by Jacob Chance
PENALTY
Jacob Chance
Contents
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
About the Author
PUNCHED
Chapter One
Chapter Two
REMY BLAKE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2017 Jacob Chance
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by PopKitty Designs
Edited by Vivian Freeman
This book contains mature content.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the members of my reader’s group, Spoiled by Chance.
Thank you for all the support and encouragement you show me. Whether you contribute regularly or prefer to sit back quietly, I appreciate each one of you.
Prologue
AUGUST
Grimacing at the sting of her long nails digging furrows into the skin on my back, I thrust my cock into her. She moans in my ear and her hands move down to grip my ass. Her legs squeeze my hips like a vise as I pound into her harder and deeper.
I’m surprised by how good a fuck she is. A lot of the time I find easy pussy is lazy pussy, but she’s proving to be a nice exception. I don’t even mind she’s older than the women I usually screw. She’s hot with her deep red hair, bright pink painted lips and a rack that won’t quit.
Her pussy is starting to quiver around my cock now. Rubbing my fingers over her clit, circling around the swollen flesh, I slam my dick as hard as I can into her. She shrieks like a wild cat as she trembles through her orgasm. I pull out of her and remove the condom before stroking my cock until I release all over her flat stomach.
I never come inside easy pussy. I don’t need some gold digger looking for a free ride, claiming I’m their baby’s daddy. What would be even worse is actually being their baby’s daddy. Jesus. That’s why I always wrap and pull. I like to think of it as being proactive.
I grab some tissues off the hotel nightstand and wipe her stomach clean. I’m such a gentleman. She stretches and yawns loudly as I slide my boxer briefs on.
“Where are you going, sugar?” She asks posing provocatively on her side. The scent of sex and her floral perfume are strong in the air. Stepping into my jeans, I pull them up. “I have some place else to be,” I reply vaguely as I button and zip my pants.
“Are you sure I can’t talk you into round two?” She traces a long red nail around her nipple.
My dick twitches at the thought of another go in her tight pussy, but I should finish unpacking my stuff. Two of my friends just moved into a new apartment off campus, with me. There’s still a lot to be done before classes begin in a few more days.
“No, sorry I can’t.” I walk toward the door. “I gotta run. Maybe some other time sweetie.” I pull the hotel suite door open and give her a quick wave before I go.
Closing the door, whistling the song “The Stranger,” my shoes are silent on the thick carpet of the ritzy hotel corridor as I head toward the exit. The woman I just fucked already all but forgotten.
Chapter One
BRADY
Early November
I grunt from the impact as the air expels from me when I’m tackled to the ground. The crowd loudly cheers, and I know my pass to my roommate, Nick, one of our team’s wide receivers, hit its mark. The peal of a shrill whistle nearby cuts through all the sounds of celebration.
My buddy, Zeke, one of the offensive linemen, holds his hand out for me, pulling me up. He pats me on the back.
“You okay man?” he asks. “That was a hard hit and a late one.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, picking grass out of the side of my face mask and throwing it to the ground. My body is wracked with pain, but I shake it off. There’s no time to think about it; we need to win this game.
The announcement comes over the sound system calling for a penalty against the opposing team for roughing the passer. I’m glad the officials got their heads outta their asses this time. There were two other plays just like this one and they turned a blind eye both times.
Their penalty earns us an extra fifteen yards and lines us up on their ten-yard line with only thirty seconds left on the clock. We’re down by three and need at least a field goal to tie it up, but we’ve got great field position. At first and goal we’ve got four downs to get in the end zone. We’re going to get the touchdown; I can feel it in my gut.
My fingers tingle as I wait for the ball to be snapped to me. This happens to me in high pressure situations such as this one. The sound of the crowd gets drowned out in my head, my focus is complete. I get tunnel vision. Some people call it the eye of the tiger, others call it the killer instinct. I think both of those terms are too dramatic for what it really is. I’m simply good under pressure. I make shit happen on the field when it needs to. I’m a playmaker.
The ball is snapped to me. I take two steps back, and roll around to the right to avoid being sacked. My eyes scan the end zone for Nick before I draw my arm back and release the ball. It’s right on target, and he catches it smoothly, holding it tightly in his grasp, before spiking it in the end zone. I run over to him, and we bump chests. The crowd erupts shouting, “touchdown.”
“Fucking A, Brady. That’s how it’s done,” Nick shouts.
“Yeah my arm makes you look better than you really are.” He laughs and I whack him on the back. The rest of our teammates on the field surround us, celebrating our win. The cheers of the crowd are deafening. This victory tastes even sweeter than most. We just beat our biggest rivals.
“Jesus, could they invite some more fucking people?” I ask my buddy Zeke when another person bumps into me. The room is full of college students, and even with my excessive size, I’m having difficulty navigating through. Being surrounded by people like this isn’t something I’m comfortable with; it pisses me off. I know there’s a scowl on my face, but I don’t really care. I love a party just as much as the rest of the guys, but right now I just want to enjoy my beer in peace and quiet.
One of the drawbacks of no longer living in this frat house is that I can’t escape to my room whenever I need a break or when I want to enjoy some alone time with whichever lucky lady I choose that night.
“Hey man, I’m gonna step outside for som
e fresh air. This crowd is too much for me.” I run my hand through my short blonde hair.
Zeke smiles. “Yeah, I can tell. You have your mean mug on. You’re going to scare all the ladies away with that face.”
I smirk and point at my chiseled jawline. “The ladies love this face no matter what expression’s on it.”
He laughs and holds his fist out. I bump it with mine. “True story, Linc.” Zeke always calls me by my nickname, short for my last name Lincoln. For as long as I can remember it’s been that way. The ladies call me “The Missing Link,” in reference to my bedroom skills. They say my dick is what their pussies have been missing all their lives. I think it’s fucking hilarious, and I just go with it. I’m certainly not going to complain. It works in your favor when the entire female population at school thinks you’re a beast between the sheets.
“I don’t know why they all love you so much when you’re such an asshole, but it works for you,” he says. Taking a gulp of his drink, the red solo cup covers his face.
“I keep telling you women don’t want to be treated well. They don’t appreciate it. They all want an asshole - a bad boy and I’m more than happy to be that for them. I get pussy whenever I need and I don’t bother with the hearts and fucking flowers bullshit they don’t really want anyway. It’s a win-win for everyone involved.” I poke him in his chest. “One of these days you’ll drop the good guy act and lose that clingy girlfriend of yours. Then you’ll realize what you’re missing out on. It’s inevitable. You’re only twenty-one, man, no one should settle down at such a young age.”
Zeke playfully shoves me back away from him. “Dude, you’re such a dickhead when it comes to women. Someday you’ll meet a girl who’ll knock you on your ass and you won’t even know what hit you.” He smiles. “I can’t fucking wait.”
I shove his chest. “Fuck off with your bullshit. It’s never going to happen. I’m never going to have a ball and chain around my ankle. I prefer wet lips wrapped around my dick.” I wink at him and he fist bumps me.
“I’ll give you that. Lips around the ole shaft is where it’s at, but it’s even better when it’s the same pair all the time.”
“Sure, dude. Keep convincing yourself.” I pat him on his thick chest and walk toward the kitchen for a refill.
Laughter draws my eyes to the round table in the corner of the room where a few people are playing poker. Grabbing a red cup, I fill it with fresh ice from the freezer. Chucking my empty beer bottle in the recycling bin, my eyes scan all the liquor lined up in no identifiable order on the counter. What am I in the mood for? I spot a bottle of Jack Daniels on the far left and pour some over the ice. The frozen cubes crack when the room temperature liquid makes contact, and my mouth waters as I anticipate taking the first sip. I add some coke and then give it a stir with a straw I found on the counter. Dropping the straw on the granite, I tip the cup back and take the first sip of the cool mixture. Ahh, just what I needed. This is perfect - less people and a stiff drink.
I move toward the back exit, already looking forward to relaxing on the large deck, which spans the width of the house. It was one of my favorite places to hang out when I lived here. There’s a hammock in the back yard tied between two towering oaks that’s calling my name. I spent many drunken nights sleeping out there. My hand is barely on the knob when the door flies open and someone crashes into me, spilling their cold drink all over the front of my shirt.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I snap. The gray cotton clings to me now, soaked with beer. The pungent scent is powerful and all I can smell. I step back inside the kitchen and search for a towel.
“I’m sorry,” a breathless female voice answers.
“Ever heard of watching where you’re going?” Scowling, I pull the soaked material away from my skin before grabbing the white dish towel hanging on the handle of the cabinet and rubbing the large stain.
“It was an accident. I didn’t expect you to be there when I opened the door. You startled me.” Her voice is soft and has a husky quality I find extremely sexy.
Throwing the towel down on the counter, I turn around to see if the face and body match the hot tones of her voice. Once my eyes land on the girl standing in front of me, nothing else registers. She’s unbelievably gorgeous and...tiny. The top of her head only reaches my chest. Her eyes are the dark gray of a stormy sky and they’re large for her small face - almost too large as she stares up at me. Waves of dark chocolate fall around her petite frame in long, loose curls. When she tucks one side behind her ear some of the strands drape over the top of her tits. I’m tempted to wind the long tresses around my fingers and reel her in for a kiss.
Her wide eyes meet mine as she nervously bites on her bottom lip. I want to know what her full pink lips would feel like pressed against mine. What would they feel like opening beneath mine letting my tongue inside to taste her?
What the fuck is this bullshit?
I don’t wax poetic about some chicks looks. If she’s got a banging body, then I bang her - end of story. It never goes any further. I’m not one to pay attention to what color her eyes are or notice her skin is fair and clear. I don’t wonder if her cheeks would flush pink when I make her come for the first time.
Why am I’m having these thoughts about some random chick?
“What’s your name, honey?” I ask, moving closer, my gaze roaming over her. She reminds me of an anime character all wide eyes, wild hair and a sexy little pout for a mouth. Jesus. Right now, just looking at her is giving me a fucking semi.
“Harlow.” It’s only one word, but it sends shivers down my spine like long nails scratching the length of my back.
I lean in. “Well, Harlow, now that you got my shirt all wet, what do you say I return the favor and get you wet. Soaked. And I’m not talking about your shirt.” I wink at her and wait for the smile to appear on her face. The one that says I know what you really want and I want it too. Let’s go fuck like rabbits on crack.
That’s not the reaction I get from Harlow though. Her eyebrows move toward the middle of her forehead. Like a defensive kitten, she arches her upper body as far away from me as she can without actually taking a step. Her ability to balance while leaning so far back is impressive. And cute. A cute, angry kitten.
“I came here with friends. I can’t just leave them.”
I run the back of my index finger down her cheek. “Okay, kitten. We can go find them and tell them you’re coming with me.”
She shakes her head, frowning. “I don’t even know you.”
I place my hands on the countertop on either side of her, caging her in. “Are you sure about that, kitten? Everyone knows who I am. I’m the quarterback for the Terriers.”
She avoids my gaze and crosses her arms in front of her. My eyes wander down to stare at the deep fuckable valley between her tits. I want my cock there. Soon.
“Stop calling me kitten. I don’t really follow football.” Her words draw my eyes back to her face.
“I guess it’s time you started then.” I tip her chin up with my fingers and flash my most irresistible smile.
She doesn’t smile back. She actually looks annoyed. “I don’t like football or football players. Sorry I spilled my drink on you, but I’m not going to make up for your shirt getting a little wet by blowing you back at your apartment,” she huffs.
“Who said anything about you blowing me? I was thinking more along the lines of fucking you all night long.”
“Okay this conversation is over. I need to go find my friends.” She pushes firmly on my chest, and as much as I want to resist and keep her here with me, I don’t. I take a step back so she can pass by.
I call out to her. “My name’s Brady Lincoln in case you change your mind. I’m not hard to find.”
I watch her curvy little ass sway with each step until she’s out of sight. Damn. She’s got some banging curves on her and a fresh little mouth I’d like to keep permanently occupied. I adjust my dick and knock the rest of my drin
k back.
Harlow. I like that name. It suits her. I wonder what her last name is? I’m a dumbass for not asking, but she took me by surprise. She knocked me off balance a little and girls never do. I’m not sure I like the unexpected effect she had on me, but I’m definitely intrigued by her hot curves and her spitfire mouth.
I make myself another drink and then head back to the large living room to seek her out. I want to know her last name and where she lives. I’ve never seen her on campus and I’m sure I’d remember if I had. She’s not someone I’d forget. She’s a tempting little package I can’t wait to open.
My eyes scan around the crowded space for her, but I don’t spot her anywhere. Leaning my back against the wall, I sip on my drink, disappointed. I was looking forward to talking with her some more. I’m sure I could’ve convinced her to come home with me if I had a few more minutes to lay some of the Lincoln charm on her. Better luck next time.
Chapter Two
HARLOW
Did Brady Lincoln, the Brady Lincoln, Mr. Tom Brady Has Nothing On Me In The Looks Department, really ask me to have sex with him? I couldn’t get out of that frat party fast enough. Especially after spilling my drink on Brady Lincoln. Oh God, I still can’t believe I spilled my drink on him.
I may have acted as if I didn’t know who he was, but I don’t think there’s a female on campus who doesn’t know of him. He’s the quarterback of our football team and he’s rumored to be good enough to make it to the NFL.
He’s way out of my league.
I’ve admired him from afar since the first time I saw him over a year ago. He made enough of an impression on me that I still remember the exact moment. I caught sight of him across the food court surrounded by an enamored group of hot girls. Seeing him across a crowded room sounds so cliché, but is exactly what happened. He was impossible to miss with his tall frame and broad shoulders. His gorgeous looks made my stomach flutter.
