Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Kristen Flowers

  I tossed the chopped carrots angrily in the salad bowl before ripping apart the romaine lettuce leaves with my hands, each tear more forceful than the last. “He made me start my final session a few minutes late. He threatened not to come back but changed his mind. He basically told me he’s just using me to get his grades up but then he’ll go. It’s clear he won’t make this easy.” I dashed over to turn off the stove and placed a chicken thigh each on a plate for my mom and myself, huffing the entire time. After arranging the salad on her plate, I turned to see mom’s head cocked and eyebrows raised.

  “What’s that look?”

  “My dear,” she responded quietly as she busied her hands by slowly placing a cloth napkin on her thin legs. I hated to see her struggle with small tasks, but she wanted to do as much as she could on her own.

  “It just seems this particular young man got under your skin quite a bit. Why is that?”

  I clenched my fist and scrunched my eyebrows. “He’s just a dumb jock!” I said defensively. I walked over and placed the plate of food on my mother’s place mat before walking to the refrigerator to get her something to drink.

  “Water is fine dear. Sparkling, of course.” She reached out and took hold of the fork, shutting her eyes and taking a moment to deal with whatever pain she felt. I looked away, determined to focus on the stream of water falling out of the glass bottle and into my mother’s favorite drinking glass. “It’s not wise to be so dismissive of a person.”

  I heard a crunch. I turned to see her munching on a piece of carrot. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t my fault Landon was just a dumb jock, but I kept the comment to myself. He was entitled and arrogant and I wanted nothing to do with it but, unfortunately, I wasn’t really in a position to call him off as a tutoring client. The unfairness of it all wasn’t lost on me, but I tried not to focus on it.

  “It’s not just that he’s a jock, mom,” I tried to explain, but figured it was pointless.

  “You weren’t raised to be a snob, my dear,” she said before tasting the chicken and nodding in approval. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking only jocks and cheerleaders can be arrogant.” She paused and looked at me with fondness. “Intelligent people, those of academia, are also susceptible to become snobs in their own way.”

  I sighed. I placed my dinner plate on my place mat and took a seat, tapping the edge of the table with the tip of my index finger. I knew my mom was right, but Landon’s behavior had bothered me even more than I’d thought. I took a large gulp of water hoping it would calm the burning in my cheeks and pointedly ignored my mother’s looks. I felt bad for a moment.

  Was I making some kind of snap judgment about him? One that was very much colored by the fact that he was a football player? I couldn’t deny it. I thought about it for a moment longer before wanting to change the topic and lighten the mood.

  “Well, mom, you’ve been too much of a snob to even think of dating anyone ever since dad passed away.” She laughed. Seeing her eyes light up that way made my day instantly better.

  “Oh no,” she started, “You caught me. I guess we can all be hypocritical from time to time, right dear?” She reached out to grab her glass of sparkling water and winced as she lifted it. I knew the pain was bad today– I could see it in every little movement she made. Even so, she made the effort to clink her glass against mine, “Cheers to being snobs, then, with great taste in men.”

  Cleaning the kitchen up didn’t take long. It was only extended because I had paused to help her to her bedroom and into bed. I gave her the remote control to the TV, kissed her forehead, and walked back out to the kitchen to finish up. When I walked to the living room I realized I didn’t have the energy to tidy up everything else. It was late, I had a long and difficult day, and there was still reading to get done for class. I turned off the lights after making sure the front door was locked and headed down the hallway to my bedroom.

  I sat at my desk with a heavy sigh, relieved the day was over but dreading having to read for school. It took a while for me to realize I was just staring at the printed words on the pages of the book I needed to read for my English Literature class. I sighed and shut the book with a thud. I was several chapters ahead of the rest of the class anyway.

  I got changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed, turning on the television and mindlessly flipping through channels until I finally settled on one showing a documentary on prairie dogs. I ran my hand through my loose, chestnut brown hair and zoned out. The prairie dogs weren’t as interesting as what was playing through my mind. All I could do was replay the scene with Landon storming into the Tutoring Center like he owned the place. For some reason, my replay didn’t go much past that. It was my first glimpse of him in the flesh and in those few seconds he made quite an impression on me. Truthfully, I had never seen someone so confident in his own skin. He was so certain that he was completely deserving of everything and anything he asked for. I couldn’t imagine going through life like that.

  I wanted to be irritated by him like I was earlier, but the more I replayed the same scene in my head the less irritated I was. I started to focus on things I didn’t even know I had noticed, like his bright green eyes, his broad shoulders, and how he towered over me.

  I thought about the way he smirked at me. My skin started to tingle.

  Shit. Did I actually just feel something other than complete disgust for Landon Bryce?

  I got so lost in the picture of him I forgot who he actually was, how I knew him, and how he had behaved towards me. But that jawline, the way he undressed me with his arrogant eyes, and his stupid devilish smile…

  “Fuck it.” I whispered, eager to get this (whatever it was) out of my system.

  I sunk down in the bed, shut my eyes, and got lost in the feeling of my hand wandering slowly down my stomach until I slipped it under the waistband of my pajama shorts.

  I sucked in a quick breath, running my hand over the center of my panties. They were already wet and warm. I pressed down harder and rubbed, arching my back slightly as I felt the tingles around my thighs. I was already too turned on to draw out the buildup so I slipped under my panties and shivered when I touched my bare center.

  I was anxious and already seeking relief. My other hand ran over my stomach before brushing under my shirt to massage my breast. I trailed my finger up and down my wet folds before easing it into myself; drawing out a rattled breath. I quickly slipped in a second. My mind flashed back to him. I imagined his fingers inside of me, stretching me a little wider than my own. I squeaked out a moan, quickly silencing the sound by pressing my lips together. I pictured Landon’s broad shoulders hovering above as he fingered me and looked down on me with his stupid-arrogant-smirk.

  “Tell me how much you like it?” He would say, laughing at my twitching legs.

  “I like it.”

  “Nerdy girls like you can never resist me.” He was smirking.

  My entire body tensed, my toes curled, and my back lifted off the bed.

  A couple panting breaths later and it hit me—I just masturbated and reached orgasm to the thought of Landon Bryce.

  “Fuck.” I whispered again out loud, this time panting with a bead of sweat on my forehead.

  The image of the lumbering dumb jock had just brought me to orgasm. I was mortified.

  “This can’t be…” I breathed out, opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling with shame coursing through me. I had no problem pleasuring myself with a little fantasy, but doing it to someone I practically hated was something entirely different.

  Landon Bryce wasn’t the type of guy I was ever attracted to, not by looks and certainly not by personality. Although admittedly, he was objectively good-looking, he wasn’t the type I typically liked. At all. And even if he was, his personality would ruin it in a matter of seconds.

  I groaned and rolled over to my side, now staring at my closet door. One door was ajar from when I had quickly gotten dressed in the morning. After the day I had, there was no space to wor
ry about organizing anything. I squeezed my legs together and felt a quick pulse of pleasure at my center. I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart started to slow down.

  Burying my head in my pillow to groan in frustration, I decided to get out of bed to wash my hands and take a second to check on my mother one more time. It was mostly to make sure she had fallen asleep and was okay, but there was a part of me that was petrified that she would somehow know what I was just doing. I know it followed the rational of a five-year-old, but knowing that I had just pleasured myself to him was beyond embarrassing.

  I could already picture in my crazy imagination the headline “Ivy Crane Pleasures Herself to Landon Bryce!”. I knew I was acting like a nutcase, but still the panic felt like ice water running down my back as I stood up and crept down the hall to my mother’s room.

  I held my breath and peeked inside to see her sound asleep and let out a breath of relief. I took a moment to look at her. She seemed more at peace than had in recent memory. It was something that warmed my heart, but brought sadness at the same time. In that moment every thought of Landon Bryce was wiped from my mind.

  The night was quiet and my mother was resting. That was more than just a good night in my book. I took a breath started to walk back to my bedroom when I spotted a bottle of sleeping pills tipped over, still open at my mother’s bedside table. I tiptoed over to carefully set them upright, dropping the spilled pills inside the bottle before kissing her forehead and going back to bed.

  It was a blisteringly hot September day, probably the hottest one yet, but at least practice was finally over. It had been grueling, but productive. Sweaty and exhausted, I was running off the field with my teammates when I heard my name called out. I slowed down and turned to look at Coach Kingsley. He waved me over, “Bryce! Over here!”

  I suppressed a groan and turned to run over to him, pointedly ignoring the annoying “Oooh!” sounds my teammates were making. I sometimes forgot how childish they all were, calling out like middle school kids when someone was asked to report to the Principal’s office. All I wanted was to shower, hop in my car, and drive back to the house to lounge around in the private comfort of my air-conditioned bedroom, but that didn’t seem like it would be happening any time soon.

  Coach Kingsley pulled me aside before looking back up at the rest of the team, “Cut that bullshit out and get to the showers!”

  That was all it took for them to file inside quietly. The coach was great with an approachable manner, but there was no question about it, he wasn’t someone to be challenged. Needless to say, the man was very well respected by many; especially his players.

  I stood in front of him wondering why I was pulled aside, making a quick run-through in my mind of my plays during practice. Everything had been perfect so there couldn’t be a complaint about my efforts out on the field. That could only mean one thing—the coach was likely going to address my “efforts” off the field. Those ‘efforts’ had the possibility of affecting the team and the game.

  Coach Kingsley stood silence for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking tired. It was just for a brief moment and then he turned to look me straight in the eyes.

  “Bryce,” he started in the tone of voice he always took when he meant business, “The school is cracking down on student athlete GPAs. If you don't get yours up by midterms, you’re going to be benched.” He was so direct it almost took me by surprise. Coach was never the type to sugarcoat things or beat around the bush. And on top of that, nobody ever came straight out with bad news like that.

  Regardless of how serious he seemed, there was no way this could be applied to me. This had to be just a scare tactic. So I acted as casual as ever. There was no way I was going to be benched. “Alright, Coach, but the university is always claiming…”

  “This isn’t a claim, Bryce,” he interrupted. He didn’t seem irritated, but it was quite clear he wasn’t going to waste any of his time on appeasing me.

  I kept my mouth shut for a moment, weighing my options on what to say. I honestly believed it would never come to that. The idea of me being benched didn’t even register as a possibility. After all, the school’s end goal was to do what was best for itself. The administration knew that what was best for Haywood University was keeping me on the field. I knew sizeable donations depended on how well the athletics department did and keeping a star running back off the field wouldn’t work. They would jeopardize money and reputation if they did something like that.

  "I'm the one they come to see!” I finally burst out. Coach Kingsley looked at me with warning in his eyes. Even I knew well enough not to raise my voice any more. “Look, Coach, I'm the one who gets those asses in the stands is all I’m saying. I'm the one who has given them our winning record. They'd have to be idiots to bench me. It’ll never happen."

  Coach Kingsley eyed me for a moment before speaking up, “You may do a lot to bring people in, Bryce, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Running a university isn’t a simple task. All you have to do is keep your GPA at least to a 2.0 and there won’t be anything for you to worry about.”

  “I don’t have to worry anyway,” I shot back, crossing my arms and looking down the field. Nobody did plays like me and nobody helped fill stadiums. Anything else he said was a moot point.

  Unfortunately, that was the last straw.

  “Listen, Bryce! You’re going to get your act together and bring up the GPA. I’ll be damned if you get benched under my watch!” He took a deep breath and paced back and forth a couple times, “Don’t let your fucking arrogance get you benched! What’s the point of being so great if you can’t play?”

  Even with the yelling and hard-hitting words, I was unconvinced. My coach was buying in on the scare tactic and now he was trying to get me to do the same. It wasn’t going to work. Even so, I was quite bored with the conversation so I decided to just say whatever I needed to get the hell away from him and into the showers.

  “Fine, I’ll go to tutoring. I’m already signed up and I’ve met my tutor so I’ll go, get my grades up, and there won’t be a problem.” The coach nodded and murmured something along the lines of approval before allowing me to turn around and stomp off toward the locker room. I didn’t think it would be so bad to go back to the Tutoring Center anyway; even if just to annoy the sexy nerd.

  I needed another look at her anyway. She may have tried to keep them all covered up and hidden, but I knew right away her tits were big. My smirk grew as I jogged to the locker room. I yanked open the door and headed to the showers.

  All of my teammates were already gone, but I preferred it that way. Nobody would bother or question me about why the coach pulled me aside, at least not yet. I could take a long shower in privacy and cool down from the annoyance Kingsley had caused me. Even though I remain unconvinced about being benched, I hated being put on the spot like that. Not to mention, threatening me always pissed me off. I threw off my dirty uniform and stalked toward the shower, turning it on and loving the way the water beat down on my back.

  I let out a low groan and ran my fingers through my short hair, ruffling it slightly so the water got in. I stretched my arms out and twisted my upper body, feeling my tired and sore muscles stretch in relief as the warm water poured over them. There’s nothing like a nice shower after an intense workout and football practice certainly qualified as that.

  After a few minutes, my thoughts drifted back to Ivy and the Tutoring Center. I wondered what it would be like to actually get tutored, if only to shut people up. But that got me thinking about her. She tried to hide her body underneath baggy clothing, and her face behind a big pair of round glasses. But there was something about her that really got my blood pumping.

  It wasn’t a style or some fake getup girls these days put on—she really was just a geek. A sexy one at that. I didn’t know they made nerds that way. I thought about the way her tits jutted forward in an oh so attempting way. I just wanted to reach out and grab them. She had tried to stray attention
away from them with her high-necked blouse. But that was no use, at least for a guy like me.

  I chuckled thinking of her making it clear there would be no way in hell she’d ever allow me to see her tits. I thought of her superior nerdy attitude and the way her scolding eyes looked me up and down from behind her glasses. I grinned devilishly, remembering the way she rolled her eyes at me. It stunned me back when it happened, but now it was fodder for my little fantasy. I imagined her rolling her eyes, trying to act like I annoyed her when in reality all she wanted to do was bend over for me.

  Her cute hoity-toity attitude made me hard. The thought of her bending over as I slipped inside of her made me even harder.

  I gripped the base of my shaft and groaned a bit. As I started to jerk myself up and down I imagined Ivy dropping to her knees and taking me into her mouth. At first, I imagined her right there under the shower with the water cascading over her body.