Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance

by Christina Clark

  “Good –”

  “Kingsley Kelly was just here, and he just paid Jackson's bill in full,” Jamie blurted. The pitch of her voice was escalating with every word. “And guess what, he paid off the rest of the balance for Jackson's last bill, too. Can you believe it?!”

  “Wait, what?” My heart skipped, but an explosion of warmth unfurled in my chest. “I don't – I don't understand –”

  “I don't know why he did it, either. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself. But he did tell me not to post anything about it online, which is weird, but I guess I can't – wait, hold on. Yeah? Okay, I gotta go, Dr. Wang needs to see me right now. Talk to you later.”

  “Wait, but –”

  Two beeps sounded in my ear, signaling the end of the call.

  Chapter Nine: Kingsley

  “I'm whoopin' your ass like a little bitch!” I leaned forward with my Xbox controller in my hands. I thunder-burped as I leaned closer to the TV, mashing my favorite combo buttons. “Hadouken, motherfucker!”

  “Ah, son of a bitch.”

  Dhalsim toppled back to the ground. The fiery letters, “K.O.,” flashed across the screen as Ryu held up his fist in victory. Louie groaned like the sore loser that he was. He tossed his controller aside, hitting Odell on the side of the head.

  I grabbed my beer on the coffee table, chugging back the rest before crushing the can in my fist.

  “Watch it, boy, or I'ma knock you out for real,” Odel snapped at Louie, rubbing the side of his head.

  “Not my fault your head's so damn big,” Louie shot back, smirking.

  “Alright, Odell, you're up.”

  “Naw, man, I think I'm gonna head home for the night,” said Odell, rising up from the sofa. “The game's at 1 tomorrow, and I'm trying to get at least 9 hours in. ”

  “Same here.” Louie got up from the sofa and started putting his coat back on.

  “Yeah, alright guys.” I stirred, the floor spinning as I heaved myself to my feet. I walked them to the front door. “Night.”

  “Take it easy on the beer, brother.” Odell gripped the side of the door, looking me square in the eye. “Don't be late – I don't mean to rag on you, but you're one small fuck-up away from suspension. Remember that.”

  “We're just looking out for you,” Louie chimed in.

  “I hear ya. Peace.”

  I shut the front door and headed back to the couch. They were probably right. My pounding head felt like it was being drilled into, and all I could smell was the liquor on my breath. Regardless of the reasonable advice, I staggered back to the kitchen for another beer. As I poured myself another glass from the tap, there was a sharp knock on the door.

  “Forget something?” I lumbered back to the foyer and unlocked the door for a second time. “You –”

  Carrie was standing in the doorway, gripping the strap of her purse stiffly.

  “Carrie? What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” Carrie asked, her voice slightly wavering.

  “Sure.”

  I stepped aside and let her through, closing the door behind her. Carrie gazed around her gingerly as I led her into the living room. I set my beer down and cleared away the empty pizza boxes and popcorn bowl on the coffee table.

  “Make yourself at home.”

  When I hobbled back to the living room, I snagged my toe under the Chillida rug. Carrie threw out her hands and caught me by the shoulders, steadying me to my feet. I gave her a thumbs up and fell back on the sofa.

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Just a little,” I answered vaguely, hiccuping.

  Carrie took a seat on the far end of the sofa. She was doing everything she could to make herself uncomfortable. Her rigid spine was 3 inches away from the back of the sofa, and half her ass was off the chair. She smoothed her hair and placed her hands over her knees.

  “So, Jamie called today, and she told me what you did.”

  “What – what'd I do?”

  “Thank you. I appreciate what you did, but you really didn't have to do that.” Carrie ran her tongue over her lips. “I don't mean to sound blunt, here, but we don't need your charity. I'm good for it, all $6,219, plus interest, if you just give me a few months –”

  “Forget it. It's done with –”

  “Forget it?” Carrie repeated, shaking her head. “That's more than I paid for my car. I can't just –”

  “I'm not doing it for you,” I cut her off. “I did it for Jackson. And I'm gonna keep paying off Jackson's bills whether you like it or not. If you want to pay me back, start saving for college now.”

  “I don't –” Carrie paused mid-sentence, scowling at me as I reached for my beer. “Are you seriously going to drink that? Don't you have a game tomorrow? What about hangovers –”

  “As much as you sound like her, you're not my mother, so...” I finished my thought by taking a huge gulp of my beer.

  “Typical.” Carrie swung around in her seat to face me, tucking her legs under her. “This is unbelievable – it just boggles my mind how people who everything take what they have for granted so easily. Are you trying to get yourself suspended?”

  With my head now throbbing at full throttle, something in me snapped.

  “First of all, you're in my house, so don't tell me what to do.” My drowsy eyelids sagged shut, and I kept it that way. Before I could reel it back, it all came spilling out of my mouth like a loose sphincter.

  “I'm so –”

  “You remember the semifinals against Kansas City in 2012?”

  “I remember hearing about it, I think. Didn't your team lose?”

  “Yeah, we did, and it was all on me.”

  “What? Aren't sports a team effort sort of deal –” Carrie tilted her head, looking confused.

  “No. I mean, I threw the game,” I made myself clear.

  “What do you mean by that?” Carrie tightened her lips, looking like she knew exactly what I meant.

  “The game was fixed. It was my second season in. I was approached by 2 of some of the most notorious mob bosses in the state. They presented me with a prop – a proposition I couldn't turn down – let's just say it was in the 7 figures... I took it. I 'tripped' and missed an easy pass that would have taken us all the way to the finals.”

  Carrie just looked at me with an inscrutable look on her face.

  “When these kids come up to me, calling me a hero... It's fucked up. They're looking up to a fraud. So I'm not gonna sit here and lie to you. There's a part of me that wants to get suspended, ruin my career, just get this over with. The guilt's gonna consume me sooner or later. Why not – why not sooner?”

  I lifted my beer to finish it off, but Carrie reached for my beer, gently prying it out of my grasp.

  “I think you've had a little too much to drink.”

  Carrie's tone was soft, losing all its bite. She leaned towards me, her chin just inches from my nose as she pulled a piece of popcorn out of my hair. The feminine tang of the perfume on her neck drifted up my nostrils.

  Her green eyes synced with mine. My eyes swiveled to her thick, naturally pink lips. They parted slowly, almost as if they were daring me to kiss them.

  So I did. I cocked my head to the side and pressed my lips to hers. Her pretty mouth was just as soft as I'd imagined it to be. I wrapped my lips over her upper lip before dragging it over to her bottom lip. But Carrie wasn't moving a muscle. And when I felt the movement between my legs, I caught myself, pulling away from her.

  A bead of sweat escaped my hairline and settled on my brow.

  “Sorry, don't know what I was think –”

  Carrie pounced on top of me, shoving me forcefully onto the back of the couch to straddle me. Before I knew it, she seized the sides of my face with both hands and pulled me close to her, kissing me hungrily. I tackled her tongue with mine, wrestling it to submission as I explored her mouth, tasting her.

  Carri
e squirmed out of my grasp. There was a glint in her eye as she smiled at me, pulling herself to her feet. She shrugged off her jacket and reached under the hem of her flowery dress, pulling it over her head.

  I straightened up in my seat and gripped the armrest to my left. The head of my cock was pulsing at the mere sight of Carrie's body, and she wasn't even naked yet. Her creamy white skin was almost translucent, and I could see the faintest traces of her veins branching out on her thighs.

  She unhooked her bra and stepped out of her panties. Her meaty tits spilled out of her suffocating bra, bouncing sensually upon its freedom. My eyes zoomed in on her pussy, her natural bush crowning her cunt. The hypnotic slit was already wet, so wet it was almost twinkling. She walked towards me, one corner of her mouth tugged back as she tweaked her nipples with both hands.

  “Fucking hell, Carrie... I don't know what the fuck's going on here, but I don't want it to stop,” I growled in her ear, pulling her back onto my lap.

  My fingers weaved through her silky hair. I knotted a clump of her hair in my fist and jerked her head back violently, diving for her neck. As I kissed up and down her neck, teasing the back of her ear with my tongue, I reached between her legs and scooped myself a handful of oozing wet pussy.

  “Oh my – oh my god, Kingsley.”

  Carrie's jagged breathing was beating down on my neck. I rubbed her slobbering cunt up and down, controlling the music of her moans with just my thumb to her clit. I pushed myself against her, inviting the unbelievable sensation of her soft melons grinding up against my chest.

  As I continued to toy with her cunt, Carrie unbuttoned my slacks and steered my cock out of my boxers. She cupped her fingers around my chin and started nibbling on my lip, aiming my cock with her free hand. I retracted my hand and relaxed, the leather of the cushion crackling behind me.

  The lips of Carrie's cunt stretched out over the head of my cock, slowly descending on my throbbing shaft...

  And that was all I remembered – the rest of the night was blacked out by the alcohol cooking in my system.

  XXX

  “Augh...”

  I spat out a mouthful of hair, smacking my lips to get the taste out of my mouth. Lifting my arm off the warm body next to me, I geared my head to the left, turning away from the glare of sunlight shining straight in my eyes. But as I rolled around, I frowned at the sound of wrinkling leather underneath me.

  My eyes fluttered open sluggishly, adjusting to my living room. Without moving from my spot, I reached over my head lazily and started feeling around until I felt my phone. Stifling a yawn with my fist, I clicked the power button on the side of my phone to unlock my screen. And that's when I saw it.

  Right above the alert of 29 missed calls were the unmistakable digits of the clock – 12:22 PM.

  Chapter Ten: Kingsley

  “Aw, shit!”

  I reached for my shirt draped over the coffee table clumsily. Losing my balance, I rolled off the sofa and hit the ground. The sleeping figure on the sofa with her back to me started to stir. Her black hair unfurled, sweeping across her bare back.

  “What's – what's going on?”

  “Carrie?”

  She sat up groggily, her nose wrinkling as she blinked around the room. I sat there in disbelief for a couple of seconds as it started to dawn on me. The mind-blowing events – or at least, what I remembered about it – last night wasn't just one of the best wet dreams I'd ever had. My eyes fell to the glorious orbs of her tits peeking out from behind her hair, remembering how soft they felt in my hands last night. But when I started getting a semi, I looked away, the seriousness of my quagmire coming back at me at full speed.

  “What are you doing down there?” Carrie blew her hair out of her face and squinted out the window. The motorized blinds had done too good of a job, sealing the room in darkness from the glaring sunlight. “What time is it?”

  “12:23,” I answered gruffly as I stumbled into my slacks.

  “12:23?” Carrie repeated sleepily, but she cut herself off mid-yawn. She leaped off the sofa, her eyes bugging out in panic. “12:23?! Oh my god, you're –”

  “I know!” I called out behind me as I sprinted to my bedroom.

  I yanked open the door to my walk-in closet. My chest deflated in my relief. Sitting under my wall of special edition kicks was my gear bag, primed and ready to go.

  “That's why you the man, Odell,” I mused. I got dressed, slung my gear bag over my shoulder, and headed back out the door.

  When I got back to the living room, Carrie was about dressed. She stood in front of the foyer mirror, combing her hair with one hand and slipping her other arm into the sleeve of her red bomber jacket. I stepped into my shoes, unzipping my gear bag for a last minute check of my equipment. Finding the 3-legged toad pendant, I slipped the cord of my good luck charm over my head and tucked it inside my shirt.

  “You mind if I hitch a ride with you?” Carrie strapped her heels back on, looking up at me hopefully. “Jamie's got my car. I took a cab over here last night.”

  “Shit, I was hoping you had your car.” I swallowed, checking my phone for the time. “Fuck. 12:29. My car's in the shop getting detailed, and the Uber driver they arranged to pick me up at 11:50's long gone by now.”

  “Well, you better pray to whatever god you pray to and hope we get a cab downstairs, then.”

  I opened the front door, only to get hit by a second whammy staring me in the face. Farrah stood on the opposite end of the doorway, carrying a bag from the bagel place down the street in one hand and a bottle of red Powerade in the other.

  “Morning, sleepyhead!”

  She beamed at me, but when she spotted Carrie behind me, she stuck out her bottom lip.

  “Farrah? What the hell are you doing here?” I blurted, my ears ringing. I did not have time to deal with this bullshit right now.

  “I thought you might like a little breakfast before the big game –”

  “How'd you even know where I live – scratch that. How'd you get past security?”

  “Um,” Farrah faltered, dropping her guilty gaze to her feet. She unzipped her jacket to reveal an orange T-shirt that read, “Spick N' Span.” “I may have told the security guard I was starting out today as your new cleaning lady... What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?”

  “I don't even –”

  “Of course he's happy to see you.” Carrie nudged me out of the way. “Did you happen to drive here by any chance?”

  “And who are you?” Farrah asked Carrie snottily.

  “Carrie Toussaint, a journalist from The Daily Dirt. I'm working with the team.”

  “Oh. So you're just a reporter, then.” Farrah's face brightened. She paused, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You didn't spend the night here, did you?”

  “No...?” Carrie's upward inflection was telling, but it seemed to go over Farrah's head.

  “Okay.” Farrah flicked her head to the side. “Come on. My car's parked downstairs.”

  Farrah, Carrie, and I sped down all 6 flights of steps in the emergency exit. We burst through the heavy doors of the building entrance. As Carrie and I rushed past a sleek Aston Martin painted in gleaming silver, Farrah called out to us from behind.

  “Hey, guys. Where are you going?”

  Farrah pushed down on the car remote in her fist. The bad boy beeped twice, unlocking its doors. Carrie and I exchanged high-brow looks of skepticism before retreating.

  “Ride up front with me, won't you, my King?”

  I obliged, ducking into the passenger's seat. Carrie slid into the backseat, whistling as she closed the door behind her. The car was pimped out with a full wine-red interior, from the leather seats to the tinted windows. Farrah dumped the breakfast and Powerade in my lap before strapping in. She gripped the gold covers of her steering wheel, revving up the engine.

  “Sweet ride,” was all I could say. “How'd you even –”

  “Oh. I get that a lot,” said Farrah, looking behind her to pu
ll out of her spot. “My parents are loaded.”

  “This car is amazing – or as kids these days say, goals.” Carrie's smile faded as she pointed out the clock on the dashboard. “Oh my god. It's 12:39, and the stadium's all the way across town.”

  “Thanks. And don't you worry.” Farrah reached up to adjust the rearview mirrors. “We'll be there by 12:58.”

  “Are you –”

  I was thrown back in my seat as the car jetted forward, peeling out from the parking spot.

  XXX

  “Thanks,” I leaned into the doorway of the passenger's seat. “I owe you for this, Farrah. Big time.”

  “I'd do anything for you, my King.” Farrah winked and blew a kiss at me. “Now go get 'em.”

  I was feeling like shit on a stick with my pounding hangover, coupled with the reckless way Farrah burned rubber, but none of that mattered. Farrah had kept up her end of the deal. I had 3 minutes to spare. Carrie and I went our separate ways. As she made her way to the VIP suites, I cut through the South Tower towards the locker room.

  I rammed my side into the door and stumbled into the room. The guys were in full gear, a sea of helmets only recognizable by their names and numbers on their uniforms. Coach whirled around to look at me, his teeth clenched and fury ablaze in his bulging eyes. Odell lifted the face mask of his helmet, shaking his head, but looking relieved. On the opposite end of the room, the vibes were just that. Val was visibly seething, crossing his arms over his chest as he glowered at me.

  “Coach, I know I fucked up, and I'm real sorry –”

  The vein bulging out of Coach's temple looked like it was ready to explode. I stood in place, bracing myself. Coach glanced at the clock and looked back at me with a face screwed up in disgust.

  “Goddammit, Kelly. That thin ice you're on is melting fast. This is your last chance. Now go get geared up before I change my fucking mind.”

  Chapter Eleven: Carrie