Dad grins. “Damn fine interview answer. Guess my daughter’s been coaching you on what to say to reporters too?” He looks to me proudly.
But Zach corrects him. “No sir, Norma’s a damn smart girl and has definitely helped me out with school and so much more, but I’ve been talking to the press for years. I know what to say, and if I didn’t, Coach Jefferson would’ve held me back from ever seeing a microphone.”
My dad smiles at the bold answer.
“Hey, speaking of school . . . what did Coach say about his meeting with the dean? Everything got a bit crazy and I never heard, or if someone told me, the conversation washed away with the pain meds,” I ask Zach.
Zach grimaces. “It was bad, honestly. Professor Ledbetter lost her job since she wasn’t tenured, and taking bribes to change a student’s grades is a pretty serious offense. She admitted she did that early in the semester but got cold feet, and my later work was more correctly scored, but she did change all of my papers and quizzes to their appropriate grade. At least she still had copies to do that with. I easily have a B-plus, might even that A I’ve been wanting if I ace the final essay.”
“I’ll help with that! Not like I’m doing much else, sitting here for the next few days. Oh, and thanks for getting my paperwork from my professors, Arianna. Most of it can all be done online. My math professor even offered to let my study group leader film the lecture so I could watch it at home. But there’s always those few things that need to be handed in or returned old-school-style on paper. I should be able to stay pretty caught up, though, and not affect my grades too much.”
Arianna smiles. “Happy to help. Don’t you have an article to write too, though? That’s going to be a big chunk of work, so don’t overdo it.” Her motherly words are sweet, and judging by the look on my mom’s face, she approved of this message of over-restraint. She probably asked Arianna to say it since I’d begged her to chill after the fiftieth time she’d tried to force me back on the couch. A mother’s love. Can’t live without it . . . can’t live with it, sometimes, I think faux-sourly. Truth is, my mom has been a pillar of support, and there were some moments before surgery that I really just wanted my mommy and she was right there by my bedside, soothing my fears away like moms do.
“I do need to work on the write-up. Trey, he’s the newly-promoted editor, stopped by while I was in the hospital to see if I wanted to write it or have someone else do it. I demanded the assignment, of course,” I say, throwing my hands out to the side as if there’d been any chance I would turn that opportunity down.
Trey seems like a nice guy, but when he’d come by to introduce himself as my new boss, I’d been surprised. Apparently, Erica resigned as editor, though legally, she didn’t do anything wrong. She wasn’t involved in Jake’s plans, but her sex-induced loose lips were a catalyst, and she’d burned some bridges with the administration, our paper staff, the whole football team, and Coach Jefferson. I think she mostly wants to just finish out her senior year with as little attention as possible, but she did send me a text that simply said, I’m so sorry.
Trey told me that my position with the paper was secure, but not to think that my in with the football team would get me any more bylines than any other lowly reporter learning the ropes. I’d smiled and told him I didn’t want any special favors and most definitely don’t want to be the sports column reporter, but that I’d be happy to write a few football team-centric pieces from interviews with the guys and coach about the incident, sprinkling in my own injury at the end.
He’d agreed and told me to ‘be careful with those crazy football guys.’ He’d had a teasing smirk, and I could appreciate the humor with Zach at my side and in light of Jake’s actions, though I refused to shrink away like some broken victim.
“Make sure you include the final penalties for Jake Robertson too. It should be more, so much more, but I did the best I could for you, ladybug. I’m so sorry I ever pushed you to help him.” His words are broken, his guilt at having had any hand in this obvious.
“Dad, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was pissed at the time, and no, I don’t want to be involved in your business dealings.” I quickly correct myself, “Unless you’re setting me up for an interview, of course. But none of us had any idea that Jake was going to go off the rails like that. I’m not sure he even knew the pressure was getting to him and it was that dire of a situation.”
In the end, Jake’s injuries had been significantly worse than mine. He’d had a broken nose and cheekbone from Zach’s punches, and when he fell, he’d hit the pavement wrong and had some internal bleeding. He’d been placed under arrest while still in his hospital bed, handcuffed to the railing as the police read him his rights and stationed a guard outside his door.
His dad, Joe, had raged about his son being treated like a common criminal and had hired some big-shot lawyer to launch his defense.
That was when Dad had taken over and the whole thing had turned into a twisted version of a business negotiation. I forget sometimes what a cold, calculating monster my Dad can be when the situation calls for it, and hurting his only daughter had triggered some pretty serious viciousness for him. But through it all, he was the dad I’ve always known, powerful and strong but soft and sweet to me.
I think dealing with all of that might’ve even brought Dad and Liam together a bit, allies against a shared foe. They’re never going to be tight, but at least they’re both here together, something that was previously a rare occurrence.
In the end, Jake plead guilty to assault for his attack on me, and attempted manslaughter for almost running Zach over, because you can be sure that Liam got the parking lot video for that too. We each got a permanent restraining order against him too. Jake won’t do time, but he’s on a parole for a long time and has to do anger management classes and seek help for some daddy issues that were worse than we’d ever thought. He was expelled from school too, so no more football.
I won’t say I feel sorry for him, because I don’t, but I can imagine that having your whole life implode, especially when it’s through your own doing, is hard. I just hope he gets better and stays the fuck away from Zach and me.
After dinner, everyone is slow to leave. Mom, especially, offers to tuck me in or set up a work station in the living room, but I reassure her that I’m fine and that Zach will be here to help. That seems to make her smile, and I guess she approves of Zach wholeheartedly, because she leaves without my Dad having to drag her out like he has the last few times.
I lie back on the couch, my head on the arm and my foot propped up high on the couch back. “Ahh, alone at last,” I say, a smile on my face though my eyes are already closing.
“You tired, Brat?” Zach asks, and though it’s a sweet question, like he’s ready to tuck me in if I say yes, I can hear something more in the undercurrent.
I crack one eye. “Maybe. Why?”
He smirks. “Oh, if you’re tired, I’ll let you rest. I just thought with me winning the championship today, you might want to celebrate a bit.”
My other eye opens, all thoughts of sleep evaporating at his cocky look. The one that’s pointedly looking me over, head to toe. Sexy as fuck . . . well, until he hits my cast. “Actually, maybe I should let you rest. You’ve had a long day.”
“Scared of a cast, Zach? I promise not to bang you over the head with it if you bang me.” It’s a stupid joke, not even funny, but it makes Zach laugh and reconsider.
“You sure you’re okay, Brat?” he asks, and I know if I said no, he’d patiently take care of me all night.
“I’m okay, except that I need you inside me. It’s been days, Zach. And after everything, I just . . . I need you.” My voice is soft, no filter and no façade, just raw truth.
Zach lies down on top of me, his thickening cock pressed right up against my pussy as he holds himself up. He watches my face to make sure he’s not hurting me, but my leg is supported and out of the way. Once he’s certain I’m not hiding any twinges of pain, he brushes a
lock of my hair out of my face, his face serious. “Norma, I know we said this before, when you were a little out of it, but I want you to know I mean it with all my heart. I love you, Norma Jean Blackstone.”
My breath hitches. I knew I’d said all kinds of weird shit at the hospital, but I remembered telling Zach I love him because it was the truth. The one I’d been too reserved to say. But now, I have no doubts, no worries, which sounds odd, considering my current predicament, but a broken leg doesn’t affect my heart in the least. “I love you too, Zachary Thomas Knight.”
The moment sparks, and we both smile, the love and light filling us, leaving no room for any shadow of a doubt.
And then Zach bends down and takes my mouth in a kiss and the beautiful light explodes into fiery passion.
Our kiss becomes messy, hungry as we fight for more. “Fuck, Norma,” Zach says as he grinds against me, and I moan at the hard ridge of him against my hot pussy. But suddenly, his weight is gone. He stands, ripping his shirt over his head and helping me get my shirt and bra off.
He crouches down, his shoulders between my thighs, one of my knees hooked on the back of the couch and the other bent to let my foot touch the floor. He shoves my skirt up, too inpatient to take it off me since it’d mean rearranging my legs again. Instead, he leaves it puddled around my waist and grips my panties. “You attached to these?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.” And with a fierce tug, he rips them from my body, tossing them over his shoulder carelessly because now he has what he really wants. My pussy, spread wide in front of him, juicy with desire for him.
He licks me, devours me, giving no mercy. There’s no tease or buildup. It’s full-throttle from the first touch, driving me wild. But he holds my hips firmly in place, not letting me move against him. On some level, I know he’s doing it so I don’t hurt myself, but on the surface, I like him holding me down, making me take his tongue-lashing. “Oh, God, Zach,” I cry out, already on the edge in just minutes.
“Come for me, Brat. Come all over my face with your sweet cream so I can get inside you. Fuck, I need inside you.” The desperation in his voice commands me to obey, and I fly off into the dark abyss, letting the blackness behind my lids consume me as lightning shoots through my body, making me shake in ecstasy.
Zach stands, and dropping his jeans and boxer briefs at the same time, he kicks his shoes off, nude in an instant. And then he’s hovering over me, cock poised at my entrance.
“I love you, Brat.”
“I love you too, Zach.”
And then he fills me in one stroke, and though my hands aren’t tied this time, I have never felt more bound. Connected to this man, to what we have together, silk strands between us and surrounding us, creating something better together than we are alone. Not Norma, not Zach. But us.
And as his cock pushes into me, jackhammer hard and fast, he roars as his orgasm rips through him. And the knots in the metaphorical silk binds cinch tighter, just like my pussy as I come again with him.
Epilogue
Zach
The Sapphire Bowl isn’t the biggest bowl game around, but it is on New Year’s Eve, which makes it extra-special. Beyond the obvious football incentives, I’ve got some bonus motivation sitting at the fifty-yard line. Norma is sitting in her seat, watching my every move, her small body more or less draped in one of my old jerseys. Liam and Arianna sit on her right. My parents sit on her left.
Unsurprisingly, my parents love Norma. Norma was nearly gutted when my mom heard us giving each other hell, sure that they’d think we were seriously bickering and an obvious match made in hell. But I knew better, and when my mom had come in the room, she’d addressed Norma first before even giving me a hello kiss, telling her, ‘You get him, dear. Keeping a Knight man in line is dang-near a full-time job.’ But Norma’s been overly sweet ever since, to the point my Dad quietly asked me if the Brat nickname was supposed to be ironic. I assured him that Norma was being extra-sweet because she wanted to make a good impression but was a strong-willed, sassy, prickly brat who kept me on my toes and in my place. And I liked her that way. He’d grinned and told me ‘Good job, Son.’ I think that was the best compliment he’s ever given me, even better than all the football praise he’s heaped on my shoulders over the years of playing.
But of course, Norma is sitting instead of standing because of the cast still clunking along on her lower leg. She’s almost to Freedom Day, as she calls it, but also known as cast removal day, and she’s ready, counting down the days on her calendar. But she’s managing pretty well. I, Arianna, and Liam pitch in when she needs something, and her parents helped too until they left a couple of days after Christmas.
I give them all a wave and catch the kiss Norma blows me for luck before turning back to the field. “You feeling it, Zach?” Coach Buckley asks me. “This could be your last game.” I can tell he’s pumping me for info without asking outright.
I shake my head. “Nope, I haven’t told Coach Jefferson yet, but I did a lot of thinking over winter break. I’m coming back next year. I want to be a Raven one more year, finish my degree, and then see about the pros.”
Coach Buckley grins. “You haven’t told Coach Jefferson yet?”
I chuckle. “Just haven’t had a chance with the holidays and practices to be ready for today. Besides, I’m sure you’ve noticed how nice he’s been to me? He thinks I might declare early for the draft and is trying to make me forget about the five AM practices and the two-a-day drills. But I remember, and I’m still staying.”
Coach Buckley claps his hands, the sound loud even on the riot of the sideline. “Well, all right, then. Let’s play some damn football then!”
To say it’s a good game is a ridiculous understatement. We’re playing the Jaguars, and while they’re a great team, we strike hard and fast. By the end of the first quarter, we’ve already scored twenty-one points.
“You planning on slowing down?” Coach Buckley asks me as I come off after the third touchdown. “Or are you just trying to shatter the TD record?”
“Not stopping until the game clock hits zero,” I reply, grabbing a Gatorade and giving Norma a thumbs-up. She waves a pompom on a stick madly, making me laugh because she’s suddenly my favorite fucking groupie ever. Her little cheer gives me new energy, which helps because our defense is struggling and the Jags hit us for two straight long touchdowns.
It becomes a shootout, and as we enter the final two of the fourth quarter, I know the guys are exhausted. Sweat drips off every facemask and every player’s chest is heaving. “Okay, let’s keep it going. Almost there, guys.”
“Zach,” one of my linemen says, his white jersey nearly gray with sweat. “There ain’t much left in the tank, man.”
I want to slap him in the head, tell him to man the fuck up . . . but looking around at the other guys, he’s right and just saying what they’re all thinking. I’m being fueled by something superhuman, something that they don’t have. I have Norma. Chuckling, I nod. “Okay . . . then let’s run a Bratty Norma Special.”
It’s a new play, something we’ve run once or twice in practice as a ‘fuck it, let’s have some fun’ type shit. The guys grin, and it’s my ass if this goes badly.
At the snap, everyone goes directly at and nails the closest Jaguar, looking like something out of a bar fight rather than football. It’s chaos, it’s anarchy . . . it’s just like my girl, fighting on every damn front. And just like in real life, I run through it all, slick and smooth through every obstacle and diversion and battle, like I’m playing Frogger on the Interstate. In seconds, I only have one guy left to beat, Prince Ellsmore, an All-American strong safety who’s been gunning for me all game.
“Sorry, Prince, but I’m the fucking King,” I growl as I lower my shoulder, hitting him right under the chin. It sends him flying, and I go the rest of the way untouched for a fifty-three-yard touchdown run.
It proves to be the knife in the Jaguars’ heart, winning the barn burner with a score of 56-45.
The trophy presentation is a huge event. The Ravens haven’t won a bowl game in almost a decade, and Coach Jefferson looks like he’s about to cry as he holds it aloft.
“And now the MVP of the Sapphire Bowl,” the cable TV host says, bringing out another trophy. “Zach Knight, get up here!”
The crowd’s going nuts, but when they stick the mic in my face, I look down at the trophy, the reality more surreal than every dream I’ve ever had of this moment.
I try to find my mind, remembering to thank my team and my coaches. I hear the TV host ask about a repeat performance next year, and I smile as I see Norma making her way slowly and carefully through the crowd. The guys notice her too and help her get a front-row seat for my moment because that’s what family does, and these guys and Norma are my family, my chosen tribe. “I’d love a repeat of this next year. I’ll be here to help make it happen as the starting senior quarterback for the Ravens.”
I let my eyes flick to Coach for his reaction, and his jaw is dropped open, and the tears that threatened flow freely now. He closes his mouth and gives me a thumbs-up, a look of pride in his eyes.
And with my interview done, I can finally do what I’ve been wanting to do since the timer buzzed. I rush to Norma, picking her up and spinning her around in joy. Her tiny hands fist my jersey, and she pulls me into a deep kiss, our lips still smiling even as we try to pucker. The crowd’s cheers get even louder.
We part just a bit, and she whisper-yells, “You think you can put up with all this plus me for another year?” A sassy smirk is on her face as she challenges me with those words.
I give her a cocky grin back. “Brat, I’m fucking sure I’m gonna be putting up with you for at least fifty years.”
Buck Wild
The Bennett Boys Ranch
Chapter 1
James
Silk and Shadows (The Virgin Diaries Book 3) Page 14
