Play Hard: Bad Boy Sports Romance (46 page)

She looked up at me as she flipped over and sat on the edge of the bed with her legs spread.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I want to see that beautiful face of yours. Scoot up.”

A smile spread over her face as she scooted back. I crawled onto the mattress between her legs, my raging hard cock in my right hand. She arched her back, thrusting her pussy up.

I plunged into her tight wetness, loving the way her pussy enveloped me completely, swallowed every damn inch of my massive dick.

She stared up and into my eyes as I slid in and out, faster and faster.

“Yes, baby,” she cried while rubbing her clitoris. “Let’s come together. Wait for me.”

Fuck!
I thought, slowing down slightly and trying to fill my mind with useless shit – anything except what was happening as cum prepared to shoot out of my dick. It didn’t take long for her to catch up.

“Now, now, now,” she moaned.

The urgency in her voice pushed me over the edge. I came while thrusting deep inside her one final time. My body locked up and my face contorted in pleasure as I came.

Her moans and groans were accompanied by squirming as her orgasm hit at the same time. I felt her pussy clenching my throbbing cock, milking out every last drop.

“Fuck,” I exclaimed, pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to her.

“I don’t want to go to work now,” she said.

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t talk crazy.”

“I’m serious.” I sat up on my elbow and looked into her eyes. “I can support you while you work on your romance novels. What I read so far was so good.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.”

“I’m being serious right now,” I said. “You’ve got talent. More than that stupid newspaper deserves.”

“You think so?”

I nodded.

“Yes. You should quit today.”

“I can’t do that to them,” she said. “But maybe I’ll turn in my two-week notice today.”

“Just do it.”

She giggled.

“Okay, Nike.”

I smiled then leaned over and kissed her.

“You coming over tonight?” I asked.

“Sleepover? You try and stop me.”

We laid next to each other, enjoying the afterglow for a minute or two. Eventually, she got out of bed and went to clean-up for work. I did the same after she left. The bookie could wait no longer. I’d finally gathered all the money. It’s crazy how you can fit a million dollars in a briefcase.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

On the way over to the pool hall to talk with Jackson Cash about paying off my debt, his offer popped into my mind. If we made it to the championship game and I threw it, he would let me keep the million dollars with no gambling debts hanging over my head.

That money would go a long way in helping Andrea get her writing career off the ground. At the same time, if I got caught fixing a game, I’d be disgraced and never able to play again. Hell, it would even stop me from being a sportscaster probably.

I parked on the street, hoping I didn’t run into any trouble. As I walked in, I gripped the handle of the silver briefcase tightly, not wanting to have a million dollars stolen right before I used it to pay off my gambling debt.

My anger management group had listened to me talk about gambling, which had helped me put things in perspective. They didn’t know I’d lost a million dollars, but they were able to show me the error of my ways when it came to gambling.

Inside the pool hall, I glanced around and saw Jackson Cash sitting on a bench in the back again, his usual spot.
What a fucking lazy asshole
, I thought as I walked through the tables. The place was mostly empty that early in the morning. Only two people played at a single pool table.

Jackson smiled as I walked up carrying the suitcase.

“You have something for me, I hope?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Let’s go in my office.”

He stood and sauntered over to the men’s bathroom. I followed, ready to get it all over with finally.

“You have all of it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Terrific. I’ll count it later. If it’s light…”

“It’s not light,” I said, cutting him off. “Here.”

I handed him the briefcase. He set it on a sink and opened it up briefly.

“That’s a damn fine sight,” he said. “Thank you, Tony.”

“We’re even now, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “In fact, I’m so happy you’re paying this debt, I’m willing to front you on the next one.”

“No, thanks,” I said, turning to walk out.

“Hold on a minute. Think it through. You don’t want to stop betting, do you?”

“I’m done with you.”

I stared into his eyes, my face hardened to let him know I wasn’t kidding.

“Why so serious?” He laughed. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s make it interesting. I’ll give you triple-or-nothing on a game, but I pick the game.”

“No.”

“Okay, okay. You can pick the game.”

“No,” I repeated more sternly.

“Look, Tony. I know you’re making a lot of money. Why don’t you just make a bet. Ten grand ain’t going to hurt you.”

“No.”

Jackson turned and nodded his head at Big John as he walked.

“You need to pay me a protection fee,” the giant said as he stepped in front of me in a fighting stance.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, not backing down.

“You heard the man,” Jackson said. “He’s upset that you gave us such a hard time with our debt.”

“Call him off. Now.”

I watched the big man carefully, taking a step back. He closed the space between us. While I might be able to take him in a fair fight, he would hurt me bad. If something happened to my body before the playoff game, everything might come crashing apart again.

“You can keep your money and give me a turn on that ride,” Big John bellowed then laughed. “That bitch is fine as fuck.”

“Stay away from her. I swear, if you even think about her, there’s going to be trouble.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

Big John shoved me against the tiled wall.

“Stop it,” I said, holding my palm out. “I’m serious.”

He laughed again.

“This is going to be fun.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Jackson said. “Let’s make this interesting. I say if he lets you have a shot at his woman, you don’t beat him so badly he’s not able to play.”

“Fuck you,” I said, leaping into action.

My fist connected with his face, but it had no effect other than making him laugh.

Oh shit
, I thought as his ham-fisted arm roared toward me. I dodged to the left so he wouldn’t hit my throwing arm. His fist connected with my face. He laughed again as I almost fell to the floor.

“That all you got big guy?”

Normally, I would have tried to fight clean, but if he hurt me bad enough, I wouldn’t be able to play in the playoffs. To end it quickly, I kicked him between the legs. Unfortunately, his fat and muscle blocked me from hitting my target dead-on.

Great, now you’ve pissed him off, I thought as he roared and rushed at me. All my practice avoiding the quarterback blitz came in handy as I dodged to the left then right quickly. He smashed his huge hands on one of the metal bathroom stalls.

I punched him twice in the face then kicked him in the nuts one more time, connecting solidly. He screamed out and dropped to his knees on the dirty, tiled floor. A few more punches to the head, and he went down. Full of adrenaline, I turned to Jackson Cash.

He calmly pointed a 9mm handgun at me.

“Do something,” he dared me.

Andrea flashed through my mind, allowing me to control my anger. I stood still, breathing deeply through my nose to calm down.

“You fucking pussy,” he said. “Get the hell out of here.”

I pointed a finger at him.

“Stay away from me and mine.”

“Get out of here!” he yelled.

Before I left, I kicked Big John in the gut. It wasn’t as satisfying as flying into a fit of rage and losing control, but it would have to do. I had more important things in my life.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Andrea

The entire ride to work, I wasn’t able to stop thinking about Tony fucking me earlier that morning. He had been so raw, sensual and perfect in every way. By the time I got inside the office building and made it to the elevators, reality hit me like a brick wall.

Was he serious about letting me quit my job? Did I trust him to support me while I began my career as a romance writer? The thought intrigued me. As I reached my floor and walked out into the newsroom, I decided to leave the world of journalism behind and follow my heart.

When I made it to my desk and sat down, Scott walked up.

“Good job on that story,” he said.

“Which one?”

“The one from the other night on the team mascots. Good stuff.”

“Um, thanks.”

I wasn’t sure how to accept congratulations from him. He had calmed down quite a bit, not yelling at me for every little thing I did wrong in his eyes.

“I might have another feature piece for you to do for the Sunday edition. You interested?”

“Maybe. To be honest, I’m turning in my two-week notice today.”

“Why?” he asked. “It’s not because of me, is it?”

“No. I’m just going in another direction.”

“I really want you to stick around.” He glanced back over at the rowdy man-boys on the other side of the sports department. “We need more people like you around here.”

I smiled sincerely.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He had taken long enough to recognize my contribution to the team, but it felt nice.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. I’ll assign this story to you anyway. You can finish it over the next two weeks. It’s an easy story, and I think you’ll put a great spin on it.”

“Thanks. I’ll check the assignment folder later today.”

As he walked away, I tapped the spacebar of my keyboard to bring my computer back to life. What the hell had gotten into him? I wondered as I clicked an icon to open my email and another one to open the sports assignments folder.

When I saw my new assignment, a premium one, I thought twice about leaving. Scott had been a horrible boss, but things were different.
Maybe I should keep my job at the newspaper and write my novels in my spare time at night?
The idea intrigued me.

My mood changed when I saw Kenneth walking over. Great. He’s another reason I should quit. I smiled as he stopped next to my desk with a sullen, distant look in his eyes.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I can’t take it any longer,” he said.

I tilted my head.

“What do you mean?”

“That dumb fucking jock,” he hissed barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, you’re not going to talk to me like that at work. I just got Scott off my case, and I’m not going to replace him with you.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he said, shocking me. “He’s laying off because of me.”

“Oh, okay,” I said calmly, glancing around to see if anyone was watching us. “Thanks for that.”

“Don’t patronize me. I’m fucking sick of it. You either leave that big, dumb jock and go out with me, or…”

“Or what?” I interrupted. “What are you going to do?”

I stood up, not about to be intimidated by him.

“I’ll get the publishing company to go after you for the money they gave you.”

“I still don’t think they’re real,” I said. “That money is in my bank account.”

He laughed.

“You’re so fucking stupid. You never realized it was me who gave you the advance on your book. I’m the only fucking person that fucking believes in your fucking writing ability.”

“Calm down,” I whispered. “And don’t use fuck so much. You’re diluting it.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled.

Scott lifted his head like a gopher on the plains of the Midwest and peered over at us. When he saw Kenneth, he looked away.

“You’re blackmailing Scott too, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Don’t play that stupid investigative reporter bullshit on me.”

“You’re not making any sense, Kenneth. I want you to leave.”

“I want you to pay me back that fucking money I gave you.”

“I’m leaving,” I said, walking toward the elevator.

He walked after me.