Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (13 page)

BLAKE

I’ve found my nirvana, my top of the world. Usually after I sleep with a girl I’m almost instantly wracked with loathing, can’t wait to get away from them, but not Tia. I’d be a happy man if we never left the bed.

I walk a little stiffer than normal to training.
What a workout. Who needs weights?

I can’t help my smile is lotto-win wide, waving and nodding to everyone I pass. Even the sun has decided to show its face, the whole world on my side this morning.

I’m about to push through the door to the pool complex when I hear voices.

I stop, listen harder. They’re coming from the back.

I move to the side of the building and peer around the corner.

Ethan’s standing in the middle of the rear walkway. In front of him are three men in leathers—built, ratty, the kind of guys who you’d find running a pawn shop… or shooting off your arm. I’ve seen their kind before, motorcycle-club most likely.
What the fuck are they doing talking to Ethan?

They’re far away enough I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s clear whoever these guys are, they aren’t happy. There’s too much pointing for that, too much cowering from Ethan.

A split second passes where I consider helping him out, but no, not this time.

One of the goons grabs Ethan and pulls him into a headlock, shouting into his ear. This time the words are clear: “Just fucking get it.”

The biker lets Ethan go and shoves him into the wall, the three amigos walking back down the walkway towards me. I press my back up against the building and wait for them to pass, laughing as they pass around a lighter.

Coast clear, I look back around the corner at Ethan. He’s talking to himself, slapping his head and cursing. Whatever’s happening, he’s got issues—
big
fucking issues.

Who cares? Let him deal with it. You’ve got other things to worry about.

Ethan comes up behind me when I enter through the front doors. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn inwards. He sees me, looks and keeps walking to the changing rooms, completely ignoring the others, even Coach.

Coach looks to me. “What the fuck’s up with Oscar the Grouch and his perpetual period?”

I shrug. “Boy problems, I guess.”

I know the reality is much darker, but he’s on his own. I’m done with Ethan Knight.

*

Tia texts me saying she’ll be out shopping with Lacey. I smile again at the string of emoticons that follow, little hearts and puppies.

You’ve done it. You have fucking done it now.

I sit on my bed back at the apartment, pull the sheets up to my face and breathe her in. God, she smells good.

I’ll be counting down the minutes until she’s back again, that’s for sure. So much to explore, to show her. If she thought last night was incredible, she’s about to get her mind blown when I pull out the toys.

I notice the Polaroids we took on the floor. I pick them up, shuffle through them. She managed to keep my cock out of most of them, even covered herself in the shot I took of her. I run my finger over where I know her cherry nipples are, her flushed and sweaty skin, the puffy mound hidden between her legs that only moments before this photo was taken was sheathing my cock.

I toss the photos back down. Nice as they are, I can’t keep them. I make a mental note to burn them later. The camera itself can be relegated back to taking embarrassing photos of Billy. There’ll be no shortage of material there.

*

Tia texts me again come nightfall to say she’s staying in town with Lacey and the girls.
Probably dying to tell them all about her heated encounter with the ‘bad boy of swimming’.
I suddenly seize at the thought she might be playing me like she played Ethan, but no, she wouldn’t do that. I can feel the connection, feel it deep down in my gut that we’ve got something special going on, something unbreakable. I’ve never felt like this before, never even fathomed it was possible to feel this way.

I text Magnus to see if he’s up for The Trophy Room. I shout the same through the wall at Billy. If there are cheap drinks and even the remotest chance of picking up chicks, they’re in.

Saturday night and The Trophy Room is going off. I see a lot of new faces, some I’d rather forget.

Billy’s looking at me funny as we approach the bar.

“You right there?” I tell him. “Have I got something stuck in my teeth?”

“It’s weird. I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a while, bro. What happened? You finally bang those badminton twins?”

I shake my head. “Nothing quite that exciting, no.”

He blocks my path, unconvinced. “Spill it. Something’s going on in that coconut of yours and I want to know what it is.”

He sees right through me. It doesn’t help I can’t stop fucking smiling. “Holy shit. You slept with Tia, didn’t you?”

“Shh,” I tell him, “keep your god-damn voice down.”

He lowers his voice, pulling closer to my face. “Reed is going to fucking
kill
you, man.”

“Reed is not going to find out.”

Cutter claps me on the back. “Find out what?”

I give Billy the ‘don’t you fucking dare’, but he’s useless at keeping secrets. “Blake’s banging Tia.”

Cutter laughs and shakes his head. “You dog. Goliath knows no bounds.”

“It’s not like that,” I protest.

“Sure,” Billy nods mockingly. He looks to Cutter. “Pay up, bitch.”

Cutter pulls out his wallet and thumbs out a hundred-dollar bill, passing it to Billy.

I intercept it. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Billy snatches it from me. “Hey, that’s mine, fair and square.”

“You bet Cutter that I’d sleep with Tia?”

Billy takes my shoulder. “I knew you’d deliver the goods, bro.”

I push him away. “Fuck you,” pointing at Cutter, “and you”.

“We’re happy for you, man,” continues Cutter, “happy until old man Reed cuts your balls off”.

They have a nice little laugh, but they’re not wrong. Now these two idiots know it’s simply a matter of time before Coach finds out. I don’t think I’m prepared for that kind of butt hurt yet. I need time to lube up.

I go unwillingly to the bar, the boys ordering round after round until I feel myself slipping back into old shoes.

I’ll give them one thing. They’re relentless. They could have been reporters in another life.

“Spill!” cries Cutter, helping me down another fireball.

I wipe my mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

Billy butts me in the ribs with his elbow. “I bet hers weren’t.”

And off they go again.

I grab my beer. At least if I’m drunk I won’t be able to remember what they’re saying.

Another two fireballs and they’re tag-teaming, chanting, “Tell. Us! Tell. Us! Tell. Us!”

“One thing,” Billy pleads. “One small detail. I beg of you. Did you use the camera? Tell me you took some shots. I could do with new wank material.”

I try to keep quiet, look innocent, but he knows me too well.

“Ah,” he says, eyes lighting up, “you
do
have photos”.

I push him away. “Dream on, cockasaurus.”

I need to piss. I get up a little off-kilter, stumble forward and notice Ethan sitting at a table right behind us.
Holy shit.
Prick’s probably heard every word.

“What are you doing here?” Even getting that sentence out is a struggle.

He holds up his beer. “Last time I checked, this was a public bar.”

I press down on his table, come close to belching. “You should leave if you want to keep that pretty face of yours.”

Cutter and Billy come up behind me. “Listen to the man, Ethan. Time to go.”

He downs the last of his beer, wipes his mouth and stands. “If that’s what you want.”

He backs out slowly to the doors smiling, arms wide. He’s smug,
way
too smug.

I watch the doors close behind him as Billy and Cutter pull me back to the bar. “No, no, we’re not done with you yet.”

“What is this?” I cry. “The Spanish inquisition?”

Billy whispers into my ear. “By the time we’re done with you, you’ll wish it was.”

I take a seat again, turning back to the bar. “Can you dickheads just keep your voices down?”

Cutter stands on his stool and cups his hands around his mouth. “Blake Johnson fucked Tia Reed, everybody.”

A couple of whoops follow from patrons unseen. I pull Cutter down. “The fuck, man!”

A voice from the front doors. “Yes, what the fuck?”

We both look sideways to find Tia and Lacey standing there.

“Tia,” I begin, but I know nothing I can say is going to fix this.

She points at me, eyes growing wet. “I trusted you.”

Lacey pulls her away. “Come on. The further away you get from these assholes, the better.”

I start to run after them. “Tia, wait.”

Cutter holds me back. “Don’t do it, bro.”

I swing at his head, but I’m drunk. I miss it by a mile.

He jumps back. “Whoa, I fucked up, but you’re the one who told Billy. It’s your mess, man.”

Story of my fucking life.

TIA

Dad tosses a pile of blankets onto the bed, a bed which only just fits inside his tiny spare room. Even Tyrion Lannister would feel the squeeze in here. “I know it’s a bit tight, but it’s all I’ve got, sorry. You’re not going to tell me what this is all about?”

That
would go down well. I pick up the top blanket and start spreading it out. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“If those Johnson boys got up to something…”

“I can handle it, Dad. I just need some time. That’s all.”

Placated for now, he raps the doorframe. “Well, I’m down the hall if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

The door closes and I’m left with my thoughts. I can’t believe Blake would go bragging about us so openly. The worst part is I was lured right in. He honestly made me think we had something unique together, that he could be more than the playboy that everyone painted him to be. I guess he’s shown his true colors now.

I’ve been texting Lacey on and off all night. Her roommate is away at a training camp abroad next month, which means I’ll at least be able to crash there for a while until I work out what I’m going to do.

More than anything, I’m angry at myself.
You should have known.
Guys like Blake Johnson do not change. He was an asshole when you met and not you, not anybody is about to change that.

A text arrives from Lacey: U OKAY?

BEEN BETTER, BUT I’LL SURVIVE, I reply.

LET ME KNOW IF U NEED ANYTHING.

I get under the covers, the miniature room closing in on me. It’s so weird to be living under Dad’s roof. My whole life’s really been reversed lately and I can’t necessarily say it’s been for the better.

It takes hours for my busy mind to calm and sleep finally claims me.

*

I’m dreaming about an endless pool. It’s dark, a single spotlight above Blake, who watches on from the end. I kick and heave towards him, but whatever I do I can’t get any closer. I call out to him, but he remains motionless. The water turns to oil, thick and impenetrable. Finally, out of energy, unable to swim any longer, I slip under the surface, Blake’s shadowy visage sinking with me.

I wake with sweaty palms, eyes snapping open in the darkness.

Two eyes stare back at me.

I go to scream, but a firm hand closes over my mouth.

It’s Blake.

He slowly releases his hand. I sit upright, pulling the blanket around me.

“Are you nuts?” I whisper.

“Please,” he whispers back, reaching out to me.

“Go,” I reply, “before Dad finds you”.

“He’s sleeping like a log.”

I can’t believe he’d take this risk. God knows how he even got in here in the first place.

As if to answer my question, he holds up a key. “I used to crash here, before we got the apartment.”

I swipe the key out of his grip. “Go!”

He kneels beside the bed. “Not until you hear me out.”

The anger rises again. “There’s no excuse. Bragging about what I thought was special, like I’m another sticker in your book of sexual conquests? How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Billy—” he starts.

“Do
not
blame your brother.”

He puts his hands up. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

I tug the blanket tighter around myself. “Not good enough.”

“I didn’t say anything, I promise. The others pieced it together. It’s obvious. I can’t hide it.”

“Hide what?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

I want to berate him, slap him, but those words, words which no man has ever said to me, take the wind out of my sails. “You don’t mean that.”

He reaches out to take my hands. I let him. “I do. You’re incredible. I know it’s early days, but I know, I know what we have is special and I don’t ever want to let you go. I’m
not
going to let you go,” he corrects.

“You’ve only known me for a few weeks and you’re so certain, after all the girls you’ve been with?”

“I’m excited. I want to tell the world. Is that so wrong?”

“You can start by telling Dad. How do you think he’ll react, two doors down?”

Blake lowers his head, butts it against the mattress. “Coach… Yes, well, I’ll need time to work out how to broach the subject with him, but in the meantime, can you forgive me? Can we forget this whole night and get back to where we were? I need you. I want you. I can’t go back.”

God damn him. He’s pulling me in. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?”

He looks to the door before lifting his head and drawing me into a kiss. By the time he’s done I’m panting and breathless, the danger of the situation adding to the excitement. “You have to go,” I whisper. “You are
dead
if he catches you.”

Blake smirks, silently lifting the covers and sliding his head below.

I reach under and try to push him away, but he won’t move, pressing my thighs apart and easing himself between them.

“Blake!” but he’s not going anywhere.

“Bla—” my voice catches when his lips press against the soft wall of my inner thigh, kisses trailing towards my increasingly aroused sex.

I collapse back, arms splayed over the mattress, the heat of Blake’s breath drawing closer and closer to my molten core.

“Blake,” I whisper again, but it’s fainter, almost an invitation, and maybe I do want this. No one’s ever gone down on me before. I’m curious, with years and years of sexual exploration to catch up on. I can think of no better teacher than the man between my legs.

In contrast to the first time we made love, he draws my panties away gently, carefully unhooking them from my ankle before spanning my legs apart once more.

His head lowers and I gasp. It’s all so intimate and hot, my most private space invaded and made his.

My pussy is on display before him. He runs a hand down the silken swell of my inner thigh, cupping my ass and lifting me towards his mouth.

When his lips press against the slick warmth of my pussy, I stiffen on the bed, mouth wide, staring at the campy chandelier above as he works on the bundle of nerves at the top of my sex. I shiver, sensation running in a hot highway up my spine.

I whisper his name. It spills out of my mouth with a moan.

He doesn’t acknowledge it, continuing to please himself with my pussy. He lashes my core with his tongue, sucking my clit into his mouth, every area of my sex lathed and showered in attention until I’m thrashing, barely able to keep my body under control. He holds my thighs tight, taming me, pulling me even harder against his face, my juices wet upon it.

He groans, hungry, his tongue driving into my slit. “You taste so fucking good.” His words reverberate through my flesh. Deeper still his tongue runs, seeking out every crevice and wet nook.

He pulls lightly at my lips with his teeth, the sensation so erotic I am immediately overwhelmed, teetering already on completion. He parts me again with his tongue. My blood surges, heat pounding against my chest. Deeper he goes, deeper than I ever thought possible.

I grab my pillow, bracing my heels into the mattress, anything to anchor me against this onslaught. My mouth gapes out in a silent whimper. I am powerless before this man, my master.

He concentrates on my clit, popping it in and out of his mouth, teasing at it, grunting with satisfaction as I thrust my hips towards him. I beg and plead, the release so close.

“Please, please.”

He holds me down with strong arms. I remain a prisoner to him, pleasure to give and take as he sees fit.

I place my hands over myself and moan into them as the release floods over me, my thighs snapping together his head and my entire body caught in violent convulsions. I momentarily lift from the bed, levitating, and fall, drained and satisfied.

Time no longer matters. I don’t know how long it is before I kneel up and push him over, how long before sense returns.

“My turn. Lie back,” I command, reveling in this newfound sultriness.

“Tia, you don’t have to…”

I reach down and tug his pants down. Poor guy was in such a rush he isn’t even wearing underwear.

I take his cock in my hand. There’s a single drop of pre-cum pearled in the slit. The closer I get to it, the more I smell the musk of his arousal. It merges with his cologne, an intoxicating mix that speaks of something exotic, something… dangerous.

I use the flat of my tongue to run up the seam between his glans, flicking away the pearly fluid gathered there. I focus on this small indentation, rub and press into it with the tip of my tongue, getting to know its feel and depth intimately.

I lave my way down his shaft and work my way back up, sucking gently on the thick head of his cock. He squirms at my touch, trying to maintain composure. It must be hard for someone so used to being in control.

I gather saliva in my mouth and bathe the head of his member, letting him savor the wetness and warmth inside. I bob my head down, taking more of him in. I roll my tongue around his knob as I suck. My jaw strains with the effort, but I want him to enjoy this, to prove I can give as good as I get.

I draw him all the way down my throat. I’ve never done this before, but I find I’m a natural, breathing through my nose easily and letting my throat muscles compress against his shaft.

Whatever I’m doing, it has a profound effect. He’s thrusts up, his hips lifting off the bed, his face webbed in sweet agony. As I work his cock, I can taste his salty desire. I coat his shaft with it, teasing him with my tongue until he’s desperate to work his way back into my throat.

I suck him a little harder, a little faster, each time allowing his cock to run deeper and deeper. The sensual power I have right now is incredible. This man, this powerhouse, is putty in my hands.

Blake thrusts his fingers into my hair, lifts and guides me. He lunges upwards, growing increasingly pained. With some effort I’ve managed to work my way down until my lips are ringed tight around the base of his cock. He’s filling my mouth completely.

Slowly, I drag my mouth back until just the head of him is cradled there. I swipe my tongue back and forth across it, much to his pleasure.

I know he’s close by the way his cock pulses. I pull it back into my mouth, dragging it deep down into my throat. The entire length of him stiffens there. His cock pulses, warm, creamy ejections following. He draws back, cum filling my mouth rich and salty. I drink it down, don’t allow a single drop to fall from my lips.

“Fuck,” he groans.

Too loud.

“Tia?” comes a voice down the hall.

We both freeze.

I swallow the last of his arousal.

I hear Dad’s door open.

Holy shit.

“There!” I point to the wall. “Go!”

Grabbing his junk with his hands, Blake leaps out of bed and presses himself flat against the wall next to the doorway just as the door itself swings wide, a pajama-clad Coach Reed-slash-Dad standing there looking in, a wooden baseball bat in his hand. “You okay? I heard noises.”

Oh. My. God.
Another step into my room and Dad will see Blake for sure. I can’t even look at him without giving his position away as he stands there flat as he can, balls and cock cradled in his hands.

For a moment I can’t even speak.

Dad starts to move forward. “Tia?”

“I dropped my phone. It’s fine. Go back to bed.”

He eases but doesn’t seem convinced. “You sure?”

I put on a smile, my pussy continuing to pulse and throb. “Thanks for your concern, Dad, but I’m okay, really.”

I can still taste Blake in my mouth, the warmth of his release against the back of my throat.

Dad scratches his head, yawns. “Okay, but I’m right down here if you need me.”

“I know.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

The door closes and Blake silently creeps back up to the bed. “I’ve had some close calls before, but that…”

He lies down beside me. How his cock is still hard I have no idea.

He runs his finger down the side of my neck. “What are you going to do when I go to the Olympic Games? You’ll have to learn to pleasure yourself, or get really good at phone sex.”

I reach over and smooth his chest with my hand, the bumps of his abs rigid corrugations. “You know what they say about the Olympic Games, don’t you?”

“It’s the pinnacle of human performance?”

“It’s a giant orgy. During the London Games they handed out something like one-hundred-thousand condoms. ‘Let the games begin’ alright.”

He laughs. “You’re worried I won’t be faithful, is that it? Because I have to say I’m a little offended.”

“You’re going to be surrounded by super-hot athletes with their hormones running wild, emotions high.”

“I’m not familiar with this Tia, sorry, Tia the self-conscious. Like I’m ever going to find an ass like yours again.”