what about you? What are your plans?”
“I want to get a job. Not have to rely on my parents. Their...financial support is like a choker rather than a buoy.” She scrapes a hand over her head and down her ponytail. “God, I don't know why I'm telling you this.”
Because you know it’s me. That I’m the one for you, just as you’re the one for me. Like recognizes like. However, she’s not seeing it as clearly. Already I can see her withdrawing, a little embarrassed by what she found herself sharing.
“It's the seats. The air is too thin up here.” I squint down toward the field. “The reason that you like these seats up here is because you’re lightheaded and possibly unconscious during most of the game, making all the shitty plays seem like a bad dream.” I stretch out my legs. “Worse there’s no leg room.”
“You’re supposed to stand,” she chides with gentle mocking. “You can’t sit while the mighty Warriors take the field of battle.”
I laugh. When she grins back at me in return I feel winded, and not from any exercise I’ve done this morning.
“I think it’s okay to sit during timeouts,” I manage to joke. I’m glad I’m sitting down, because if I’d been standing when she threw me that smile, I’d have fallen over.
“I can’t see you resting much.”
“I may have been a headache for my mom,” I admit.
Another smile, only a little one this time, tips the corner of her lips. I guess the idea of me being a hellion amuses her. I fold my hands behind my head. From my vantage point, I appear a little under a foot taller than her.
Jockblocked (Gridiron Book 2) Page 32
