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Authors: Teagan Kade

Tags: #Romance, #Holidays, #New Adult & College, #Romantic Comedy, #Sports

Slammed (7 page)

BOOK: Slammed
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Light swings through the windows. Lucy lets go of my member like she’s holding a cobra. “What was that?”

I hop to the window and look out.
Fuck.
It’s Coach’s car. “I thought he’d go straight there.”

Lucy clutches herself, one arm across her chest, the other over her sex. She cowers into the back of me. “He won’t come in here, right? We’re okay, aren’t we?”

I watch as he steps out of the car.
Please, please.
He never comes down here, but tonight, of all nights, he starts to make a beeline for the granny flat.

Lucy sees the alarm in my eyes. “What is it?”

“Quick, hide behind the door.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

She stands behind the front door. I barely have time to cover myself before it opens, Coach not seeming to notice, or care, that I’m naked as he stands at the door.

“I was just about to take a shower,” I stall, very conscious of Lucy wedged tight behind the door. I can smell her, the earthy pull of her pussy.
Please, please, please.

“Won’t take long. Just thought I’d come by and see if you had anything to do with that Charleston business.”

“Sorry?”

Coach smiles. “Just saw the pic. Not his most flattering, and frankly, I don’t give a damn, but just for curiosity…”

I cannot think.

“You going to invite me in or stand there looking like a stunned mullet?”

No, don’t do it.
“Ah, yeah, come in.”

Lucy is mouthing the same as I swing the door wide to cover her, the Coach stepping in. I just manage to sweep her panties and bra up, throwing them over the back of the couch.

I pull my pants on while Coach is looking around, frantically trying to rearrange my erection so I don’t look like a penis Pinocchio.

He turns. “I know you boys are messy, Compton, but come on. This is an apartment, not a dumping ground.”

I’ve got to get him out of here. “You said something about Charleston?”

“You going to leave that door open? It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there. Can’t have my number one player on the bench, can I?

Are you serious?
There’s no way out of this now. It’s done.

My hand reaches the knob just as he stands.

“Drink, Compton? I keep a little stash of scotch back here.”

Anything to get him away. “Great.”

I close the door and guide Lucy behind the sofa as soon as he turns to head into the kitchen. “Stay there.”

He returns at lightning speed with two tumblers and a label-less bottle of amber fluid.

He sits himself on the sofa, Lucy right behind him. Only a few inches of fabric and wood separate them.

Coach hands a glass over and takes a swig of his own, downing at least half of it in one hit. “Ahhh, God’s own. So, Charleston. It was you, wasn’t it, off the record?”

I haven’t sweated this much since my last foster parent almost caught me with a cum-filled tube sock swinging off my cock.

Coach laughs and tilts the tumbler back, the Scotch gone. He watches the glass. “You don’t have to say it. I know it was you. Off the record, bravo. ’Bout time someone showed that little bitch who’s boss. Lord knows he never listens to me.”

“There were mitigating circumstances.”

“I’m sure there were, but fine work all the same.”

“Thanks. Look, I’m a little tired. Mind if I hit the hay?”

He gets the hint—thank fuck—and stands. “Of course, of course. You need your beauty sleep. I’ll leave you to it.”

I see him out, letting free the longest exhale of my life when the door is firmly closed.

Lucy emerges from behind the sofa in her bra and panties. “That was close. If Dad found out…”

“He’d kill us both, I’m sure.”

“I don’t think I can do it here, not with Coach Smith ready to barge in at any time.”

I hits me. “Don’t worry. I know exactly where we can go.”

CHAPTER NINE

LUCY

The training court is empty this time of night, just the moonlight filtering through the windows above us providing any kind of illumination. I didn’t think it was possible, but Nate looks even hotter under it, in his element.

He walks over to the ball rack and selects one, firing it into the air. It kisses the net without even touching the sides of the ring.

“How do you do that?”

“Practice.”

We’re both fully clothed again. “Will you show me?”

“Sure.”

He comes up behind me and places the ball in my hands, his own over the top. He presses into my back and I feel his hardness there, the heat and length of him.

He moves my hand. “You hold it where the seam meets. Yes, there.” He starts to lift my hands up with the ball. “You hold it just above your head, one hand to project, the other to guide. Look at the ring, aim.”

I try to focus, but I’m distracted by this inked Adonis wrapping my body.

He draws the ball back and kicks my legs apart slightly. I gasp.

“Squat, just a little, and throw the ball, send it right on home.”

I push up with my arm and the balls goes sailing. For a second I think it’s actually going to go in, but it ricochets off the edge of the hoop, bouncing away into the shadows.

Nate spins me around until we’re chest to chest. I bring my eyes to his.

He smiles, fingers interweaving with my own. “Not bad for a first time.”

I reach down and press my hand into his crotch. “I hear practice makes perfect.”

And it’s on.

Our mouths cleave together, hands and limbs akimbo, our clothes shed to the polished boards below. There’s a stack of crash mats on the side of the court. Nate drives us hard into them, his hands constantly moving over my naked skin, the heat building, suffocating in this space and the sounds of our arousal echoing into the ceiling.

The stack of mats starts to give behind me until they topple like dominoes. We go with them until I’m horizontal on my back, Nate on top of me, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

I can smell the hot damp between my legs. My breasts glow alabaster, pinpointed goosebumps running down my arms, my nipples standing erect against the granite of his chest.

We stop kissing even as fingers gently stroke down my bare arm. Finally, he breaks and works his way down my neck, my lips parting in a soft pant.

It’s warm in here, the hot press of Nate’s body causing thin rivulets of sweat to run down the valley between my breasts, and all I want is him, right now, inside me. I cannot ignore the growing wetness between my legs any longer.

His fingers settle on my clit, circling and stroking and then shifting downstream to dart quickly inside me. There’s a wash of heat up the insides of my thighs. I quiver, my panting coming with increasing urgency.

He pulls my nipples into his mouth until they’re hard, defined points. My clit grows likewise under his fingers. They slip inside me until they come against my obstruction and I crest higher, legs twitching in anticipation.
It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

I reach between us and find his cock. I hold him around the root and rock my hand back and forth, pausing to find his balls below heavy. His breath quickens, expelled in wheezy gasps against my breast.

I’m an oil slick below, his fingers parting my folds, running in soft figures-of-eight around my clit until I’m bucking off the mat to meet them, the vinyl sticking to my ass and everything a heated blur.

“Please,” I whisper to his bicep. “I want you inside me.”

But he teases, sliding down my body and burying his face between my thighs. He doesn’t take his time here, doesn’t draw it out, but licks me hard and fierce, my body stiffening and slit splaying wide in preparation against his tongue.

I beg for his cock, need it more than anything. He laps at my clit, separating me with his fingers and his groaning muffled by the slick face of my pussy.

I hold his head with my hands, grind against his face, breathing irregular and rapid. I’m soaring fast to climax, but I want more. I push him away, his eyes steely and lips wet. He reaches to his discarded jeans and pulls a foil wrapper from the pocket, tearing it with his teeth and sheathing himself before me.

“Are you sure?” he says, sliding back down onto my body, my breasts flattened against his pecs.

I’m panting so hard I can’t speak. I nod and he understands.

He reaches down and separates my creamy thighs with his hand before using it to guide the blunt head of his cock into my folds. He lets it rest there against the slack ring of my opening, lets me get used to his size.

He holds my face in his hands and kisses me, the taste of my own arousal on his lips and the distraction welcome as he thrusts forward hard, my innocence lost in a fleeting flash of pain, the shaft of him gliding deep into my hungry core.

I turn away, hands clutching at the vinyl and my mouth caught open.

The more he moves, the better it feels, more and more of his cock driving inside me until I’m sure I’ve taken the entire thing, the flat plane of his pelvis hard against my pulsing clit, the wiry hairs around his root matted to the puffy lips of my pussy.

I fight for oxygen as he moves, bring one hand up to claw at his shoulder, my head nuzzled into the crook of his neck and his rhythm building until he’s shifting us up the mat with every thrust.

I lift my legs and he runs deeper, every inch of me on fire, new and alien sensations running up and down my spine. I milk him with my muscles until his hisses, burying himself in my body shallow and fast.

I’m rising, our bodies colliding wetly together in the semi-darkness, his hips pounding into me, and it feels so good, so damn good I know I’ve been a fool for waiting this long.

“Please.” It runs from my lips and I cannot tell whether it is a cry for help or forgiveness. “I’m going to-”

I clutch his sides tight, crushed below him as I come, my orgasm soul-shattering, a blood-rushing wave of emotion and sensation that sees me convulse and clench around him. His own climax follows. He stiffens and jerks, rocking us together, gasping and panting, a second orgasm rolling over the first and flickering light seeping in from the sides of my vision.

His body slackens on top of me, my sex birthing his cock out where it sits wet and heavy against my thigh. I continue to twitch and pulse inside, the final embers of my release stirring.

Soon all I’m aware of is his halted breathing against the side of my neck matching my own, the blanket of sweat that grows cold over our bodies.

It occurs to me I’m no longer a virgin. All those nights dreaming about this moment with a shaky hand between my legs, so taboo and forbidden, but I never thought in those halcyon teenage days it would be a guy like Nate. It’s a surprise—a welcome one.

This time there is no doubt, no sudden shock of realization. All I feel is peace and fulfillment, a happiness unlike any I have known before.

He lifts himself from me. I’m surprised to see his erection has barely waned.

I sit up on my elbows. “I thought guys got soft afterwards.”

He runs a hand over the swell of my breast, kneads it with his palm. The need returns. “I’m not your regular guy.”

“What now?” I ask, playing with the lick of hair falling over his eye.

His hand works its way between my legs. “How about we hit the showers?”

CHAPTER TEN

NATE

We’re six points down in the third quarter, but it’s far from over.

I breathe in the atmosphere, filling my lungs with possibility. Lucy’s waving from the front row, Amber beside her, and suddenly everything becomes clear.
You’ve got this.

The opposition starts a fast attack down the right wing. I shrug off my defender and zip across, forcing a turnover. These guys are good, heavy on the D, but I can see the gaps forming, visualize them as I will my legs to pump harder.

I see the opening and take it, bringing my head in like a battering ram and squeezing past the center and his sticky hands, weaving a bit of razzle-dazzle as I make for the lay-up. The slim dude with the buzz cut is there. He’s seven foot or more, hand the size of a tennis racquet. I twist in mid-air and eye Tyson break for the top of the paint, just managing to unload as I’m brought down by the Human Telegraph Pole.

I hit the boards and roll as Tyson sinks the three like the ball was born to be in the net. It’s just the break we need. Even Charleston gets in on the action. By the fourth we’re up by ten and not letting a single point slip. When the buzzer goes, the Cat House explodes. There’s not a single person left seated.

It’s high fives and back slaps all around. For the first time I get it, what it means to be part of a team, a brotherhood where the ball is our god and the boards our church. I head over to Lucy, pulling her into a tight embrace. She doesn’t seem to mind I’m sweating like a Christmas turkey. She grips my arms, her oceanic eyes lingering on my own and the newly discovered sexuality coming off her, animal in its potency.

My hand slides down to her ass. I fill my hand with one of her cheeks and squeeze until I remember where we are.

“Get a room already.” Amber points sideways. Thankfully, the Dean is too wrapped up in placating attending board members to watch his daughter.

I stand back a little. “Right.”

“You were great.” Lucy’s beaming. “But you’ve got to pick up more rebounds. Tony can’t do it all.”

I laugh. “Who died and made you coach?”

“I just want my man to succeed. Is that a crime?”


Your
man?”

She looks past me to her dad who’s still engaged. “Yeah, mine. You got a problem with that?”

“No, ma’am.”

She brings her hand up to the faint stubble running along my jawline, the side of her thumb running over my lip. I love the way she’s looking at me, like the only thing stopping her ripping my clothes off right here are the fifteen-thousand people around us.

“I thought you wanted to keep this a secret.”

“I thought a lot of things.”

She’s killing me with this whole sex-kitten act. I run my hand up the back of her neck, the hot, hidden skin that lingers there.

She stands on her tippy toes to whisper in my ear. This is dangerous in the extreme, this PDA, but she doesn’t seem to care. She seems reckless, Amber watching on with disapproval. “I want to celebrate. Take me out.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. I need you inside me again.”

My cock stiffens at her words, these shorts providing little cover.

I see Coach approaching. He looks like he’s won the Larry O’Brien.

Ideas swirl through my head. “Okay, let’s go.”

As we’re leaving, I see a guy watching me from the crowd. He puts a finger gun to his head, going “boom” as he pulls the trigger. I’m too high on cloud nine to care.

*

Lucy seems surprised when I pull the covers off.

“A motorbike? I should have guessed. Biker bar, sex on the billiard table? Is that what I have to look forward to?”

I pass her a helmet. “If you play your cards right.”

She looks down at the bike, hands on her hips. “What is it?”

“1972 Triumph Bonneville. Real collector’s item. Willy left it to me.”

“Who?”

“My last foster parent.”

“Generous guy.”

“He was.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

I wave it off. “Don’t worry about it.”

She looks at the helmet like it’s a meteorite. “How do you use this thing?”

I help her put it on. Her face is adorable squished up inside it. She swings in behind me, her thighs high against my hips. God, she’s killing me.

The bike
rud-a-dud-dud-duds
to life and we set off out of campus onto the highway.

Manning’s on the edge of the dust belt, the greenery turning to rock and sand the further we head on.

I look in the rearview and for once find it filled. Her eyes are wide and clear, honey hair lustrous as it floats behind her. I have to ask myself, how did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve a girl like her? It doesn’t seem right. It seems fragile, like the smallest flutter will cause everything to fall apart.

And it always does. Everything around me turns to shit eventually.

I wonder if she’s getting off on this, the vibrations warming the area between her legs, her pussy forced up against my back. She’s hanging on for dear life, hands tied together in front of me. I could get used to this. I really could.

I look down at the speedo and realize I’m doing double, maybe triple the posted speed limit. Wind whips at my jacket, the cold bite of night air through it and Lucy snuggled up behind me like an oversized koala.

I ease off the throttle a little, but it’s too late.

I watch it all unfold in the side mirror. Blue and red lights swing out from the side of the road. The patrol car starts to gain on us.

I look back. Lucy’s shaking her head, but I can’t get caught. I twist the throttle and hunker down, a high-speed pursuit the last thing I’d planned on tonight.

The engine purrs below us. Scenery flashes past so fast the world seems a single, swimming entity. Lucy presses her head against my back probably scared she’s going to be blown clear off the back of the bike.

The sirens get louder.
Fuck.

But this isn’t my first time on these roads. I check the sign shooting past us and know exactly what to do.

I can actually hear Lucy screaming as I turn sharp to take a side road. We hit a bump and for one horrifying moment we’re weightless, both of us lifted off the seat before the entire bike crashes down in a cloud of dust. I punch the throttle again, hurtling us forward.

I see the patrol car swing wide behind us, struggling for traction. This isn’t a well-used road. Hell, it’s barely a road at all.

The road twists left and right. I struggle to keep us upright, but the road’s narrow. Soon the sirens grow distant, lights fading. Another minute and they’re gone completely.

I pull us hard into the scrub, swinging the bike around behind a series of bushes and discarded oil drums. I switch off the ignition and lights. We’re plunged into darkness. I turn to Lucy and hold a finger up to the front of my helmet.

Happy the coast is clear, I take off my helmet, Lucy following my lead.

She’s panting. “Why didn’t you pull over?”

“Wouldn’t have gone well considering I don’t have a license.”

“Nate!”

I hear the siren again, faint and then growing in intensity. “Down!”

I pull Lucy down behind the bike, can feel her heart beating beside me. The patrol car drives past our location, slow, but we’re well hidden. We both watch until it continues on, turning back into the highway over the crest, little more than colorful pinpricks in the distance and then gone for good.

Lucy looks terrified. “That was close.”

“How do you feel?” I ask, trying to project a picture of calm.

“I don’t know,” she answers somewhat breathless. “I feel… alive, I guess.”

“Horny?”

She laughs. “Matter of fact…”

I look around. Who knows what creatures are camped out here. It’s not the most romantic spot around. I pass her helmet back and stand. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Slammed
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