Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel (2 page)

Chapter 2

Hunter

I pick up my towel from the floor, smiling at the expression
on the girl's face. She was fucking
mesmerized.
Not that I haven't seen
that expression before, hell, I see it every night in my bedroom, sometimes
more than once. But there was something about those big, innocent blue eyes,
the way her lips parted and her hair fell around her face... damn. I'm around
hot women so much that I've honestly gotten a little numb to it, but this girl
has me standing up to attention, literally.

I pull a pair of boxers out of my locker and quickly tug
them on. I don't really want to explain why I have a rapidly hardening dick in a
locker full of sweaty men.

"The fuck you smiling about, Phillips?" Adam, my
best friend and go-to wide receiver, yells from across the room, and throws a
dirty, balled-up towel at me. I sidestep it and nail him in the head with the
one I just picked up from the floor.

"Just thinking about how your mom looked in my bed last
night," I retort. Our teammates guffaw around us as we all get changed
after practice.

"Dude, my mom would probably love to sleep with you
though, for real," Adam replies, shaking his head. "She's like,
always, asking about you. I think my stepdad can't get it up."

"You guys see that new cheerleader?" Devon asks,
emerging from the showers. At 6'7'', he's a couple inches taller than even me.

"The blonde?" Adam asks.

"She had those big ol' titties you just wanna fuck, you
know?" he mimes pressing her breasts together and thrusting his hips
against them.

"Phillips, we all talked about it, and we decided that
you have to have a handicap," Adam says, turning to me.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Tonight. It's the first big party of the year, and the
rest of us want a head start," Lucius chimes in.

"I understand that coming from you, Lucius. I mean,
you're a kicker," I say. The rest of the guys laugh as Lucius rolls his
eyes. "But the rest of you? Come on!"

"It's true. You always get your pick of the fresh meat,
and this year we want our turn first," Devon says.

"Seriously? There are hundreds of new girls. That's
plenty of pussy to go around," I reason.

"You're gonna take the blonde cheerleader just to fuck
with me, aren't you?" Devon asks, shaking his head.

"Now I am," I reply with a grin. "But let's
make it interesting. I'll give all you dick wipes until 1:00 AM to nail down
your respective women for the night, and then I'm showing up. What happens
after that is out of my hands."

"Damn, Phillips, this is the nicest thing you've ever
done," Lucius says, shaking his head appreciatively.

"Well, I had two at a time last night, so I'm feeling
generous."

"Oh, shit! I knew you had a threesome!" Adam
crows. "Who was it?"

I shrug. "Just these two groupies. They caught me
coming outta here after dinner. I don't know their names. I almost never
do," I add with a laugh.

"And there's your team captain," comes a low growl
from the doorway. The rest of the guys jump to attention, but I just lean
forward and rest my forearms on my knees as Coach McKay comes striding into the
locker room. "I was hoping for a little leadership this year, Phillips,
but I can see that's not going to be the case," he snarls. "Now hurry
up and get out of here. I'd tell y'all not to drink too much tonight, but I
know it won't make any God damned difference." He slams the door behind
him as he leaves.

The tension leaves the room with him. Coach might be only
six foot, too small to have made it in the pros, but he still scares the rest
of the team shitless. Not me. I don't care how hard he rides me. The guy just
has it in for me, plain and simple. He’s such a prick, too, always scheduling
early morning practices on the weekends, just to punish us for partying the
night before. What does he expect? It’s fucking college, and we’re football
players. At Vanover, that means we’re practically royalty.

Sure, it would be nice to have the kind of coach who seemed
to actually believe in me, who would talk me up to the pro scouts that are
eyeing me, but whatever. He doesn't have to like me, he just has to play me.
And barring some major fuck-up on my part, that's exactly what he's going to
keep on doing. I'm Hunter fucking Phillips, and nothing's going to stand
between me and my NFL contract.

Chapter 3

Britt

I stare at a pen on my dad's desk, my gaze soft. All I can
think about is Hunter Phillip's hard muscles...the width of his shoulders, the
way his biceps seemed to pop off his arms as he reached for his towels. I shift
a little in my seat, and am horrified by what I feel. Oh my God...am I wet
right now?
Get it together, Britt. He's just some muscle-bound jock.

The door bursts open behind me and I jump, less because I'm
startled and more because I'm feeling guilty over my dirty thoughts.

"Sorry I'm late," my dad says as he walks around
the chair I'm sitting in and heads to his old swivel back behind his desk. My
dad is not a hugger. "Offensive coordinator wanted to tweak a couple plays
that weren't working."

"No problem."

"So how's your first week been?"

"Good. I already finished all my homework for this
Monday and Tuesday, and I'm going to the library after this to finish the rest of
the week's. I told my academic advisor that I'm ready to declare my double
majors, but she said to wait a little since I just got here."

"That's my girl," he says proudly, hooking his
hands behind his head. His hairline is receding and he's got more than a few
wrinkles, but I can see why his opponents and players find him intimidating.
When he looks at you, he seems to know everything about you, his dark blue eyes
resting on you a moment longer than is comfortable. Of course to me, though,
he's just my dad. My supremely overprotective dad. "How's your roommate?
You said on the phone she talks a lot."

"A little," I reply warily, knowing where this
conversation is heading. "But she's nice, I think."

"Well, your old bedroom is always available if you want
to move home."

"I know, Dad. But I think I'm going to be fine in the
dorms."

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you
about," he says seriously, leaning forward on his desk.

"Okay..."

"Now, I know this is something normally your mother
would talk to you about, but here we are." I smile sadly. My mom passed
away from ovarian cancer when I was two, so I don't really remember her, but
the mention of her still brings up a painful ache in my chest. "It's
important, when you, ah, decide that it is time... that you feel that you might
want..."

I frown at him. It's not like my dad to stumble over his
words. Wait, is he blushing?

"Dad!" I interrupt. "If this is, um, a sex
talk, then you don't have to. I think I, ah, already know the gist of it."

He frowns. "You mean you've already—"

"No! No. I just mean I don't think we need to talk
about it," I hasten to clarify. "And for the record, most kids get
the sex talk when they're like thirteen, not eighteen."

"Hm, maybe you're right," my dad admits with a
sigh. "Well, you know my view. That you should wait until you're
married."

"I know," I reply patiently. No need to get into
an argument over my father's traditional views on marriage and sexuality. This
conversation has already been embarrassing enough.

"Then I just have one thing to add," he says, his
eyes narrowing to slits. "No football players. No hanging around them. And
especially no dating them."

"Dad, you know I have no interest in them," I
reply with a sigh. "But, for the record, are they really that bad?"

"Oh, yes," he says. "In my day, sure, there
were a few bad apples. But now, you should hear the things they talk about in
the locker room. Or rather, you shouldn't. Look, I respect their dedication to
the sport and what they can do on the field, but to continue in this job, I've
had to completely separate myself from what they do off of it. These guys see
women as less than notches on their bedposts, I'm telling you."

I shake my head. "Well, that sounds terrible. And you
have nothing to worry about with me, Dad. I have absolutely no interest in
them."

"Good. Stay far away from them. Especially Hunter
Phillips."

My eyebrows raise and a slight heat rises to my cheeks.
"Why him specifically? Just out of curiosity."

"He's the worst of the bunch. Trust me. Hunter Phillips
is rotten, right down to his core."

Chapter 4

Hunter

I glance at the time on the bottom right corner of the TV
screen. 12:30AM. Almost time to head over to the party. Usually watching ESPN
puts my mind at rest, but right now I've got jittery adrenaline flowing through
my veins, thinking of all those nubile young co-eds that are just waiting for
me to show up. My teammates better kiss my ass for this head start I'm giving
them.

My phone rings on the couch seat next to me and I swipe to
answer. "Hey, Dad. You're up late."

"I was just looking over the stats of this junior out
of UCLA. He's got a good arm, but he can't run the ball as well as you."

"Thanks for letting me know," I reply. My mom and dad
have been training me practically since birth to be a football star. Now that
I'm in Tennessee and they're all the way in Texas, they're still searching for
a way to stay involved and make sure I'm on track to get into the NFL. I'd say
they want it even more than I do, but I don't know if that's possible.

"How was practice today?"

"Good. Coach is still up my ass about how I am in the
huddle."

"Don't listen to him. It's not your job to mollycoddle
some wide receiver who isn't making the plays. You just hit your marks. That’s
what the scouts pay attention to, not who gives the most uplifting speeches or
some crap."

"Preaching to the choir, Dad."

"What are you doing at home, anyway? Shouldn't you be
out at some party? Now's the time to sow your wild oats." My dad and mom
got married kind of young, and sometimes I think he's living out his party boy
fantasies through me.

"Just about to leave, actually," I tell him.

"Alright, talk to you soon," he says, and hangs
up. I stand up and stretch, then head into my bedroom. I live in a luxurious
one-bedroom apartment right across the street from campus, along with some of
the other best players on the team. The block of apartments is owned by one of
the university's biggest donors, and he rents them out to the football players
for dirt cheap, just because he's a big fan. I don't trouble myself with the
ethics of it all. I'm just happy to enjoy my California King-sized bed.

In the bathroom, I rub some Old Spice under my pits and then
pull on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. I learned long ago that it doesn't
really matter what I wear. I could've just rolled in a pile of shit and the
jersey-chasers would still flock to me.

It's a quick walk over to the football frat. I'm a member,
but hell if I'm going to actually live in that place. Mostly the rooms are
occupied by sophomores and juniors, not the most talented players. Their job is
mostly to sit on the place until we need it for parties, and they don't exactly
keep it in the best condition. I prefer to come home to something a little more
luxurious.

I can hear the music from two blocks away. It's a Saturday
night, so there are several parties going on on Frat Row, but ours is the
biggest. Everyone wants to party with the football players.

People step aside as I head down the sidewalk, and girls'
heads turn after me. A few of them get up the courage to offer shy smiles,
looking up through their eyelashes at me. I could probably just stop here and
take one of them home, but I'd like to get a beer first.

A cheer goes up from the porch as I turn up to the house. I
feel the music begin to pump through my veins like a shot of drugs and I accept
a beer from one of my teammates as I mount the steps. Being at a party
surrounded by willing women is almost as good as being on the field. In both
places, I'm the alpha.

I down the beer in one massive gulp. Devon sidles up to me
and hands me another red Solo cup. I nod to a couch in a dark corner where Adam
is making out with some chick, his hand about halfway up her bare thigh.

"Looks like Adam's found his piece for the night. What
about you?" I ask, glancing around. "You can't say I didn't give you
the opportunity." Out of the corners of my eye, I can already see groups
of girls forming to whisper and glance in my direction.

"Dude, that blonde cheerleader is cold as ice. I spent
like two hours on her, and nothing."

"You know what your problem is? You try too hard. I
never try. You just gotta let them come to you."

"Yeah, well, you got that Brad Pitt face, you lucky
fuck."

"What can I say? I guess I’m just blessed,” I reply
with a grin. From across the room, I see the blonde cheerleader staring at me.
Her friend, a girl I recognize as another cheerleader, a junior, is whispering
in her ear, but she only has eyes for me. She's wearing a tiny little white
dress, a cotton wisp of fabric that just barely covers her crotch and allows a
line of cleavage to show at the top. I lick my lips, thinking of how it’ll feel
to suck on those tits. “Devon, would you excuse me for a second?” I say, in a jokingly
formal manner.

“I’m telling you, those legs are staying crossed!”

“We’ll see!” I reply over my shoulder. I head to a flimsy
chair in the corner. It creaks as I settle into it, but holds. I casually lean
back, knowing I won’t have to wait for long. And here she comes…I keep my eyes
down on my drink until she’s standing right in front of me and has to clear her
throat to get my attention.

“Um, Hunter?” she asks, her voice high and breathy. “I just
wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lydia, one of the new cheerleaders.”

“Hi, Lydia,” I say. “This your first college party?”

“Well, I went to one last night, but it was nothing like
this,” she replies, shifting her weight from heel to heel, and nervously
twisting the hand not holding her beer around a lock of her long hair.

“Want me to give you a tour?” I ask.

Her lips part and her eyes light up. “I’d love that,” she
murmurs, unconsciously pressing her breasts together and leaning toward me.

I smirk, and stand up, finishing the rest of beer and
tossing the cup on the ground. With a hand at the small of her back, I guide
her toward the back hallway, pretending not to notice as her friend gives her a
thumbs up. We pass by Devon and I smile as his expression changes from
dumbfounded to a sort of frustrated resignation.

“Hey, you had your shot,” I mutter to him. I slide my hand
onto her ass as we turn into the dimly lit back hallway, and feel her press
back into me. I knock at the first door.

“Occupied!” a man’s voice yells back. While only a handful of
the players live here, we all use the bedrooms to hook up when we’re at a
party. No sense going all the way back to your own place. At the next bedroom
door, I knock again, then pause to wait for a response.

“All clear,” I say with a smile, and punch the code into the
pad under the door handle. The door swings open, and Lydia breezes inside.
Sometimes it amazes me, how quickly these girls know the score.

Lydia stands obediently by the bed and waits as I close the
door and walk toward her. The room is messy, but at least the comforter is
pulled up and only a small bedside lamp is on.

“I’m such a big fan of yours, Hunter,” she says, looking up
at me with almond-shaped brown eyes. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t
show up tonight.” I press up against her and slide my hands down over her ass,
pulling her against my cock. She gasps as she feels its size pressing up
against her waist. Cheerleaders are some of my favorite hook-ups, because they
know how to stretch.

“Well, I’m here now,” I murmur, bending down and covering
her lips with my mouth. The faster we can get through the inane conversation
and get to the fucking, the better. She gladly accepts my tongue, and I move
one hand to the back of her head and hold her in place. She moans, and I move
my hands to the bottom of her dress. She lifts her hands over her head, and I
pull it off and toss it on the floor. She stands back to take off her bra, and
then waits to let me admire her. Her tits are certainly impressive, and I can
tell by the way she’s smiling that she knows it.

After a moment, she reaches forward and slides her hands
under my shirt and up my abs, her fingers digging into the valleys between my
ab muscles. “Holy shit, your body is amazing.” I smile and pull my shirt off.
“Wow,” she breathes, unabashedly allowing her eyes to travel across me. “I
can’t wait to see the rest,” she says with a smile, and reaches for my belt
buckle. She quickly unfastens it and pulls my jeans and boxer-briefs down with
them. “I see you’re proportional,” she whispers, eyes wide as she stares at my
cock.

“Think you can handle it?” I ask, wrapping my hand around
the shaft.

“A girl can only do her best,” she whispers, and sinks to
her knees. She licks her lips and then fastens them around my tip. I groan as
she takes me to the back of her mouth. She can only make it about halfway down
my length, but I’m used to that. I dig one hand through her hair as she goes to
town on me, sucking and licking and flicking her clever little tongue.

She’s good, but I find myself zoning out as I look down at
her moving up and down my cock. How many women have I seen in this position? I
lost count long ago. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, remembering the
look of shock on that girl’s face this morning as she walked past the locker room.
She looked like she’d never seen a naked man before, not to mention one that
looks like me. I wonder what it would feel like to see her in my sheets, lying
on top of her and watching her face as I enter her…

My eyes snap open and I frown. Who cares about some girl I
saw once, when I’ve got one sucking my cock right now?

“Get up,” I growl, feeling suddenly annoyed. She glances up,
her eyes widening a little at my tone, and wipes her lips as she stands. I grab
a condom from the drawer in the desk where they're always kept, and quickly
roll it down my dick while she watches. I roughly turn her around and yank the
tiny triangle of purple fabric between her legs to the ground. I kick my
sneakers and jeans off, and step up behind her. I wrap one arm around her and
spread one hand over one of her breasts, feeling her nipple harden against my
palm. My other hand snakes down and between her legs, rubbing over her soaking
wet clit and then quickly slide my finger into her opening.

She cries out in pleasure as I circle my finger inside of
her. “You’re pretty tight,” I grunt.

“Don’t worry about me, I can take it hard,” she sighs
breathlessly as I move my finger back out and flick her nub back and forth.

“We’ll see about that,” I grunt, then abruptly pull my hand
out and press it forward on the small of her back, bending her over the bed. I
nudge her legs wider with my foot, and wrap her hair around my wrist and then
grip it in my hand, pulling her head back.

With my other hand, I take my cock and slide it across her slick
opening. I move all the way up her butt crack, teasing her, then suddenly slide
down and thrust inside her. She cries out, and I pull back and thrust inside
again.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” she groans, and I smile. She wasn’t lying,
she does like it hard. I let myself go, driving inside and out of her, spearing
her body on my cock.

I look down at her back, feeling her pussy tighten around me
as she nears orgasm, and again that brunette comes into my head. I’m too close
to coming at this point to control myself, so I let the image of those brown
curls and big blue eyes take over. I imagine how it would feel to come inside
her, what she’d smell like and taste like, as I release myself inside this
cheerleader with one final thrust.

After a second to catch my breath, I pull out, tossing the
used condom in the trash. She turns over and bites her lip as I head toward my
clothes.

"One more time, Hunter, please?" she asks, sliding
her legs open enticingly.

I smile. "I live to serve," I reply, and walk back
toward her.