Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  “We really shouldn’t,” she says, putting the bottle on the drying rack and shutting off the tap. She dries her hands and crosses her arms.

  I step closer to her and run my palms down her arms. Goosebumps. Instantly. “Coach is busy. All the guys pretty much left already. Come on, Esther.”

  She puts her hands on my chest like she’s going to shove me away. But she doesn’t. “We had sex. I can’t take that back.” She takes a deep breath and pulls her hands off me. “I was supposed to wait. I promised God.”

  I guffaw. “You think God cares about us having sex? Seriously?”

  She furrows her brow. “Are you sure you even believe in God?”

  “Of course I do. I just have a different image of him in my head than everybody at this school.”

  “And what image is that?”

  It’s my turn to take a deep breath. “That he’s busy with other things. That he cares more about love and kindness and connection than he does cursing and sex and drinking.” I take another step closer to Esther. She can’t look away from me. “I can’t think of any stronger connection than sex.” I kiss her on the cheek. She’s holding her breath. “Two people entwined together.” I kiss her other cheek. It’s afire with blush. “Hearts beating. Moving together as one unit.” I reach my hands under her shirt and she doesn’t object. I pull it up slowly. Inch by inch. I kiss her neck while I’m doing it. “Feeling each other in the most intimate places.” I’ve got her shirt up over her bra.

  Her tits are even more fucking magnificent than I’ve been fantasizing. I pull her shirt over her head. “Hanging onto the edge until you jump together, wet and hard and willing.” I drop her shirt on the floor.

  Her eyes are hungry. I know she wants this.

  I kneel down on the floor and unbutton her long skirt. The fabric drops with a satisfying noise, the thick khaki crumpling. I kiss her thighs as I pull down the elastic at the top of her underwear. It’s baby pink cotton. I never thought I’d find such demure underwear so fucking sexy.

  Esther holds herself against the stainless steel sink, her breathing labored. I look up at her and see that her eyes are shut. I gently lift one leg and hoist it up onto my shoulder. Then I move the other one. My hands find her ass and I’m holding her entire weight.

  “We shouldn’t…” Esther says, but trails off.

  “This isn’t sex,” I say to her, growing closer and closer to her delicate mound. “This is something else.”

  I flick my tongue across her nub and she cries out. “You looking to get caught?”

  She bites her lip. “Sorry,” she whispers.

  “I think it’s hot as fuck that you’re making noise,” I reply, taking my tongue into her slit. She’s so wet for me. “You like that?” I ask her.

  She nods and moans in response. “Please don’t stop.”

  I pull back. “Oh, now you want me to not stop?”

  She glares at me, still hanging on for dear fucking life to that sink. “You’re a jerk.”

  I hum against her nub, mumbling my reply. “But you like this jerk.” I take one hand away from her ass and slip a finger inside of her. She trembles. “You like this jerk, the one making you feel ways you’ve never felt before.” I move my finger in and out of her, and she starts to buck against it. Her eyes are closed again, and her tits are bouncing, threatening to spill out of her white cotton bra.

  I slip a second finger into her and she whispers my name. “Saint,” she says.

  I throw all of my concentration into making her come for me. Hearing her say my name is the sexiest fucking sound in the entire world, and I want my turn soon.

  She doesn’t last another minute. She bites her lip to keep from screaming out at me.

  I take her legs off of my shoulders and stand back up. “Stand over there,” I command her, pointing at the rolling metal carts with footballs on them.

  She walks over and I take off my shirt and pants. I walk up behind her and press my cock against her perfect ass. I lean forward and whisper in her ear. “Do you like that the door is unlocked? That at any moment, someone could come in here and catch us?”

  She nods. “Yes.”

  “You’re so much dirtier than I ever thought, Delilah.” I sweep her blonde ponytail off the back of her neck and kiss her there. She’s still shaking from her first orgasm. “What do you want?”

  “I want you inside of me,” she says.

  “Good,” I reply. I unbuckle her bra and let the straps hang on her arms. I finally get a handful of her tits hanging in the air. I massage them and she groans. I push myself against her ass, feeling how soft she is there. I tease her nipples with my fingers and she responds by grinding her ass up against me. “Are you ready, Delilah?”

  “Please, yes,” she gasps.

  I slip into her and a noise catches in her throat. She recovers quickly and soon I’m slipping in and out of her, her hands hanging onto the football cart and mine hanging on to her perfect tits. “You’re so. Fucking. Wet,” I whisper.

  And she is. Inside of her is like pure heaven. I can’t think of anything better right now and I don’t really want to try.

  I don’t last more than three minutes, and it’s all I can do not to scream her name when I come. But she isn’t finished, so I turn her around and let my tongue complete the job for a second time.

  This time, she pulls on my hair while her body shakes under my mouth.

  I nearly come again.

  We pull our clothes back on and Esther says nothing to me.

  “So,” I say, zipping up my letterman’s jacket. “Same time on Monday?”

  She shoves me and smiles against her better judgment. “You’re going to send me straight to hell, Saint Williams.”

  I put my fingers under her chin as I kiss her. “As long as I’m there with you, I don’t think that’s half bad.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ESTHER

  When I was five years old, I had a bad thought.

  I don’t even remember what it was, but I knew it was bad.

  I prayed to God to forgive me. I prayed for three hours straight during playtime. I prayed during my snack. I prayed in the bathroom. I prayed while I helped my mom fold towels. I prayed while I set the table for dinner. I prayed during dinner.

  That day? Was the day I wronged God for the first time. I prayed away my guilt.

  I’ve used that trick my entire life. It always works.

  But now? I’m not sure there are enough hours in the day to absolve me of my sins.

  Saint keeps bringing me to my knees. Well, he’s usually the one on his knees. And it only takes one look from him, one crook of his finger, one blush of his breath against my neck to get me there.

  I walk out of my afternoon math class and run smack into him. “Were you waiting for me?” I ask under my breath, walking past him like I didn’t see him.

  He stays a safe three steps behind me, still talking. The hallway is crowded enough that no one is paying attention. But I always make him do this.

  We can’t be seen in public together.

  “I was waiting for you, yeah,” Saint says in his luscious, deep voice.

  I know what the vibration of his lips feels like when he’s talking. I know the feel of his lips forming words against flesh feels like. How it cuts me to my core and makes me beg for more. “You can’t do that. You can’t wait for me.”

  We turn down another corridor, this one empty of students. I take a right into the janitor’s closet and Saint follows me.

  We don’t lock the door.

  I like the thrill of wondering if we’ll be caught, even though the reality of that is terrifying.

  I guess that’s what makes it so good.

  So, so good.

  I’m beyond ready today. I rip off his jacket and unbutton his white shirt, undoing his belt and letting his khaki pants fall to the floor. “You’re leading prayer at dinner today?” I ask him. This is the uniform of the prayer leader. I realize the irony.

/>   “Mmhmm,” he says, slipping my hair elastic off my ponytail and letting my silky strands fall around my shoulders. He has my sweater off and he’s already unbuckling my bra.

  This is a well-choreographed dance we have by now. It’s been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime.

  A sexy, sinful, guilt-inducing lifetime.

  His lips find my nipples and he teases them with his teeth. He nibbles at them and I feel a shock of pleasure down to my very core.

  “You know what I’ll be thinking about when I’m praying in front of the whole school?” He licks the flesh between my breasts and breathes the question against my skin.

  “Wha-at?” I ask, stuttering from the pleasure of what he’s doing.

  “This,” he replies. “I’ll be thinking about licking every inch of your body. And no one will know.”

  He rips off my underwear and my spine is soon against the industrial metal shelves, the cold seeping into my skin. This is a familiar place by now. We have our positions, and this is my favorite.

  Just like that first night in the stadium. My back against the wall, my legs around his perfect ass, every inch of him filling me up.

  The jugs of bleach rattle as Saint thrusts in and out of me. He goes faster and faster until I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs. I have to put my mouth against his, kissing him as hard as I can while pleasure rockets through my body.

  It’s the only thing that can muffle my screams of intense pleasure.

  “You have sex hair,” Romy says when I step into our dorm room a half an hour later. She’s reading a fashion magazine and eating licorice.

  I throw my hand against my hair in a panic. “I do? Oh my word, I just walked all the way from the science building. Everybody saw me.”

  Romy laughs and lazily flicks another glossy page of the magazine. “I’m kidding. Geez. Lighten up, Esther.”

  I glare at her. “Thanks for scaring the life out of me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m the only one who can tell when you’ve had sex. It’s like my sixth sense. Your secret is safe with me.”

  I unpack my school bag and grab a duster, cleaning up the cobwebs hanging from the corner of the ceiling. “I’m glad that not everyone has that sixth sense.”

  “Why? Because they’d be running up to you three times a day telling you that you have a glowing sex aura?” Romy says jokingly. “I wish I was getting as much sex as you are. I’m still not quite sure how you’ve managed that. You’ll have to let me in on your secrets.”

  I laugh. “There’s no secret,” I say, biting my lip and blushing.

  “Esther?” Romy suddenly sounds serious.

  “What’s up?” I ask her, putting down the duster and sitting at my desk.

  “You’re on the pill, right?”

  I blush again. “Of course I am.”

  “Good,” she replies. “The last thing you need is having to convince the Dean that you immaculately conceived.” She bites an end off of her licorice and chews it thoughtfully. “Although, you’re such an ass-kisser he’d probably believe you.”

  I throw a cleaning rag at her head. “Stop it,” I say. “I’m not getting pregnant.” I walk over and grab a licorice whip.

  “I’m just saying, if there was going to be any man on earth whose sperm could obliterate birth control, it’s Saint Williams. Remind me again how an innocent virgin with super-religious parents manages to get birth control?”

  I shrug. “It’s the one thing my mother insisted upon without my dad’s consent. I’ve been on it since I was fifteen.” The truth niggles at me, but I don’t divulge it.

  “Is that because your mom got pregnant at eighteen and didn’t want you going through that?”

  Well. So much for the truth staying a secret. “Probably,” I reply. I hate thinking that I’m an accident baby or some sort of regret of my mother’s. “I mean, she was married by then, but yeah. Probably.”

  Romy sighs and flips on the television. She changes channels and stops. “He’s just so dreamy.”

  I glance at the television. My stomach does a little dance when I see Saint’s smiling face on video. He’s waving to the crowd after his game-winning touchdown last week, his blue eyes glinting. “He’s alright, I guess.” Romy laughs and I join in with her. “Okay, fine. He’s hot. Like, smoking hot. Still not sure why he’s into me.”

  “Because you’re a catch, Esther. Any guy would be lucky to have you.” She mutes the television. “Alright, so tell me about the sex today, and spare no detail.”

  I launch into the descriptions, feeling somewhat smug that God hasn’t struck me down yet.

  If anyone deserves a lightning bolt right now, it’s me.

  ***

  “I just don’t understand the point of a Christmas cotillion,” Romy groans, digging through her closet for a dressy version of the plain clothes we’re supposed to wear every day. “I mean, the music sucks, we have to stay a foot away from the guys. I just don’t get it. And on top of that, how am I supposed to dress in party clothes for something that’s the exact opposite of a party?”

  I swipe on some lip balm and smack my lips together. “You can borrow one of mine.” I look in the mirror at the tea-length black skirt I’m wearing. “As long as it’s past the knees, you’re good.”

  Romy stomps her feet over to my closet. “I’ll look like a nun wearing some of your clothes.”

  “Take it or leave it. But I’m not going to this dance alone. You owe me. I went to that party with you, and you’re coming to this dance with me.”

  Romy rolls her eyes as she pulls out a navy blue long skirt of mine. “You got marathon sex with the hottest guy on campus out of that party. I think the cosmic scales are tipped in your favor. I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Fine. I’ll go to the next party with you. The next ‘real’ party as you call it. I promise,” I say to her, loosening my hair and letting it splay out across my long-sleeved black top.

  Romy holds out her hand. “Pinky promise?”

  I slip my pinky into hers. “Pinky promise.”

  An hour later, Romy still complaining about the clothes she’s wearing, we’re at the dining hall. It’s been transformed into a Christmas wonderland, with white twinkle lights and twelve-foot-tall real pine Christmas trees. A string quartet plays traditional Christmas songs, and the guys are all wearing suits.

  Romy forced me into wearing a glittery black headband. “It’s festive,” she’d said before adding that I must at least put on tinted lip balm if I was going to be wearing any at all.

  My eyes immediately search for Saint. His dark hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a suit that makes him even more handsome.

  As if that were even possible.

  Romy pokes me in the spine. “Go get your lover boy before someone else does,” she whispers.

  I shoot her a nasty look. “Don’t say that,” I reply. “Besides that, I can’t approach him. He has to approach me.”

  Romy is ignoring me, busy instead winking at Rick across the dining hall. He shoves his hands in his pockets and jerks his head. She wanders over to him. “Those aren’t the rules!” I yell after her, but she doesn’t care.

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall. Saint is walking over toward me, a big smile on his face. But a woman grabs him by the arm and he’s jerked back. I see blonde hair being flipped over a shoulder and a surge of jealousy rocks my body.

  I’ve never been jealous in my life, but here I am, waiting up against a wall for a guy I claim to not be that interested in to ask me to dance. I sigh and turn around. I’ll go hang out in the bathroom for a while instead.

  I hand on my shoulder stops me. I turn around, “Saint-“

  But it’s not Saint. It’s Scott. “May I have this dance?” he asks, putting his hand out.

  I feel slightly repulsed by it. I mean, Scott is really handsome. But he’s such a slime ball it’s hard to get past that and move on to his deep dimples.

  “Oh, I
would take that offer if I were you, Ms. Avonlea.” I look to my left to see the Dean passing by us.

  I sigh and take Scott’s hand, and he leads me out onto the dance floor. “I know it’ll be hard to resist my incredible body, but make you’re making room for Jesus, Esther.”

  My eyes roll back into my head. “Let’s just get through this dance and move on, shall we?” I say this through clenched teeth.

  He laughs, his hand too warm on my lower back, his palm sweaty in my right hand. “You don’t like me very much. Why is that?”

  I bite back my real answer, which is: you’re an asshole. I chide myself for cursing even silently. “I don’t feel any particular way about you, actually.”

  “Right, okay.” He leads me around the dance floor, smiling sycophantically at the Dean, who is watching the proceedings with a jolly glint in his eye. Scott leans down and whispers in my ear. I feel like vomiting. “Maybe it’s because there’s a certain football player who’s caught your eye more than I have? Maybe someone this campus worships?” He twirls me around and pulls me back into place. “Oh when the saints! Go marching in! Oh when the saints go marching in,” he sings in a low whisper. “I hear janitorial closets are really great for fucking in. I don’t blame you for using one all the time.”

  I don’t have time to respond. Scott pulls away from my body and waves farewell, a devilish smile on his smug face. The song has ended and I’m standing here alone. I feel tears stinging my eyes as I run out of the dining hall.

  How can he possibly know that? The one person on this campus I can’t stand to look at knows my deepest, darkest secret. I crouch down next to one of the decorated outdoor Christmas trees. I stare at the large, shiny balls on it and see my distorted reflection.

  I’m almost unrecognizable.

  What a metaphor for my current predicament.

  The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks. Did Saint tell someone? Did Romy? No, there’s no way that Romy told anyone. She wouldn’t do that to me. It had to have been Saint. I hear the calls of Merry Christmas through an open window of the dining room. I couldn’t feel any less merry right now if my father was standing right next to me.