Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance (18 page)

The father-daughter dance was held every year in memory of Jade Coleman's father, a fireman who died rescuing 3 children from a burning building in 1999. Tabitha and I usually sat this one out, but seeing as this was our last year, we made it a point to attend every single school event. For weeks, I'd gone on and on about the dance. I even went out with our housekeeper, Mrs. Winters, to find a nice suit and a pink tie for Dad. I lay it out on his bed this morning and left a post-it note on his bathroom mirror to remind him about the event.

Don't get me wrong – Mom and Dad were good parents. They got me whatever I needed, whatever they thought I wanted, and gave me all the freedom in the world. Yes, they were hopelessly clueless, and I wished they actually cared about what was going on in my life, but when I thought about my red Porsche waiting for me in the parking lot, I felt like a spoiled, ungrateful bitch. Here I was complaining that my dad couldn't make it to some school party when girls like Eloise Park could never make it to any of the school events because she couldn't afford it.

Still, I wish Dad would look at me the way those fathers did their daughters, just once...

“Why's a pretty girl like you standing here all by yourself?”

I spun around, my eyes widening. Ace stood behind me, still dressed head to toe in his football uniform. He raked a hand through his messy, damp hair, grinning at me.

“Ace! But I thought you were at that game –”

“Yeah, I was – it ended around 20 minutes ago.” Ace dusted off the small flecks of dirt on his shirt and knees. “I got your text. Didn't want you to be alone, so I got here as quick as I could.”

“You didn't have to do that,” I whispered. I peered up at him, taking his strong, warm hands.

“I know. I wanted to.”

“
Grow up now, my darlin',

Please don't you grow up too fast.

And be sure, darlin',

To make all the good times last...
”

“Wanna dance?” Ace tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded, my grip tightening around his hand as he led me to an unlit corner of the dance floor. Ace placed my arms around his neck and held me by the waist. I continued to peer up at him dreamily, our bodies swaying to the sentimental strumming of the guitar on stage.

Half of his handsome face was hidden in the shadows. I folded my fingers around his neck. He'd spritzed on some cologne to mask the stink from the game, but I could still smell the faint traces of grass and dirt on his uniform. The way he held me in his thick, brawny arms made me feel like I was the only one in the room.

Ace didn't have much, but he gave me his time, and it was all I could ever ask for. He wasn't the best wordsmith – in fact, he didn't always have much to say – but he knew exactly how to fix me. It was a strange, but beautiful feeling. People say falling in love at 16 is foolish and naive, and though that may be, he was thicker than blood. In less than 2 years, he'd become the part of me I never knew was missing.

I closed my eyes, my fingers and toes tingling as his soft lips brushed against my forehead.

“Come on.” My eyes sprang open. I unhooked my fingers around his neck and grabbed his hand. “Let's get outta here.”

Ace made no protests. Hand in hand, we slunk deeper into the shadows and crept out of the gym through the back door. With all the attendees hoarded in the gym, we spilled out of the back door into complete silence.

As I led him towards the field, I let go of his hand and removed my pink heels. I slung the pair over my shoulder and continued on my way, feeling the cold, dewy blades of glass and soil under the soles of my bare feet. I started running, my heart racing with my thudding feet.

Ace caught up with me. He fell to his fours and crawled towards me, joining me under the bleachers. Paying no mind to my $2,000 gown, I sprawled myself against the dirt floor and started picking out the hundred bobby pins holding up my hair. Around us, the chirping crickets and occasional insect buzz assured us that we were alone.

Sucking in his lower lip, he pulled off his shirt. I inched closer to him, reaching out to finger the defined 6-pack on his stomach. And when he got on top of me, I slid one hand over his neck and yanked him towards me, pushing my lips against his urgently. I could feel him smirking into the kiss at how much I wanted him, but it didn't matter. He was right.

Finally, I turned his head away from me and slipped my tongue into his flushing ear. I pressed my breasts up against him, feeling his cock hardening against my thigh. I moaned, biting his earlobe. I couldn't wait any longer – I needed him now.

I felt the hollows of the deep V running down his hips and disappearing inside his football pants. Ace was squirming on top of me. I could almost feel his cock throbbing against my leg, his little red head begging to rub against the sticky lips of my pussy. Laying myself back down, I loosened the laces of his pants and reached for him.

Ace jerked backwards at my touch, banging his head on the top of the bleachers. I snickered softly, stroking his length as he massaged the back of his head. Without warning, a husky snarl shot out of his lips, wiping the smile right off my face. He unzipped the side of my dress in one go and peeled the top of my dress to the side. My heaving breasts jumped out at him, my nipples stiffening at the sudden exposure.

He lowered his head and pushed my breasts together. With the twinkling caramels of his eyes holding my gaze, he sucked on my nipple. I grabbed a tuft of his hair, shivering at the feel of his tongue swirling faster and faster around the bud. And as he pushed up the ends of my gown over my thighs, rubbing the soaking crotch of my panties with the back of his hands, my eyes lost the fight to stay open.

“Damn, look at how wet you are,” I could hear Ace muttering between each wet sucking noise. He moved on to my other breast. “I've barely touched you...”

When his lips detached from my nipple, my eyes fluttered open once more. I gasped, reaching out and wrapping my hands around one of the bleacher supports. Ace unrolled my panties down to my ankles, lifting my legs up in the air.

My clammy fingers tightened their grasp around the steel poles.

Ace dove between my legs and started slurping me up. And as his tongue prodded at my pulsing lips, I slowly lost control of my body. I swallowed my lips and dug my heels against the dirt, doing everything I could to keep my mouth shut.

It didn't take long before he wised up to this. He sat up and held my airborne ankles together with one hand. With the other, he shoved 2 fingers inside of me, fucking me to the beat of my uncontainable moans.

His narrowed eyes focused on the clenching lips of my pussy. They started to glaze over as he watched his fingers pumping in and out of me, almost as if he was lost in his own little trance. But as he pushed his thumb down on my clit and started circling his finger around the shy pucker of my asshole, he looked up at me once more. His lips and chin were still glistening with my juices.

Right then, Ace decided he'd had enough. He slowly eased his fingers out of my folds and backed away from me. But I wasn't going to let anything stop me from how good I was feeling – not even a break. As Ace kicked off his pants, I helped myself out. I swabbed the inside of my cheeks with my 2 fingers and pushed themselves inside of me, fucking myself. I knew he was watching, and I loved every second of it.

Ace was enjoying it so much, he was stalling. He pulled his boxers down distractedly, stroking himself off at the same time. I had to admit, I was feeling more than a little slutty, and I didn't know where it was coming from. But I liked it. I gave him a little show, spreading my sticky lips apart as I stuck in a third finger. I grunted under my breath, sending even more juices oozing out of me as I stretched myself out.

“So, are you going to fuck me, or what?”

Blinking, Ace tossed his boxers aside. As he knelt over me with his thick cock in his fist, he pulled my fingers out of me and slipped them into his mouth. I flipped myself over and planted my elbows on the ground, gathering my tangled hair over one side of my neck.

Lowering my face to the ground, I spread my cheeks open and bit down on my tongue, waiting for him to take me...

Chapter Three:
Ace

2016

I squinted at the red 24s glaring at me on either side of the scoreboard.

The sun was beaming down on me and my back was drenched, but damn, my head was clear. My vision was sharp, my hearing uncompromised. And though I was tired, the tremors had stopped. I had complete dominance over my body and mind. It had been 2 whole weeks since I'd stayed off any booze, and the difference it made was downright staggering.

Around me, the chattering of the crowd dwindled.

I turned back to the line of army-green soldiers in front of me. I could feel the stares of the 80-plus thousand in the stands directed at me. Yet, for the first time in a long time, I wasn't trying to swallow the booze climbing back up my throat. I felt surprisingly calm, ready to take on whatever was coming my way. I hunched over in position, my eyes glued to the “22” of the jersey in front of me.

At the sound of the whistle, everything around the 120-yard field vanished. It was go time. As soon as Callahan got hold of the ball, I bolted off to the right. I watched both armies clashing around him in slow motion. But before the number “22” got swallowed into a pile of black-and-yellow uniforms, a whizzing brown object spiraled through the air, coming straight at me.

When the football landed in my arms, I clutched it to my chest and made a run for it. It was like looking through a pinhole. All I could see was the massive white “JETS” painted across the green strip on the other end of the field. I gnawed hard on my mouth guard and kicked out my legs behind me, running as fast as my body would let me.

Soldiers in yellow and black were coming at me in droves, but I stuck out an arm, ducking and sidestepping each and every one of them. My heart was thumping out of my neck, and my legs were starting to seize up, but I just kept on going. I could feel the football sliding off my slippery fingers, but I held it to my chest even tighter. That strip of green was so fucking close, I could almost taste it. There was that one last obstacle standing in my way, but fuck me, I was going to make it.

“36” charged at me. Facing the black blur head on, I lunged with one leg forward and kicked myself off the ground. For 2 of the most freeing seconds of my life, I flipped over him. I crashed onto the ground, screaming out in bloody agony as blinding pain pierced through my right shoulder.

With tears burning in my eyes, the football rolled out of my grip. But when the brown ball came to a stop in the middle of the giant white “E,” full-blown adrenaline washed the pain out of me. I popped my shoulder back into its socket and bounded off the ground, pulling my helmet off my head. The crowd went nuts.

“I can't believe it – Ace Warner just tore across the Steelers defense –”

“And that somersault for the touchdown, winning the game for the Jets – pure replay gold right there! I don't believe it, Kenny – what a comeback!”

I spat out my mouth guard, my ears ringing with the crowd's deafening cheers. For a second, it was like everyone had forgotten what had happened. The whole team came rushing at me from the field and sidelines, sweeping me off the ground and onto their shoulders. Even a slow-clapping Coach was running up to join us, and he had a hint of a smile on his face.

As Callahan and Moriarte bounced me on their shoulders, I rose my good arm and pumped my fist in the air. The hellish stabs of pain were coming back to my shoulder, but I didn't give a shit. I was letting it all sink in. The commentators going ballistic. The cheerleaders in their skimpy white outfits waving their shiny green pompoms in the air. The roaring applause from the crowd, chanting my name...

I could see Dubois walking up the field behind Coach, flashing me two thumbs ups. His cheeks were florid with excitement and his grin so wide, his eyes were nearly shut. I lowered my fist, flinching slightly at the zing in my arm, nodding at him.

Callahan and Moriarte finally lowered me from their shoulders. I broke through the wall of my jumping teammates, the stupid smile on my face starting to sting my cheeks. But as my eyes drifted past Dubois and into the stands, I thought the sides of my mouth were going to split open.

Brooklyn's face was staring back at me amidst the faceless mass. When our eyes connected, she buttoned up her red jacket and crossed her arms over her chest. I was frozen to the spot. My mouth cracked open in surprise. But just as I was about to call out to her, one of the towel boys, came running up behind me.

“Warner! Warner, wait up!” He slapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Not now, Duff –”

“Your phone's been ringing off the hook since the middle of 3
^rd
quarter.” He thrust my second phone in my hands, and gave me another spirited smack on my back. “Anyway, man, that run was fucking awesome! You had us all on the edge of our seats – I ain't never seen Coach look so excited –”