Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (12 page)

I open my eyes and I see the photo of Mom, Dad, and me on my dresser. It’s my undoing. I look into their eyes and I can’t do this. I can’t betray my father’s trust no matter what he’s done, or hasn’t.

I lightly push Blake away. The offence is clear on his face. “What’s wrong? I can slow down if you like. We don’t have to… you know.”

I curl up into a ball, self-consciousness washing over me in waves. I pull a blanket up to cover myself. “I’m sorry. I need time. I can’t…”

He cups my face. I can see how much he wants this, how much it’s killing him to get this close. “Tell me what I can do.”

I can’t even look at him, casting my head downwards. “Go, please. I need to think.”

“Tia…”

I look up to him with pleading eyes. “Please.”

He stands, cock bulging impossibly hard. “I’ll be next door if you change your mind.”

He leaves and shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. He doesn’t slam it, doesn’t exactly make a point of it, but I’m sure he’s annoyed, and why shouldn’t he be? I’m leading him on. I start to cry, have no idea why. I am not this person, the ‘I need time’ type. This is college. I should be free. Instead, I feel trapped. By what, I simply don’t know.

BLAKE

UCLA’s quite the venue. The best of the best are here. This time I’m on the ball. I watch my stuff, make sure no one touches it but me. I keep to myself, focus. This is the last meet before the Olympic qualifiers. A win here is one of the last steps to Rio.

Time to take out some sexual frustration.

Coach and Tia settle themselves into the crowd. I watch them from balcony below. Tia and I still haven’t talked about that night, but at least now I know the possibility is there.

Someone taps me on the shoulder.

It’s Michael fucking Phelps.

He smiles. “Blake Johnson, right?”

I reach out to shake his hand. “Yes, sir.”

He’s not dressed for swimming. The guy’s got nothing left to prove. He’s a legend. “I’m a fan,” he says. “You could be one of the best.”

“Thanks.”

He leans in. “Guess it helps when you’ve got a third leg.”

I roll my eyes, struggling to believe Phelps himself is throwing around dick jokes. “Don’t believe the hype.”

“My man,” he laughs. “I’m all over the hype. Don’t let me down, you hear?”

“I won’t.”

He drifts off to the stands and I remain there not really comprehending what just happened. Yes, Phelps had his share of drama out of the pool, but he put in the effort where in mattered—in the water. No one can begrudge him that. He’s the very definition of the American dream—work hard, reap the rewards. Maybe this cool change with Tia’s for the best.

Phelps—He’s a legend, alright. He’s also the guy holding all the records I’m going to smash in Rio.

*

We’re in a line next to the pool, hands beside our backs. It’s more of the same, more of the military shit Reed gets off on.

He paces up and down the line. “You monkeys had a good meet. I bet you can smell the Olympics, right? Ethan and Blake dropping records like they should. I fucking like that. I like the fire, but we can’t rest. We’re two weeks away from the qualifiers and you’ve got to be on your absolute A-game if you want a place on that flying turd to South America.”

“Yes, Coach,” we reply.

“Good. We’ve got a lot of work to do, not just here, but in the gym, too. I don’t want to see anyone boozing until the wee hours, getting sucked off by the hockey team until daybreak. There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, you’re all my bitches and I sure as hell intend to get my money’s worth.”

He’s not playing. Training is tough, but I finally feel like I’m making progress. For the first time in days I’m head-to-head with Ethan. He’s not happy about it. He doesn’t let on I’m getting to him, but I know he’s seething under there, probably plotting a way to get me out of the pool for good. It wouldn’t surprise me if I’m assaulted on the way home, a bunch of paid goons in black beating my legs in.

Not on my watch, pal.

Ethan’s not only distanced himself from me, but from the team as well. It’s tense, awkward whenever we’re together now.

Just concentrate on the line.

So I do, pushing away images of Tia naked, the smooth round of her backside begging me to take her, spreading her legs and lips for me. I can taste her, the sweet nectar of her pussy.

I’m on my way to the changing rooms when Coach calls me over to the side.

“Got a moment, son?”

“For you, I’ve got five.” I take a seat next to Coach under the giant clock, my eternal nemesis. I can hear the prick ticking away above us, counting down ’til doomsday.

Coach rubs the spot under his nose, his left eye a little jumpy. I can’t be sure, but he looks nervous. He watches the pool. “How are things going with Tia?”

My throat tightens up.
Fuck. He knows.
But surely not, and so what? We haven’t done anything. Not that a moment goes by when I’m not thinking about her, sliding my hands up her sides, pulling her panties down, pressing myself into her… “Great.”

“Great? That’s it? How’s she settling into college life, training? Give me the deets, son.”

Oh, you don’t want ‘the deets’, old man.
“You could always ask her yourself.”

He waves it off with one hand. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not easy for me, or her. We’ve been apart a long time. I mean, damn, the last time I saw her she was still playing with Barbie dolls. So, give me a break. What’s she up to?”

I have to think. “She’s doing well. She’s got a couple of friends, gymnastics girls, I think. She comes out with us from time to time.”

“Billy hasn’t tried anything on her, has he?”

Ha!
I have to stop myself laughing. Billy’s good, but he’s not
that
good.
He’s not you.
“Can’t say he has.”

“You keep an eye on her, okay? I trust you.”

It’s like he’s deliberately trying to dig the knife in a little deeper. “I will.”

“And her training? You think she’s got a shot?”

The last thing Coach likes is to be bullshitted. “Her freestyle form’s great, backstroke and breast a little iffy.”
Her breasts.
Jesus, I’m going to start getting wood sitting next to Coach.

He claps me on the shoulder. “Keep working on her. Work her hard. She can take it. I’m sure of it.”

Can she? I’m having a real hard time keeping a straight face, but as Coach walks off I realize this is no laughing matter. I want Tia, bad, but being with her is going to mean a whole lot of hellfire down the road. I don’t know if I’m prepared for that.

Fuck it.

You want something, you go after it—simple as that. It’s the motto I live by and I’m not about to betray it now.

*

Training with Tia is even better. It’s become the highlight of my day watching her work, the way her body rolls in the water, the one-piece clinging tight to her curves.

I bend down at the end of the lane as she comes up for air, fingers white gripping the edge of the pool. “You’re improving, but you’ve still got a long way to go.”

“So tell me,” she pants. “I can take it. I’m not here to fuck spiders.”

It’s the weirdest thing I think I’ve ever heard. My stony exterior cracks. “Where did you pick that up from? I don’t think I even know what that means.”

“Australian friend of mine back in school. He said it all the time.”

“
He
?”

She winks. “Jealous of my first kiss, are you? Now that was a boy who could work wonders with his tongue.”

You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby.

The way she slurs it out is irresistible, but I promised myself I wasn’t going to let this slide into dangerous territory again. Besides, she was the one who called it off once it got serious.

I crouch down. “You’re not extending your arms to their full length, your upper back is too tense and you’re rotating to the right. You’re a swimmer, not a rotisserie chicken.”

“Bawk, bawk,” she squeaks.

I reach down and splash water in her face. “Another ten, go.”

She salutes. “Yes, sir.”

Talk about deja vu.

*

We head to The Trophy Room after training. It’s a Friday night. The place is bustling with horny athletes looking to blow off steam—maybe something, or someone, else.

I watch a bunch of drunk runners trying to play darts. One of them is going to take an eye out soon

Cutter and Magnus are over at the pool table doing their best to look proficient, but I’ve played them before. Pool sharks they are not. Like me, they come alive in the water, not on land. I even prefer having sex in the water. Makes it extra-sensual, extra-smooth.

Tia gets up. “Just going to the little girl’s room. Be back soon.”

“Sure.”

I’m smiling thinking about training tonight, the laughter we shared on the way here, her hair smelling shampoo fresh, body soapy and warm under that track suit.

Not a couple of minutes later someone places their beer down on the bar beside mine.

I look sideways.

It’s fucking Ethan.

I stand back from the bar. “What the fuck do you want?”

He places his hand on my shoulder and I am one second away from replacing his head with my fist.

“Easy now. I come in peace.”

“Peace? After all the bullshit you’ve pulled lately?”

He sits, placing two hands on his beer and staring into the froth. “About that. I was out of line.”

Here we go.
“You were, were you?”

He nods. “Look, I’m giving up on the… you know, for now. It’s fucking with my head.”

I take a pull of my beer, welcoming the yeasty aftertaste. I’m not sure exactly what he’s talking about, but I’ve got a good idea. “You don’t say.”

“Can we forget it? Wipe the slate clean? The qualifiers are in two weeks, after all. We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we? We’re fucking brothers, you and I.”

He’s right in one sense, but any attachment I felt to him has long passed, especially given what he was about to do to Tia that night. I shouldn’t be offering this scumbag shit, but I’m over it. “Fine, whatever.”

He shifts his stool closer, leaning towards my ear. “Look, I know you could do with some cash.”

“Do you?”

“Come on, man. Don’t deny it.”

I pick up my beer again. “So I’m not The Donald. Sue me.”

Ethan pushes his beer back and forth between his hands. “Look, all I’m saying is that we’re a team. I can help you.”

My Spidey senses are on full bullshit alert. “How’s that?”

“I’ll cut you in.”

“On what?”

“You know damn well what.”

I look at him. “You want me to deal for you?”

He looks around. “Fuck, keep your voice down. Fifty-fifty split, which is a fuck load more than what I give anyone else.”

I can’t believe he has the balls to even ask given he knows my past. “Let me get this right. Because I’m from a shitty mid-west town, because of a little stint in juvie, you think I’m a drug dealer?”

“No, but given—”

I reach out and grab his collar, pulling him close. “You shut the fuck up.”

He takes my hand away. “Fuck, okay.” He clicks his fingers at the new girl behind the bar. “Another beer for my friend,” returning his attention to me. “I don’t care if you’re part of the KKK. This is a solid offer, five-figures in your first week. It’s easy money, especially if the swimming thing falls through. Think about it.”

And there we go, but that’s just it. The ‘swimming thing’ ain’t going anywhere.

I watch him go. Jerk-off didn’t even touch his beer. Pink lemonade’s probably more his style these days.

Just when I think he couldn’t possibly stoop any lower, he comes out with this crap. The money would be nice, I’m not going to deny it, but there’s no way I’m going to deal for him, for anyone. I promised myself I would never be part of that world again. Ethan’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to be the one to change it.

TIA

“Anyone home?” I call into the apartment after my tell-all session with Lacey. Note: Gymnasts make excellent psychologists.

The door to Blake’s bedroom is open. I can hear his fingers tapping keys, a mouse clicking.

Hmm, what have we here? Curiosity heightened. Check.

I enter slowly.

I’m expecting to find him watching porn, but no, he’s playing World of Warcraft.

What the…?

I bring my hands down fast on his shoulders. “Heyyyyy.” I’ve never seen anyone flinch so hard.

He tries to take his headset off, close the window, blubbering away nonsense and so utterly adorable it’s insane.

“Guess I’ve found your dirty little secret.”

I look closer at the screen. “Holy shit, you’re a Tauren Rogue! Whoa.” I spin his chair around. “How long have you been playing WoW?”

“Three years,” he confesses, grinning.

I haven’t been so shocked since Snape axed Dumbledore. “And you never thought to tell me? You let me think you were clueless this whole time?”

The grin becomes a full-blown smile so smug and satisfied even a Cheshire cat couldn’t compete. “I like to role-play, what can I say?”

I get the impression he’s no longer talking about World of Warcraft.

“Wow.”

“Precisely,” he laughs. “What did I tell you? I’m full of surprises.”

“You can say that again. Does this mean we can raid together and go to Blizzcon arm in arm?”

He reaches out and takes me around the waist, pulling me into his lap. “My reputation would be irreparably damaged if anyone found out.”

“Is that your sword or are you just happy to see me?”

“Are you ready to be ravaged, my love?”

I take the side of his face in my hand, sitting in his lap. “Only if you give me all your gold.”

“I thought you wanted to go slow?”

I’m over it. I want him, I want
this
, and I want it now.

I reach down and take hold of his cock through his pants, enjoying the way it grows and hardens in my grip through the denim. “Fuck it. Slow’s never been my style.”

“Nor mine.”

The sexual tension between us is painfully high.

Blake’s eyes blaze with arousal, heat and desire and emotion enough to make my heart beat hard and fast.

The silence between us becomes suffocating.

And that’s it.

It’s on. No more pussy-footing around. It’s time to check out this V card once and for all.

My nipples cinch, my clit hardening as feverish breaths lift my chest. “Take off your pants,” I command. “I want to see it.”

He smiles, standing and drawing his jeans and jocks down.

My eyes linger on his cock standing heavy and hard between his thighs. The knob of it’s bright like a cherry, large as a plum, the shaft thick and veiny.

The rumors were true.

That
is going to fit inside you somehow?

He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it into the corner of the room. “Your turn.”

I’m shaking as I stand, unbuttoning my blouse, my fingers slipping, the buttons on my jeans cold as I fumble to release them, conscious of his eyes as I slide them down my hips. I step out of my panties, holding the hot ball of fabric in my hand. I toss them away.

“Fucking perfection,” he nods.

I undo my bra, let it fall forward into my hands.

His lips part just a little. “God, do you even know how sexy you are?”

I stand before him bare, my entire body open to his burning gaze.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“All I know is that I’m wet.
Really
wet.”

He kneels before me.

I whimper, halfway between a moan and a sigh, as my nipple pulls and elongates inside the hot cavern of his mouth.

A drawn-out moan runs from my throat, stretching into a cry when he sucks harder on the sensitive flesh.

He lets go and lifts me effortlessly onto the bed, swiping away a pile of clothes and placing me deep into his pillows, pillows that smell of him, of training and the woods behind the pool, of pine and mystery and raw, animalistic sexuality.

I can feel his length against my thigh. He’s so hard, the shaft of his cock rubbing up against my slick clit, delightful little shivers boiling away under my skin.

My core tightens, the pleasure blinding. “Blake…”

I start to shudder, weird convulsions causing my core to tighten and release. I gasp, sobbing, for what I do not know, only that I want more of this, of him.

Blake’s mouth leaves my breast. He pins me with a stare, hot and needy.

I pant, pulling air into my lungs while I watch the pounding of his heart, the ripple of it running under his skin.

There’s barely space for a slip of paper between us, our breath mingling in the no man’s land that separates our lips.

This is it.

This is happening, right here, right now.

I watch as he reaches underneath the bed, ripping a foil packet open with his teeth and sheathing the blunt head of his cock.

He rolls onto his back and pulls me over him, cupping my breasts, lifting me up above his member, poising the rounded tip of it at my glossy folds.

“What do I do now?” I question, unable to hide my nervousness.

“Nothing,” he smiles. “Just sit down and shut up.”

He eases my weight down on his cock as he says it, his length sliding easily into my sopping pussy, the briefest hint of pain before I look down and, holy mother of god, I’ve taken almost half of him. Blake ‘Johnson’ Johnson is inside me.

His thumbs circle my distended nipples as he lifts me up and down. I straighten myself and work into it, staring into his eyes while I ride him, shifting my hips back and forth to accommodate more of him into my tight depths.

The feeling’s incredible. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this for so long.

He kneads my breasts, clenching my nipples between his fingers at the same time I clamp myself around his cock, squeezing and drawing him in until I’ve taken him to the hilt, the puffy lips of my pussy flattened out against his pelvis, the scent of sex heavy and hot around us.

I moan, soft, loud, everything in-between and it doesn’t sound cheesy or forced but perfectly natural. I’m dripping wet, his cock plunging faster into the depths of my pussy. He lifts me, levering off the bed as our bodies come together loud and wet.

He holds my ass cheeks, fingers pressing into the pillowy flesh there, lifting and spreading and driving himself in to the balls unable to quench this thirst for my body.

I roll my hips to take his strokes, getting a feel for his rhythm.

We’re in tune, both of us working together perfectly and my core tightening further in response ready to snap and release, flood him completely.

He captures my wrists and rolls us over so he’s on top, lifting a leg and holding it by his hip, holding my hands pinned above my head as he drives into my body hard. He kisses me with abandon, wet tongue shifting and rolling against my own, the heat we’re giving off unbelievable.

We break and I stare into his eyes, beg him to make me come.

I see how much he wants this, the longing and pent-up lust, everything about to explode.

The tingling starts deep inside as he pounds into me. My inner muscles seizing around his cock, the creamy flesh of my thighs locked around his hard body.

A hand runs up the inside of my thigh, finds the point where his cock spears into me. He plays there, feels me out, before a solitary fingers slips lower, lightly tapping against the dimpled hole below.

It’s a move that instantly pushes me over the edge.

I lift my head up, bite his ear gently and finally allow myself to fall into an orgasm. It roars up my spine, hits me so hard that for a second I’m temporarily paralyzed, caught in some strange limbo while my body shakes and flaps underneath him.

He crushes his lips against my own, a hard, bruising kiss as his own release arrives. He runs to the end of me and stiffens, whispering my name in a panted mantra as I cream over his cock.

When we’re finished, he holds me against him, presses his body to mine. My breasts, tender and heavy, flatten against his chest, his heart beating powerfully next to my own.

I roll away from him, a delicious, raw warmth between my legs.

His cock is bent, but still hard.

I notice the Polaroid camera sitting on his drawers. I reach take hold of it, pointing it at him. “Smile.”

I press the shutter button, pull the film out and wave it in the air, watching as his prone body comes into focus. It looks like a bad Instagram filter. “Like something out of Boogie Nights,” I note.

“Keep it. The Fuckbook’s no more.”

I lift the camera up and focus it on his cock, taking a snap. “Hey, hey.”

“That’s not fair.” He bundles me up in his arms and wrestles me around the bed, planting kisses all over me, no inch of skin spared, not even the sensitive slit of my sex still wet with arousal.

“Fuck you taste good,” he says, moaning with his head trapped between my thighs. I try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his tongue lapping up and down my pussy and the sensitivity
way
too much, threatening to tip me over into another orgasm at any moment

I finally manage to get him off, rolling over, but when I open my eyes there’s a flash, the glossy Polaroid coming out from the front of the camera. He shakes it above his head as I try to reach it. “Give me that!”

“It’s for my personal collection, sorry.”

He tosses it onto the floor and takes me in his arms, rolling us over until he’s back on top, his cock poised between my legs. “Ready for round two?”

I reach down and take hold of him, the velvety warmth of his shaft still hot and slick from its first foray inside me. “Only one way to find out.”