SWOLLEN: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (3 page)

She’s far too sweet a girl for me to do that too, and even though I know already she’s been thinking about fucking me, I need to take responsibility for her emotional well-being. Don’t get too attached. Fuck, but don’t fuck people up. I do enough of that in the makeshift rings in the basement levels of abandoned buildings.

I get attached easily too, so I have to be careful with something so addictive.

“
I have a suggestion”, I say. “If you aren’t interested, that’s cool, but I’ve got to ask.”

“
Go on”, she says, already intrigued, already on the hook and waiting for me to yank it away from her.

Just a fuck, nothing else.

“
I like you”, I say.

“
You don’t know anything about me”, she says.

“
I know you don’t like working here. I know you’re intelligent, creative and undervalued. I know you’ve been thinking about me since that night too.”

“
Okay”, she says, going a little red.

“
I’m going to be direct, and I hope I don’t overstep the mark in doing so. I think you appreciate direct men, so I’m going to go out on a limb here. Let me take you home when you’ve finished here and we can do all the things you’ve been dreaming about. If I’ve completely misread the situation, and you aren’t interested in me or that proposition, I apologize profusely, and I’ll leave immediately.”

She looks away for a second, a
tell
as clear as the light of the day she’s been caught and can’t quite believe it.

“
You know how many people come in here and ask me if they can take me home?”

“
I think it probably happens on a daily basis”, I say.

“
So what makes you different?”

“
You want to come with me”, I say.

She bites her lip seductively. “I finish at one”, she says. “You’ll have to wait for me outside.”

“
I can do that.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“
You don’t have to do anything.”

“
I think I already have”, she says.

Jasmine

I’m not the kind of girl that does these things, especially not with a complete stranger, and the kind of person that has the capacity to send three huge people to the infirmary. I should feel more vulnerable because of that, but I don’t. When we walk back to my house I feel protected, and when we get inside, our hands all over each other, I feel like I’ve never wanted anything else so urgently in my life.

Liam has cuts and bruises all over his body between tattoos that fill in the patches of skin swollen by muscle. I want to know why, but I don’t feel like it’s the right question to ask right now.

He’s an incredible physical specimen, fibrous and muscular, but not disproportionate, and the kind of guy that is clearly athletic and not someone who pretends to go to the gym before injecting themselves with steroids. There is a fire than runs beneath the surface of his skin, and an energy that’s clear all over his body. When he looks at me, I can’t help but melt.

Clothes are practically torn from skin and flesh forced to present itself as we battle, wrapped together, towards the nearest suitable surface, whether wall or kitchen table or finally, and eventually, the bed.

He’s huge too, not that I expect anything less, and by the time I release his cock he’s hot and hard and ready to go.

I want him everywhere at once and it’s clear he wants the same thing. I’m wet already, but that’s no surprise. I’ve been wet for a month dreaming about having him inside me.

He fights me to the bed, his whole body tense, with no other intention in mind but to fuck me to heaven and back, and right now there is nothing I want more than to feel his cock so deep inside me it makes my spine ache from my neck to my ass-hole.

I’ll enjoy the intricacies of his body when he’s got me off. I’ll dance my fingers across his skin and kiss every inch of that perfect flesh right after he’s given me what I need in the only way someone who has one single thing on their mind can.

I pull his cock to my slit urgently, desperate to finally have what I’ve spent the whole month dreaming about. I’m still not sure if doing this is right or wrong, or even if I should feel this way in the first place, but urge has led to impulse and impulse has put me right here with him on the edge of fulfilling my fantasy and I can’t let that go ignored.

A quick, dirty fuck between two strangers. The man that protected me and the girl that ran away.

I’m so wet I can feel my cum dripping down my legs. I dare him against my clit for a moment and then hold myself open and let him push his way inside.

I shiver against his shoulder, my moan dirty and hot. Liam takes hold of my legs to lift my ass in the air and drive that little bit deeper.

I can feel every vein and ridge against the tender sensitivity of my throbbing sex. I can see him up inside me to his balls, my pussy stretched like a mouth around his dick,  pink and excited and full of my cum.

I thrust myself onto him and urge him even deeper inside me, and I make him hold my hips until the tips of his fingers turn white against my skin.

Nothing in this life has ever felt better. Deep inside me, going hard against my G-spot, I know already I’m going to come hard. But I knew that already, just by the look Liam had in his eyes that night, earlier in the restaurant, the look he’s giving me right now that means only one thing:
I own you and you love it.

We fuck dirty and hard, quick and deep. I’m below him, on my knees looking over my shoulder, flattened perfectly against the mattress, up against the wall and on top of him to hold the base of his cock and control just how much of his length I take up inside me.

I feel it building inside me so much I worry that when it finally comes I’m going to explode with  such intensity I leave nothing else behind, and then when I’ve fought it off for as long as possible I know there is nothing else for me to do, but let it consume me regardless of what might happen.

I know he’s close too, and I want us to ride this wave together so while I feel it descend on me strongly, I beg him to finish himself off inside me.

“
Fill me up, Liam. Fuck, fill me up with your cum.”

I’m coming hard, my pussy throbbing, my legs jerking out uncontrollably and a wave of pleasure riding out across my flesh.

My clit is so sensitive I can’t touch it, my torso a mess of pins and needles and tingly sensitivity, while Liam holds me in place as much as he can, his body tense and his dick rock hard.

I feel heat rising through my belly as Liam’s balls harden, the muscles in his neck go tense and he lets himself slip perfectly past the point of no return.

With a grunt so animalistic it pushes me even deeper, Liam bucks, writhes, and fills me full of his hot sticky seed. We come together for what must be the best part of a minute, our bodies stuck together with sweat and desire, until we finally fall together to the mattress, our urges spectacularly sated.

I can’t even catch my breath, let alone speak for what must be five full minutes at least. It takes almost as long for Liam’s heart rate to return to normal, twice as long for his dick to even show any signs of softening.

“
Fuck, Liam, where did you even learn how to do that?” I eventually say, still riding the crest of an incredible orgasm.

Liam buries his mouth into my neck, to dance kisses up towards my ear, and with slow, soft words he says, “You tell me after we do it again.”

I can’t help but shiver as the thought runs through me. What the hell have I got myself involved in?

Perfect sex with a perfect stranger. Okay, I’m going to redact that. The best sex I’ve ever had in my life with someone I know nothing about apart from the fact he knows how to fuck and fight. Something about this guy tells me I should stay as far away from him as possible but the reckless, creative, idealistic side of my body says,
fuck that
, with orgasms this good, I’m not going anywhere else. Dangerous or not, I know something that good is really hard to ignore.

If this is only one night, I’m going to make sure I make the most of it even if it kills me.

I can sleepwalk through a day shift if need be, this is the kind of thing I have to make sure I take advantage of because it might never happen again.

Three.

One year later …

Jasmine

I guess if you play with fire, you get burned, but then again, not every burn looks as cute as a button. Maggie may be a handful, she may not sleep well, she may scream and cry at the drop of a hat, but when she looks at you with the gorgeous brown eyes she’s inherited from her daddy, and her lips curl into a smile that tells you that despite everything, she’s the happiest bundle of joy on the planet, nothing else matters.

I may be struggling to make ends meet, I may be working two jobs and spending less time than I should just so I can keep her in diapers, but, at the end of the day, I know it will be worth it.

It’s my own fault really. Or it’s nobody’s fault. I wasn’t on the contraceptive pill when Liam and I fucked, and the morning after pill apparently wasn’t potent enough for a man of his virility.

Yeah, Liam. That never happened after that one night, and now I have his two-month-old girl to look after. It’s crazy the way the world turns sometimes.

I’m no longer working at The Inciting Incident, that hipster restaurant folded only a few months after Maggie was conceived, apparently massively in debt. I split my time now between shifts at Dorothy’s Buns, a slow cook Louisiana barbecue joint, and El Toro Loco, a Spanish tapas bar up in Williamsburg, both of which are super supportive of my situation.

I’m still writing, although super slowly, because, you know, real life, and when I’m at work, which seems like pretty much all the time, I use almost half of my salary some months to pay for someone to look after my girl. The rest goes on what she needs, on credit cards for the stuff I don’t have the money for immediately and on rent, which my jackass of a landlord is putting up at the end of the month.

It isn’t all bad. I’ve had a few articles accepted for publication, and if that continues, I’ll think more seriously about going self-employed full-time. If I can work from home, sell my work to newspapers, magazines, and online media, I’ll be able to spend way more time with my little girl, who is growing up much quicker than I’m able to catch up with.

That’s the long-term plan, at least. Right now, I’ve got to focus on a mountain of other things. And the love live? If that night with Liam is the last time I ever get laid, it’ll probably be worth it.

I’ve not had a sniff in the best part of a year, but then again, only perverts seem to like pregnant women, and nobody’s interested in someone who has a kid. Believe me, men in this city fall into two categories - spineless and ball-less. Liam was such a one-off, it’s no surprise I haven’t seen him again.

I guess my luck might change tonight. This has got to be the most masculine environment available. A horde of angry men watching two others pummel the living shit out of each other. That’s right, I’ve finally got my shit together to do my piece on the bare fist fighting rings that are rife in this city, and tonight I’m going to the heart of the network.

Thank fuck I’m not doing it alone. I have a chaperone, a ‘security’ team, and I’m in disguise. By that, I mean I’m pretending to be someone interested in fighting, not someone that’s going to write about it. I haven’t changed my appearance to look like a man either. If any of you are imagining a fake beard and my tits strapped back, you’re completely wrong. I may be in joggers and hoodie, but I’m definitely all girl. By the looks of things, I might actually be the only girl as well, but I didn’t expect anything less.

My chaperone is a guy who calls himself Knockout. He’s a veteran of the circuit with something like two hundred fights under his belt. He’s a big man but looks more like a butterbean than a boxer, and despite being as gentle a giant as you can imagine, clearly has some kind of on-going trauma from having his head pounded in so often.

That’s what interests me about this environment. Boxing is a brutal sport, even in the ring, yet it attracts people from all different environments. It can be graceful, perhaps even down here, but it’s also deadly. Two men against each other to leave one man standing.

I get a few odd looks from the punters, but much fewer than I expect. I thought there would be uproar or worse, and maybe it’s because I’m wedged in between these two monsters, but after we take our place in the crowd, I’m practically left alone. Maybe the joggers were enough to put people off.

We are in the belly of an abandoned psychiatric hospital out near Sheepshead Bay. Here, the blood stains on the walls and floor could be part of this scene or the one that preceded it. There is old equipment lying about, broken tiles on the floor, an eerie sensation that fits the way the venue has been repurposed.

There is a palpable sense of nervous excitement and as the hooded fighters make their way to the makeshift ring, the crowd swell in spits and aggression. With the bend and wave of it, I’m pushed out towards the center dangerously, before being pulled back to safety by Knockout.