Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (13 page)

Letting my spit pool at the base of his dick, I wrap my hand around his shaft and begin to pump him in unison with my bobbing head sliding up and down him. Every time I go back down I try to take him a little further in my mouth until I can feel him in my throat.

“Mmm, fuck Chelsea, that’s so good,” he mumbles. “Wait, I need you to stop for a sec,” he pulls his hips back and I sit back up trying not to look as hurt as I feel.

“What’s wrong?” I search his face for an answer.

“Nothing, trust me. I love it.”

“Then why are you stopping me? I want to do this for you,” I push him.

“Get over here,” he growls. I stand up and he pulls me by the belt loops on my jeans to him. “I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he rips my pants open and yanks them down to my knees with my panties along with them. My pussy is exposed to the cold night air as I stand, barely naked before him.

He lies on his back and holding my hands, he guides me to straddle his face, with my body stretched out over his torso. I try to open my legs wide, but my jeans are only half pulled off and restrain my movement. It doesn’t stop Cameron’s mouth from finding my pussy though. I feel his lips softly brush against my lower lips and his tongue darts between them. Fuck that feels good.

I lean back over him and grab the base of his fat cock in my hand, sliding my mouth back over it. I bear down onto Cameron’s face as his tongue teases my clit and his nose presses into my ass.

I take him deeper than before, fighting my gag reflex. I feel him in my throat as I bob my head down. He groans against my clit and makes me buck my hips instinctively. Cameron slides a finger inside me and my pussy squeezes down against him. Fuck, even just his finger is so big. It’s amazing that my body can take him, but somehow it always does. Every fucking inch.

I slide Cameron’s cock over my tongue again and this time I take him fully in my mouth. His lips vibrate against my pussy as he makes muffled noises in approval. I feel his cock twitch in my mouth and I keep taking him as deep as I can, sucking on him and swirling my tongue around him each time I bob my head down his shaft.

“Oh fuck!” Cameron yells. Then his mouth purses around my clit and he gently sucks on it as he batters his tongue against me feverishly.

I suck on him as his cum fills my mouth and his hips drive up, pushing him in my face deeper. I swallow every last drop of his seed and my thighs begin to tremble as my own orgasm pulses through me.

Even with me sitting on Cameron’s face, he still has control over me. His hands circled around my thighs and my legs limited by my jeans, I’m a prisoner of his pleasure. I writhe and twist as the bliss shoots through me like a flash of lightning in a summer storm.

Finally, we lie still. The treehouse is filled with our soft panting and the smell of sex. Cameron releases me from his grip and I squirm off of him and yank my pants back up.

He pulls up his jeans and I lie down next to him, putting my head on his chest.

“That was amazing,” he kisses the top of my head. I listen to his heartbeat as it confesses his secrets. The boy who wanted his father’s love, the young man who found solace in the stars, the sexy guy who could have any girl he ever wanted and then he did.

Me.

I think about the guy I once thought I knew, about as deep as a mud puddle with a two track mind on football and pussy. He’s so much more than that. He’s as vast and impressive as the endless sea of constellations he showed me. And his future is just as bright as Sirius shining down up there.

Our future.

I close my eyes and listen to his shallow breathing grow deeper and think about what our story would look like written in stars. A smile touches my lips and I drift slowly into sleep next to a man who makes me feel like I’m the only constellation in his sky.

T
he distinct smell
of bacon lures me from my sleep. My eyes pop open and I stretch my arms wide overhead. It feels strangely comforting to wake up in my old bed, in my old room, in my old house. Even though my parents live in town, I haven’t spent more than a handful of nights here since I moved out at eighteen.

I ran from my mother’s arms to the open arms of the army. After the military I went back to school, so I don’t really feel like I’ve ever had a time in my life yet where it’s just been me a hundred percent on my own. I’ve always had family surrounding me, whether it was my flesh and blood living under this roof, my brothers in arms or my guys on the field.

I look over at Chelsea sleeping peacefully next to me in my old double bed. My t-shirt looks like a dress on her small frame. Although, I’ve gotta admit, I like how it fits over her chest better than how it looks on mine. I have a feeling it’ll be a long time until I have any time where it’s just me on my own. Especially when I have a woman who is the entire package, delivered in a five-foot-two frame, lying next to me.

It’s easy to close my eyes and see my future with her. To see her teaching and me playing football until we’re both gray and tired. Then, it’s just as easy to picture long walks in the park and enjoying winters in the south, like most of the other seniors I know. There’s only one piece of the puzzle missing. With Chelsea and I there will be no legacy. No next generation to raise. No little girl to dance on my toes, no little boy to throw the ball around with in the backyard. It’ll be just us.

I push the moment of mourning from my mind, for the family I never thought I wanted. Chelsea is enough on her own. She’s smarter, sexier and funnier than all the women I’ve been with, combined. It’s not her fault she can’t have children. Besides, kids are loud, dirty and expensive. You can’t spontaneously fuck on the living room couch with kids in the house. You can’t jump on a plane and run off to Rome for the weekend. Nah, we’re better off.

I’m better off.

Chelsea’s long brown hair is twisted around my pillow like the branches of a weeping willow. Her perfectly pink lips are parted ever so slightly, tempting me to kiss her awake like the sleeping beauty she is. Her caramel skin practically shimmers against my white t-shirt and the way it clings to her heavy breasts makes me wonder if I could keep her quiet enough that I wouldn’t mortify my mother during a morning quickie.

She twists her hips to the side and throws her arms over her head as her eyelashes slowly flutter open. I recognize that look of momentarily forgetting where she is. I’ve seen it often on the faces of one-night stands who’ve shared my bed.

“Hey,” she smiles over at me, her voice still groggy with sleep.

“Hey yourself there, gorgeous,” I can’t help but smile back. I hate that I ever put off calling her. It’ll be a regret I have until I’m laying in my grave, that I could’ve had ten more months with this beautiful woman and instead I wasted it on faceless and nameless girls.

“Something smells good,” she purrs and pushes herself up until she’s sitting up next to me.

“I think Mom made us breakfast.” It’s true the bacon smells amazing, but even sizzling strips of heaven on your tongue don’t tempt me more than the sexy woman sharing my bed.

“No, no way. I can see that thought bubble over your head. I know that face and it’s not happening. I can hear your mother down there whistling, Cameron. You don’t think she’ll hear your bed squeaking. Or me?”

“We can be quiet,” I push back the blankets and give her a look at my morning wood. “I’m ready for you, baby,” I murmur.

Outside the door I hear my father shuffle and clear his throat loudly. He coughs a couple times before rapping on my bedroom door. “Uh, hey Cameron? You up?” He clears his throat again uncomfortably.

“Ya!” I try to mask the irritation in my voice.

“Good, good.” I can practically hear him pulling his hand over his face like he does when he’s uncomfortable. “Yer, uh, mother wanted me to tell ya that breakfast is ready,” he finally gets to the point.

“We’ll be right down,” I chirp back. Talk about a cock-block. I might as well be seventeen again with the way my parents just shut down my chances of getting laid.

“I don’t want to keep your mother waiting, Cameron,” Chelsea sighs. “It would get obvious and awkward, you know?”

I do know, but I keep my jaw set and my mouth shut. At least there’s bacon to look forward to, I guess. Although, it would’ve tasted ten times better as my post-sex snack.

“OK,” my feet hit the floor and I quickly pull my clothes on. I know Chelsea hates me watching her get dressed, but I can’t help myself. The way she wiggles into her jeans almost makes me say to hell with my parents and their stupid breakfast, but I fight the urge to bend her over my bed and instead open the door for her.

“After you,” I wait for her to pass through. The way I see it, every door I open is like a built in bonus. I get brownie points for the chivalry and I get to see the sweetest ass I’ve ever laid eyes on saunter on past me. Win-fucking-win.

We quickly thud down the stairs like a couple of kids on Christmas morning and slip into the chairs at the table. In front of me is a sight that would make any Instagram-whore hashtag jealous. A stack of pancakes a mile high, next to some pure maple syrup and salted butter. A jug of freshly squeezed OJ and a plate covered in sizzled up bacon strips calling out to my belly.

“Mmm, this looks amazing, Mom!” I have a brief moment where I remember my manners before I stack my plate high.

“It really does, Mrs. Armstrong. You’ve outdone yourself,” Chelsea agrees before selecting her breakfast for her own plate.

“I’ve already told you, honey, it’s Beverly. Mrs. Armstrong was my cranky old mother-in-law, wasn’t she, Don?” She looks up at Dad, but he’s thoroughly distracted by the overstuffed mouthful of pancakes he’s trying to devour.

Mom doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead she settles down into her chair across the table from us and fills her plate.

“So, Cameron, I understand your last season is going well, huh?” Mom casually asks as she selects the crispiest pieces of bacon.

“Yeah, I’d say so. I’m waiting to hear from any scouts, but they keep telling me that I don’t need to hold my breath. They’re checking me out,” I admit. I hate the idea of jinxing my success, but I’ve only ever heard good things from my coach and he’s a man I’d trust in battle, let alone in football.

“Really?” My father talks around a wad of half chewed food in his mouth. Not exactly tactful, but typically him.

“Oh yeah, he’s getting picked up for sure,” Chelsea chimes in. The pride practically radiates from her face like beams of summer sunshine. “I mean, you must already know, but there’s no way he’s not gonna get into the NFL next year,” her confidence is overwhelming.

“Oh? Huh,” Dad chews on a strip of bacon like a cow with cud in its mouth as he mulls over what Chelsea just said.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all, honey,” my mother chimes in. Her smiling face radiating with pride.

“Well, that’s great,” Dad continues. “I didn’t think this would really turn into anything for ya, to be honest, but if you can get picked up by the NFL that would be something, wouldn’t it?” He puffs up a bit taller. My soul battles between rage and pride.

I’m pissed that he’s never taken enough of interest in my games or my path to even know how close I am to being scouted. On the other hand, this is literally the first time I’ve ever seen my father sit up a little taller on my behalf since I enrolled in the military.

“Well, you know, you’re always welcome to actually come to one of my games and see for yourself,” I offer and try but fail to keep the acid from my tongue.

“Yeah,” Dad speaks around a cheek full of pancake, “you know what? I’ll have to do that,” he finishes chewing.

The words don’t have time to register. I don’t have time to mull them over and wonder whether this means a turning point for us, because loud, booming bass interrupts our breakfast.

“My word! What on earth is that?” Mom yells over the vibrating sound waves.

Before we have a chance to ponder the source, it cuts out. The noise is erased from our morning and replaced with the sound of my father chewing.

Seconds later, the front door opens with a slam.

“Hey! Hey!” My brother loudly greets us from the unseen front hall. His presence is only shadowed for a mere moment though as he turns the corner and stumbles into the kitchen. He smells like he took a tour of a brewery, a vineyard and then finished off with a pub crawl through a whorehouse.

“Jake!” My father practically explodes from his seat to greet his golden boy. He claps his hands around his shoulders like the pope greeting the prodigal son home.

“Hey Pops,” my little brother throws his arm around Dad.

As usual all eyes are on him. If there’s been a moment since his birth that it’s been different, I’ve never witnessed it. Jake untangles from my dad’s grasp and leans over the table, grabbing a pancake off the plate in the center of the table and stuffing it into his face.

“Jake!” Mom scolds him.

“Sorry, Mom,” Jake shamelessly grabs a fistful of bacon to add to the mix.

“Where were you? I was worried,” she continues.

“Oh, leave the boy alone,” my father interrupts.

“You know how it is,” he smirks at me and Dad. “I had a keg and a couple girls with my name written all over them,” he laughs.

“Jacob Armstrong! That’s not how we raised you and that’s not appropriate conversation at breakfast!” Mom sounds horrified.

“Oh, come on, Beverly. Boys will be boys, right?” Dad chimes in. “Hey, Cameron, move down will ya? Let Jake sit here by me,” he curls his hand toward my seat as he guides my brother to it.

The small crack of a breakthrough my father and I had, passed. It’s gone. I’m not sure it ever even happened. All I know for sure is what I’ve always known, Jake is here and Dad is happy. I look over at Chelsea, the only person that really matters. She’s proud of me. She cares. She’ll be at every game cheering me on, rubbing her good luck off on me.

I move to a seat on the other side of my girlfriend and watch as my brother slides on into the place I warmed for him at the table, not to mention in life.

Whatever. Let the golden boy fascinate my father with tall tales of being a SEAL. Let every moment they share be like every other moment I’ve been excluded from in this family. In this life.

It doesn’t matter, because beside me is the only family I really need. The only person who has ever made me feel complete.

Next to me is the woman I’m going to ask to be my wife.