“What the hell is up?” our wide receiver demands, “You two gonna dance or something? Come on. We have a football game to win.”
Royce and I storm away from each other to take our places on the field. Not only am I filled with anger and frustration over the game, but my inner struggle is also run through with longing. The more serious things get with Jessa, the harder it is to be away from her. She’s not in the stands tonight—one of her friends had a dance performance or something. And after we were so suddenly interrupted yesterday, I’m going out of my mind with wanting her. But there’s nothing I can do about that right here and now. All I can do is channel my emotions into the game, leave it all on the field, and figure out the rest after the final whistle blows.
As soon as the second half is under way, I block out everything except the game that’s unfolding. I throw my body into each and every play, driving my team forward with all my might. I’m so enveloped, so consumed by my competitive drive that I barely even register the shifting tide of the game. When Buck brings in another touchdown, I don’t even let myself pause to celebrate with the rest of the team. We have work to do.
We’re still down by two in the final quarter. The other team pulled some special team shit during their last play and left us high and dry. We need another touchdown to win this thing. Royce goes to confer with the coach, then trots back into the huddle to give us the scoop. His mouth is a grim line as he delivers the play.
“All right,” Royce says through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fake a hand-off after the snap. Crash, you go right and I’ll pass it to you once they’re thrown off the scent.”
Perfect. I need a high intensity play to burn off some of this energy right now.
“You with me, Crash?” Royce snaps.
“You bet your ass,” I growl.
That’s one thing I can respect about Royce. No matter what personal beef we have going on, he’ll still make the right play for the team. We head back into position and brace ourselves for the next play. Our small but vocal section of traveling supporters can be heard above the other team’s entire stadium full of fans. Let it never be said that Rayburn fans aren’t loyal.
As Royce calls out the play, the game goes into slow motion before my eyes. I launch to the right as our quarterback feigns a hand-off, leading the defense astray. I sail around the other team’s line, easily skirting around them as they’re overcome with confusion.
Before they even know what’s hit them, Royce is firing the ball my way. The field is wide open as I catch his pass and take off like a shot. I feel someone on my tail, but Buck swoops in to stop him before he can reach me. I run the ball into the end zone and listen as the stadium erupts into angry cries.
As six points appear on the scoreboard, I feel the familiar swell of pride in my chest. But on the edges of that familiar feeling is a new, creeping sensation. It feels like… impatience. Winning this game will be all well and good, but I realize that I’m just waiting for it to be over. What I want isn’t infinite time on the field, it’s for the game to wrap up so I can go in search of what I really want. Or rather, who.
By the time the clock runs down and the Red Birds are celebrating another victory, it’s all I can do not to sprint off the field and book is back to campus. I need to see Jessa. To hold her. To be with her. Yesterday just whetted my appetite, but I’m a growing boy. And I haven't had—or given—nearly enough to satisfy me just yet.
Jessa
I’m pleasantly buzzed when I arrive back home at around one in the morning Friday night. Kelsey, Blaire and I all went to see Blake’s dance piece at one of the school’s blackbox theaters, and split a few bottles of wine back in Blaire’s dorm room afterward. With Dean off at his away game, it was nice to have a night out with my friends. But now that I’m climbing the steps up to my bedroom in the darkened house, that relaxed pleasantness is starting to ebb away. In its place is a restlessness that’s been gnawing at me since yesterday afternoon, when Dean and I had our would-be lovemaking session cut short.
Closing my bedroom door, I shuck off my clothes until I’m just wearing a bra and panties. I flop down onto my bed, suddenly wide awake. I’ve never been so ramped up over a guy before. It’s like my body refuses to give me a moment’s peace until I give it what it so desperately wants—Dean Carter.
“He’s busy being a football hero,” I whisper to my body, “You’re just gonna have to hang in there.”
I decided not to head onto campus to try and meet Dean after the game tonight. He needs some time to revel in his latest victory without me showing up to snatch him away. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with him, but I don’t want to force him to give up this other super important part of his life. That wouldn't be fair of me to ask. I’ll just have to wait until we get another moment alone… whenever that may be.
My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket, and I reach over the side of the bed to retrieve it. I feel a smile spread across my face as I see a text from Dean appear on the screen.
Dean: Get home safe?
I roll onto my stomach and type out a reply.
Jessa: Yep! Just got in. Congrats on another win, Crash.
Dean: You want to help me celebrate?
Jessa: What do you have in mind?
Dean: Look out your window.
I sit up in bed, whipping around to face my bedroom window. Tentatively, I peer through the glass and out onto my front lawn. My hearts lodges itself squarely in my throat as I spot a broad, perfectly balanced figure leaning against the oak tree in front of my house. I grab my phone and tap out another response.
Jessa: Oh hey there.
Dean: I hope you don’t mind a little company…
Jessa: I’ve been dying for your company. But don’t you want to blow off some steam with your adoring fans?
Dean: I know of a much better way to blow off some steam, if you’re down.
I swallow hard, recalling yesterday afternoon. I didn’t think we’d have another shot at being together so soon. I glance toward my parents’ bedroom. Surely Dean and I can keep it down… right? In my horny, hormone-crazed state, I can barely bring myself to care. The only thing on my mind now is Dean Carter.
Jessa: Get up here.
Dean: Yes Ma’am.
As quietly as I can, I ease open my bedroom window. The cool September breeze sends goosebumps dancing down my arms and legs. Or maybe that’s just the anticipation? I hear the soft rustling of the trellis as Dean ascends, pulling himself onto the roof outside my bedroom as if it were nothing. Thank you, football, for bestowing insane amounts of upper body strength on this man. Dean spots me waiting for him by the window and makes his way across the narrow strip of roof. I make room for him on the bed as he swings his body through the window.
Just like that, we’re back in my bed together—kneeling silently with nothing but the light from the street lamp to guide us. But even in the low light, I can see the ardent desire on his face. It’s the same desire I’ve been trying and failing to tamp down since yesterday afternoon. But we don’t need to try and contain it any longer.
Without another word, we fall into each other’s arms, picking up right where we left off. I tear Dean’s shirt up over his head as he lays me out beneath him on the bed. He kisses me hard and deep, unhooking my bra and throwing it across the room. Whereas yesterday our pace was slow and steady, tonight we can’t be tamed. We tear at each other’s clothes, ripping through layers until nothing separates us.
Dean kneels over me, his staggering body standing in sharp relief to the darkness. His gorgeous cock stands straight and strong, enticing me. I can’t help myself. Rising onto all fours, I crawl forward, cupping Dean’s firm balls with one hand as I guide his thick cock to my mouth. He sucks in a breath as I wrap my lips around the flared head of his dick, swallowing a moan as I run my tongue all around the tip of him.
He buries his fingers in my blonde hair as I work my mouth all along his throbbing shaft, using both of my hands to take what
my mouth alone can’t. Dean is bigger than any man I’ve ever tried to take in my mouth before, and the mere thought of feeling this enormity plunging deep inside of me… it’s almost enough to make me come right then and there.
Gathering my legs beneath me, I give his cock one hard suck before laying back down and guiding it to my pussy. Dean lowers himself to me, balancing on his forearms as his cock brushes against my sex. He holds himself suspended above me until I’m practically trembling with wanting to feel his cock inside of me.
“Do you have another condom?” he whispers in the darkness.
“Somewhere…” I breathe, “But it’s OK, I’m on the pill. You’ve been tested, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” he smiles, “I’m all good. Are you?”
“Yeah, I am too,” I tell him.
Our eyes lock in the faint yellow light, and I’m sure he can see my heart beating through my chest.
“You still want this?” he asks, his brown eyes gleaming with need.
“Absolutely,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, “You have no idea.”
“I think I do,” he laughs softly, laying a searing kiss on my lips.
I let my legs fall open to him, wrapping them around his waist as he presses his hips forward. He guides his cock into me, parting my silky flesh around his thick member. My head falls back against the pillow as I feel him fill me up, inch by inch. For a second, I worry that I just won’t be able to fit him… but my body opens itself eagerly to him, drawing him deeper than I could have possibly imagined.
And now that I know I can take him, I want as much of him as I can get.
Dean draws his hips back and thrusts into me again, and again. I meet his every pass as we find our rhythm, falling into sync as if we’d done this a thousand times. With every stroke, Dean’s cock drives deeper and deeper into my body, unlocking new depths of pleasure I didn’t even know existed. I rake my fingernails along his back we pick up the pace, bucking wildly against each other as our bodies flush with sensation.
I grab hold of Dean’s tight, sculpted ass, pulling him ever deeper. His muscled body is a well-oiled fucking machine, and I marvel at the powerful grace of him even as he levels me with his glorious cock. His mouth falls open in impending bliss as a low, building warmth starts to spread through my body. I swear, I can feel him growing harder in the very core of me—and I fucking love it. Tilting my hips upward, I nearly scream as he slams into that sweet, juicy spot inside of me that’s sure to send me soaring.
“I’m right there,” he breathes, fucking me hard and fast.
“Come, baby…” I gasp, holding onto him for dear life, “Come with me…”
At my command, Dean draws back and sends his cock colliding with the center of my bliss. My mouth falls open in a silent scream as he explodes deep inside of me, filling me up with his seed. I hold onto him tightly as we ride out our orgasm, clutching onto his broad shoulders as the sensation knocks me flat.
Our bodies go slack as we tumble back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and bedsheets. The room is perfectly silent, save for our frenzied breathing.
“You know, I never really cared much about winning or losing a football game,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips down his chest, “But if this is how you celebrate, you’d better make it all the way to the championship.”
“For you, I will,” he murmurs sleepily, pulling me close.
We doze off for a few hours, clasped in each other’s arms. My body feels transformed, much more so than when I first lost my virginity last year. Sure, I felt as though my curiosity had been met when I first had sex. It was fun, and sweet, and nice. But what just passed between Dean and I… that was something else altogether. It was deep, and primal, and transformative. Tonight feels like much more of a milestone than my actual “first time”. Because for the first time tonight, I feel like part of something larger than myself. Together, Dean and I are more than we are apart. It seems impossible that we’ve only known each other for a little over a month. I already feel like Dean knows me better than I know myself… and that’s as terrifying as it is exquisitely exciting.
When the sky begins to lighten from black to gray, Dean sneaks back out of my bedroom window. He leaves me with a searing kiss, a sweet ache between my legs, and a fire burning in my belly that can only be tamed by him. But why do I get the feeling that tending to that fire will only mean stoking it?
Chapter Six
Dean
I know they say that your college years are supposed to be the greatest of your life, but I gotta say I didn’t used to get the hype. Sure, I got to have a ton of sex. Sure, the booze was flowing. Sure, my only obligation in the wold was to winning football games. But sex, booze, and football has always been my plan for the rest of my life. I didn’t think there was anything special about these particular four years.
Until I met Jessa, that is.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that the next couple of months after we sleep together are damn near perfect. I’ve slept with plenty of women by now, but none that I click with like Jessa. Our compatibility is outrageous, and on top of that there’s an actual emotional connection between us—something I haven’t had since Rebecca, my first serious girlfriend. Not that there’s any comparison there. What I feel for Jessa blows my feelings for Rebecca out of the water. And I know that Jessa feels just as strongly about me.
As soon as we have sex that first time, the floodgates go flying open. We can’t get enough of each other after that. Nearly every day, we sneak off for some time together. It doesn’t even occur to me until a couple months in that I’ve never gone this long having sex with just one girl since starting college. That’s because I honestly don’t notice—I’m so stoked about getting to be with Jessa that for the first time I don’t feel like I need anybody else.
All told, shit’s crazy.
And it isn’t just my love life that’s kicking serious ass these days. The Rayburn Red Birds are absolutely killing it. With me, Bear, and Royce at the helm under Coach Cahill, we’ve been racking up W’s left right and center. And as long as we don’t fuck anything up at this week’s game, Rayburn University will be bowl-eligible. I couldn’t be more pumped.
Even my academics are looking up, thanks in large part to Jessa. I know the tutoring thing was just a ruse to spend more time with her, but I’ve learned a lot from her about work ethic and creative problem solving… between rounds in the sack, that is. Even my American Lit professor Ms. Warren has taken notice. When I got my first term paper back from her, there was a big old “A” on the front, with a note that read, “See? No special treatment needed”. I was so stoked to actually have gotten an A that I didn’t even mind the dig.
The only bummer that’s brought me down these past couple months was Thanksgiving. Holidays of any kind are lousy for me since my mom, Rowan, passed away. She’d been battling ovarian cancer for most of my pre-teen years, and lost her fight just as I was getting ready to graduate from high school. She was the one member of my family who bothered to tell me she loved me, the one who kept us guys together. She was the one we rallied around, the glue that kept us from falling apart. And when she died, we did just that.
That means that Thanksgiving this year consisted of me and my dad sitting on his old ass couch, eating pizza and beer while we watched football. It only made things stranger that one of the teams playing in the game on TV was the one my brother Tom just got drafted to. He’s not starting yet, obviously, but still. It was wild to know that he was there, living his dream, while I was sitting in my dad’s shitty apartment in Trenton.
“You’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill,” my dad had grumbled, as the game drew to a close, “Hope you know that, Dean.”
“I’m not looking to follow in anyone else’s footsteps,” I snapped back at him, throwing back the rest of my beer, “I’m on my own path, Dad.”
“Is that so?” my dad scoffed, “From what I can tell, you’re still the chasing after your big
brother, trying to one up him.”
I tried like hell not to take the bait. My dad is always pulling shit like this—trying to pit me and Tom against each other so he can feel a little better about himself. And even though I made it out of Thanksgiving without having a massive blowup with my dad, his words stayed with me. As much as I hate to admit it, that fucker knows exactly how to get under my skin. And now, the last game of our regular season has that much more riding on it.
At least I get to head right back to campus after my dismal Thanksgiving dinner with Dad and see Jessa again. With her in my life, things can only ever get so dark. She sneaks out and comes over to my place after her own Thanksgiving dinner. Seeing her there when I open the door is like getting a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.
“Is Buck here?” she asks, stepping inside.
“Nope. He’s still in Massachusetts,” I smile, wrapping my arms around her waist.
“Good,” she grins, lacing her fingers behind my neck, “Because you know how much I hate to keep my voice down when we’re together.”
“Do I ever,” I laugh, catching her lips in mine.
Buck being around wouldn’t have stopped us, of course. He knows that me and Jessa are seeing each other, as does her friend Blaire. But outside of our two confidantes, nobody else knows about our relationship. Not yet, anyway.
“Hey,” I murmur softly, as I back Jessa up into my bedroom, “You know what I was thinking about?”
“What?” she smiles, lifting my tee shirt over my head and kissing down my chest.
“I was thinking… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if people knew we were together,” I go on, my cock stiffening as her lips brush against my skin.
She glances up at me with something like alarm. That’s not the reaction I was hoping for. Not by a long shot.
Beauty and the Running Back Page 8
