Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Irons, Aubrey

  Fucking dorm rooms.

  Back in the locker-room, I whirl at Evan, my hands clenching at my sides, my hackles raised. The article is out, obviously, and I’ve been getting looks from the team all week. No one’s gotten the balls together to actually say anything to me yet - not about Hailey, and not about that stupid fucking bet - even if I knew it was just a matter of time.

  Ten minutes before a game is not the fucking time.

  I narrow my eyes at Evan as I whirl on him.

  “Look, man-”

  “Whoa, whoa!” He frowns and puts his hands up. “Chill, dude.” He shakes his head. “I’m not looking to bust your balls, man, not about this. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, bud.”

  I relax my hand and slump my shoulders a little. “Yeah…yeah, thanks.”

  “Look, what happened with that article is fucking bullshit, man.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I suck my teeth and glare at the ground. I know I should be thinking about the game, and the fact that the stakes are even higher coming off the loss last week. But my head’s anywhere but football right now, and I’m pretty sure that’s clear as fucking day on my face.

  Evan swears. “Damn, dude,” he says with a shake of his.

  “What?”

  He whistles lowly. “She really got to you, didn’t she?”

  I shrug and look away. “It’s nothing, man.”

  “Hey, if you say so.”

  I say nothing, my thoughts still brooding behind my face.

  “She did though, didn’t she?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter, man.”

  “The fuck it doesn’t.” Evan chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder-pads. “Look, man, between you and me?” He shrugs, “All the pageantry and shit with football? All the groupies and the shallow fans and the celebrity shit?” He looks around before he leans close. “It’s all bullshit, man. None of it means anything past the immediate, and none of it lasts. You got something good? Fuckin’ hold onto that, bro.”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “Well, hindsight, man.”

  He grins, “Nah, man. Life’s not a fucking pass-conversion or a play from the book. There are do-overs if you want them.”

  I laugh, for maybe the first time in a damn week. “Thanks, dude.”

  “Look, and for what it’s worth and speaking for probably most of the guys on this team?” He grins at me. “Dude, I’m into it. The Hailey thing, I mean. And hell, Coach didn’t fucking shoot your dick off or anything, which is a bonus.”

  I snort. “Very true. But look, it doesn’t matter anyways, it’s over.”

  He nods, “Sorry, man.”

  I shrug, “Well, that’s the way it goes.”

  “Listen, you’ve got a whole team of guys who would follow you into fucking war behind you here. You know that, right?”

  I grin and nod.

  “Look, we good for tonight?”

  “Yeah, man. We’re good.”

  “Well alright then.”

  I guess we’re good, I mumble to myself as he walks away to finish suiting up. Good as can be.

  “Let’s talk a minute.”

  I turn at the sound of Coach’s voice. We haven’t really spoken much besides football since that night - pointedly so. But then, he also hasn’t “shot my fucking dick off”, as Evan so eloquently put. Not yet, at least.

  He nods towards his office and I follow him in.

  “Last game before playoffs, you ready?”

  I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m ready for it.”

  He holds my eyes with a firm look, shaking his head as if mulling something over before he sighs.

  “Look, there’s gonna be a lot of distractions out there tonight, Dalton. There’s going to be a lot of cameras, and a lot of questions, and a lot of shitty people trying to get inside your head.” He shakes his head, “Don’t let it get to you.”

  “Yeah, working on it,” I say flatly.

  “I’m serious, son. The articles and the cameras and all the hype?” He shrugs, “That crap is going to come and go, I promise you. Let it happen.” He levels his gaze at me. “Be the man I know you are. Be the man your mother raised.”

  Can you do that?”

  Well, shit, there’s a reason Coach is good at what he does. I nod. “Yes, sir. Yeah, I can do that.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Look, I’ve got a lot of respect for the way you manned up and told me about what was going on with you and Hailey, but let me be perfectly clear.”

  His face darkens a little as his jaw tightens. “That is my daughter, Dalton. You understand me?”

  I nod. “I do, sir.”

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on with the two of you, but make no mistake. Whatever happens…”

  His mouth thins as his eyes narrow right at me.

  “You hurt my little girl in any way, and I will put you in a hole.” He arches a brow at me. “We understand each other?”

  I nod. “Crystal, Coach.”

  “Be the man my daughter sees in you.”

  He grins and slaps me on the back. “Let’s get out there and play some football, huh?”

  * * *

  And then it’s time to head out - out to the people and the cameras and the fucking media and all the shit I need to push out of my head.

  I’ve got my helmet in hand as we jog up the tunnel, trying to make Coach’s words stick. This used to send me into space. This used to be the biggest rush of life - heading out onto the field of glory like this.

  It’s a bit duller now.

  But the cheering is getting louder, the lights lancing through the opening at the top of the tunnel ahead, and it’s time to get it together.

  And then we’re out, and the roar of the crowd and the blare of the lights becomes deafening.

  Well, here we go.

  I jog out, my face grim and ready for war. And I’m about to put my helmet on, when the hand stops me.

  I know this hand just by the feel of it on my arm.

  “Dalton.”

  And when I turn, time stops.

  She’s standing there, her hair blowing in the madness of it all, the lights glittering over her skin like firelight, and her eyes looking at me like no girl has ever looked at me.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Fuck, it’s the first time I’ve heard her voice in a damn week, and it’s like surfacing from the water and finally sucking in a breath of air.

  “Hailey, fuck, I need to tell you-”

  “Dalton, stop.” She’s shaking her head, and when she steps forward and puts a hand on my face, it’s like the whole world slows way down to a crawl. It’s like the Earth stops moving, and the din of the crowd drops to a murmur in the background. The lights go out, save for one bright one right on her as she steps into me.

  “The other night,” she says softly. “The other night you said something that I’ve never heard, not like that.” Her eyes burn into mine - all the fear and the innocence and the hidden hint of fire that made me fall for her in the first place.

  “And it scared me.”

  “Hailey-”

  “Hang on, let me finish. It scared me, because I don’t know how to say it back, or, I didn’t know how to say it back.”

  And then she looks me right in the eye, and if the world was slowed before, it absolutely freezes for that moment in time, until it’s just the two of us in that one, perfectly still moment.

  “I know how to now, and Dalton?” She bites her lip and steps right into me as she looks up into my face. “I love you, too.”

  She kisses me, and it’s all over. The world roars to life again with a bang, the axis spinning right back up, the lights blooming to life, and the explosive cheers of the crowd like a wave crashing over the whole thing.

  And it’s right then that the cameras seem to pick up on it all, and then we’re fucking everywhere.

  Cameras clicking, lights flashing, microphones and screaming reporters hurling questions an
d jockeying for a comment. The crowd is screaming our names, and I look up for one second, and we’re on the damn jumbo-tron screen, on that stupid kiss-cam thing.

  But you know what?

  Fuck it.

  “I need to tell you something,” I whisper into her lips.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think people might be watching us right now.”

  She laughs, her whole face lighting up. But then I’m kissing her again, picking her up and spinning her around in my arms as the whole goddamn stadium stands and cheers.

  And it’s damn perfect.

  Hailey grins as she pulls away and steps out of my arms. “Now go win a football game for me, okay?”

  I laugh. “For you?”

  “Oh, don’t think I’m going to be seen with a losing star quarterback, Mr. Cole. Go big or go home, isn’t that the saying?”

  I pull her close again. “You want to go big, just say the word darlin and I’ll drag you back to that locker room right now.”

  Her face flushes and her fingers slide up my arms to tighten at the front of my jersey as she kisses me again, slipping her tongue across my lips before pulling away. “Go win, Big Ten.”

  I grin, “Yes ma’am.”

  And then I turn and jog onto the field.

  To win.

  For her.

  Because I’m Dalton fucking Cole.

  And I don’t know any other way but winning.

  48

  Hailey

  Four years later…

  “I’m pretty sure we could get in serious trouble for being in here.”

  Dalton chuckles into my lips, his hands sliding up my body and his fingers brushing against the sides of my breasts through my shirt. “Well, you could get in trouble for being in here. I’m supposed to be here.”

  I roll my eyes. “Getting ready to play football, not trying to unhook my bra.”

  Here, by the way, being the locker room for the New York Giants.

  “You’re right, you’re right,” he murmurs, kissing me again before he pulls abruptly away. “I’ve got a tryout to get to, darlin. Can’t be fooling around with one of my fans.”

  I grin hugely at him as I punch him in the arm. “One of?”

  He grabs me and kisses me fiercely, silencing me and making my knees week.

  “The only one that counts,” he murmurs again.

  I pout. “So you really gonna go out there and leave your fiancé all hot and bothered?”

  “Depends,” he says darkly into my ear. “Did you dress how I asked you to?”

  I blush fiercely, feeling the shiver run up my back. “Do you mean your brutish demands that I not wear panties?”

  His hands tease down over my ass. “Exactly.”

  I shake my head. “Then, yes, Mr. Cole, I think I meet your dress code. Or maybe lack thereof.”

  I squeal as he spins me around, and I moan when he bends me over, my hands flat against the metal of the lockers. He’s pulling my skirt up over my thighs, and then over my bare, panty-less ass. I whimper as I hear him growl hungrily behind me, his hand sliding over my skin, giving me a light smack that makes me groan and claw at the metal under my fingers.

  I can hear him shuffle behind me, and then I cry out as I feel his lips and his tongue against my thigh. I bite my lip as his tongue drags higher up my skin, and for a second, my eyes dart to the ring on my hand, and I grin.

  It’s been six months since he asked, and six months since I said the easiest “yes” of my life. The wedding itself we’re putting off for a little bit, because, well, we’ve got things to do first.

  Things like him being the hottest prospect the NFL has ever seen.

  The tryout today is completely for show, because we all know this team wants him as bad as any of the others who’ve flown us out to “try out”. Of course, New York might know they’ve got some extra leverage on him those other teams don’t.

  Me.

  Because I’m starting a Columbia Medical School in a month, and that very well may seal the deal.

  Part of the reason Dalton’s so sought after - aside from his crazy talent, of course - is because he waited. He didn’t go the NFL route his junior year like everyone does, he finished school first. And it worked out pretty well for just about everyone. Heather couldn’t have been prouder, and I think my dad was psyched to win a record-setting fourth college football championship in a row.

  Columbia as an undergraduate program never happened after the interview debacle. But I’m okay with that, because I’m a firm believer these days that things work out how they should. I didn’t stay at Georgia, because honestly, I couldn’t. Not after what happened, and not after the media zoo that our relationship caused.

  Thankfully, it turns out that an in-person interview set up by a Dean of a prominent school who happens to be an alumni goes a long way with the board of admissions at Duke - where I ended up going.

  Hey, it was only four hours from Dalton, and honestly, I don’t think either of us would have graduated if we’d been closer than that to each other.

  Roxie was a little pissed about losing me to Chapel Hill, but she ended up visiting almost as much as Dalton did.

  I think the cute purple-haired girl who lived down the hall from me had a lot to do with that.

  Roxie’s getting her masters at NYU now, and dating one of her professors - a recently divorced, recently straight woman.

  Some things never change. But in any case, she’s psyched I’m going to be in New York.

  “You keep staring at that ring like that and my cock might start to get jealous, darlin.”

  I grin at Dalton’s words murmured into the back of my leg. “I sincerely doubt tha- oooh.”

  I groan as he drags his tongue across my bare slit, lapping hungrily and making my legs shake.

  God he’s good at that.

  Dalton growls as his hands grab my ass, pulling me back against him and spreading me wide as he pushes his tongue deep. I’m moaning, feeling the blood pound in my ears as I claw at the lockers in front of me. I push back against him, whimpering as his tongue moves to circle my clit.

  He’s relentless, sucking gently at me as he bats his tongue across my clit. His hand pulls back from my hip, only to come down in a small smack across my ass that has me gasping. He eases a finger against my opening and pushes inside as his tongue circles my clit again and again. And I’m so close, when he suddenly pulls back, leaving me panting.

  I can hear him standing behind me, and I know what he’s after, but I want my taste first.

  I can never get enough of tasting him.

  I turn and push him back, dropping to my knees and yanking at his football pants.

  “Hey, we’re on a time limit, you know,” he groans as I reach inside and wrap my fingers around him.

  “Let them wait,” I groan. “This is mine.”

  I pull him out, and I moan.

  Yeah, four years later, and Ten still makes my jaw drop.

  And stretch.

  I moan hungrily as I slide my lips over his crown, swirling my tongue around the tip. Four years later and the damn taste of him still makes my head spin and my body burn.

  Dalton groans, his hand sliding down to curl his fingers in my hair.

  I’m sucking at him, stroking him, reaching down to cup his balls as I try to inhale as much of his thick cock as I can.

  “Fuck,” he growls, pulling me off of him. “Hang on.”

  “What?” I say innocently, looking up and batting my eyes at as I lean forward and lick the underside of him.

  “I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he groans, pulling me up and kissing me hard. “I want to come inside of you.”

  I moan as he pulls me back with him, sitting on the edge of the locker room bench and pulling me into his lap. My legs go astride him, a natural, practiced maneuver.

  And trust me, it’s practiced.

  I moan into his lips as he pushes against my opening, the thick head of him easing into me as I slo
wly lower myself down his length.

  God he’s so big.

  Four years later, he still fills me up like the first time.

  Four years later, he still looks at me like I’m the last meal on Earth.

  Four years later I still get butterflies when he does, and I still go to pieces when he kisses me like he’s kissing me right there.

  I cry out as he sheathes himself to the hilt inside of me, his hands tight on my hips and his cock throbbing so hot and so deep inside. I rise up, moaning at the sensation of my clit dragging over his shaft before I drop back down, feeling him go deep.

  We start to move like that, his hands on my hips and my ass, his mouth on my neck, my breasts, my lips. My fingers claw at his muscled biceps, moving to the back of his head to slide into his hair and hold him against my neck like that as I slowly grind up and down his perfect cock.

  “You’re…” I gasp. “Ugh, you’re going to be late, you know.”

  “Whose fault is that,” he growls, pumping his hips up off the bench to meet my own.

  He starts to grind up into me harder and harder, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me tight, bouncing me up and down on his big tool. His lips fasten to that tender spot in the hollow of my neck, and as he starts to fuck me harder and suck at the skin there, I can feel myself start to fall.

  “Fuck, Hailey, I’m gonna come.”

  “Fill me up!” I gasp into his ear, raking my nails down the back of his neck. “I want to feel you inside of me on the sidelines when I watch you ace this tryout.”

  Dalton roars, and as I feel his thickness swell up even harder inside of me, my eyes squeeze shut as I go crashing over the edge with him. I scream into his neck and feel his cum pump deep inside of me, his cock pulsing as my orgasm rumbles through me.

  * * *

  I’m hand-in-hand with him as we step out onto the field, a grin on my face that probably gives the whole thing away.

  I don’t care if it does.

  Evan, now his new agent, taps his watch and gives him a glare. Dalton just grins. “Relax, man.”