Blitzed (15 page)

I
've had
one concussion in my football career, a blindside shot during my freshman year at Clement when a guy blindsided me on a kickoff. I'd gone flying through the air, landing in a crunch on the turf, my helmet smacking the ground hard, and everything went fuzzy. I didn't lose consciousness, but for the next few minutes, everything was sort of hazy, like people were moving in herky-jerky slow motion, and when they talked, I could see the lips moving, and words were hitting my ears, but nothing was quite making sense.

That's how I feel now, sitting next to Whitney as she tells me that I'm Laurie's father. I see her stop, her mouth closing, and I see what is in her eyes. It's fear, fear that I'll reject her and reject her daughter. But, how could I?

Instead of answering verbally, I stand up and take Whitney by the hand, pulling her to her feet to wrap her in a hug. Five years of pain and doubt drop away from me in an instant as her body presses against mine, and I'm crying again, this time not tears of hurt or sadness, but tears of joy.

"She's my daughter?" I whisper through my tears, and now Whitney's crying too, holding me close and nodding, her own tears blurring her words, or maybe it's my shirt, I'm not sure.

"She is. Didn't you see the resemblance?"

I set Whitney down, shocked as it all falls into place. The hair color, the eyes . . . "I saw your face when I realized who her mother was," I said in wonder, still holding Whitney's hand. "When she came to me at the stadium, I said to myself that she looked like a combination of people I know, like a merging of two other people . . . then when you came up, I realized what I saw in part of her face, but I never . . . oh, Whitney! Thank you.”

I grab her again in a big hug and spin her around in the living room, both of us now laughing. "Why thank you?" she asks. "I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who gave Laurie to me."

I stop, my mind whirling. That happened after my concussion too. "Whitney . . . so many questions, so much to say . . . wait, first things first. Let me be a part of Laurie's life? I mean, right off the bat, I'll take care of you both, don't worry about that. I'll go to the Hawks tomorrow if you want, and they can take a cut of every paycheck and send it wherever you want, but please, I want more. I want to get to know Laurie. I want to be part of her life, not just a child support payment."

"She's a handful," Whitney says cautiously. “I’m happy to accept the money, not for me but for her. But if you want to be a father, a real father to her, you have a lot on your hands. You're going to have to spend time with her."

"I can do that. Whitney, I play pro football. Most of the guys, except on tape days, we don't even get to work until noon. Hell, I'll walk her to school every day, and spend every Monday that we're not on MNF with her. I like living here in Silver Lake Falls. Most of the people give me peace, and I can still drive to the stadium for practice. I mean, Sundays suck, and travel days, but there's the offseason, and . . .”

Whitney stops me with a finger on my lips, and I see she's smiling. "Don't let your enthusiasm run away with things. I'm telling you she's a handful because she needs more than a playmate—she needs a father. Can you be that?"

I calm, and nod, but there is a red thread of anger in my mind, and I promise myself that I'm not going to give in to that anger. “I’ll be the best father I can be. I'm going to need your help, though. I missed so much already. My God, why didn't you tell me?"

I sit back down on the couch while Whitney remains standing, hugging herself, trying to find the answer that she can put words to. "Troy . . . it was hard. I mean, after that night in the woods, about two weeks later, I started feeling all emotional and loopy. You were there though, so I figured I was just head over heels for you. I started getting sick, and doubts started twisting in my mind. I mean, we'd been careful, right?"

"We were," I agree. "I remember it well. You put the condom on me yourself."

Whitney nods. "I mean, in the past five years, I've thought about it a lot, and you know the conclusion I came to? At this point, it doesn’t really matter. What happened, happened.”

"You have had a lot of time to think about this. But Whitney, that still doesn't answer the main question. Why didn't you tell me?"

"The day I got the test, it was the same day that . . . well, it was the day you came into school after your father beat you so badly. You were so ready to get out of Silver Lake at the time, and I was so chemically screwed up I wasn't thinking straight. Then I took the test, and it was positive, and well . . ."

"Did you think I was going to be like my father?" I ask, trying to keep the fury out of my voice and obviously failing based on the way she flinches. "Did you think I was going to be a worthless piece of shit like he was?"

"No!" Whitney says, and she's not crying but close to it. "I did it because I didn't want you to be forced into a future that you would have been miserable in! We were eighteen, and I knew how honorable you were even then! You'd have given up your future in football to take care of Laurie. Hell, you'd have followed Pete Barkovich into the Navy or the Army or some damn thing and wasted the talent that you've been blessed with! I did it because I wanted to see you become the man you are right now, right here! To become that demon that I saw on the football field a week ago, that I watched in clips and games on the Net for the past five years! I did it because I still love you!"

Whitney stops, covering her mouth as the words hang in the air between us. She looks like she didn't expect to say what she said, and I stand up, coming over and taking her hands again. "Excuse me?"

"Remember when I said that there was something stopping me and Lorenzo? It was you, or more precisely, the memory of you," Whitney says, shy again, like she was when we were first dating. “It's true. I’ve never stopped loving you. Seeing you in that Hawks uniform, it just brought it all back to me, stronger and more intense than ever."

I smile and nod, pulling her in for another hug. "Whitney, I have something to tell you too," I whisper in her ear, brushing a lock of hair behind that perfect shell of pink that has been in my dreams for five years. "I never stopped loving you either. I always have."

She draws her head back, and the pain in my soul flares for a moment before she pulls my head down, and we're kissing, the pain disappearing forever as her lips caress mine, soft and tender. My heart sings, but more importantly, my soul cries out, and I pull her closer. We stay there like that for long, beautiful minutes, my Whitney in my arms once again, and I never want them to end.

When she pulls back, there's a look in her eye that I remember, and she takes my hand, biting her lower lip just like she used to. "Come with me," she says, leading me toward the back of the house. "Mom's gone, and Laurie's at preschool. Come with me."

I stop in the hallway, tugging on her fingers. "Are you sure?"

She stops and nods, smiling that smile that captured my heart long ago. "We've only made love once in our lives, Troy. We've only made love once, and look what we created. I wonder what happens if we make love again? And no, I don't mean another baby."

"I'm carrying protection." I chuckle, patting my back pocket where my wallet resides. "Team policy. The trainers hand them out to every player once a week. The owners don't like scandals. They're fresh and fully tested, too."

Whitney laughs, and comes closer, kissing me tenderly. "Then let's do what we need. Then afterward . . . would you like to go pick up your daughter from school?"

"First, I want her mother," I reply, growling as five years of desire and passion build beyond the breaking point. I scoop Whitney up in my arms and carry her to the room that is obviously hers, both of us tearing at the clothes separating us. "I want you."

W
e tumble onto my bed
, and I'm glad that Mom had bought me a queen-sized mattress back when I was in high school. It's still not large enough for Troy, but it's better than a narrow twin-sized mattress, that's for sure.

Troy twists while we fall, making sure he doesn't crush me under his weight. I'd read his player stats carefully when we watched the game, and I know that he’s at two hundred and thirty-two pounds, and under his shirt, I swear every bit of it is muscle. We're kissing, our lips bruising each other with so much intensity, and I bite on his neck, desperate to taste more. He groans and yanks at my t-shirt, which parts with a purr like a zipper, and suddenly, his hands are on my back, our skin touching again after too many years.

Troy stops, gasping and staring at me with hunger in his eyes, but there's still that self-control that I knew from last time. This time, though, I'm having none of it. "You want me?"

"You know I do," Troy growls. "I've wanted you every day for five years."

"Then take what you want," I challenge him. I may have been an innocent virgin when we first made love, but no longer. I know what I want, and I know what turns me on. And what turns me on about Troy is his strength, which even when he's restrained, is massive and undeniable. But I want to see more, I want to feel at least a taste of the . . . what was it Lorenzo called him? Oh yeah, the gladiator. I want to feel the strength of the gladiator inside Troy. "I can take it."

He grins and reaches for his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly before pulling it off, although I hear a seam give way even as he does, not that it matters at this second. Instead, my breath is taken away as I look at his torso. If he'd been strong and muscular before, he was heavy with thick muscle now, but still just as lean, his arms corded with thick knots of powerful flesh. His shoulders look like mountains and his chest muscles... hot wetness fills the space between my thighs, like my body knows that I'm giving it what it needs after a too-long starvation.

Troy pulls me up to my knees, and we're face to face, kissing as he unhooks my bra and peels away the rest of my t-shirt, my nipples already hard and aching as we pull into another embrace, unwilling or perhaps unable, after so long, to stop the kisses.

We're both gasping for air as we break apart again, and I tremble. Troy looks down and grins, a flash of his old cockiness coming up. "Well, that's going to be convenient."

"What?" I ask, reaching forward and grabbing the waistband of his pants. "That you're wearing a pair of beltless pants with an elastic waist?"

"Actually, I was referring to the fact that you're wearing a pair of shorts," Troy says, reaching forward and running his hands under the waistband, cupping my ass and massaging it. "And a thong? You have matured."

"I wouldn't say mature," I tease, cupping his cock through his pants as I lean forward and kiss his chest. "More open in celebrating my sexuality, for sure."

I kiss my way down his body, relishing the light tang to his skin, the sweetness of his sweat. Troy's hands never stop and I reach his waistband, pausing to look up at him. "Last time, did we do this?"

"I have faint memories of it, but to be honest, it’s all one gigantic, perfect blur," Troy says, his hand busy. I tense as I feel his fingers slide over me, and I've still got my shorts on, the waistband pushed halfway down my ass as his forearm emerges from it like a new limb. "This though . . . I could never forget this."

I pull Troy's pants down, and his cock slaps me in the face, bouncing off my cheek while I moan. Troy's fingers slip inside me so easily, our kisses have turned me on so much, and I grasp his cock, pumping it while I lean down and lick his heavy, perfect balls. Troy's fingers stop when I suck one of them into my mouth, rolling it around with my tongue as I drive him crazy. He's twitching, and the drop of clear precum that emerges is a tasty treat that I feast on before letting him pop out of my mouth.

“Whitney, it's been... it's been a long time for me."

"Oh?" I ask teasingly, sitting back and pushing my shorts down. "So you think you're too short-triggered to deal with this?"

I turn around, presenting myself to him in a way we'd never done before. I remember that much for sure. Not that it hasn't been in my dreams ever since though. "Think you can fulfill a fantasy?"

I lower my head and breathe carefully through my nose while I hear him pull his shorts down, then the ripping sound of a piece of plastic, and the sound of him rolling the condom down his cock. I'm desperate when he comes back on the bed, his fingers slipping inside me and leaving me moaning with need. "Don't tease me, Troy. Not this time."

"I'm not teasing, my love," Troy says, and his last words unleash another wave of desire in me. Troy lines himself up, and in one thrust, he's buried inside me, the place that I've needed him for five years, my heart, soul and body finally complete. He grunts as his hips slap into mine, my ass quivering at the power in his hips.

"Oh, shit," I gasp, driven face-first into the pillow at the head of my bed. "Oh, fuck yes."

Troy doesn't respond, pulling out before driving in again, not pausing at all before he's hammering me harder and harder, driving my body into the mattress and taking the breath out of my body. Pure pleasure explodes over and over inside me. I'm crying out, my body clenching as I feel an orgasm rushing on me, but before I can, Troy's hand smacks my ass sharply, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to cut through the red haze of desire.

"You come when I come," he grunts, pausing inside me. "Promise me that."

"I . . . I promise," I hoarsely whisper, my throat raw from the moans and crying out. "I swear."

Troy runs a tender hand down my spine, and my heart melts again as he pulls himself halfway out before starting again, slower and more sensuously. I thought I was in the throes of pleasure before, but this new speed builds me higher and higher, never enough to push me over the edge, but keeping me trembling, my nipples brushing against the blanket underneath my sweat covered body, Troy's hands holding my waist not too tightly, just enough that I am fully under his control, where I want to be and where I belong.

"When you're ready," Troy says shakily, and he speeds up again, rapid-fire thrusts that pound into me, both of us unable to hold back any longer. Blackness threatens the edge of my vision, and I can't feel my fingers or toes as Troy's cock sends lightning shooting from my toes to my brain, a loop of erotic electricity that builds on itself, higher and higher until I can't think, but can only feel and react. My pussy clenches, and I shatter, crashing from the mountaintop that Troy has built for me, screaming into the pillow as the largest orgasm of my life rips through me. My breath runs out, but still the moment never ends, my brain going to static, but before I surrender to the darkness, I feel Troy's fingers grip my waist tightly, and he shudders, his orgasm pushing me the last little bit into blissful, wonderful unconsciousness.

I don't know how long we're out, but when I come to, he has me nestled in his arms, just like we did our first time.

"Thank you. For forgiving me. For understanding. But most of all, for loving me."

"Without you, there is no love in my life," Troy whispers in reply, kissing my neck again. "With you, there is sunshine and happiness."

I kiss him back, stroking his cheek. "I know this might hurt, but can you wait a bit before we tell Laurie who you are? I want you to get to know her first, and her to know you. I don't want to just drop this bomb into her life. She's already going to have enough to deal with since Lorenzo’s going back to Italy."

Troy nods and smiles. "Of course. I love you. And I bet if you give me a few hours, I'm going to love Laurie, too."

I nestle into his chest again and hum contentedly. "You know that it’s going to be kind of difficult, but I can live with it."

"What's that?"

"Away games. Not having you in my arms every night like I've dreamed of for years. Now that I have you back, I'm going to be greedy about that."

Troy laughs and kisses my head. "First, I have something else to worry about."

"What's that?"

"Your mother's going to kill me when she finds out we messed around in her house."

"She'll deal with it. Especially when she understands why. I don't ever want to be apart from you again."

"I'm not going anywhere."