Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  It was like being cut off from the very air I needed to breathe.

  I sighed as he tossed the fabric away, the champagne bottle still clutched in the fingers of my right hand. We looked at each other again, staring at one another, examining faces we'd already memorized a million times over. I wondered what this was like for Flor, to look into the face of a girl who wasn't a stranger and then kiss her. His most serious relationships hadn't lasted a fraction of the time that we'd known each other.

  I said nothing and he did the same. I think we both knew that if we talked too much, one or the other of us would ruin this. At this point, I didn't know or care if this was just a taste of him, if he planned to teach me a lesson by having sex with me and tossing me aside. I needed to know, needed to feel him inside of me, feel his bare body against mine. This was the way it needed to be.

  Flor leaned back and removed his own shirt, revealing the beautiful planes of his muscles and a body that I had admired from afar for too long. In the back of my mind, I knew I was being a hypocritical bitch, that I was betraying too many people with one single breath and a handful of kisses that burned brighter than the sun. My dad, Flor's mom, Max, Rhonda, even Addi. But I couldn't stop. If I really closed my eyes and thought hard, this meant more to me than any of that.

  Flor moved his mouth down, across the hollow of my throat and then along the line of my bra, teasing the purple lace with his tongue. His right hand stayed wrapped around my waist while his left lifted my wrist and with it, the bottle of champagne. He took a drink with it still clutched in my fingers and then pressed his mouth to mine. The bubbles shifted between us as he kissed me, and I swallowed a mouthful of champagne, letting Flor pull me tighter against him. Our bare bodies met and when I looked down, I could see my tattoo gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. He'd said the stag represented the transgressing of the taboo. Was that what we were doing? Was his touch on my skin wrong? I didn't even know the answer to that.

  Flor's hand slid up and deftly unhooked the clasp of my bra, the lace falling forward suddenly. I had a moment of sheer panic, dropping the bottle as I struggled to clasp the fabric to my chest. Flor's going to see my bare chest! It was almost surreal. I stared into Florian's face, mesmerized by his half-hooded eyes and hungry expression, as the champagne hit the roof and splashed all over our pants before rolling down the shingles, drenching my discarded shirt as it went. It plummeted into the backyard and crashed into my father's perfectly kempt lawn. Flor and I ignored it while he worked to unhook my arms from around my chest, reveal the fullness of my breasts to him. I'd seen him nude dozens of times, but to my knowledge, he'd never once seen me.

  I flushed from head to toe as he examined me with those bright green eyes of his and then leaned forward, putting his mouth around my nipple. My fingers grappled with his dark hair, twisting it around and pulling it, tugging on those silky strands that I'd wanted to get my hands on for so long. I crushed his face to my chest as he increased the pressure of his mouth, sucking and biting and moving his way from one side to the other. One thing could be said for all of Flor's years of practice: he was good. Better than Max even, and I knew he was no amateur either.

  I sighed, my breath carried away on the breeze as the evening grew colder but I only grew hotter. Sweat beaded on my lower back and chest as Flor continued to kiss his way across my skin, moving back towards my neck, my jawline, my lips. We kissed again and the fervor between us seemed to amplify, a low growl escaping his throat as a moan escaped mine. I played with his lip rings, tasting the metal, tugging on them with my teeth, just as I'd always wanted to. It was strange, surreal even, to have a dream I'd wanted so hard for so long come true, but I didn't have the capacity to examine it in that moment.

  If this didn't last, I needed this memory fresh and clear and perfect.

  “Flor,” I whispered as he leaned back and ran his hand along the waistband of my leggings, touching my skin, examining my tattoo. He curled his fingers under the fabric and tugged it down, lower than he needed to to see the entire piece. I felt my heart skip a beat, my breath come ragged and broken. I closed my eyes and remembered the sensation of his needle piercing my skin, his eyes on my body, his fingers brushing my flesh. And then the memories became real and I opened my eyes, finding Flor's gaze locked on mine again.

  He reached up a gentle hand and brushed some of my hair back.

  “Abigail.” That was it, all he said, just a word. I leaned into him and we kissed again, heat suffusing my chest, the ache between my legs growing to an impossible crescendo. Before I even knew what was happening, Flor was flipping us over, pushing me into the shingles of the roof. My head was pillowed on the rumpled fabric of his shirt as he looked down at me and then grabbed the waistband of my leggings once again. Only this time, he wasn't just looking at his artwork on my skin. This time, he was pulling the fabric over my hips, down my thighs, my knees, and finally sliding it over my bare feet. The only thing left between my complete nakedness and him was a pair of purple panties. He stared at them for a moment, his jaw working like he was angry about something and then he just shook his head.

  I watched the muscle in his jaw work as he forced himself to relax.

  Flor's mouth found mine again and then trailed down my belly, to the pink and purple jewel pierced through my flesh, and he tugged on it with his teeth, lighting up yet another erogenous zone I hadn't even known I'd had. My belly, my hips, my thighs. Flor worked his magic up and down my body, avoiding the one area I so desperately wanted him to touch.

  When I finally sat up on my elbows and reached out to unbutton his jeans, he took both my hands in his and looked me straight in the face. It was that look that made me realize that no matter what had happened before or what might happen after, that he loved me, just as much if not more than I loved him. I thought of his paintings suddenly, of his tattoos, of how familiar those girls looked, and I came to the realization that what I'd seen in all of their faces, in their poses and smiles, each of them had just a little bit of me. Flor had been painting me, whether he meant to or not.

  He released me, sliding his fingers up my arms, and sat back, letting me unbutton his jeans and push them down his hips. Oh my God, Florian Harper Riley. When did this happen? I opened my mouth to say something, to tell him how shocked I was or ask if it would hurt, when he leaned over and breathed warm breath across my cheek.

  “You always wondered,” he told me with that arrogant smirk growing on his face. “And now you know.”

  “I knew you didn't wear underwear,” I told him, referencing a specific incident when I'd walked in on him in the bathroom and found him pushing his pants down his hips. I'd only gotten a shot of bare ass, but that'd been enough to make me squirm for weeks. “But I … ”

  “Had no idea exactly what my complete catalogue of body art contained?” I flushed and nodded, too embarrassed to say anything else. Yes, witty exchanges were our thing, bickering was our thing, but this was a whole new animal for me.

  Flor had pierced junk.

  Holy crap.

  I took a deep breath and tried to still my hammering heart. Flor didn't just have one ring, but a few. I didn't know what to call any of them, but there they were, metal gleaming on the tip of his cock and even on his balls. I swallowed hard, my gaze drawn to the long length of him, the gentle curve of his dick. I wasn't an expert on length or anything, but I knew he was bigger than Max. Seven inches maybe?

  I glanced away again and Flor leaned forward, kissing the side of my neck, brushing my hair back from my face. One arm circled around me and pulled me down to the roof while he settled himself on top of me. His fingers found my panties and stroked along the fabric, forcing me to bite my lip to keep from crying out. My clit was hard beneath his fingers and I knew I was already wet, completely soaked through. Just looking at him was usually enough to get me there.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight and reveled in the feel of him pulling the fabric down, revealing my entire body to him in one smooth motion
. He continued downward, letting my body weight rest on the roof as he moved back and tossed the panties aside. I opened my eyes suddenly and found them tumbling over the edge to the yard, just like the champagne bottle.

  I didn't have a chance to protest because Flor was back, pressing the heat of his body against mine. I could feel him hard and ready at my opening, as desperate for me as I was for him. I bit my lip so hard it bled, looked up into his face and rested my palms on his cheeks.

  I can't do this, I thought, and then, but I want to. I can't, but I need to.

  Flor pushed himself against me and I spread my legs at the knee, opening up for him, letting him in. The fullness of his body made me gasp as I dug my nails into the strong muscles of his back and arched my own, trying to take every inch in one, single thrust. I wanted Flor to be mine, to feel my body wrapped around his and like it better than any other woman he'd been with. I wanted him to forget Rhonda, to forget about sleeping around, to want only me.

  Our hips arched together and another sigh fell from my lips, captured by Flor's mouth as he kissed me, his own sounds of pleasure mixing with my own. If he'd thought having him like this would quench my thirst, he was wrong. I felt my need and my desire for him grow, felt myself rocking against him as his body and mine melted into one, bare flesh sliding together in a sea of sweat and groans and voices stifled by kisses.

  “Abigail,” he growled again, taking my head in his hands and kissing my forehead before he leaned back and pushed my thighs aside, thrust harder and faster and deeper into me. Those green eyes never strayed from my face, sharp as pine needles, brilliant. I saw his dark head silhouetted against the afternoon sky. There was something else I both wanted and dreaded for him to say. He must've seen it on my face because he slowed down, only briefly and leaned forward to whisper, “nee-chan.”

  Those were the sweetest, strangest syllables I had ever heard.

  I felt him move again, felt my own body rise up and let the pleasure wash over and through me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I woke to shivers and stars, curling up closer to the only source of warmth I could find. When I opened my eyes and found the hard, perfect planes of Flor's back filling my vision, I balked.

  Oh my God. What did I just do?

  Not only had I fallen asleep on a roof (not the safest idea in the world), but I was curled up against Florian. We were both still naked, and I found myself searching around for something to put on. The blanket I'd brought out was wrapped around Flor and tucked underneath him, so that I'd have to wake him to move it. Rather than doing that, I hunted around for my shirt and found it sticky with champagne. Images of my panties fluttering over the edge of the rooftop assailed me, and I flushed. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I managed to locate Flor's shirt and slipped it over my head. Since my leggings were also covered in champagne, I gathered them up and tossed them in the still open window along with my shirt.

  Tucking my legs up under the black fabric, I closed my eyes and reveled in the smell of Flor's clothing. There was that citrus tang of his shampoo and a gentle lingering of cigarette smoke. I clutched the fabric tight in my fingertips and poked him with my toe. Already my face was turning red and memories were dancing in front of my eyes like specters.

  Flor's hard hot body moving above me, the feel of him deep inside, the rush of pleasure I felt followed by the shudder of his own. I choked back a noise and clamped my palm over my mouth. We should've used a condom, but thank God I was on birth control. I poked Flor again and he grumbled, much the same way as he'd always done when I'd found him sleeping on the couch or, once, on my own bed with my diary clutched in his then bare fingers. When I leaned over him now, I saw the shadows of color, the tattoos that were barely visible in the darkness. What time was it? I wondered, rubbing at my upper arms and shivering against the early winter chill in the air. Eugene was a fairly mild city when it came to weather, but it was also faithful to the seasons. Winter was on its way and it was cold.

  “Flor,” I whispered, brushing some hair from his forehead, wondering how things would be between us when those dark lashes of his fluttered open and his green eyes found mine. What was I thinking? “Flor.” More loudly this time, just enough to get him to stir.

  He grumbled awake, facing away from me and then, slowly, turned. Our gazes met and my body lit up like the Fourth of July, like that memory from the locket was pulsing through me and morphing into something older, more mature. What would it be like to watch fireworks up here with him? To have his arm around my waist, to go inside and climb into bed and feel him move inside of me? For a brief second there, I'd almost forgotten I was at my parents' house. Our parents' house.

  “Shit,” Flor groaned, pushing himself up and onto his knees. He rubbed a hand over his hair, the blanket covering just the right amount of him for me to stay civil, and looked around. At first his green eyes were confused, but recognition slowly dawned and we were left staring at one another.

  I wished I could say his face filled with love, that he reached out and cupped my cheek, kissed me and told me it would all work out okay. Somehow, someway. But no, instead he shook his head like he was trying to clear it and then groaned, covering his face with both hands.

  “Shit,” he said again, looking up at me. His gaze pierced through me like an arrow and his lips parted, but before he got the chance to say anything, we both heard the rumble of tires and saw the sweep of headlights across the yard. “When were they supposed to be back?” he asked frantically, and I shook my head. I didn't know.

  Flor and I both scrambled for the window, collecting the discarded items as we went. He helped me through first, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my ass, either by accident or design I'm not sure. My bare feet hit the wood floor and I stumbled towards the attic stairs, already praying that it was Max or Addi or someone else entirely at the front door. At this point, I'd even settle for Rhonda. Anyone but my parents.

  I moved down the stairs quickly, cringing as River's voice traveled up from the first floor to meet us.

  “Florian? Abigail? We're back.” Footsteps sounded below as I scrambled into my old bedroom and flung the drawers open, looking feverishly for something to wear. I'd done a damn good job packing my stuff and was left with a single pair of old pajama pants, ripped down one side but better than nothing at all. Underwear I had to give up on, and I managed to dress myself just as Flor stumbled by and paused, moving into my room and hiding the blanket and champagne stained clothes in my closet.

  A second later, River appeared in the doorway and paused.

  There I was, standing in mismatched, faded pajama pants that had once had hearts on them, dressed in Flor's shirt with my hair mussed and my lips swollen and a tender ache between my legs that said Flor was definitely bigger than Max. My stepbrother stood beside me in jeans and nothing else, just as mussed, just as disheveled as I was.

  I rushed to fill the silence.

  “I, uh, fell asleep and I guess Flor didn't realize I was here. I didn't know he was here either,” I added uselessly, wondering how this looked, wondering how River could possibly miss the heavy tension between us.

  Flor tucked his left hand in his pocket and withdrew a cigarette with his right.

  “I'm gonna go have a smoke,” he said, ambling away like he didn't have a care in the world. His mother moved aside to let him pass, a strange glow suffusing her cheeks. When she looked at me again, she was actually smiling.

  “When you're done doing … whatever,” she said, cocking her head to the side curiously. I guess I looked a little weird, standing there next to my old dresser in a nearly empty room, doing absolutely nothing. “Meet me downstairs. Your father and I want to have a talk with the two of you.” I nodded and River moved away, taking one last look at Flor's shirt draped over my shoulders.

  I pored through the rest of the drawers and nearly sobbed in relief when I found a tank top I'd left behind. It was big and boxy and definitely not the most flattering piece of
clothing in existence, but when you've just slept with your stepbrother and are being forced to face your parents, it beats being caught.

  I slipped the top on and retreated to the bathroom, desperately battling my hair with the lone brush left in the top drawer. Some deodorant, a quick brush of my teeth, and I felt ready to face the world. Well, as ready as I ever would considering the circumstances. It'd have been nice to have a pair of panties, too.

  My heart clenched at the thought of my father walking out back to mow the lawn and finding a pair of lacy purple nothings laying in his perfect grass. I swallowed hard and shook my head. No. No. I would find some way to get out there and grab the damn panties, even if it killed me.

  I went down the stairs slowly, my hand caressing the familiar dark wood of the banister, my stomach fluttering and my knees going weak as I contemplated facing Flor again. I had sex with my stepbrother. I clutched a hand in the red fabric of my tank top. No, I had sex with Florian. Flor. The guy I've been in love with for years. Why then did I still feel so nervous, so unsure?

  I walked into the kitchen and found my dad pouring himself a glass of wine while my stepmom worked to make some coffee. The time on the stove was eleven thirty, late but not too late. I wrapped my arms around myself and sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, glancing over my shoulder to find Flor smoking in the backyard. Fortunately he didn't catch me looking at him and I turned around, finding my dad staring at me instead.

  “Are you and your brother both planning to spend the night here?” he grumbled and I shrugged, noticing the way his blue eyes took in my attire, his brows pinching. “You both parked in the driveway,” he added randomly. I gave him a look and shrugged, not sure what he was getting at. “So how did Flor miss the fact that you were here?”