Quarterback's Baby: A Secret Baby Romance

by Roxeanne Rolling

  Quarterback’s Baby

  A Secret Baby Sports Romance

  Roxeanne Rolling

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Running Back’s Baby

  About Roxeanne Rolling

  Copyright © 2017 by Roxeanne Rolling

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is intended for readers over the age of 18. All sexual acts described are between consenting adults over the age of 18.

  1

  Lia

  “Have you seen my yoga pants?” I say.

  “What?” comes Jane’s sleepy reply. She’s my roommate, my best friend, and I love her to death, but she really has a problem with getting up on time. Not to mention being coherent when she wakes up.

  “My yoga pants!” I say, exasperated and frantic. “I need them, Jane. Didn’t you borrow them and wash them?”

  “Wash them?” says Jane.

  I groan.

  “You borrowed them and didn’t wash them?” I say.

  “Maybe,” says Jane, mumbling something unintelligible.

  “I’m taking yours,” I say, moving over to her side of the dorm room. I flip through her drawers until I find a pair of tight athletic work out pants. “I don’t know why you didn’t just wear your own, instead of borrowing mine.”

  I pull the pants up, and check out my ass in the mirror. I’ve never been confident about my looks, but recently I’ve been excited to see that I’m finally starting to fill out. Others noticed it first, giving me strange compliments, and a lot of looks from a certain gender. Somehow, I was the last to notice.

  “See you later,” I say to Jane, as I grab my bag.

  I rush through the dorm room hallway that’s filled with event posters. Outside, I drop myself into the stream of foot traffic, students headed every which way.

  It’s my first day interning at the student physical therapy center. It’s a huge campus, with over 40,000 undergrads alone, so we have every kind of medical facility you could imagine. It’s part of my work study program, a necessary step if I want to pursue my PhD in physical therapy and get my license.

  I pause briefly outside the huge, intimidating building, with the other students streaming by me. Someone jostles me, and I stumble for a moment, but I catch myself before falling down. That wouldn’t be a good way to make a first impression—arriving on my first day bruised, with pants torn from a brush with the concrete.

  I take a deep breath and enter the building.

  “I’m Lia Horton,” I say to the secretary. “I’m starting the first day of my work study program.”

  “Jamie told me you were coming,” she says. She’s a big woman with a beehive sort of hairdo that I haven’t seen in years. “Follow me.”

  I follow her through a maze of exercise equipment. Students and professors are there, along with a healthy amount of community members. They’re lifting free weights, using the machines, running on treadmills.

  I immediately feel self-conscious. The last time I worked out was… maybe when I was 18, and I rode my bike around the block a couple times. That was four years ago, and unless you count rushing to the vending machines when I’m hungry, I’m definitely not a workout sort of girl.

  I know, that’s not what you’d expect from someone going into physical therapy. Basically, I’m a huge nerd. I love learning about how the human body works, and physical therapy will give me a way to apply my knowledge of body mechanics. It’ll allow me to turn my knowledge into something that will actually help people.

  “Here you go,” says the large secretary, stopping in front of a hugely muscular man with longish hair tied up behind his head. “Shane’s been trying to rehabilitate his shoulder. You know what to do, right?”

  I pause in front of the muscled man resembling a Greek God. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt that shows off his bulging, dense muscles. He’s doing squats, lifting a huge quantity of weight up and down. The metal bar rests above the small of his back, below his neck. I’m at his side, and I watch his muscular ass stick out as he squats down impossibly low with the weight. He breathes in and out slowly. Somehow it sounds impossibly sexy.

  It’s the three of us stuck in the corner of this large room filled with exercise equipment.

  The muscular Shane ignores us completely, staring straight ahead intently as he works out.

  The secretary is staring at me, waiting for a reply.

  My heart’s pounding in my chest. I’m supposed to work with this Greek God, this Adonis? I can barely get out a couple of intelligent words to any guy who’s vaguely attractive. How am I going to coach this man, let alone talk to him?

  “You do know what to do, right?” says the secretary, watching me expectantly.

  “Uh,” I mumble. “I thought I was going to be like tagging along with a physical therapist or something?”

  The secretary laughs.

  “Honey, you’re in your last year of school, right?”

  I nod my head.

  “It’s time you figure something out on your own. The physical therapists here have real problems to deal with. They’re insanely busy right now, especially after that bus full of lacrosse players crashed.”

  I nod my head as if I understand.

  “You’re just going to have to do the best you can.”

  The secretary walks off, weaving her way through a group of men lifting kettle bells.

  I stand, frozen, staring at the muscular monster in front of me, who doesn’t stop doing squats even for a moment.

  This is not how I thought my work study program would start.

  At first, I try to keep my eyes off Shane. It seems impossible to not just stare at him, to admire his body longingly.

  But I can’t exactly find a good place to look. I end up staring at the blank wall, and then I realize that this is even more awkward.

  After all, I’m supposed to be helping him rehabilitate his shoulder. I’m supposed to be watching him.

  So I purposefully direct my gaze back to him.

  I take in his seriously impressive body. I feel a slight tingling down there.

  I try to watch his shoulder, but it’s not moving much during squats.

  Shane grunts as he finishes his set, dropping the bar onto the metal rack with a crash. He stands up and moves his arms back and forth in front of him, trying to get his muscles to loosen up.

  Finally, he looks at me.

  “Hey,” he says, flashing me a grin. “So you’re my new trainer?”

  I nod shyly.

  He looks me up and down and his grin grows, his gaze hanging for an eternity on my breasts and my hips.

  “You look familiar,” I say. “Were you in a class with me or something?”

  He laughs.


  “I look familiar?” he says. “I’m the quarterback.”

  Oh! Now I feel like an idiot.

  That’s who Shane is. Shane Demmers, the famous starting quarterback. He’s my year, and his picture has been plastered all over campus for as long as I can remember. Sometimes, it feels like the entire population of our 40,000 students simply won’t shut up about Shane Demmers and how far he can throw the ball, or how sexy he is.

  I laugh, to cover up my embarrassment.

  “Well,” I say. “Let’s take a look at that shoulder, shall we. What’s going on with it?”

  Shane chuckles. “No offense,” he says. “But I think I need a real physical therapist. They’re going to draft me this summer, you know. I don’t need some amateur messing me up even more.”

  Frankly, I couldn’t agree more.

  If there’s one thing I know right now, it’s that I am definitely not qualified to treat the shoulder of a huge football star.

  2

  Shane

  I can’t take my eyes off her, and I don’t know if she notices or not. Not that I care.

  She wears those tight athletic pants that hug her perfect curved hips. When she turns slightly, I catch a glimpse of the side of her bubble ass, divided in those tight pants.

  She gets my cock moving, gets it waking up.

  “Look,” I say. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a lot riding on this. I really think I need someone with a little bit more experience. You’re a student, right?”

  She nods her head shyly.

  “But,” I say. “Even though you can’t help me with this, why don’t you make it up to me by taking me out to dinner?”

  “To dinner?” she says, her eyes widening.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Uh, ok, sure,” she says.

  She recites me her phone number, but instead of punching in the numbers myself, I just hand her my phone so that she can program the numbers in herself.

  “I totally get it,” she says. “I’m really not qualified to do this. I don’t know how they managed to make this mistake.”

  I shrug. “Everyone screws up,” I say. “That’s just the way it is.”

  I watch her bubble ass swaying as she disappears. I watch as she speaks to the secretary for a while before leaving.

  They were really going to set me up with a student without any experience? Doesn’t the school know how valuable I am? Don’t they get it? I bring the school so much fucking money that it’s just insane. And it’s not the football team. It’s just me. They wouldn’t be anything without me. Nothing.

  My cock is raging hard in my gym shorts from seeing her disappear.

  Lia, I think her name was Lia.

  At least I’ll get laid out of this mistake.

  Not that it’s hard for me to pick up women. Honestly, I don’t even really have to do anything to get them into my bed. They tend to come to me.

  I complete the rest of my squats with a hard-on. I get a few looks, as my body moves up and down in the squat rack, my cock sticking straight out, high and proud. But I don’t give a shit. I’ve never cared what others think about me. That’s not my game. That’s not my thing.

  I head into the locker room. I can’t do the rest of my normal lifting routine because of my shoulder, which kills me every time I try to do anything with it. It was only by accident that I discovered that squats are OK because the shoulder remains static through the movement.

  “What’s going on, big guy?” calls out someone as I get into the showers, my cock still hard.

  “What the hell are you doing looking at me?” I say, not knowing who’s calling out to me.

  A face appears around the wall of the shower.

  “Jones!” I say, recognizing his face instantly. “Dude, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were working on Wall Street or something?”

  “Just came to check out the old alma matter at the end of the year,” says Jones.

  Jones was on the football team with me, but he graduated last year. He wasn’t quite good enough to go pro, so he went to work on Wall Street instead, where he makes a ton of money.

  “You’re just trying to pick up that college tail, aren’t you?” I say.

  “You know me too well,” says Jones.

  He’s wearing a slick business suit, the type of clothing that he wouldn’t have been caught dead in a year ago.

  His eyes travel down to my still-raging cock.

  “A little excited today, eh? The workout did that to you, or did you meet some hot piece of ass in there?”

  “The second,” I say. “And stop looking at my cock, dude.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Lia, I think,” I say. “They assigned her to be my rehabilitation trainer or something, but she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing.”

  “Sounds like a classic recipe for romance,” says Jones. “Hey, what do you say we hit the campus bar after you’re all done jerking off in here.”

  “How did you know?” I say, winking at him.

  “Dude, you were always jacking off all the time, even though you got laid like twice a day.”

  “Try three times a day,” I call out to him, as he walks away, leaving me naked in the shower, in the middle of soaping up.

  “You wish,” he calls back. “I’ll see you at the bar.”

  He’s gone, and I’m left alone in the showers.

  I close my eyes as the hot water pours over my body. I think of her, of Lia, if that’s actually her name. It’s hard to remember the names of all the chicks I’ve been with.

  She’s going to be perfect in bed… or wherever I take her, wherever I sink my cock into her sweet wet pussy.

  I imagine she’s here in front of me, wearing the same clothes she wore in the gym, those tight pants. But she’s soaked from the water. She kneels down in front of me and takes my massive cock in her tight tiny mouth. She bobs her head and I grip her skull with my hands, forcing my fingers through her soaking hair. I thrust my hips and shove my cock deep into her pretty little mouth, her lips pursed around the shimmering, girthy shaft. I explode in her tight mouth.

  I’m breathing heavy when I finish.

  She’s going to be just perfect for tonight.

  I towel off quickly and start getting dressed.

  My cell phone rings, and I fish it out of the duffel bag that I carry everywhere.

  “Shane?”

  “What’s up, Dad?” I say.

  My dad’s a big executive at a firm in Chicago where I’m from. We hardly ever speak on the phone. Unlike me, he’s very serious. He’s always just talking about business all the time. I can’t remember the last time I saw him show any emotion whatsoever on his face.

  “I’ve got some bad news,” says my dad.

  “Shit,” I mutter. “It’s Jack, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, he’s not doing well.”

  Fuck.

  Jack’s my brother, and he’s been in and out of rehab since I was a kid. He’s ten years older than me, and he’s never had a real job.

  “What happened this time?” I say.

  “He’s been arrested.”

  3

  Lia

  I can’t believe it. I’ve got a date with Shane, the campus’s most famous quarterback. He’s famous not just for being the best player, but for being basically the hottest guy to ever walk the earth.

  He’s also well known for his, uh, prowess in certain sexual matters. Apparently he does things that no other man can. He makes women feel like they’ve never felt before. The only problem? No campus girl ever gets a second chance with him.

  Instead of being a one-woman kind of guy, he’s a one-night kind of guy. You’re lucky if you get one shot with him, one night.

  As I walk to class, through the throngs of students, I’m not even thinking about how embarrassing it was having him reject me as a student trainer.

  But, I mean, he’s got a really good point. I’m not qualified in anyway to rehabilita
te his shoulder. I know things in theory. I understand what the textbook says and I can regurgitate it on a test, but that’s about it.

  I need to start off small, with someone else…

  The secretary isn’t supposed to be my advisor, and she’s not supposed to be giving me assignments. Something must be really screwed up in the department for this to have happened. When I told her what happened, the secretary just threw up her hands in exasperation and told me I’d have to come back later, that she was too busy to deal with me. I’ll have to go see my advisor later and sort things out.

  “Hey,” says a voice I recognize as Jane.

  She runs up from behind me, and now slows to my walking pace.

  “How’d it go?”

  I tell her what happened. The first part.

  “That sucks,” she says.

  “I’ve got some good news, though,” I say, and I tell her about the date with the famous Shane.

  “I can’t believe it!” says Jane. “You’re going to finally get laid!”

  “Shhh,” I say, covering her mouth with my hand.

  “Eww,” she says, pulling my hand away. “Get off me.”

  “It wasn’t fun for me either,” I say, wiping my hand on shirt. “You got spittle all over my hand.”

  “It was your fault.”

  “I can’t have you telling the whole campus my own personal…”

  “Sexual history?” says Jane, far too loudly.

  “Will you keep it down?” I say.

  “It’s not a big deal,” says Jane. “No one really cares. I mean, half the people around here are probably taking about how they got laid last night and how it was. You think everyone’s walking around talking about finals or something?”

  I know she’s right.

  It’s not that I’m shy about sex. Quite the contrary. I’ve always had a healthy sexual appetite and I love everything about it. I love making out with a guy and getting gradually excited, feeling his hands on me as he first touches me… the whole thing.

  But the truth, the truth that I don’t want anyone to know, is that I haven’t had sex all of senior year. Yup, it’s been a whole year of getting out the frustration myself with my vibrator, hiding under the sheets when Jane is away at class. I have her class schedule memorized, and I take every opportunity I can to keep my body… satisfied… with as many orgasms as I can muster.