Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

AVA

Thankfully, my classes the next day don’t start until ten, and I can sleep in at least a little bit. Which is good, because I was up half the night stewing about Riley Knox.

Riley
fucking
Knox.

Needless to say, our date had quickly soured. Not that it had ever been sweet to begin with. I’d told myself I’d do my best to be nicer to him this time, but then he’d turned up with Sports Illustrated Model of the Year, and, well….

Things hadn’t gone exactly as I’d wanted them to.

The worst part is, I know exactly why I behaved the way I did: jealousy.

The girl he was with — Karla or whatever her name was — was
gorgeous.
Six foot tall, blonde, skinny, but somehow also with tits for miles.

That’s the kind of girl Riley Knox likes. Perfect tens, cheerleaders, that kind of girl. The kind of girl that standing next to, I realize I look totally
blah.

I’ve never cared about the way I look — and I shouldn’t care now. I’ll always take brains and hard work over beauty. It’s not until I developed this ridiculous…
thing
for Riley Knox that it’s even entered my head to be jealous of another girl’s looks.

Romance has never been on my radar since I became old enough to really think about it.

Except for that one crush I had on Matthew Rottenbach in prep school, I’ve never cared at all about boys, or relationships, or sex.

But now…

But now, it’s like some kind of ridiculous science fiction scenario, where a damn parasite has wormed its way into my brain or something, and is trying to control me into mating for some nefarious purpose of its own.

Because it’s literally
all
I’ve been able to think about.

And, when I finally actually got to sleep, it was all I was been able to dream about.

I shiver a little in my seat.

When I woke up this morning, the panties I’d worn to bed were soaked right through, my skin covered in sweat, the throbbing between my legs almost unbearable.

I’d practically bitten my pillow in frustration when I’d woken to find that I was alone in bed as per usual, and all the half-felt orgasms I’d been shuddering through in my sleep were nothing more than the work of my apparently incredibly horny subconscious.

I bite my lip.

I can’t even really remember the dream now. I wish I could.

Yesterday, Riley had told me he could give me the best orgasm I’d ever had in my life.

He was just teasing me —
mocking
me — but I still can’t get it out of my head, all the same.

How would he do it?

He said he’d use his tongue or his cock, whichever I’d prefer. Right now, I don’t even know. Either. Both. I don’t care. I just know I want him to do it — more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.

And just like that, I’m absolutely soaking wet again, my pussy growing slick as I remember Riley’s words.
Are you telling me you’re not a little bit curious to find out what all the fuss is about?

I am. Oh God, I am.

Licking my lips, I can’t stop myself from slipping back into fantasizing about it — only this time I’m fully awake to enjoy it.

Okay, yeah, I’m in the middle of class, but it’s not like it’s an interesting one, and no one’s looking at me. They’re all watching Professor Huxton at the front as he drones on about gas storage and transportation methods.

I close my eyes. For some reason, I’m picturing us together in the park — it’s dark and there’s no one around. I bite my lip. I never thought of myself as having an exhibitionist streak, but the idea of it is turning me on. More than I really want it to.

“What do you want?”

In my mind’s eye, I can see the flash of Riley’s perfect smile, the devilish look in his eye as he asks the question.

“How do you want me to make you come?”

“I — I don’t know,” I stammer.

Shit, even in my fantasies I’m a virgin. But even that — the idea of Riley being my first — is a turn-on. He’s been with so many women — he’d know just what to do, how to touch me. He’s a fucking expert. Literally.

“I know you’ve been thinking about me,”
my fantasy-Riley continues.
“I know you’ve been desperate and aching and soaking wet thinking about me. Thinking about all the ways I could touch you. Am I right?”

That same cocky grin, the little tilt of the head. He doesn’t need to ask. He already knows he’s right.

“Y-Yes,” I tell him anyway, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice. I’m so wet for him I can’t think straight. I can feel heat pooling in my belly, and I rub my thighs together, sending small sparks of pleasure through my body. I’m so turned on now that even that tiny movement is enough to make me moan, my breath catching in my throat. I want desperately to touch myself, to feel something between my legs, but I don’t dare move. I’m trapped where I am, pinned down by Riley’s gaze.

“Bend over.”

I do. Groaning, I rest my forearms against the bench, leaning my head down on them. From this angle, I can see my own breasts where they heave with my breath, see my parted thighs. I can’t rub them together anymore when I’m standing like this, my ass up in the air, bare and exposed.

I’m literally at Riley’s mercy. For anything he wants to do to me.

Behind me, I can hear his steps as he walks toward me. I swallow. I can feel my own wetness sliding down my thighs, dripping out of my pussy. He must be able to see it, too. He knows how wet I am for him — how desperate I am to be touched.

Riley runs his hand over the curve of my ass, digging his fingers in slightly where it joins my thigh — not quite touching me where I want him the most.

“You’re trembling,” he tells me, his voice warm. “Is that what I do to you?”

“Y-Yes,” I stutter again, and it’s true. This is what he reduces me to. This is how badly I want him.

“You know we shouldn’t.” Riley’s fingers edge between my thighs. “You said it yourself. It’s against the rules.”

I bite my lip as Riley’s fingers brush against my pussy, making me jerk, my spine arching and a moan slipping out from between my lips.

“I don’t care,” I manage to gasp as the tips of his fingers slide slowly up and down along the edge of my body, without ever once slipping inside. “Please — just — ”

Riley laughs. “You’re such a good girl,” he tells me as his fingers finally part my lips, sliding inside me. I moan, sensation wracking my body. Even this small touch sends so much pleasure through my body that I can barely think, barely even hear what he’s saying to me. “You tried so hard to stick to the rules, when all you wanted to do was feel my dick filling you up, making you scream….”

He moves his fingers inside me as he talks in slow, even thrusts, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. Even just this has me ready to come — he doesn’t even need to touch my clit or put his cock in me, though I wish he would. I could come just from letting him touch me like this.

He moves up behind me as his fingers continue on with their steady strokes, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

I gasp as I feel his cock, hot and hard, suddenly pressing against my ass from behind. He moves it up and down between the cheeks, in time with his fingers.

“I needed to get you ready,” he tells me, voice hoarse. “I know you’re a virgin. And I want you to be prepared for this.”

“Oh God,” I sob, as his fingers quirk inside me, sending white hot sparks all down my nerves. “I’m ready. Please. I want you so much…”

His fingers speed up, pressing against me in just the right way, finding the right spot inside me.

“I’m going to make you come so hard,” he tells me. “Over and over and over again. By the time I’m finished, you won’t be able to stand up straight.”

I dig my fingers into my forearms. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me as Riley’s fingers move inside me, making my knees grow weak.

Dizziness overtakes me as I’m pushed closer and closer to the edge, so ready to tumble over and crash.

“Riley,” I say, my voice a whisper, struggling out of my throat. “I’m close, I’m so close…”

I whine as he withdraws his fingers.

“Why did you — please don’t stop —” I begin to say, then gasp as I feel the blunt head of his cock, hot against my soaking wet lips.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Riley says from behind me, his hands gripping my hips. “We’re not nearly finished yet.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, a shudder running along the whole length of my body as —

I’m thrown out of my daydream in the most horrible way possible, as a guy with the worst BO I’ve ever smelled shoves his way past me to get out into the aisle. I blink in shock, realizing that class is over: I’ve sex dreamed my way through the whole thing. People with more patience than the BO guy are waiting for me to get up so they can leave and go to their other classes.

Feeling myself blushing scarlet, I fumble to get my stack of books together, before rising and rushing out into the aisle with them clutched to my chest.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

I have never felt more humiliated in my life — even though I know, reasonably, that no one knows why exactly I was so distracted. It’s not like they’re mind readers. They probably just thought I’d dozed off in class, which is not exactly all that uncommon when Professor Huxton is at the lectern.
 

Still, I hurry out of the lecture hall with my cheeks on fire, as if everyone must know exactly what was going on in my head.

And the worst thing is, it hasn’t done a thing to calm me down.

I’m still just as horny as before — more so, given the imaginary
coitus interruptus.

My panties are soaked right through.

I’d dash back to my apartment right now for some alone time, if only I didn’t have a lunch date with Darcey and two of her friends from her political science program. It’s the last thing I feel like doing right now, but on the other hand, perhaps it would be the best thing to take my mind off Riley for a while. He's taking up way too much real estate in my head right now.

As I make my way across campus, I try to do everything I can to put that stupid jock out of my mind. Drifting off into a sex fantasy about him in the middle of class is beyond gross. I should've been listening. Usually I'm a model student in that regard. The only notes I took today was to draw a little squiggle in the top right corner of my notepad. Super helpful. I'm only a couple of weeks into my masters program and I'm already drifting off in class.

I determine I’m going to do better in future.

Glancing at my watch, I realize I’m going to be late unless I hurry. Lunch is at some tiny, artisanal place Darcey loves, where all the food comes ‘deconstructed’ — or, in other words, not actually made into a meal. It just sits there in its constituent parts on a wooden board in a way I’ll never understand the appeal of. Still, my stomach is grumbling as I run up the steps to the doorway, looking around for Darcey. 

And that’s when I notice it.

I stop in the middle of unwinding my scarf from around my neck as I realize that every eye in the place is on me, every neck craned to try to get a better look. 

I freeze for a moment, immediately thinking I must have made some terrible faux pas, like get shit all over my face or something, but a quick glance at my reflection in the glass door tells me that isn’t the case.

Feeling weird and self-conscious, I slide into a booth and try to pull my head down into my shoulders and be inconspicuous.

As I sit there trying to be invisible, I can hear whispers coming from the tables around me.

Is that her?

No way — the chick in the picture is way hotter.

No, I think it is —

It hits me all at once.

The girl in the picture
.

Just as my under-caffeinated, over-sexed brain figures it out, Darcey clatters down into the seat across from me, a wide grin on her face.

“So, how does it feel to be famous?” she asks, holding up her iPad to my face.

I squint at it, until the blobby shapes she’s waving in front of me resolve themselves into some kind of recognizable shape.

It’s the front page of the
Blaketon Eye
, a crappy,
Gossip Girl
wannabe website that details the comings and goings of various ‘celebrities’ amongst the student body, a category for which Riley Knox definitely qualifies.
I
, on the other hand, very much don’t. Even if I didn’t spend most of my time studying rather than causing scandals, I only started at Blaketon at the beginning of the year.

That doesn’t seem to have stopped them from plastering my picture up on the front page of their website, however, right in the middle of what looks like a roaring argument with Riley.

Which it was.