Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (18 page)

Shit, what am I doing?

Even without Tom’s bullshit and whatever Joanne is up to, I’m not qualified for this. Well, maybe I am, but I don’t know if I’m ready for it. This is huge. This isn’t LJ Jacobs: shrewd scout and tough negotiator. This is LJ Jacobs: head owner and board member of a professional league football team.

And suddenly, I’m not so sure I’m actually up to that.

Well, my stomach isn’t, that’s for sure.

I finally stand on shaky legs and make my way to the sink to clean up. I splash cool water against my neck before digging though my purse for the spare toothbrush Serena always makes fun of me for carrying around.

“Yeah, like you’re the type of girl who might need an overnight toothbrush handy in her purse.”

I make a face at her. “You never know.”

Serena laughs. “Oh, girl, believe me, I do know. And you are NOT the random sleepover kind of girl.”

I frown. “Says who?”

“Says the fact that you’re so tied up with analyzing every situation like it’s a trade deal or a passing record that you’re incapable of just going and getting laid.”

I finish rinsing out my mouth before I glance back into the bathroom mirror and make a face at my hair. I pull the tie out from the messy, half undone bun, letting my auburn tangles cascade down my shoulders.

I dig into my purse again, coming out this time with some eyeliner to re-apply and a touch of gloss for my lips.

I straighten up, pulling my shoulders back before reaching up and undoing an extra button from my blouse.

I bite my lip.

Because Serena was right. I
was
incapable of just going out and getting laid.

Was.

I feel the throb of something hungry deep inside of me as I step from the women’s room and make my way to the parking garage.

I don’t need to think about this. I don’t need to analyze what it means, or what it says about either of us, or what it might mean for the future.

All I need to know is that I want him, and he wants me, and right now, that’s all I need.

I need to lose myself in something, and losing myself in
him
and all the wicked things I know he can do to me sounds
perfect
right now.

I
stare
at the papers on my kitchen counter that Randy’s just dropped off.

Shit, barely a week here and I’m already looking to bail.

I re-read the title of the first pack of papers: “Dissolution of Contract and Forfeiture of Dues and Earnings”.

I mean,
fuck
. Talk about heavy language.

The wording on the second one isn’t as scary, but it’s the prospect behind it that’s worse: a contract for re-signing with the Rattlesnakes - at a fairly considerable pay drop, of course.

I don’t actually know how the fuck Randy pulled it off after I left like that, but there it is. My old team
would
take me back. It might be a little less money, but hell, it’s my old life back. It’s the fame and groupies and being the king of it all that I was back in Denver. So they want to ding my paycheck as penance for running off like an asshole?

Fine.

I groan and wonder for the millionth time why I made this move to begin with. A pay dip, a losing team, a new city that doesn’t worship me like Denver did. I mean what the fuck was I thinking?

Sure, Randy might be right about the renegotiations I was going to have to go through after last season, but still.

What it comes down to is, I’m starting to think I made the wrong move. Which is why he and I pulled the trigger on looking at what it would take to leave Houston and head back home, as shitty a person as that might make me.

Why the hell did I come here?

Except, deep down - or really, not all that deep down if I’m being honest with myself - I know part of the reason I came here.

Even if I don’t want to admit it myself.

The short, opinionated, auburn-haired, sassy little spitfire of a talent scout. The girl that served me my bullshit right back to me. The one that wouldn’t back down, or worship me like every other girl I’ve ever met since becoming famous.

The girl that stood out, and the one that got in deep.

I roll my eyes at myself and how fucking stupid that sounds.

Me,
the guy who gets laid at the drop of a hat. Me, the guy who goes through women like days of the week.

Right, like a guy like me would move from the place I had it so good just for a fucking girl. Sure, I needed the break. I needed to step back from Denver and the ghosts that haunted me there. Moving let me try something new, breathe some new air, and get away from the mistakes and regrets that hounded me.

All that and London. Moving got me London again.

You sound like a pussy
.

I frown as I stare at the bottle of whiskey on my kitchen counter - a housewarming present from the Bulls management team for my new condo here.

I crack the top off and sniff.

Damn
that’s good.

I glance at the label and age and raise a brow.

Shit, that’s
real
good. I grab a glass and pour a splash in.

This bottle is a release from the demons circling through may head. This drink is medicine for the aching regret from that night.

The night I let Brandon walk out of that party and get into his damn car.

I wasn’t his designated driver - I mean shit, we were both blasted. But best friends watch each other’s backs. Best friends don’t ignore their buddy when he drunkenly mentions he’s taking off, just because you’re too busy getting into the panties of the two cute little co-eds who’ve been dropping hints all night.

The whiskey is sweet and smoky, and goes down way too fast.

I pour another splash into the glass, turning it slowly on the butcher block counter and eyeing the amber liquid.

This is release
.

Release from all of that still floating through my head. Release from the
mountain
of guilt still tied like a stone to my neck. The guilt that’s been there ever since I woke up in that strange bed to the last phone call I’d ever want anyone to get.

I’m about to pour a third splash into the glass when reason finally sinks in.

Because the whole
point
of this move - looking past London - was a change. This was to make me better and make me whole. This was to get me away from the shit that made my last season so terrible and my offseason a train-wreck.

I stare at the glass in my hands.

And if I start right into my old ways here, what was the point?

Don’t say her name,
I growl to myself inside my head.

Don’t you say her fucking name, you big pussy.

London.

Shit, I almost
do
take another drink at that.

I came here to change and get a fresh start, not just to get a piece of tail. I didn’t move my entire life and identity across the country just to get laid.

But
damn
.

I push my hands over my face, raking my fingers over the scruff of my chin and pushing them through my hair as I exhale slowly.

I can’t figure out how and why this girl’s gotten in so deep with me, despite both of us being so fucking adamant about it being this whatever casual thing.

Yeah, best laid plans.

And it’s not just the sex, or the way she gets me harder and more roaring to go than any girl ever has, as weird as
that
is. It’s the way she
makes me
want her. She makes me want to work for it.

Except I need to get over that.

It’s just the emotions of having left Denver, and the newness of this all. I’ve had my vacation from my life, and now it’s time to go home. It’s time to go home and bury Brandon’s ghost alongside my own demons.

It’s time to go home and jumpstart the season I know I have inside of me. And hell, if it takes fucking half the women in Denver to get London Jacobs out of my head?

So be it.

And I decide right there that I’m done with this girl. I’m done with the games and the back and forth and all that crap.

Over it.

The knock on my door has me jerking my head up to of my own stormy thoughts. I frown, wondering what the hell Randy forgot.

The knock comes again, and I shake the cobwebs and emotions from my face as I walk over.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

I yank the door open.

“What the fuck did you forget-”

I freeze.

It’s not Randy.

It’s London.

London with a fire in her eyes and a flush on her cheeks.

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips as she looks right up into my eyes, her shoulders heaving like she’s just run up to the tenth floor.

“This,” she says quietly. “I forgot this.”

And then she’s leaning up on the tips of her toes, yanking me down by the collar of my t-shirt, and kissing me.

And literally everything I was just thinking blows away.

N
o regrets
.

No thinking it through, no analyzing the situation and the outcomes and all the reasons why this is a bad idea.

This is just me and the man who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.

Wicked, filthy, dirty things.

And I just want more.

This time it’s
me
who pushes him back, my lips locked to his and a fistful of the neck of his t-shirt in my hands as I push him back into his condo and kick the door shut behind me.

There are no words, because we both crash together like we’ve been thinking of nothing else since the last time.

We move into the kitchen, his tongue seeking mine and my hands pushing and pulling at his shirt to tear it off of him. Fingertips slide up his grooved abs, my pulse thudding with desire to feel and taste every inch of his body.

I shove him back against the kitchen counter, stepping back with my eyes locked on his as I yank my blouse up and over my head and toss it aside. His eyes drink me in with a raw hunger as his hands move to his belt, tugging it off and unzipping his fly as I let my bra fall to the ground.

He’s pushing at his jeans, but I’m back on him, my hands sliding over that delicious skin as my lips kiss down his chest. My hands push his away, fingertips teasing over the waist of his boxer briefs as I shove his pants down. I lean up and kiss him hungrily, letting our tongues dance together before I slowly drop to my knees in front of him.

Hooking my fingers into the waist of his tight black boxer briefs, I slowly pull them down his muscled, grooved hips. My eyes follow the trail of hair down from his navel until suddenly he springs out.

I moan.

His cock is thick and pulsing, jutting out from his muscled abdomen, and before I know it, I’m leaning forward, opening my lips, and sucking him inside.

Holden
groans
, his hands sliding down to gently tangle in my hair. I swirl my tongue around his thick head, teasing at the satin and steel feel of him and loving the way he moans and the way his hands tighten in my hair. I hollow my cheeks, sucking him inside as my hands reach up to his thighs and grab at his hips. I moan around his thick shaft, sucking at him and listening to his low growls and moans.

I reach around and let my hands cup that perfectly sculpted ass, pulling him deeper inside as he hisses in pleasure.

This doesn’t need analyzing. This doesn’t need a goddamn spreadsheet.

This is just pure need and pure desire, and this time, I’m not going to overthink it.

Holden reaches down, his hands cupping my jaw as he gasps. He slowly pulls me from his wet and throbbing cock.

“Keep that up, sugar, and I’m going to lose it.”

I grin wickedly at him, pushing his hands away and bobbing back down on his cock as he hisses.

“Well maybe I want you to
lose it
.”

Holden growls.

“Not before I’m done with you.”

I gasp as he reaches down and easily picks me up as if I weighed nothing at all. He scoops me up in his muscled arms, and I throw mine around his neck, kissing him eagerly as my legs wrap around his waist. I can feel him, pulsing thick and ready between my legs, and I whimper into his mouth as I feel his strong hands lift me up and center me above his cock.

I shudder as I feel his head graze across my clit.

“
Please,
” I pant into his lips, rocking my hips in a vain attempt to feeling him push inside.

Holden grins.

“I think I like hearing you ask nicely,” he growls, biting at my bottom lip. His hands cup my ass, and he rocks his hips up as his hands move me slowly up and down.

Fuck, yes.

He’s not pushing inside like I want him to, but instead, he’s letting his thick shaft slide between my lips, his head bumping over my clit on every teasing stroke.

“You’re teasing me,” I pant into his lips, my fingers sliding into his hair as our mouths crash together.

“Then you better beg me harder,” he husks.

“
Please,
” I gasp again, my head spinning as his cock slowly grinds up and down against my pussy. I go to kiss him, but he only grins as he pulls back just shy of my lips,
just
as he bumps the head of his cock against my clit.

I whimper.

“Gonna have to do better than that, sugar,” he breathes into my lips.

“Please fuck me,” I pant out, rolling my hips against his as he stands there with his arms effortlessly holding me up.

He lifts me until the head of his cock lodges right against my slick opening.

“I’m not sure I caught that,” he growls with a smug grin on his face.

I groan, my blood roaring in my ears and my body
aching
for him.

“You are
such
a cocky prick.”

“And you love it.”

We lock eyes as time just
stops
for one half-second.

“
Fuck me,
” I whisper.

And this time, he does.

We both cry out as he pulls me down onto his length, sheathing himself in one thrust. My fingers claw at the back of his head, my mouth going slack as I moan in pleasure.

Holden’s powerful hands grip my ass firmly, and he starts to slide me up and down, right there in the middle of the kitchen. He’s growling as he pumps me up and down, the muscles of his arms and shoulders rippling as he fills me again and again.

I’m panting into his ear, my breasts pressed against his iron chest and my nipples dragging across his hot skin. My ankles lock around his waist as his hands grip me tight as he slides my dripping pussy up and down his cock.

We’re moving then, me still clinging to him like a rag doll as he carries me into the living room. He slowly sits back into his couch, never pulling out of me as he settles me perched on his lap.

I rake my teeth across my bottom lip as I settle myself down, tracing my fingers down his chest and locking my eyes with his. Slowly, I raise myself up, feeling him slowly slide out of me, before I drop back down. I groan at the fullness, feeling him pulse deep inside me.

I smile wickedly as I grab his hands and put them above
his
head this time. He grins at me, cocking a brow and just nodding as he lets me hold his hands there. I start bucking up and down on him, rolling my hips and riding his cock as I just let myself go.

I can feel every inch of him stroke inside, my clit rubbing deliciously against his shaft on each stroke as our moans collide. I drop my mouth to his, and bury my cries in his lips as his tongue eagerly finds mine.

We start to move faster and faster, me riding him up and down and him raising his hips to meet mine on every thrust. Holden slips his hands from mine, one going to my hip and the other trailing down my soft belly to where we join. He leans forward and wraps his lips around a puckered, rosy nipple as his fingers find my clit and start to stroke.

It’s all too much.

It’s everything, and all consuming. It’s him
demanding
my orgasm, and he’s going to get it.

I’m still whimpering when he brings his mouth away from my breast and lays back into the couch, his hands still on me and his eyes drinking me in as I ride him.

“Now be a good girl and come for me.”

I moan, my whole body shivering as I start to slide towards that edge.

Holden growls.

“You like when I call you that.”

It’s a fact, not a question. I nod, my eyes half-closed and a small whimper dripping from my lips.

“Or what if I call you my
bad
girl.”

Oh fuck.

I can feel myself start to fall - feel my body begin to shatter and blur at the edges.

Holden suddenly sits up, his hand on my hip rocking me back and forth on his thick shaft as his fingers rub circles over my clit.

“Now be a bad girl and come all over my cock,” he growls into my ear. “I want to feel that pussy come for me.”

And that’s it.

I shatter.

The whole world goes dim as the orgasm rips through my body, screaming from my lips as I explode. Holden’s hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as he
growls
ferociously into my ear as he erupts inside of me.

It’s just a blur then as I feel his arms go around me and bring me into his chest. I’m still shaking, and gasping for air, and trying to see straight as his fingers trace up and down my back and his lips find mine.