Sports Gods

by J J Loraine

  Sports Gods

  Older Alpha Athletes & Younger BBW BUNDLE

  J. J. Loraine

  Copyright © 2020 by J. J. Loraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Hockey God

  1. Clay

  2. Norah

  3. Clay

  4. Norah

  5. Clay

  6. Norah

  7. Clay

  8. Norah

  9. Clay

  10. Norah

  11. Clay

  12. Norah

  13. Clay

  Football God

  14. Carson

  15. Sadie

  16. Carson

  17. Sadie

  18. Carson

  19. Sadie

  20. Carson

  21. Sadie

  22. Carson

  23. Sadie

  24. Carson

  25. Sadie

  26. Carson

  27. Sadie

  28. Carson

  29. Sadie

  30. Carson

  31. Sadie

  32. Carson

  33. Sadie

  34. Carson

  Rugby God

  35. Jack

  36. Ava

  37. Jack

  38. Ava

  39. Jack

  40. Ava

  41. Jack

  42. Ava

  43. Jack

  44. Ava

  45. Jack

  46. Ava

  47. Jack

  48. Ava

  49. Jack

  50. Ava

  51. Jack

  Baseball God

  52. Sandy

  53. Bryce

  54. Sandy

  55. Bryce

  56. Sandy

  57. Bryce

  58. Sandy

  59. Bryce

  60. Sandy

  61. Bryce

  62. Sandy

  63. Bryce

  64. Sandy

  65. Bryce

  66. Sandy

  Lacrosse God

  67. Caden

  68. Hailey

  69. Caden

  70. Hailey

  71. Caden

  72. Hailey

  73. Caden

  74. Hailey

  75. Caden

  76. Hailey

  77. Caden

  78. Hailey

  79. Caden

  80. Hailey

  Lacrosse God

  81. Caden

  82. Hailey

  83. Caden

  84. Hailey

  85. Caden

  86. Hailey

  87. Caden

  88. Hailey

  89. Caden

  90. Hailey

  91. Caden

  92. Hailey

  93. Caden

  Also by J. J. Loraine

  Hockey God

  Chapter 1

  Clay

  I’m so sick of these puck bunnies.

  I can barely even tell them apart anymore; they’ve all started to blur into one person.

  Tall, stick thin, big, fake lips and a sickeningly sweet half-smiles plastered on their plastic faces. I enjoyed their attention when I first made the league, but now I can’t stand them. I’ve had enough.

  It’s the same thing at every single team event. I have to show up at more of them than any of my teammates do. I guess that’s the price of being a superstar, though... I just wish I could meet someone to settle down with already; then I’d have a ready-made excuse for all these gold-diggers and celebrity-chasers.

  I don’t like to be mean, but I swear, if one more platinum blonde stick-figure hops over and asks me if I’m THE C.J. Marks, I’m going to go crazy.

  Screw a career in hockey. I didn’t sign up for this shit. I’ll sign autographs and kiss babies, but I’m getting old enough where I actually want to settle down, and being so famous is making that nearly impossible.

  Where’s true love in this sea of fur coats and yoga pants?

  I shuffle into the event and give my greetings to my GM and the team owner and then I slink to the back of the elegant ballroom. The team holds these events every so often because they’re huge money-makers. People pay thousands of dollars just to get a glimpse of their favourite player in a suit. What kind of hockey fan wants to see us in anything other than our equipment?

  I huff. I doubt there are many true hockey fans here. Only the rich can afford to be at these shindigs. I don’t come from money, and though I’m wealthier now than I could ever have imagined, I still don’t feel like I fit in.

  I scan the bustling hall for one of my teammates, but I’m the first one to show up. Typical. When will I learn? I could be training right now. God knows we could use some more practice. We won it all last year and I’m starting to think it’s gotten to our heads. We just don’t seem to have the same fire anymore. We’re barely in the playoff hunt and it’s already halfway through the season.

  I can only feel myself getting angrier as the first puck bunny hops over to me and asks me if I’m actually me. I nod and smile. I have an image to uphold; people rely on me for their incomes. I can’t go around blowing up on people who annoy me. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

  I shake some hands and sign some napkins and then slip into the kitchen. I’ve found that I can always count on the cooks not to care who I am. They’re too busy to give a shit. Those are my kind of people. If I didn’t happen to be so good at hockey, I’m sure I would have ended up right beside them.

  There’s a plate of appetizers on a nearby counter. My belly rumbles. I had a hard workout at the rink this morning. I figure I deserve a few pigs-in-a-blanket.

  I look around to make sure the coast’s clear and then I make my move. I scoop up a handful, making a mess of the neatly organized plate, and start to shove the food into my mouth. I’m not a delicate eater. I was born to a family of 7; there was no time for manners at the dinner table. You either fought for a piece or you went hungry.

  I set up shop beside the plate and continue to pick at it as I watch the cooks do their thing. I admire their work ethic. I watch the flames flicker and the waitresses rush about and I get lost in the beautiful chaos of it all. I’m so entranced, I don’t even hear the nearby door open as someone enters into the kitchen from the hall.

  “What the fuck!?” I do hear from the other side of the room.

  The voice peaks my interest. I look over... and I’m stunned.

  The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen stands in the doorway. She’s glaring right at me... and looking awfully indignant about it.

  I just stare at her. She’s wearing a dark blue servers’ outfit that’s just tight enough that I can see the extraordinary curves of her voluptuous body. Her hips roll out from her apron like an hourglass and her chest is full and puffed out directly at me.

  I have to shift in my spot to hide my growing arousal.

  “Who said you could eat from that platter!?” she growls. I can only stand up straight as she stomps over to me.

  “Do you know how long it took me to make it up like that!? Now I have to go make another one before I go back out onto the floor. My boss is going to kill me for being so slow. Who the hell do you think you are!?”

  I pause at her rhetorical question. Does she really not know who I am?

  I feel a rush of hope tingle up my spine. This isn’t some spoiled puck bunny. This is a working girl, and a mighty fine looking one at that. I’m overcome by the sudden urge to take her in my arms.

  No, this one won’t be so easy. She’s not like
the others... I actually want her.

  I swallow the last bit of the mini-hotdog I was chewing on and reach out my hand.

  “I’m C.J.... but you can call me Clay.”

  The woman doesn’t budge. She already looks fed up with my shit. After a tense stare down, she leaves my hand hanging and pushes right by me.

  “I’d rather call security...” she mumbles under her breath, as she grabs the ruined plate. “Get out of here. This area’s for employees only!”

  “I am an employee,” I blurt out, before she can fully turn her back to me.

  That grabs her attention.

  “Bullshit... you’re dressed like one of the guests...”

  I furrow my brow, playfully offended.

  “If you think I’m guest, why aren’t you being more polite?”

  She furrows her brow back at me. I try to suppress the mischievous grin growing on my lips.

  “I don’t have any tolerance for those that fuck with my art, that’s why,” she responds. Her voice is already less-venom filled. I think she likes me.

  “Art?” I ask, with a chuckle. “The pigs in the blankets?”

  She rolls her eyes. I can see her struggling to hold back a smile. God, she’s so sexy.

  “I was being sarcastic... but also, yes. The only way I can stand this shitty job is if I take some pride in it.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation. They were delicious!” I rub my belly.

  “I didn’t make them!” she blurts out. I hear the faintest hint of a crack in her voice. She’s hiding back laughter...

  “Maybe not, but those were the best mini-hot dogs I ever had. The presentation had to count for something!”

  She shakes her head and a big grin crawls across her face. Her smiles fills me up with a warm happiness. Oh God, I feel like I’m falling in love...

  “Whatever,” she giggles, slowly turning away. Before she leaves, though, she looks me straight in the eyes. I nearly stumble back from the power of her gaze.

  Holy shit... that does it... I already love this woman!

  “Just stay out of my way,” she orders, whimsically, before turning around for good.

  I watch her big, perfect ass strut through the kitchen until she’s out of sight.

  I feel thunder struck. What the fuck just happened?

  Is this the girl I’ve been waiting for?

  There’s only one way to find out...

  Chapter 2

  Norah

  When I get back to the front of the kitchen, the handsome stranger is gone.

  That’s a shame...

  He was hot... and he could clearly handle my sass.... I wonder what he does here? What young employee dresses so well at such a high-class function? He’s definitely not some low-level coffee boy, but he also barely even looks 30. He was pretty solid. Maybe he’s one of the athletes?

  I don’t know... Sure, he looked lean and athletic, but I’m a football fan, and all the athletes I know are super jacked. This guy... Clay, he wasn’t that big or that jacked... but he was really hot.

  I steady the newly made plate of appetizers on my hand and take a deep breath. God, I hate this job. I just wander through these crowds of rich people like a ghost, and they treat me like I don’t even exist. I wish I didn’t have to be here, but I’ve got bills to pay.

  I take one last sigh and push my way out into the crowded hall. It’s even busier now than it was when I left it. I hope my boss doesn’t see me. He’s going to be pissed if he finds out how long it took me to get my second plate out.

  I float through the throngs of perfect guests. The women here all make me so insecure. They all look like supermodels, and it makes me feel so shitty. Maybe I need to finally go on that diet...

  I forget that thought, though, when I catch Clay’s eyes through the crowd. He’s watching me like I watch a good steak; with hunger in his eyes.

  Does he really want me? No... he couldn’t; not in this room. I must just be sticking out like a sore thumb among the skinny supermodels.

  I whip my gaze away from his.

  Don’t get distracted Norah. Let’s just get through the night...

  I find out quickly enough that this function is for the local hockey team. I guess some of these guys are players? I honestly can’t tell which ones. I guess hockey players don’t look much different than any common young guy.

  I wonder if Clay’s a hockey player...?

  I grew up in the south. The only ice I ever saw was in my lemonade. It’s a different culture up north. I know they like their hockey, but who would have thought they’d dedicate such a classy evening to such a violent sport.

  The only time I ever see hockey highlights on TV is when two players literal fight. What other sports have regular brawls during their games?

  Maybe I would like hockey...

  I decide to give it a chance when I get home. I always click past the games, but tonight I promise myself I’ll watch a bit.

  Someone grabs the last appetizer on my plate and I head back to kitchen. I look around for Clay, but there’s no sign of him.

  I quickly find out why.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when I push my way through the kitchen door to see him standing on the other side. The metal plate goes flying from my hand. He lunges forward like a flash of lightening and catches it all in one motion.

  Maybe he is a professional athlete, after all...

  “You’re lucky there’s no food on that,” I scold him.

  He hands me the plate and steps aside.

  “Wouldn’t have mattered. I would have caught it all anyway,” he assures me.

  “Cocky,” I tease.

  “I try my best... what’s your name?”

  I keep walking by him... let him chase me.

  He catches up and gently grazes my shoulder. I can’t help but quiver at his touch... there’s something special about his guy...

  “... Norah,” I finally say.

  “Norah... beautiful... how fitting.”

  That stops me in my tracks. This guy works quick. I can’t help but like him, hockey player or not.

  “Are you a hockey player?” I ask.

  I catch a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes. His lips purse and he shrugs.

  I raise my eyebrows. I’m not letting him off the hook so easily.

  He rolls his eyes.

  “Yes. Have you heard of me?” he finally responds.

  “No. I don’t follow hockey.”

  Clay raises his eyebrow. The disappointment I thought I saw in him quickly converts to hope.

  “That’s nice,” he almost whispers.

  “Why’s that nice?” I ask.

  “Because I get enough hockey in my daily life. You not caring about the sport means we’ll have something else to talk about during our first date.”

  Chapter 3

  Clay

  There it is. A little bit of vulnerability.

  Norah’s cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink.

  She doesn’t know who I am... she doesn’t even like hockey! She could be the one...

  “Who says I’m going on a date with you?” she finally asks, after recovering from her fluster.

  “No one... yet,” I tease. I want this girl so badly.

  Play it cool, Clay. She’s not just going to jump in your arms like the puck bunnies you’ve gotten used to. This is a real woman.

  “... But what would you say if I did ask you out?” I ask.

  “Depends...”

  “On what?”

  “On how you ask...”

  “What if I ask like this... Can I take you out sometime?”

  Norah’s cheeks start to flush again. I just want to kiss her... but I know I have to hold back. I’m so used to it being so easy to get girls; this whole exchange has become exhilarating.

  “... Then I’d say yes.” She finally responds.

  I feel like jumping through the roof. The adrenaline coursing through my body is just as invigorating as scoring a goal or w
inning a game. I feel like a kid again.

  I rifle through my pocket and whip out my phone. I open up a new contact screen and hand it to Norah. She types in her information. I can barely stand still, I’m so giddy.

  “When do you get off?” I ask, as she hands my phone back to me.

  “Whenever this thing is over,” she responds.

  I groan and roll my eyes. “Ugh. These things last forever. I hate them...”

  “Then why do you come? You’re a hockey player, right? Not a professional dinner guest.”

  “These events are in my contract. I could skip them and get fined, but then that would cause a whole thing, and I don’t want to deal with any drama. I just want to play hockey and get payed. I’m a simple man.”