Over the Middle: A Sports Romance (9 page)

When I get Duncan's shirt up high enough, he pauses and sits back, allowing me to peel the shirt the rest of the way off and throw it across the room. I reach back and unhook my bra, freeing myself totally, and then, I unsnap my jeans. I lie back on the bed, starting to take them off when Duncan stops my hands, taking over to peel them the rest of the way down and off. He marvels at my legs, running his hands up and down them, and then, in a total surprise move, kisses my toes. "They're so cute, I couldn't resist."

I giggle and spread my legs slightly, beckoning him forward. "You can kiss anywhere you’d like."

He chuckles and gets off the bed, unsnapping his jeans and going over to his dresser, opening the drawer and coming back with a condom and lubricant. "Safety first.”

"Would you like a hand?"

"A hand . . . or a hand?" Duncan says while I start to rub myself with my fingers. My body is already on fire, and I can’t resist. He sets the condom and lube on the edge of the bed and reaches for the waistband of his jeans, pushing them the rest of the way down, revealing himself totally to me.

He's perfect. It's the only word that can describe him as his cock hangs in front of him, heavy and huge. I hold my breath as Duncan reaches for the condom next to him, and I suddenly can't. "Wait!"

"What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes suddenly worried. I nod and get to my knees, crawling across the bed and taking the warm, sexy cock in my hand.

"I wanted a taste," I hum before I kiss the tip of his cock, licking around his flared mushroom head, marveling at the taste and texture. I spread my lips around him, swallowing him until his shaft is buried deep in my mouth, pulling back and worshipping his cock. With a gleam in my eye, I swallow him deeper, all the way until the trimmed hairs at his base press against my lips. He's stretching my lips, but my throat has no problem massaging the head of his cock until I pull back, letting him out with a loud pop. "Delicious."

"Holy fuck," Duncan marvels, stroking my face with his hand. "How did you—"

“Never did have much of a gag reflex," I reveal, turning around and pushing my panties down halfway. "Now, I think you can take care of the rest, can't you?"

I hear the foil packet of the condom rip, and then a little squirt as he smears lube on his cock, even though I'm dripping wet and ready for him. He reaches between my legs, rubbing my pussy, and I can't help it, lowering my head and pushing back into his questing digits. He hasn't even penetrated me yet, and I'm on the quaking edge of coming, when I stop, feeling the head of his cock at my entrance. "Oh, yes . . . yes."

Duncan eases his way in slowly, which I’m grateful for. Still, I push back, encouraging him to keep going until I'm at the limits of my ability to stretch, and he pulls back, giving my body a chance to adjust.

"So perfect," Duncan whispers as he eases in again, deeper this time, pulling out and pushing in with slow, tender strokes until I feel his thighs settle against my hips. All the way in, and I'm split nearly in half, lost in the sensations and pleasure. "Carrie."

“Don’t hold back,” I remind him, pulling forward and pushing back onto his amazing cock. “Give me all of it."

Duncan growls again, his hands pushing me forward, crushing me into the bed as he mounts the mattress behind me, my hips in the air and my back bent nearly in half as he starts driving himself into me mercilessly, powerfully, each thrust of his hips smashing into me, obliterating any resistance I could have put up even if I wanted to.

Instead, I'm in heaven. It's never felt this good, each nerve exploding with his punishing thrusts, my body trembling on that heady mix of pleasure and pain that feeds off each other, elevating both. I'm helpless, groaning and lost in the waves of pleasure that shoot through my body, pushing back and begging for more, more, more from him.

Duncan increases his pace and his power, jackhammering into me hard and fast, taking my body to heights of pleasure I've never felt before. I should be coming, but I'm not. There's not enough time between one thrust and the next for the chain reaction to even start, and instead, his cock smashes through any concept I have of sexual ecstasy, my universe coming down to two things. One, that Duncan is the one I’ve been looking for. And two, that I need to give back to him as good as I'm getting.

The competitive athlete inside me comes forward, and I'm pushing back into him, growling with him, telling him to give me more, harder, to fuck me as hard as he can. We're building, higher and higher, the bed crashing against the wall in front of me, and I'm dripping with sweat, my body exhausted, but I won't give in. He's given me so much, I want to show him that I can take it and give it back to him.

"Carrie . . . I'm going—"

"Come!" I growl, my own body exploding as I feel him swell inside me, and he's coming, his last powerful thrust driving me into the mattress and into oblivion as I climax. I'm crushed beneath him, sandwiched between his powerful body and the mattress beneath me, which is good, because I've lost control of my body. My feet drum on the mattress, my hands scratch at the blanket, and I scream out, unable to control myself as I come harder than I ever have before in my life.

When it finally passes, Duncan pulls me into him, and I feel him shaking behind me, his shoulders quivering as he spoons and holds me. I turn and see there’s something in his face. "What is it?"

"You," Duncan whispers, stroking my face. “That was fucking perfect.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” I reply. “Think we can do this again before I leave? Or should I just stay? You're too good to only have once."

S
taying
the night becomes staying the weekend, and we end up staying in bed most of the day Sunday too. Finally, on Sunday night, I’m taking her home.

"I want to invite you up, but if I do, I don't think I can ask you to leave," she says with a regretful chuckle. "And I've got a test in Organic Chemistry this week. Mid-terms, you know. My teacher's a total pain in the ass too."

"I know," I reply with a smile. I've been smiling all day, it seems, and I can't stop it. Not that I want to. "That's not as crazy as the thoughts going through my head right now, though."

"Which are?"

"Ditch the dorm room. My apartment is a two-bedroom place, though of course, I’d rather you stay in mine. We could turn the other into a study room or something."

Carrie smiles and kisses my cheek. “That sounds amazing, but let’s not move too fast. If things are going well after mid-terms, we can talk about it. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

I shake my head sorrowfully. "Nope. At least, not at practice. I'm suspended, remember? I meet with Coach B on Tuesday."

"What are you going to do?"

I smile and stroke her hair. It's so beautiful, pale gold and silky, and I've spent all day marveling at it, whether spread out on a pillow underneath me or flung into the air as she rides on top of me. "I'm going to do the right thing, or maybe, just what I know you would want me to do, and what I should do. Don't worry about it right now, though. Go crack those books. I'll see you Tuesday, maybe. We're still on for a study session Tuesday night, right?"

"Right," Carrie says. "Good night, Duncan."

"Good night, Carrie."

I get back on my bike and ride away, stopping by the athletic complex. I don't know why, except that I want to look on the stadium again, even if I can't go inside the Pavilion. I shouldn't even be here. I'm suspended from the team, and I can't even be in the building until Tuesday.

I see someone else outside when I pull up, and as I get closer, the street lamps reveal that it's Alicia Torres. I respect her, even if I've never told her as much. She's got too much heart as a basketball player not to.

"Hey Chicha," I say as I take a seat on the big concrete steps that lead to the upper levels, where you go into the Pavilion in order to get tickets and go to the big arena inside. She hates the nickname. It's one that her big brother gave her when she was a baby, and I'm the only person she lets get away with it. Probably because she knows I don't give a damn if she wants me to use it or not. "I figured basketball would have the day off."

"We do. I came in for some personal work," Alicia says, setting her bag down. "You know, hanging around here isn't the smartest idea. I think there's about a hundred people who want to kick your ass right now."

"Yeah, I figured the same thing. The whole football team, even the scout team Rudys. But . . . well, I've never been the smartest person.”

Alicia chuckles and takes a seat on the steps beside me, her bag between us. “You said it—not me. I can understand it though. I mean, I've gotten tossed out of three games myself, and Coach has made it clear that if I get tossed for techs again, I'm sitting out a week."

"You certainly picked the right school to go to, with your personality." I chuckle, and Alicia joins in. "But?"

"But, I've never heard of you losing control like that. I was in the stands, and I'll be honest, it scared the hell outta me watching you. You were about ready to kill someone, I think."

"At the time," I sigh, looking at the distinctive arcs of the lights of the football stadium curving up into the night, dark but still visible against the background lights of the city. "I probably was. You're right. I've never lost control like that before."

Alicia hums, as if she'd expected it. "I don't know what caused it. Honestly, I don't really care, either . . . no offense."

A car pulls up before I can reply, and Alicia grabs her bag. "That's my ride. Take care of yourself, Duncan, and get your head right. Good luck with Coach B on Tuesday."

Alicia jogs down the steps and climbs in. In the dome light, I see that the driver is a guy, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek as she slides into the passenger side before the door closes and they drive off.

After she leaves, I lean back, looking up at the moon, my mind spinning at what she said about me losing control. My dad really has done a number on me.

Up to this point in my life, as much as I disliked him, I’ve been just like my father. I’ve been Winston Hart, recast in a younger, slightly more athletic frame. Hell, Dad was a basketball player in college, and Mom, at least before she got tired of his shit and took off, was an athlete as well. She was wife number two for him, about five years younger . . . and he cheated on her soon after I was born, at least from what I’ve heard. I wish Mom had stuck around longer, or at least to see me, but after Dad's lawyers got done with her, she moved back to New Jersey, where she was from. I’m not even sure how that happened, but with money, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven't heard from Mom in years.

I'm just another bastard, I guess. But I don't want to be. Maybe there is a good guy inside me, a guy who can be worthy of a woman like Carrie. But when is that guy going to come out? When am I going to be able to move past the mental fuckeduppedness and become that man, and not the overgrown, horny boy I am now?

Too late for Carrie, that's for sure. I don't want to hurt her. She's too special. If I can't be a good enough man for her, there's no reason for me to string her along. Next time, after we get together again, I'll make my move. I’ll give her the Hart Attack and then break it off. Sure, it'll hurt in the short term, but it’ll be better for both of us in the end.

I walk over to my bike and climb on. Riding home, I only wish I could break it off with Carrie faster—save her the pain.

You mean save
yourself
some pain.

Fuck you, conscience. Where were you the past four years?

Still here, but you didn't listen to me before. You just pushed me away.

What the fuck was I supposed to do?

Stop being a coward, is what you need to do. Man the fuck up. Talk to Carrie. She deserves that much.

I rev my engine, and instead of going back to the apartment, I turn right, heading for the freeway. I need speed, and right now, the freeway is exactly what I need.

"
N
o
, really Mom. I have a boyfriend.”

Mom's looking at me like I'm nuts, and I guess it has been a while since I've been this excited to share the news with my parents that I'm seeing someone. Then again, when you compare Duncan and the weekend we just had to any other guy I've ever gone out on a date with . . . there's no comparison.

We made
love
. Oh, sure, we didn't use those words, and there wasn't any mention of the L-word between us, but hey, a girl can hope.

Mom, however, isn't so optimistic. "Honey, that's nice to hear, I guess. Who is it?"

"Duncan Hart. He's one of the guys on the football team. We kinda met that way."

"I see," Mom says, and there's movement in the background, and Dad comes into the field of view. "Vince, Carrie's seeing someone."

"Oh really?" Dad says, taking a seat next to her. They're in the living room of our house, it looks like, and Dad looks tired. He must have just gotten back from another run. "Who is it, sweetheart?"

"Duncan Hart. He's the tight end for the Bulldogs."

They both look less than pleased, and I lean back, crossing my arms. "What is it? I figured you guys would be happy for me. You know, two years without a boyfriend and all?"

"It's not that, honey," Dad says, looking over at Mom. "It's just that . . . well, he's a football player. And I think I know that name.”

"He's got a good chance of going pro next year. First round, even.”

Dad nods, then sighs. "Carrie, football players tend to be . . . well, they tend to have egos and personas that aren't exactly our style."

"You mean you think because he’s a star on the team, that he's a superstar in real life?" I shoot back, getting angry. How could my parents be upset like this? “He's a good guy. Perfect? No, but a good guy. And he's making something of himself."

"Yeah, a million-dollar contract and a trophy wife," Dad gripes, then winces. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have," I say, then take a deep breath. I don't want to blow up with my parents, especially over a video chat. Any time you get mad at someone over the Internet, you just end up feeling like an ass later. "Listen, I need to study. I've got a mid-term tomorrow. I need to crack the books on it. I'll talk to you later."

I hang up before they can reply, and turn away, frustrated. I don't really need to study. After my initial struggles with Organic Chemistry, I've gotten the hang of it pretty well. A lot of it is that I'm able to connect it back to my training studies, and to be honest, tutoring Duncan. Which, I think as I smile to myself, he hardly needs. He could pass that class with or without my help, but it’s nice to be able to spend time with him on what I guess we can now call study dates.

Something I look forward to more and more.

* * *

"
O
kay
, class, you will have exactly ninety minutes to complete the test and turn it in. Please make sure you show your work on any mathematical calculations, and fill out your test papers legibly, please? I'm not going to go back to try to figure out any chicken scratches, so if I can't read it, it gets marked wrong, regardless of what you mean to say."

"Good luck," I hear whispered behind me, and I turn, surprised to see Chelsea Brown sitting there.

"What are you doing in this class?" I ask, surprised. "I've never seen you before."

"Don't let it get out, but I took this class when I was a sophomore," she whispers back. "I only pulled a 'C' though, so I was hoping to audit the course and maybe get a better grade this time. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that I have my capstone course exactly thirty minutes after this class starts, so I've been mostly just reviewing the online lectures and the notes. At least I can't get lower than a C this time!"

I chuckle and turn back forward as Professor Vladisova comes by, passing out the test papers face down on the desk. She's a major pain in the ass, but I can deal with it. Science is science, not a matter of whether you like your professor or not, and as she comes back around to the front of the classroom, she looks over everyone with her cold, dark eyes. "You may begin."

* * *

A
s I’m coming
up on the last ten questions, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I know I should leave it alone, but if I do, then the tone on my voicemail is going to go off. It's a weird setting, I know, but it works for me, and I pull the phone out, seeing that it’s Duncan. "Miss Mittel?"

"Sorry, Professor," I say, hitting the
Call Cancel
button. I quickly type out a text message.
What?

Can you talk? Please.

I look at the clock, and see that I still have plenty of time, thirty minutes with only ten problems remaining. I stand up, setting my pencil and paper face down on my desk. I leave the room and head into the hallway, calling Duncan as I go.

"Hey. How was the test?"

His voice sounds a little strange, and I frown. What's wrong? "I still have thirty minutes on it. I probably shouldn’t have left class to call you . . . you know I’m in the middle of the test, right? It must be important.”

"Oh, damn, I forgot. Listen, can you meet me at the stadium right after your test is finished? It's important."

I’m still getting this weird feeling about his voice, but maybe it’s just the stress that he’s feeling. After all, he is supposed to be meeting with the football coaches today about his suspension. "Sure. At one?"

"One is good enough. Thanks, Carrie. See you."

Duncan hangs up, and I put my phone back in my pocket. I'm worried. His voice just sounded . . . weird. Like he was upset about something, or maybe sad? And I still don’t understand how he could’ve forgotten I was in my test, but I don't have time to think about it. I still need to finish my test.

Professor Vladisova is giving me a strange look when I come back in from the hallway, but I brush it off, sitting down and turning my test back over. I'm lucky the last ten questions are easy. I'd crammed them last night, and they are almost direct copies from the book. I finish them just as the Professor calls out the five-minute warning, and I check my paper for last-minute mistakes or stupid errors. "Time."

Going up, I hand in my paper, and she’s still looking at me strangely. "Sorry, Professor," I say, thinking maybe she's upset about me taking a personal call during test time. "I had a personal issue. My boyfriend."

"I see, Miss Mittel," she says and sets my paper down. I turn to leave. I have just enough time to get to the stadium by one o'clock if I hurry. I rush back and grab my bag, heading out the door with a quick goodbye to Chelsea, who's still sitting calmly, a little smile on her face. She must have done well on the test.

I get to the stadium just a few minutes before one and see Duncan by the tunnel that leads from the outside to the inside of the stadium. It's currently locked, but it's a common meet-up point, and I wave as I see him. Rushing over, I jump into his arms, giving him a big kiss. "Damn you! You nearly got me in trouble, but it's so good to see you!"

"I missed you too," Duncan says, his voice still strange, but his hands are working their magic again, and I feel the warmth spreading through me. "Yesterday was so hard without you."

"I'm sorry about that," I force out between kisses, trying to think, but his lips are nibbling on my earlobe, and it's so hard to think. He cups my ass, and I groan deeply, unable to help myself. "What are you doing?"

"Needing you," Duncan says, pushing me up against the concrete wall. "I need you so much."

"Duncan, slow down," I reply, pushing him away with effort. I'm breathing hard, my nipples are aching inside my bra, and my body is aching for him . . . but why is my heart not into this?

I see it in his eyes. Oh no. Oh, fuck no.

"Carrie, I need something special before the meeting," Duncan says, his eyes dead even as his voice drips with desire.

He comes toward me again, and I put my hands up, pushing him away. "No. You're not going to do it."

"Do what? I just need you," Duncan says, and I let my anger give me strength. I shove him back, away from me, and he takes a full step backward before stopping.

"What you need is to stop running away," I state, stepping away from the wall. "I know what you're trying to do. For some reason . . . I’ve had this gut feeling ever since that call. For some unknown fucking reason, you think that you need to
Hart Attack
me, don't you? Don't you?"

“Come on, Carrie," Duncan says, his voice desperate. He's tormenting himself, and for some reason, he's not thinking clearly. "It's the only way. I don't want to hurt you."

"You think a quick romp and then cutting me loose will make it any better? I see it written all over your face,” I yell, jabbing him in the chest. He takes another step back, but I follow, staying right in his face. "Well, Duncan Hart, I'm not going to let you do it. Do you understand me? I won’t let you run away this time."

"What do you mean?" Duncan asks, his voice trying to play it off, but falling far short.

“This weekend, it wasn’t just some weekend sex marathon. I saw it in your eyes when you dropped me off Sunday. I don't know what’s changed since then, since you told me you wanted to become a better person. And I don't know what inner demons are telling you that you need to do this, but you need to choke them down, kill them! Kill those demons, because they're tearing you apart. You don't really want to do this. You just want an excuse."

"An excuse for what?" Duncan says, his eyes shimmering with emotion and pain. "For what?"

"An excuse to not fight those demons. Here's what's going to happen—I’m going to walk away right now, and you're going to stay here and think. Have your meeting with the coaches and find out what's going to happen. I'm going to go down to the weight room, do my workout for Coach T, and wait. I'll wait as long as you need me to, because I care about you."

"What if I can't fight them?” Duncan asks, backing away to lean against the concrete on the far side of the tunnel. "What if I can't fight it?"

"You can. I know you can. I’ll help, but you have to take that first step yourself. When you're ready, call me. I’ll be there, I promise you. I want to be a couple, not a threesome with you, me, and your inner demons."

I stand up and walk away, trying not to cry, but the best I can do is force one foot in front of another, crossing the street and going down the steps to the basement of the Pavilion. Once inside, I find the nearest bathroom and have the cry that I've needed, and I blow my nose loudly before standing back up. I have work to do.