Game On (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) (27 page)

              “We’re just out for a little get-together, but hey, since you’re considering a High Octane offer, why don’t you have a High Octane party on me?” He winked towards the bar, and I found myself chuckling a little.

              “Well uh, I can’t say no to
that
, at least.”

              “That’s the MMA fighter we scouted. Come on, let’s get it started!”

              Against perhaps my better judgement, I let myself get led by Nick to what turned out to be the heaviest night of drinking and partying I’d had in a long while. He introduced me to a few other men who were supposedly ad men for High Octane, along with their girls, and once the shots had been flowing long enough, the dancing started, and everything was a blur of bright lights, thumping music, and warm bodies all around me.

              I couldn’t keep track of how long the partying lasted. I found myself hitting up random strangers, chatting and making temporary best friends for the night--and of course, more than a few Jagerbombs to commemorate these new friendships.

              I heard the funniest jokes I’d ever heard, nearly got into more than one fistfight, and beat out at least two professional weightlifters in a drinking contest before I became aware of very cold water getting splashed on me.

              Whirling around, I swayed as my eyes focused on Selena, who was glaring daggers at me, the empty cup of water she’d thrown in my face in her hand.

              “And where the fuck have
YOU
been?!”

              “What? Selena? What are you?”

              “Don’t give me any of that bullshit, Marc, you think you can just go wander off with some fast-talking freak with funky sunglasses and his floozies and abandon me all night?”

              “Abandon? You were with--”
              “YES, Marc, I was with my friends, and you embarrassed the hell out of me by wandering off when you’re supposed to be my boyfriend! You know, beside me at all times? Faithful and true? Or does none of that matter when someone waves a couple young ladies on retinue in your face?”

              She was talking way too fast for me to process this many drinks in, so I just blinked blearily at her, trying to muster some decent-sounding words, but it was too slow for Selena.

              “Alright, you know what? Forget it, Marc. You wanna ditch me to hang out with some sleazy Vegas friends, you go do that. Go do just that. Fuck you, Marc, we’re
through
.”

              Without another word, Selena turned on her heel and stormed out of the bar, a couple of her friends who’d been watching the whole scene holding the door open for her as they headed out to get a cab.

              By the time my inebriated brain processed what just happened, the door was already closed. I ran a hand through my hair, then down my numb face.

              “Fuck,” I said out loud to nobody.

              I’d just been dumped.

              I knew something was different from the second I walked into the physiotherapy room and saw Marc standing there waiting for me. He had his back turned, staring at himself in the massive wall of mirrors, slowly curling a hefty dumbbell - with his left arm. I wanted to rush over and stop him, force him to drop the weight before he seriously injured himself further. But he wasn’t even flinching. There wasn’t a stitch of pain on his face. He looked almost like a statue or an exceptionally lifelike robot, he was so stoic and controlled in his movements.

              It actually frightened me a little bit.

              “Marc?” I asked softly, stepping forward. He slowly bent down to set the weight on the floor, then turned to look at me. There was a blazing power in his eyes, like he was holding something back-- something desperate to break free. I swallowed hard and nervously tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I was running late this morning, so I skipped my usual hair-and-makeup routine in order to get here on time. I hoped he wouldn’t be taken aback by my loose, strawberry-blonde waves or my smooth, pale face. I hadn’t even had time to put on a dash of mascara. I probably looked even younger and more vulnerable than usual.

              Like I was entering the den of a lion, unarmed and naked.

              Just the subtlest trace of confusion crossed his face at the sight of me and I instantly felt insecure about my looks today. He was used to the kinds of glamorous, professionally-styled women who made the covers of
Sports Illustrated
and
Playboy
. I was suddenly afraid that he might not respect me anymore, seeing me such a mess.

              No - it was more than that. I was afraid that he wouldn’t find me attractive anymore.

              And I hated myself for acknowledging that I even wanted him to in the first place.

              “You look different,” he growled, strolling over to me. I turned away under the pretence of looking into my bag for something, but I gasped as he caught my chin in his massive hand. He delicately tilted my face up, pulling me toward him. Part of me wanted to knee him in the crotch for touching me in such an unprofessional way-- had he learned nothing from our fateful third session? But then again, another part of me wanted him to go on.

              To keep touching me.

              Marc stared down into my makeup-free face for what felt like an eternity, those smoldering amber eyes surveying every inch of my skin, lingering over my mouth. I held my breath anxiously, totally stunned, as his thumb gently passed along my lower lip, applying only the lightest pressure. Like he was testing to see how soft it was.

              My heart hammered in my chest like a tribal drumbeat.

              “I - I didn’t have time to get ready this morning. Didn’t want to be late,” I explained, once I gathered enough courage to pull away from him.

              He nodded, then asked, “Late night?”

              I blushed. It was really none of his business, and the answer was not as scandalous as I’m sure he wanted it to be. In truth, I had been up late, because Alice had come home crying from her ice skating lesson. The Knight sisters were both tough. Neither of us cried often. So when I saw the pink, puffy splotches on her face, I knew something terrible had happened.

              After some persistent prodding, Alice finally revealed to me that she had a crush on an older boy who worked at the ice rink. She said she’d been nursing this infatuation for months, and she was finally almost ready to tell him-- until yesterday. It was his day off, and he came in with a beautiful girl, a gymnast on the Saint Seraphina school team. Poor Alice was devastated to find out that the object of her affections was dating a girl who routinely bullied her at school.

              So the two of us hunkered down on the couch to share a pint of ice cream and watch old black-and-white movies until Alice finally got tired of crying and fell asleep around one in the morning. Even after I covered her in a blanket, laid out her clothes for the next morning, and kissed her on the forehead, I still couldn’t fall asleep.

              I sat in bed, thinking about how overwhelming it all was-- trying to raise a teenage girl all on my own. It was hard enough keeping her fed, clothed, and healthy. But now I had to contend with all kinds of crazy hormone stuff, too? I hadn’t even
known
about her crush until after it, well, crushed her. I lay awake for hours lamenting how unprepared I was, how insufficient my parenting was. I needed help, but there was no one left but me. I was lonely and afraid and I wanted - no, needed - someone to listen to me, to understand how hard I was trying. And more than anything, I needed a distraction. I needed a break.

              But I couldn’t tell Marc any of that. I would never have expected him to understand. Besides, Alice would have been mortified if anyone else found out about her momentary weakness. She, like Marc, preferred for everyone to see her as tough and invincible.

              So I simply said, “Yes. It was.”

              “Me, too,” he replied.

              “Are you ready to get some work done today?” I asked, fumbling through my bag for his chart and some print-outs I’d made yesterday.

              “What do you have in store for me?” he rumbled, his voice deep and predatory. I bit my lip, feeling something like trouble, like danger, was fast approaching the both of us.

              As soon as I turned around, before I could even say a single word in response, his hands were on me. His fingers clawed at my shoulders, his lips capturing mine in a hard, desperate kiss.

              I knew I should fight him off. I knew I was supposed to hit him, scratch him, tell him no. Scream at him. Scream for help. But instead… I simply melted into his touch. I couldn’t stop myself. Adrenaline shot through my veins like the long-awaited hit of a powerful, irresistible drug. Every nerve was blazing, every synapse firing rapidly. Marc’s huge, calloused hands roved down my shoulders, my back, one of them falling to grip my ass while the other reached up to tangle in my hair. I sighed into his mouth, his sensual lips moving passionately against mine.

              He wanted me. I could feel his impatience, his animalistic need to possess me, pumping through every collision of our bodies. Marc pushed his tongue into my mouth and I accepted it greedily, moaning into the kiss as my eyes shut and I released myself completely to the moment. There was no stopping this now. There was no turning back. I had no idea how we’d gotten here, how I’d allowed myself to fall into this trap. But god, it felt so right. And I was so lonely. I hadn’t been touched this way in years - not since that abominable Dr. Warren coerced me into bed with him.

              This was different. This time… I wanted it, too. More than anything. I had seen it coming, maybe, from a distance. But I hadn’t thought ahead, hadn’t considered it a reality until it was too late. I should have known I would want him just as he wanted me. How could I resist? He was so strong, so powerful. Marc Montoya could move me in ways no other man could.

              And he did.

              In one swift movement he lifted me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He kissed me again and again, his lips nipping and sucking a trail down my cheek, along my jaw line, to my sensitive neck. His teeth grazed along my collarbone, making me dig my fingernails into his back. Suddenly, we both needed to feel each other-- bare skin on bare skin.

              Marc ripped my tank top up over my head, my pink sports bra following suit. Then he pulled off his own thin, black workout shirt. I gasped, revelling at the hard, chiselled muscles of his chest and stomach. Even though I had seen them outlined beneath his clothing before, nothing could have prepared me for how remarkable and superhuman he looked now.

              And god, he was so strong. He carried me over to hold me up against the wall, his fingers rushing to pull off my shoes, then to tug down my leggings. When he pulled them over my feet and dropped them aside, his breath caught sharply and he let out a possessive growl.

              I blushed, realizing that in my haste to get here in time this morning I’d not only foregone makeup, I had forgotten to put on panties, too. I was stark naked, my creamy white breasts and pale pink nipples on display, and my dripping cunt exposed in front of this beautiful, powerful man. Marc tore off the rest of his clothes in a hurry.

              My jaw dropped at the sight of his massive, rock-hard manhood jutting out between us. Unable to stop myself, I reached out to caress its silky pink head and he rolled against my touch, groaning in approval. I dropped to my knees instantly, pulling his long, hard length into my mouth until the tip brushed the back of my throat. Marc’s hands tangled in my hair and he pushed into me, barely holding back. But he didn’t let me take control for long, as he lifted me up in one easy movement and pinned me against the wall again, his cock hard against my thigh.

              “God, I need to feel you,” he breathed into my ear, his voice ragged.

              “Please,” I murmured softly. His hands groped at my breasts, tweaking my nipples between his fingers until they stiffened, sending spirals of pleasure down into my core.

              Marc rutted up against me, letting one of his hands fall to that damp, aching spot between  my legs. Just as he caught my lips in a kiss, he began to stroke my clit, causing me to cry out into his mouth and rock into his hand. His finger circled faster and faster, drawing me into higher and higher plateaus of ecstasy. Just before I could climax, he stopped.

              I whimpered and he sank his teeth into my neck, sucking on the soft skin there until it bruised, like a red rose blooming in spring. I was limp and obedient in his hands-- totally enthralled by his every touch. Before, he had been at my mercy, and now I was at his. Clearly our work together was paying off, since he hadn’t once flinched during this whole time.

              He was showing off, almost back to his former glory, and I wanted to know just how strong he was. I wanted to see what this beast of a man had to offer. I didn’t care if he broke me in two-- I needed to witness the unbridled power he’d been keeping back all along.

              I wanted to feel his power, let him handle me however he desired.

“Oh, please, please,” I whispered.

“You want me to fuck you,” he growled, and it was more of a statement than a question.

“God, yes,” I replied, breathing hard. And with that, he angled the head of his cock against my slick opening and thrust inside of me. I cried out and clung to him desperately, my body trembling. It had been so, so long since I last had a man inside me. And nothing had ever felt as good, as liberating, as this.

Marc lifted me up, wrapping my legs around him and pinning my arms against the wall as he pounded into me with abandon. His mouth fell open and he groaned with pleasure, rearing back to slam into my pussy hard, striking that deep, delicious place again and again until I was seeing stars.

I cried out when my climax came thundering through me, and he covered my mouth with his hand, not wanting anyone to hear us. I couldn’t have cared less in the moment. It wouldn’t have mattered if the whole gym had walked into the room right then, I was so caught up in the waves of ecstasy shaking my body.

Marc’s sheer strength held me captive against the wall, his cock spearing me again and again, the rhythm picking up pace until he was nearly jackhammering into my cunt. He was losing control, and I wanted him to. I needed to feel his release.

“Come for me, baby,” I whispered, not sure where that kind of talk even came from. I was always somewhat of a prude growing up, and I had never before felt so sexy and free.

“You want it, don’t you?” he murmured, his hands falling to grasp at my hips, moving me back and forth, up and down on his cock.

“Yes, give it to me,” I replied breathily, as my second climax hurtled toward me.

With one final thrust, Marc growled his pleasure and dug his fingers into my hips, spilling his seed deep inside of me. My own orgasm followed a half-second later, and I could feel my cunt pulsing around his shaft.