Hook Up (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Moan with that sexy throaty voice. You were doing that in your sleep a few times while I drove, and Christ, you had my dick begging to be inside you.”

  I’d be offended by his comment if I hadn’t already jumped his bones only twenty-four hours ago. It didn’t bug me at all, though, because before I knew it I was climbing into the empty spot beside him in bed, ready to let him have his wish.

  Without saying a word, I leaned over to him and he pulled me in, kissing me as his hands found my ass and guided me on top of him. We were both fully dressed but I couldn’t stop myself from grinding on his cock, which was so hard already, all I could think of was ripping off our clothes and sitting on it. I didn’t do that. I pulled off my shirt, slowly unclasping my bra and letting it fall off the side of the bed while he smiled and took in the show.

  “Mmmm. You have got one gorgeous body, woman. My hands want to touch every square inch of you, my mouth is salivating to taste you, and fuck, even my dick can’t decide whether to bury itself inside your tight sweet pussy or get your pouty pink lips wrapped around it. You’re like sensory overload, little darling. You’ve got me like a kid in a candy store.”

  I might not have thought I was that great-looking, but seeing the way Chris looked at me, I knew that wasn’t just a line he was feeding me, and it wasn’t lust. It was somewhere between admiration and marvel, and this man meant every word. I honestly didn’t think a guy could sweet-talk me into an orgasm…until now. Because shit, did he ever bring out the wildcat in me. He had me burning up. I took a second to look him over and then decided I wanted to do that with his clothes off this time. Reaching down, I pushed up the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head and arms.

  Jesus, Joseph and Mary. His muscles were sculpted and bulging perfectly everywhere. And his face was divine with that strong jawline, those piercing hazel eyes, and all that thick hair I wanted to run my hands through. I slid my hands up his abs and chest, then down again so I could strip him of his jeans and underwear.

  “You’re tempting fate, little lady,” he groaned out the warning as I undid his belt buckle and lowered his zipper.

  My hands reached around underneath him, and he lifted his hips enough for me to drag his jeans and boxers down. I think I hissed when his cock sprang free. Holy crap, I had all of that inside me last night? Good God, it was a miracle I wasn’t sore as fuck right now. That was one hell of a big cock. My head floated forward to it before I could think. He growled low when my lips licked around the head then took him in my mouth. He tasted like that spicy citrus I’d smelled on him back at the bar, mixed in with his masculine scent. I could probably do this the rest of the night. That was the predominant thought in my head as I lowered my head and took more of his shaft in my mouth, then lifting up again, watching him as his eyes rolled back into his head from pure pleasure.

  His hands made it into my hair, which was still pretty wet from the shower. He guided me up and down his steely length for a few strokes, giving me an idea of the pace he liked while his hips lifted off the bed.

  “Yes. That’s it,” he groaned.

  Thank goodness he had some self-control. He was enjoying the heck out of my work, but I didn’t want him to come just yet. I needed to feel him inside me again. As if reading my mind, Chris tightened his hold in my hair and pulled me up. His hands went under my armpits and picked me up, and soon he was the one on top of me, stripping my tights and panties down my body, then sitting back and admiring some more.

  “Damn,” he muttered, running one hand down my stomach until he had a finger on my throbbing clit.

  I sucked in a ragged breath and he parted my legs, thrumming against my sensitive spot. I couldn’t wait another second, not even one. I begged him to come inside me. I even said please. That made half of a smile climb up one side of his face.

  “Only because you asked nicely, honey.”

  Chris got off the bed and went to his duffel bag, returning with a box of condoms. He opened one, rolling it up with expert prowess before parting my legs wider and getting in between them. His hands reached around to my ass when he positioned himself. He pressed his cock against my opening, squeezing my ass cheeks while he eased his way inside of me. I could probably have cried out from the sheer sensation of him entering me. It was pain and pleasure and heady giddiness and torture all rolled into one. Chris had my hips rolling and wanting him deeper inside me before he was even halfway in. Yet he kept that pace nice and slow, his eyes half closed, taking in all of me from my hair to my breasts all the way down to my toes and everywhere in between.

  My hands reached up to the sides of his waist when I couldn’t handle waiting anymore. I gripped him and shoved him forward into me. He grunted out a sound like he was entertained, then he picked up the pace. I just about howled out when he sped up. My God, this guy could fuck, and less than a minute later I was drenched from head to toe and covering my mouth so I wouldn’t wake the whole motel when my orgasm hit me like a brick wall. It was so powerful I think I also said I loved it, or I loved him, or something utterly uncalled for with a guy I was very likely never going to see again after he dropped me off at the bus station somewhere in Baton Rouge tomorrow.

  He kept going, picking up the pace yet moving so rhythmically, I really could go all night. Thankfully, he didn’t. His movements went from precision to wild, wicked thrusts that left me panting, and when I just about felt I probably wouldn’t ever walk straight again, he growled out loudly and came. He was a hugger too. He lowered on top of me and held me for a good five minutes before he pulled out and got onto his side. A while after I came back to my senses I assured him that whatever I said when I was coming, I didn’t mean it, especially if the word love was used.

  “Don’t worry,” he told me. “I know what you meant.”

  “What did I say exactly?”

  “Nothing I haven’t heard before…oh and nothing that made me want to tape your mouth shut like I did about five hours ago.” He gave me a weak grin after he said that.

  Tired, Chris sat up and pulled the covers at the foot of the bed over us both, stretched out on his back and we both fell asleep.

  8

  Chris

  I woke up at precisely six-forty-five in the morning. I had set my alarm while Jo was showering last night, and thank fuck that I did. If we headed out by seven-fifteen, I was sure that given it was early on Sunday morning, I could get her to New Orleans before eleven, and then I’d be back in Baton Rouge just after noon.

  That’s right. I was getting her all the way home. I’d already decided that back when she started bawling about the car she left at the side of the road, but little miss sunshine sealed the deal when she climbed into my bed of her own free will a few hours ago. After that, before I fell asleep, I’d come to the conclusion that Jo and I didn’t just meet by chance at the Raging Bull Saloon.

  That woman was a gift from God, made just for me—specifically for my hands, my eyes, my lips and my dick. Sure, I know how sacrilegious and sexist that would probably sound if I went and said that shit out loud, but it was what I thought. Every part of her fit me perfectly. My fingertips felt like they were on fire when I touched her. My eyes couldn’t get enough of raking over every little detail on her tight little body. My lips didn’t want to stop tasting her. And my dick…well, my soldier just about turned into a compass when Jo was around, and she was my true north.

  She was still curled up beside me when the alarm went off. That in itself was one of God’s small miracles because there was no girl who’d ever gotten to stay in my bed long enough to start yawning, let alone drift off to sleep beside me. With Jo, on the other hand, seeing her bright-colored hair fanned out on my pillow made me all wound up inside. I had to force myself to pull away from her so I could get up and have a quick shower. She was still asleep when I got out, so I dressed and started packing everything back in my car, except for her purse and the one suitcase she’d opened to find a change of clo
thes. When I was done, I walked across the street to the gas station for two steaming cups of coffee. Jo was awake and standing at the front door checking for my car by the time I got back.

  “Morning, sunshine,” I greeted her, reaching inside the car to place the coffees in the dual cup holder between the front seats.

  “Morning,” she yawned out.

  “Making sure I didn’t run off with your shit, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, unlike someone I know with flaming red hair, a sexy ass and a wicked sinful mouth, I wouldn’t even do that for kicks.”

  She rolled her eyes and went back inside, trying to hide the smile that turned up her face as she picked out some clothes to wear from her suitcase. “Do I have enough time for a shower?”

  “Sure, but make it quick. We need to be on the road in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Damn straight you will, because if you’re not, I might just come in there and join you.”

  “Promises, promises,” she teased, taking her change of clothes with her to the bathroom.

  Fuck, that got me hard. It took a shit ton of effort not to bend her over and take her again this morning. Just like she promised, she was out beside the car with her suitcase and purse in ten minutes. Her hair was dripping wet, but she knew how to stick to a schedule.

  “Is this for me?” she asked, pointing down between us at one of the cups of coffee when we got her stuff in the truck and hopped inside.

  I started the car and drove off. “Sure is. Take either one. I did one black and one with two creams and two sugars as I wasn’t sure what you like.”

  “Cool.” She picked up the one that was black. “So how do you even know if I drink coffee at all?”

  “Even if you didn’t, I’d make you have one this morning.”

  “Why?”

  “You slept for almost ten hours straight for the first two legs of the trip, Jo. Not that I’m complaining about the quiet, but I don’t plan on going all this way without finding out more about you. Right now, all I know is you have an acid tongue, you cry way more than you think you do, you can drive a stick shift…not that I needed that little stunt of yours to find that out, and you have a cousin and a sister but no one else. Wait. I also know you’re sexy as sin and you make my dick hard.”

  “That last part’s more about you than me, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. So tell me. Start wherever you want and give me the story of Jo.”

  Well, Jo told me everything. When I say everything, I mean every major milestone in the twenty years of her short but unbelievably eventful life. By the time she took a breath she hadn’t realized I’d already passed Baton Rouge and was half an hour from New Orleans already. All I wanted to do was stop the car, pull to the side of the road and cry. I hadn’t cried since I was eleven when my first pet gecko died. Jo’s story made me want to sob, and get on the ground and weep like she did. It was no wonder to me now that she’d broken down twice in my car.

  Her life was not a country song.

  It was a whole goddamned country album.

  No. Not even that.

  It was the best ever all-time greatest hits.

  All she needed was to own a dog and have it run away, and she could probably phone up Garth Brooks and Dolly Parton, and give them inspiration.

  It made me take a second to appreciate how easy I’d had it in my own life and taken everything for granted up until now. By the time she was finished I felt guilty for having had it so damn easy when she’d had nothing but pain, sorrow, poverty, death and heartbreak. Everyone she cared about—and that was all of three people—was on the other side. I couldn’t even talk about it.

  I let a few minutes pass before I asked her for her sister’s address.

  She shook her head. “Never mind about that. Just let me off at the bus station like we talked about.”

  “We’re twenty minutes from New Orleans, Jo. Give me the address and I’ll drop you off.”

  She peered outside, looking around the freeway for signs. “We’re here already? You didn’t have to drive all this way for me.”

  “It’s fine.” I pulled off at the next exit and stopped. “What’s the address? I’ll get it into my GPS so we don’t get lost.”

  She got her phone and searched for it, then rattled off the details, still shaking her head. “You really didn’t have to do this for me.”

  I put the address in and got the directions launched on the GPS, then I got back on the highway. “I know.”

  “Well now I owe you.”

  “Naw. You don’t.”

  “How do you reckon that?”

  “Think of it as Texas hospitality. Plus from what you just shared with me about your life story, you need a whole lot of good stuff happening to drown out all of what you’ve been through. Maybe your luck will change here in Louisiana.”

  “Maybe.”

  Jo was pretty quiet the rest of the way. I made it off the exit ramp to the Gentilly area where her sister lived and she began to check out the area, mentioning she would be on the job hunt and would need to find something within walking distance to start.

  She turned to look over at me when I stopped in front of her sister’s walk-up apartment building. “Well, this is it. I don’t know how to thank you for the help, Chris, so I’ll leave it at, thank you for the help.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She tried to give me some rolled up twenty-dollar bills to cover gas and all that, but I pushed back her way and got out of the car to take her things inside.

  She stopped me when I got up to the entrance. “Hey. It’s okay. We can stack everything at the bottom of the steps and I’ll take it in. My sister and her boyfriend are probably still sleeping. I don’t want to have them think I just got here and am already bringing men home.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense.” When I got everything out of the car, the damn thing looked empty with just my duffel bag and empty food containers. I didn’t want to stretch out the goodbye. I stuck my hand out for a handshake. “You take care of yourself in the Big Easy, Jo.”

  “Thanks, cornerback. Good luck.”

  I got back in my car, drove away and found the highway for my trip back to Baton Rouge. I smiled all the way there. I was going to see her again, even if she didn’t quite know that yet.

  9

  Josephine

  I never thought that talking about all of the events that had happened in my life up until now could be this cathartic. I’d never had anyone new to tell, so Chris was my first foray into what I envisioned would happen at a therapy session. At least it did by my estimation, because I wasn’t ever going to find that out about counseling first hand. Therapy wasn’t something we did in my neck of the woods. What we did was drink, cuss, carry on, toss shit, dance to country music, maybe do target practice at the gun range or out back, and yes, we fucked to let off steam. Sometimes we did all of that at the same time.

  I also didn’t conceive of a possibility where I could enjoy a stranger’s company that much. Mind you, I slept for two-thirds of the way. And I hadn’t given myself time to muddle through pros and cons of driving that kind of distance with a stranger in the first place. I’d been given all of a few minutes to decide before I’d accepted his offer to get me here. Now I was here. The time had flown by, and he was off to get back to his life. I kind of missed him. I’d surely remember the mind-blowing sex.

  Shit.

  I forgot to get those pictures he’d taken of my old car before leaving it behind.

  That sucked.

  For a second I figured if I really, really wanted to find him, I probably could. What did I know about him? Well, his first name, the car he drove, and that he was an SEC cornerback in Baton Rouge. My cousin back in El Paso would probably know about him. Or I could look him up. If I really wanted to. Given I was in a new town, moving in with my virtually estranged sister, and would be on the job hunt come tomorrow, getting the 4-1-1 on Chris was
n’t at the top of my priority list.

  If I had any idea I’d be here in New Orleans this soon, I’d have phoned my sister. There was just the one text that I’d sent before leaving town, and at that time, my anticipated destination was three to four days, not less than a day. This was one of the reasons I didn’t invite Chris up. She would be shocked to see me. I didn’t want her embarrassing me any more than I already was.

  I pulled out my phone to send her a text, but before I unlocked the screen, my sister, Rose, was at the building entrance.

  “Look who it is,” she said, coming down the steps with a smile on her face. She hadn’t changed a bit. She still wore her hair in the same shoulder-length, blonde bob with bangs that were a bit long but perfect for her heart-shaped face. Rose was maybe a couple of inches taller than me, but she was one of those skinny chicks who could eat anything and never gain a pound. I used to be so jealous of those slim hips and tiny ass.

  “Hi Rose. I’m a little early.”

  “I see that. Girl, you look exactly like when I last saw you. When was that? Three years ago?”

  “Four and a half.”

  “Well shit. It feels like yesterday. My God, Jo. Look at your hair!”

  I reached my hand up into it. “What? Is it that bad? I didn’t blow dry it after my shower this morning. It’s a mess, ain’t it?”

  “Well, besides that. Look at the color. You look so much like Momma, honey.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot. That’s why I never colored it.”

  “I think you should, but maybe not for a bit, so I can look at it for at least a while.” She looked at my stuff then looked at me. “The car didn’t make it, I see.”

  “Naw.”

  “But I saw the ride you rolled up in. Jesus, Jo, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oh about the car? Sorry it happened on the way here.”