False Start: A Football Romance

by Saylor Bliss

  “I have to get Carson in fewer than thirty minutes. Otherwise, his sitter charges out the ass.”

  “Carson?”

  “Yes, Cal. Remember him?”

  “Of course I do. I just . . . I wasn't thinking.”

  I glance out the window and notice that we have arrived at my house. The sun is setting across the back of the house, illuminating it in a soft, golden glow.

  “Can you call her and let her know Lonnie will be by to pick him up? I want to get you inside and in the bed.” I say and then realize how horrible it sounds. Not that I don't want her in my bed, but right now, she needs to relax. Doctor’s orders.

  “I guess, but Carson doesn't know him. It's already going to be hard to explain how you just reappeared.”

  “Stop it. Carson is not a toddler anymore. Call the babysitter,” I say, passing her my phone and waiting as she dials the number. An older woman answers the phone after two rings, and Amelia quickly explains what happened and that someone else will be there shortly to pick up Carson.

  “Can I speak to him for a moment?” She asks and then waits as the lady calls for him to come to the phone. I motion for her to put it on the speaker, which she does after rolling her eyes at me and huffing.

  “Hello?” I didn't realize how much I missed him too until I hear his voice on the other end, and then every single memory over the last five years comes rushing back to me.

  The day Amelia’s mother left, leaving her alone at home with her two-year-old brother.

  The countless sleepless nights and half-finished bedtime stories.

  The numerous visits to the hospital and the dozens of doctors.

  Every pink bucket filled with puke from the chemo medication.

  I miss most of the conversation between them, and when I come back to reality, Carson is whining into the phone, playing on Amelia’s tender heart strings. I take the phone from her, ignoring her blustering expression.

  “Carson?” I ask into the speaker, cutting off his lengthy spiel.

  “Cal?” He asks cautiously.

  “Hey, buddy, guess what?” I ask.

  “What?” he asks excitedly.

  “This big, hairy guy named Lonnie is going to come pick you up and bring you to my house in about twenty minutes.”

  “For reals?” he yells into the phone, and if I'm not mistaken, it sounds like he's jumping up and down. “To stay?”

  “Yep, to stay. Now get your stuff together and be ready. He’s leaving right now. And buddy?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t tell Lonnie I called him hairy, okay? We don't wanna make him cry.”

  “Okay, I won't. I promise.”

  “Okay good. See you soon, bud.”

  “Okay, love you, Cal.” he says, and then the line goes dead.

  “Thank you. I could have handled it, but it's nice to have someone there to back me up every once in a while.”

  “No problem. Seriously.” I say. It’s amazing how much her presence is affecting me right now. I thought over the last six months, I had done a good job at moving on. Apparently, I was severely mistaken.

  A couple of hours with her, and I'm fighting to hold onto any of the anger that I felt back then. I’m consumed with so many different emotions, I don't know if I’m coming or going. One minute, I want to pull her to me and never let her go, and the next, I remember her in Tom’s arms and I can't get far enough away from her.

  One thing is certain.

  This week is going to be interesting.

  “Let’s go. You sure you don’t want me to carry you? It would be my pleasure,” I taunt her as I open the car door and wait for her to climb out, hoping against hope that she will agree, knowing she won’t. Reaching for my phone, she unlocks it, guessing my passcode on the first try. Her gaze meets mine, and I can see the gears turning, wondering why I still use our anniversary as my code, but I refuse to answer her unasked questions.

  I couldn't even if I wanted to. Until this moment, I didn't even realize I had done it.

  She scrolls through it, clicking on Lonnie’s name and sending him the address for Carson’s babysitter before passing it back to me and climbing from the car.

  “I’ve got this. Lead the way.”

  I offer her my arm, but she just shakes her head and nods toward the front door, leaving me to lead the way.

  Fuck.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  Chapter Nine

  Amelia

  I’m blown away.

  The magnitude of his house is something that I never would have imagined if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, and even then, I’m still having trouble processing it.

  I mean, this is Cal.

  We grew up next door to each other in the trailer park on Second Avenue, and now, he lives in a house bigger than the college we attended. It blows my mind.

  “Is this all yours?” I ask, taking note of the few pieces of antique furniture sparsely placed throughout the room.

  “No. It’s actually Griffin’s place.”

  “Griffin?”

  “Yeah, my roommate. When I first moved here, I didn’t have a lot of time to plan,” he states, looking pointedly at me. “I stayed in a hotel for a few weeks and then by chance, I ran across an ad for a roommate. I called, and he did the application over the phone and then interviewed me over facetime. Two days later, I moved in. You get used to the size after a while.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Are you hungry or thirsty?” he asks, and it’s all I can do to shake my head. I’m so busy gawking at everything around me.

  “Okay. I’ll show you your room then,” he says and then turns down the hall. I follow him, afraid that if I don’t, I might end up lost in here and unable to find my way out. At the end of the hall, he makes a left and then turns into the second door on the right.

  The room is at least twice the size of the living room in my apartment. A humongous antique waterfall queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, covered in an elegant white embossed comforter set and at least a dozen pillows. Across the room is a matching dresser and mirror set. In the corner is a chest of drawers in the same beautiful mahogany wood.

  The room would look empty if not for the giant yellow and blue rug on the floor. It adds enough color to the room that it doesn’t feel so . . . untouchable. It feels homey.

  I walk over to the bed and ease down on it, tossing my purse on the nightstand as I go. It’s how I’d imagine floating on a cloud would feel. The bed billows up around me, taking me in its comforting confines. Leaning my head back against the many, many pillows, I close my eyes and let the stress of the day leak out of my body. I could have easily fallen asleep right then and there if it weren’t for Cal’s presence in the room.

  I can feel him watching me, waiting. I don’t know what he expects, but I suppose the least I can do is speak to him.

  “This bed is heavenly. I may have to take it with me when I leave.”

  “If I let you go,” he mumbles

  “What?” I ask, even though I’m positive I know exactly what he just said.

  “Nothing. Would you like a bath? I’ll start you some water. I remember how much you love your bubble baths,” he says, turning and disappearing into one of the doors in the room that I’m guessing is the bathroom. I hear the sound of running water moments later, confirming my suspicion.

  Climbing from the fluffy white heaven, I slip into the bathroom behind him unnoticed. He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, testing the temperature of the water with his wrist just before he uncorks a bottle and pours a heaping amount into the rushing water. I recognize the scent immediately.

  “Sandalwood?” I ask, and he jumps guiltily.

  “Yeah. It’s your favorite, right?”

  “Yeah. I just . . . never mind.” I don’t bother telling him that I haven't used it since we separated because it reminds me of him. The scent quickly became my favorite after one day of horseback riding, when we s
topped to rest the horses for a spell and Cal had the brilliant idea of cooling off in the creek.

  We stripped down to nothing but our undergarments, and just as I was stepping into the freezing cold water, a pile of soggy mud hit me square in the back. By the time we were finished with our mud ball fight, you couldn't see a spot of clean skin on either of us.

  I tried to rinse as much of the mud off as possible, but it was a lost cause. Cal swam up behind me with something cupped in his hands and told me to dunk my hair under the water to wet it. He took the ground sandalwood and rubbed it in my hair and along my neck, massaging the natural oils into my skin. I turned to him, taking some in my own hands and rubbing it along his skin, cleaning him the best I could before he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the creek bed bank.

  Laying me down, he made sweet love to me surrounded by the sound of flowing water and the warm, musky scent of sandalwood. I don’t know what I want to say or what I want to ask. The fact that he still keeps my favorite scented body wash seems strange to me, but I don’t want to say something and cause any more tension.

  Cal stands to turn back toward me, and I take a step forward, unable to stop my feet from moving toward him. My body is drawn to his, and I can no more deny it than I can exist without breathing. He moves to take a step past me, but I stop him with a gentle hand on his waist, just above his hip bone. He looks down at my hand, touching him so lightly and yet in complete control of him at this moment. I tighten my fingers just a little, pulling him toward me.

  He comes willingly.

  My heart is beating so hard that I feel like it might break from the confines of my rib cage. His head raises, his eyes searching.

  I lift my gaze to his mouth. To his perfect lips. The bottom one is just slightly larger than the top. Breaking my gaze away, I pleadingly glance into his hazel eyes.

  Kiss me, my look begs.

  Beautiful long, curly eyelashes frame his cheeks when he closes his eyes, fighting for control, searching for the will to deny me. I can feel the battle taking place inside him, the push and pull of emotions running through him.

  I take a deep breath and release it slowly, trying to hide the pain his rejection causes me. Lifting my hand from his waist, I turn toward the tub and hopefully hide the tears streaming down my cheek, but he pulls me close to him, pressing my body as tightly against his own as he can. I feel his erection pressing against my pelvis, his arm around my waist, and his fingers digging into my scalp, pulling my head back, and then everything inside me implodes upon itself as his lips meet mine.

  I open my mouth to him, my tongue seeking his, teasing in and out of his hot mouth. My body melts into his, my arms wrapping around him, holding onto him like my life depends on it.

  I’m home.

  Rubbing every single inch of my body against his, I moan, squirming, seeking the comfort only he can give me. My hand wanders to the edge of his tee-shirt and then slips under it, caressing along the ridges of his abdominal muscles.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  My fingers play with the top of his jeans, slipping beneath the edge of them and following it around from his hip to the button, where I find the head of his dick poking out, waiting for me. I run my thumb along the underside of his head and catch the bead of precum that has gathered at the top, rubbing it across the head and back down to the most sensitive part of him.

  He groans deep into my mouth, sucking my tongue into his mouth and refusing to let it go. I quickly unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down, releasing every glorious inch of him.

  His left hand releases my head and runs across my shoulder to gather my tight, swollen breast into his hand. I wrap my hand around the base of his dick, and gripping it tightly just the way he likes it, I stroke down, slow and steady.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  His fingers find my nipple through my robe, and he pinches it tightly, pulling on it hard. Shockwaves of pleasure shoot down my body, settling between my legs. Pulling my hands away from his body, I break our kiss for the first time and let my robe fall to the floor in a puddle at my feet.

  He pulls me back to him, kissing and sucking along my neck and down my chest. One hand grabs my left nipple again while his mouth latches onto my right one, suckling me through my lace bra. My panties are soaking wet between my legs. I squeeze them together, grinding against the lace of my panties, trying to relieve some of the pressure building there, but he stops me.

  Sliding his free hand along my thigh, he separates my legs and then trails his fingers back up the outside of my thigh to the edge of my panties, which he follows straight back to the center of my legs. My entire body is shaking, begging for his touch.

  His mouth latches back onto mine, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth and biting gently. My own hands can't release him, can't get enough of him.

  Pushing against his chest, I break away from him again only, this time, I drop as gracefully as possible to the floor, squatting back on my heels. I kiss along the side of his thigh and then lick along the crease by his ball sack, loving the way his dick jumps against the side of my face. I lick and tease along his balls, making them tighten and pucker before finally reaching his dick in my hand.

  My tongue snakes out, slow and precise. I lick the back of his head, and he twitches in my hand. Licking my lips, I look at him, catching his gaze, and then kiss the tip of his dick, leaving a wet imprint of my lips there for the cool air to tease as I lick up and down the side of him, from base to head.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  Pulling back, I kiss him on the head again, and then I blow gently on it for just a second before taking it into my hot, wet mouth. I wrap my lips around him and suck the air out of my mouth, locking me tightly around him, and then I swallow him.

  Inch.

  By.

  Inch.

  “Oh, fuck.” He moans, grabbing ahold of my hair once again. I feel him growing even more in my mouth, expanding, pulsing as I suck up and down the length of his beautiful dick. My hand cups his balls, rubbing the dripping saliva across them, massaging them while I caress his dick with my lips and tongue.

  Everything about him turns me on. My body is on fire. My fingers slide beneath my panties and cup my pussy. I moan, taking him deeper into my mouth. His dick hits the back of my throat as I slide my finger inside my own wetness.

  “Fuck yes. Touch that pussy for me, baby.”

  I slide my finger out and rub the sticky juices across my clit, teasing it before sliding back into my tight pussy. I’m so close to coming. I can feel the orgasm building like a storm in my core.

  “Does that feel good?” Cal asks, and I moan against his dick. Taking my hand off his balls, I grip the base of his dick and match my strokes with the tempo of my mouth, moving along him. His hand tightens in my hair, guiding my head.

  “Son of a fucking bitch,” he grinds out. “Stop. Stop.”

  I glance up at him wondering why, but he doesn't answer my silent question. Instead, he pulls me to my feet and turns me to face the bathroom mirror. Bending me over, he slides my panties to the ground, and then he turns and pulls the plug on the bathtub and turns the water to cold. It’s gotten hot and steamy in here, and I’m sure not all of it is because of the hot water.

  He’s back before I have a chance to miss him, trailing kisses up and down my spine, biting me gently on my shoulder before standing back up behind me and resting his cock against my swollen pussy.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks, and all I can do is nod.

  He slides his hand down my back to the top of my ass and then glides his fingers along my crack to my hot, waiting pussy. I don't know what he has planned, and at this point, I don't care as long as he doesn't stop touching me.

  Ever.

  I hear him spit and look over my shoulder to see him rubbing it along his dick before he presses it back against me, but instead of sliding into me like I want, he glides it along the
crack of my ass. Leaning over, he spits again, this time directly on my ass, and then he pushes against me, pulling me tightly to him. His hand wraps around my hip, teasing my clit. My ass pops backward involuntarily when he slides his finger inside me, pumping in and out of me.

  His body pushes my ass cheeks tightly around him as he slides up and down the crack of my ass, never entering me with his dick, but fucking me just the same. His finger curls inside me, his rough, calloused palm rubbing against my clit. I’m on the verge of exploding.

  Leaning back, he slides his dick between my legs and the folds of my pussy. I close my legs as much as I can and squeeze them together tightly as he pumps in between my legs, taking extra care not to enter me.

  “Shit, Amie.”

  I know he is close. I can feel him swelling between my legs. I lean over the counter, pushing my ass into the air and tightening my legs even more. His dick is rubbing back and forth along my clit. The silky rock hardness is bringing me to the edge, just waiting to be pushed over. I squirm and whimper, begging him to help me.

  His hands grab my ass, squeezing tightly before releasing me. Reaching forward, he slides his finger into my mouth, wetting it, and then presses it gently against the entrance of my ass. My body tenses, unsure of this, but he rubs his finger along it, wetting it, and then slowly, he slides into my forbidden entrance.

  I feel him tense and then jerk as he releases between my legs. His hot cum is running down my thighs. I whimper again and press backward against his hand, begging him to move his finger. To pump into me. To make me come.

  Pulling back, he slides his other hand between my thighs and pumps two fingers into my throbbing pussy as he slides out and back into my ass.

  My world shatters apart.

  My eyes are squeezed tight, but I see brilliant colors shooting off behind my lids like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  “Callum. Yes. Yes. Yes,” I scream, my pussy clenching around his fingers. He continues to slide in and out of me, slowly and steadily bringing me back down from the edge of oblivion, sliding out of my asshole. I lean against the counter, trying to catch my breath, and now that my raging hormones are somewhat under control, trying to figure out what the hell happened and why I let it.