Their First Fall_Trucker and Keeka's story

by Mj Fields

  I shrug. “I never agreed to it. I said I’d think about it.”

  He thinks about what I said then nods. “I guess you did.”

  “And I thought about it.”

  “Think harder, Ray, okay? It’s dangerous.”

  I don’t say a thing, because I won’t stop … ever.

  He lies back, pulling me beside him, and ghost-kisses me. Then he looks down my body. I feel my nipples begin to harden.

  “I do think you agreed to wear bras, though.”

  “I wore a baggy sweatshirt when we were out,” I whisper as he leans in and kisses me.

  He pushes his arm under me and pulls me tighter to his body. Then he uses his other hand to push my hair back as his lips engulf mine. He skims his hand down my neck, his lips following. Goosebumps follow his lips, and I feel the heat begin to build between my legs.

  He rubs across my hard nipple, causing me to gasp out a breath as he continues kissing and licking my neck, slowly moving lower. And as he continues to kiss me, he traces his finger down between my breasts, continuing until it’s at the hem. Then he pushes himself up and looks at me with eyes steaming.

  He moves down the bed and straddles my lower legs as he lowers, kissing the skin that he exposed while lifting my shirt. Inch by inch, he kisses and licks my torso, causing my back to arch and goosebumps to cover the freshly kissed surfaces of my body.

  When the shirt is just covering my breasts, he growls and sits back, grabbing his crotch and gripping himself.

  I sit up and lift his shirt, not stopping at his chest. I lift it farther up, and then he lifts his arms. Together, we remove his t-shirt, and he tosses it on the ground.

  I look him over then clench my eyes closed, trying to take a memory photo and sear it into my brain so I never forget what he looks like.

  “Ray,” he pants my name as I trace my finger up the divide between his abs.

  “I’ve never looked at anyone and thought, he’s so sexy,” I whisper as I lean in and kiss his heated abdomen.

  “Christ,” he hisses.

  “Never even used the word Trucker.” I kiss his exposed hip bone. “Never knew what it was.” I kiss the other.

  A low rumble escapes his chest.

  “I’ve heard it used by …” I pause, not wanting to picture my mom when I am kissing Trucker. “Others. About men older than you.” I rub my nose up the light sprinkling of dark hair that starts at his waistband and ends at his belly button. “I’ve never seen a man who’s as beautiful inside as he is outside. And that’s so damn sexy, Trucker.”

  He takes a deep breath and holds it.

  “You show me integrity, vulnerability”—I kiss up his rock-hard abs—“confidence, intellect.” I grip his hips so I can guide him to his knees as I slide out from under him and get onto mine, wanting to kiss higher as he looks down at me. “You look at me like I’m beautiful.”

  “You are, Ray.” He grips my neck lightly, tracing his thumb up my neck.

  “I’ve never felt it. Never wanted to until I met you.” I lean in and lick his nipple like I want him to lick mine.

  “Fuck yes,” he groans.

  “You’re warm.” I kiss across his chest. “And way too generous.”

  “I’d give you anything you asked for right now.”

  “Good,” I say as I kiss lower and lower. Then, with a shaky hand, I start to unbutton his jeans.

  “Can’t fucking believe I’m doing this,” he snarls as he covers my hand with his, “but Ray, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Anything.” I rub my nose over the hair again.

  “I need you to …” He pauses then hisses, “Fuck my life.”

  “I want you.”

  “Fuuuck, I want you so fucking bad, too, Ray. But you gotta do me a favor.”

  I look up at him and see anger in his eyes.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  He leans back on his heels and moves my hand to his mouth, placing soft kisses against it. “You gotta give me a little at a time and make me earn it, okay?”

  “You’ve earned everything I have.”

  “You’re so fucking hot, Ray, but …” He groans and closes his eyes. “If you would tell me you’ll give me … I don’t know, a handjob if we beat Pitt, then let me feast on your pussy when we beat UConn, then—”

  “You want me to deny you those things unless you win?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “Yeah, Ray,” he sighs. “Yeah.”

  “Wow, okay.”

  He opens his eyes. “You’re pissed?”

  “Shocked.”

  “Yeah?” He tries not to smile.

  I nod. “I didn’t want to move so slow that you got bored of me and—”

  “Never,” he says, holding my hand to his lips again. “I just think you falling into my life is for a reason.”

  “Or a season.” I try to hide the sadness in my smile.

  He smiles back. “I’m not using you, Ray, I promise. I’ll never take more than I can give. You just promise me the same.”

  I smile genuinely now, and nod. “I kind of like this.”

  “Well, I hope you like the next part, too.”

  “I’ll like every part as long as it involves you.”

  His smile broadens. “Glad you think so, because you can’t give me a handjob when we beat Pitt unless you read me a book.”

  “Trucker, I can’t—”

  “We start small. Like Dick and Jane books or something.”

  “That’s embarrassing,” I whisper.

  “Well, if you can already do that, you’ll have an easy week.”

  When I look away, he grabs my chin and turns my head back to face his beautiful face. “I can’t do this unless you get something out of it, too. Not with you, Ray.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there is something about you that reminds me of myself. I’ll never let myself down, so there is no way in hell I’m gonna let you down.”

  “You …” I blow out a slow breath.

  A look of concern crosses his face, “Me what?”

  “You’re perfect.”

  He grins from ear to ear. “Week by week, inch by inch, you’ll figure out just how perfect I am.”

  I smile back at him just as big.

  “Fuck the gold stars and the four-point-O, Ray. You’re working for the Boom.”

  “The boom?”

  He laughs. “You’ll meet Boom and the boys soon enough. I have faith in you.”

  “Boom and the boys?” I laugh.

  “Ray, there will be no laughing when Boom is making you scream and the boys are high-fiving that ass.”

  I cover my eyes and laugh. “Oh, my God.”

  Laughing, he adjusts himself as he gets up off the bed. He grabs his phone and sends a message.

  The phone he gave me starts to play the song “Click Click Boom” by Saliva.

  I laugh, and he grins a mischievous grin, then gives me a wink.

  “Now, how about we check out these bras together.” He walks over and grabs the bag, bringing it to the bed. He pulls pink tissue paper out and shakes his head. “You haven’t even looked at them.”

  “I just wasn’t sure I would …” I stop because I don’t want to sound ungrateful.

  “We won the money. You and me. I get that it’s hard to receive, trust me, but this didn’t take a damn thing away from me or anyone else, so suck it up, butter”—he pulls out the first one, an orange one, and smiles—“cups.”

  “B’s.”

  “Yeah, and apparently, they are so cute!”

  I laugh as he tosses it at me.

  I hold it up and inspect it. The ones I had back in Brooklyn didn’t have clasps in the front.

  He reaches out. “Come here.”

  I take his hand, and he pulls me up, turns me so my back is facing him, and then reaches around me and grabs the hem of my shirt. Then he clears his throat.

  “Arms up, Ray.”

  When I hesitate, he whispers
, “This is a teaching moment. I’m not trying to take advantage of you … yet.”

  I lift my arms, and he pulls the shirt over my head.

  I hear his chest rumble, and then I feel him trail his finger softly down my spine. I arch my back.

  “What the fuck was I thinking?”

  “Teaching moment,” I whimper out.

  “Right,” he sighs then whispers, “Fuuuuck.”

  I can’t help smiling.

  “Arms out.” His voice is thick, and his breath is hot against the back of my neck.

  He slides the material up one arm slowly, tracing his finger behind. I’m unsure if it’s intentional or not, but it teases and taunts me.

  I slide the other arm through, and then he reaches in front of me and holds out his hands.

  “I don’t want to touch where I’m not supposed to, Ray,” he whispers. “Guide me.”

  I lean my back against his purposefully and knowingly, allowing him to see what it is he is avoiding touching.

  “Ray, you’re teasing the lion.”

  “I’m only giving you back what you’re dishing out.”

  His lips turn up on one corner as I take his hand and guide it to a bra cup, and then the other.

  “Do you know how to do this?”

  I shake my head. “Only had a couple that clasped in the back, and a couple sports bras.”

  “Then look down and pay attention.” His voice is deeper now.

  I wet my lips, and he groans the only name I ever want him to call me.

  “Ray, pay attention.”

  I look down at his hands, each large and strong, holding delicate gold clasps. Then I glance up as he leans farther over my shoulder.

  “Is it okay?”

  “They’re fucking perfect.” He clasps the bra and sighs.

  I smile up at him. “I was talking about the bra.”

  “I wasn’t.” His eyes are growing darker and appearing heavier. I love the way he’s looking at me.

  I take his hands and hold them over the lace.

  “Fuck, Ray,” he groans then asks, “Do you think the fit’s, right?”

  “I think I can make it work.”

  His mouth comes down on mine as he grips my breasts harder. He licks inside my mouth, and I press into his touch while angling my head so he can get deeper. Butterflies are dancing in my belly. The heat, the electricity, the pulsing is everywhere.

  When he slows down, I’m trembling and can’t stop myself from turning around to face him.

  His lips curl up and his abs flex. It’s so sexy.

  Grabbing his face, I pull him harder against me. I don’t want it to stop or slow down … ever.

  His fingers are tangled in my hair as he overpowers my needy tongue with his stronger, more skillful one, slowing the pace.

  I walk into him, pushing him lightly so he has to sit on the edge of my bed. Then I climb onto his lap, straddling him.

  He kisses me differently now. All lips and sucking. All slower. He’s slowing us both down on purpose. I don’t want him to.

  When he sucks on my lower lip, I trace his with my tongue, making him moan and shift until I feel his hard length against me.

  “Ray, we have a plan. Don’t make me fuck it up already.” He sighs, burying his head in my chest. “They look like they belong to me.”

  “They do.”

  “Fuuck,” he sighs out as he leans back. “You’re killing me.”

  “No, Trucker. Not ever. I just want you to be happy.”

  “And I need the same for you.”

  I nod. “I am.”

  “Don’t you ever stop.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  We’ve all got issues

  Trucker

  When I woke up this morning, I was feeling all the fucking effects of yesterday. My body ached from the workout and practice, and my balls were so tight a good, strong wind would have set me off. Add all that to the fact that I didn’t leave Ray’s until three in the fucking morning because we downloaded a bunch of apps to help her learn to read, and I’m fucking done.

  She told me that if I was going to make her learn how to read, she was going to use every spare moment she had to make sure she could. When I told her that I knew she would, she looked at me like I was something better than I know I am.

  Then she told me, if she wasn’t going to disappoint herself, then I better not disappoint myself and make sure I put every moment I could into becoming the best damn player, not only at SU but in all of college football.

  I upped the ante and told her that, if I did that, she needed to start GED classes so she could earn her diploma. She looked scared as hell, but she nodded once, took a deep breath, and then said, “Okay.”

  We decided we will text throughout the week and see each other on Thursday nights for a couple of hours, because Fridays, I had to stay at a fucking hotel. It was mandatory to ensure we rested and were ready for Saturdays’ games. Then on Saturday nights, I would come and see her after my home games and after she closed up the bar. Away games, Sunday afternoons, if we got back in time. And Mondays after practice would be us, all us.

  Each week, we would give a little more, do a little more. I told her, if we lost, I would need to release stress. She told me, if I lost, I would be doing it myself.

  Little Ray is amazing.

  At the gym, Logan looks at me funny. I give him the what? look.

  “You’re dragging ass, man. Hope she’s worth it.”

  “She is.”

  He drops the hand weights next the bench he’s on. “The fall isn’t the time to start getting stupid, Trucker.”

  “She’s—”

  “Different?” He laughs.

  “Whatever, man,” I huff, continuing my bench presses.

  “Don’t whatever man me.” He gets up, walks over, and stands over me. “Her pussy taste like chocolate and shoot fucking skittles?”

  I laugh. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “She do some trick with her mouth that makes you come in seconds?”

  “Don’t know yet, but—”

  “Oh, this is worse than I thought. She’s got you begging, doesn’t she?”

  “No, she’d have fucked me last night, but—”

  “So, you’ve all of the sudden started bra shopping and disappearing at night so you can what, man? Do crossword puzzles? Knit blankets?”

  “Never been good at crossword puzzles. You of all people know that.”

  “She reading you bedtime stories or some shit?”

  I shake my head, trying not to let him see that what he just said tripped me up a bit.

  “Spill it, Trucker.”

  “Not everything I do is your business.”

  He chokes on a laugh. “Since fucking when?”

  He’s right. We have always shared everything. Every. Fucking. Thing.

  “She can’t read me bedtime stories, dick. That’s still all you.”

  “What do you mean she can’t read—”

  “Shut the fuck up, man,” I snap at him as I look around to see if anyone heard.

  “Holy fucking shit. She can’t—”

  “Logan, I’m serious. It’s no one’s fucking business.”

  “So, what? You’re gonna help her? That’s like sending Ray Charles to teach Stevie Wonder how to drive.”

  I try not to smile, but it’s fucking funny. Even funnier because he’s not cracking jokes. He’s dead fucking serious.

  “You better back the truck up. You’re too close to tapping into crazy.”

  “She’s not fucking crazy. She’s had a shit life, and I get it. She knows my plan is to go pro. She and I have it all worked out. Four months, we tap out.”

  “So, right after the fall semester?”

  I nod and lift the barbell. “Sure. I don’t know … Could last through school or end tomorrow.”

  “That’s three months. The backward E, Trucker.”

  I smirk, and he shakes his head.

  “Already agreed to four. N
o backing out of that; we gave our word. Neither of us have anything else but that.”

  “You’ve got me, you’ve got football, you’ve got a hell of a lot to lose if you don’t play the game right.”

  “Yeah?” I sit up. “She’s got her job, a place to live, and me.” I stand and look at him. “She’s got me and an upside down, backward h.”

  As he nods, I walk the fuck away.

  Sitting in the library, listening to a lecture to prepare for the test I have in my communications class, I close my eyes and lean back.

  The day I found out I had dyslexia, I didn’t feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t think, well, that makes sense, because I know damn well I’m not stupid. I didn’t take comfort in the fact that it was just something I had to overcome. It pissed me off.

  My old man was quick to sign me up for all the extra help the school offered, and I was quick to tell him I didn’t want it. He was even quicker to give in.

  Logan and I got in our first ever fight because he seemed happy as hell that there would be a fix to it, and then I wouldn’t hate reading out loud in class, and I wouldn’t get into fights when assholes made remarks about me being stupid. I told him I didn’t care, that I just wanted to play football. Then he gave me a line like: “You have to put in the work.” I gave him one back: “Just leave me alone.”

  He did … for a week. Then he and his dad stopped by the house when I was alone, lying when I told them that my dad was in town so I didn’t have to go to their place. So I could avoid them and wallow in my own misery.

  Knowing I wouldn’t refuse a meal, Logan’s father, Lucas, said, “Let’s go to dinner.”

  When we got there, Jade, Logan’s neighbor and a social worker, walked in, and Lucas invited her to eat with us. They had some bullshit conversation about a few of her clients, and surprise, they all had dyslexia.

  Logan and Lucas ended up making another excuse to leave, something about Ava, Logan’s sister, and Jade offered dessert.

  We talked until the restaurant was closing. We talked about Frank Gore, who played for the 49ers and won a Super Bowl; Muhamad Ali; Pete Rose, who has three World Series rings; Magic Johnson from the Lakers; Nolan Ryan, who played for the Mets; Coach Rex Ryan, who wasn’t diagnosed until he was an adult; Olympian Carl Lewis; Dexter Manley of the Redskins; Mark Schlereth, who played for the Broncos; Jason Conley, the NCAA Division one lead scorer; and then she said the name of my favorite player, Tim Tebow, who has played for the Jets, the Broncos, and the New England Patriots.