Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (32 page)

“Come on, he was your favorite player growing up. Of course you’re going to name your dick after him.”

“You don’t have a name for your… you know?”

She holds her chin up. “I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Do enlighten me.”

She looks me dead-on. “I call it a vagina, like a normal person.” She gives me a shove in the back and I lose balance, falling forward and gripping the last row of seats.

I get up and stand in front of her, my hands at the small of her back, her legs gripping my torso. “I don’t care what you call it as long as it’s mine.”

She takes my face in her hands, the face she’s been denied for so long. “It is. I am—completely.”

“So, you want to know why I’ve got a giant eagle tattooed on my back?”

“I
so
do.”

“Cowboys,” I confess.

“Excuse me?”

“Ten in a row. That was more than enough alcohol to get me down to America’s Shadiest Tattoo Parlor and hand over what I recall was one-fifty for some Hell’s Angel to ink me up.”

“But why an eagle? I mean, a dragon I get. You’d have been better off asking for the American flag, maybe a little caricature of Uncle Sam on your shoulder?”

“You know what? I closed my eyes and pointed at the wall of designs to choose, thought it was fucking hilarious at the time. It’s just damn lucky I didn’t end up with a giant butterfly on my back.”

She runs her hands underneath my shirt, walks her fingers up my spine. “I don’t know. I think it would look kind of cute.”

“If you had it your way, I’d have a tattoo of Won Ton.”

“He is my furry child.”

“What about ‘Scarlet’ in giant script, a little heart or anchor underneath?”

“Well, your back’s taken. You’d have to get it across your butt.”

I pull back. “What makes you think it’s not there already?”

She runs her hands down the back of my jeans, slides them around my ass cheeks. “Hmm, I’m going to need a closer look.”

We’re halfway to shedding clothes when there’s a “Hey, Collins,” from the stairwell.

We break apart.
Fucking Gerry.

I wave to the security guard. “Oh, hi Gerry. Didn’t know you were on shift.”

“You turn on the lights and think nobody will notice?”

“Touché.”

“You want me to leave you kids alone?”

I lift Scarlet down from the railing. “It’s fine, Gerry. We were just headed home.”

The word rings in my head, and I’m there. I don’t need four walls and a bed to know it.

SCARLET

Jensen’s watching me from the bed, his arms behind his head and the sheet barely covering his package. I’ve never seen him looking so satisfied as I make coffee in the kitchen.

“You do know I’m going to take that cute little ass of yours one day.”

“It’s not an object,” I reply, selecting the most feminine mug possible from the cupboard. “It has feelings.”

“Oh, it’ll feel something alright.”

I’ve never quite understood guys’ fascination with sticking it ‘there’, not that I’m totally against the idea. Since hooking up with Jensen, my inhibitions are slowly being shed one by one. Soon I’ll be pulling out the sex swing.

I come into the bedroom, passing him his coffee and standing by the window. I pull a curtain aside, the aroma of the finest capsule coffee my cupboard has to offer swimming up my nostrils.

I look down into the street. “Paps are gone.”

He sits up on his elbows. “Figures. I guess shots of me entering your place via the front door aren’t quite as popular.”

“The café downstairs will probably bill me for all the lost business.”

“You want them back?”

“I almost knew them by name.”

“Welcome to my world.”

I sit on the corner of my bed, tuck a leg under myself. “What’s the plan today?”

He looks disappointed. “Training. As much as I’d love to stay here and whittle the day away exploring that fine body of yours, I’m afraid Coach will skin me alive if I don’t show up at Atlas today.”

I cradle the coffee with two hands. “It’s fine. I’ve got some errands to run. Polly wants a catch-up.”

“She still seeing that guy she ditched us for at the club, the one in an actual circus?”

“He works behind the scenes. It’s not like he’s out there wrangling lions every night.”

“Still weird. The whole circus thing—creeps me out.”

I place the coffee down on the carpet and slide up the bed beside him. “Ah, yes. Big bad Jensen Collin scared of a couple of clowns.”

“Like I said, that book scarred me for life.”

I tickle the line running down the middle of his abs. “What else are you afraid of?”

“Losing.”

“Losing what?”

“You, again.”

My finger dances around the edge of the sheet. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

“It’s an irrational fear, I know.”

“You’re damn right it is.”

He grabs me, pulling me on top of him with one arm effortlessly, the other holding his coffee away from the bed. “We’re in a really good place, aren’t we?”

I have to admit, we are. The spotlight has shifted away. Things are returning to normal and it’s nice not to have to think about stepping outside, checking every corner. People give me a smile now, not a piece of their mind. “I’m happy, are you?”

He reaches between my legs, the cotton of my panties already damp. “Deliriously.”

“That’s a big word for a jock like you.”

“Hey, leave ‘jock’ for the football guys. I’m a skilled artisan of the sporting world.”

The blunt butt of his palm rubs against my clit. I press down upon it. “Skilled at more than soccer, it would seem.

I grind a little too hard, the mug in Jensen’s hand vibrating and coffee spilling over the sides, staining the mattress.

“That ain’t going to come out,” I muse.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “Your sheets are about to get a lot dirtier than that.”

“Are they?”

He pulls the crotch of my panties aside, a slender digit slipping in to the second knuckle. “You bet your ass.”

*

Polly holds her glass up. “What did you say this was again?”

The café’s oddly deserted for this time of the morning. I don’t need another coffee. I’m still buzzing from this morning, and not the caffeine. “Cold drip coffee, from that thing that looks like a science experiment over there.”

Polly doesn’t look convinced. “I prefer my coffee lava-like whenever possible.”

“This isn’t Harvey’s.”

Polly laughs. “My god, that place. Do you remember that cupcake I got from there once? There was more mold than cake in it.”

“Harvey used the one towel for everything—cleaning the counter, taking stuff out of the microwave—probably wiped his ass with it.”

Polly shakes her head. “I don’t know how we’re still alive. School days aside, this new Scarlet’s interesting.”

My curiosity is piqued. “New Scarlet?”

“Old Scarlet would never have said ‘ass’ aloud.”

“New Scarlet does. She does a lot of new things.”

Polly puts her hand up. “I
do not
want to hear about Jensen’s sexual prowess.”

“You should see what he does with his tongue,” I tease. “Probably ties his laces with it.”

“Scarlet Emelia Matthews! You fiend.”

“I’m experimenting a little, so sue me.”

Polly places her glass down. “He says that, you know. You’re even starting to sound the same. Soon you’ll be the one weird entity—‘Scarsen’.”

“Sounds like a skin condition.”

Polly picks her glass back up, relaxing into her chair. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“No, really, Scar. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jensen doesn’t exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to relationships. Seems like his idea of commitment is a non-disclosure and an aspirin in the morning.”

“I’m different.”

“I know what I said before, but it doesn’t mean I’m not still watching out for you.”

I’m surprised Polly’s taking this tone with me, but she’s never been one to blow smoke. She’s always told it straight and that’s why we work. Her direct nature didn’t always go down so well at school. Teachers never like to be told by a student they’re incompetent, or incontinent.

“Pols,” I start, “you know me better than anyone, which is why you have to trust that I really do know what I’m doing. He’s in this for the long haul, believe me. That crazy Jensen who was splattered through the social pages, he’s gone. It was a front all along. He wanted to be with me this whole time, and there I was with the wrong brother. It’s my fault, really.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I mean, why didn’t I see Josh for what he was? Why didn’t I see what Jensen wanted all these years? Every time we hung out, the three of us, it must have been tearing him up inside, and all over a lie from the start.”

“A lie?”

“Josh told him we were a thing weeks before we were.”

Polly sits up. “That little bastard.”

“Yeah. Now you see where I’m at and why I need to make this work, but you know what? It doesn’t feel like work. When I’m with Jensen, it’s effortless, natural. It never feels forced like it did with Josh, and the sex. My god, the sex.”

Polly rolls her eyes. “So you keep saying.”

“Those gossip columns got one thing right.”

Polly makes a gagging sound. “Way too much information, my dear.”

“I guess it
is
a little too much to handle.”

“When did you become the Pun Master of the World?”

“Like I said, New Scarlet.”

My cell buzzes in my handbag. I lean over and scoop it out.

Polly blows across the top of her mug. “Jensen?”

I read through the text. “Wants to meet for dinner after training tonight.”

“You’re not on shift?”

“Not for a few more days.”

“Explains the glow. That, or…”

“Polly, I am
not
pregnant.”

“Shame. You two would make super-cute babies.”

“Motherhood? Wow. I don’t even know if it’s for me, you know? I mean
me
, a mom?”

“You’d make a great mom. You’d have to hide the handcuffs, of course…”

I give her a scowl. “I’m not that adventurous… yet.”

Polly nods knowingly. “Give it time. Give. It. Time.”

*

Jensen’s neighborhood ain’t much better than mine, a half-hour at most, but my apartment’s far more habitable even considering recent efforts on his behalf to make his place ‘befitting a queen’. It’s crazy to think I could have walked to his place every night instead of hanging out at Josh’s McMansion wondering where he was and, now,
who
he was with.

A group of kids blasts pasts me, two of them riding in a shopping cart. I smile as they disappear down the road whooping and catcalling. I feel their verve for life, understand it. It’s like being with Jensen has turned me into a teenager again where the world is fresh and new and filled full with possibility. The fear and anxiety I’ve felt in the past is slipping away. With him by my side, I know I can conquer anything.
Put that on a bumper sticker.

Jensen’s apartment is on the first floor, number Twenty-One just like his jersey. I’m not sure which came first, if the number has any particular significance to him.

He didn’t answer back when I asked where we were going tonight. He might even cook. So far his skills seem limited to scrambled eggs and bacon, but he assures me his mother has a recipe for lamb shanks so good I’ll be begging him for his hand in marriage before the night’s over.

We’ll see about that.

I’m smiling as I knock, nervous like always just before we meet. I don’t know why, but I think it’s a good sign I can still be excited like this, that I still have the capacity to be surprised.

When there’s no answer, I knock again, the door opening slightly and with it an odd sense of déjà vu.

I push the door lightly and it swings wide, Jensen’s apartment dark except for a light on towards the bedrooms.

“Jensen?” I call, noticing the galley kitchen empty.

The déjà vu deepens, tells me to hold back, but I move on towards the light.

“Jensen,” I call once more, making my voice light. “Come on. If you’re planning on jumping out at me, I’m going to kick you in the nuts.”

No answer.

The door to his bedroom is open, the light on.

I step in. “Jen—” the word catches in my throat.

No.

It takes me a second to register I’m not back at Josh’s place, but no, I’m here alright, Carolina the soccer groupie naked, sprawled out on Jensen’s bed,
our
bed, sheets ruffled and her legs wide.

I reach for the doorframe, my legs turning to marshmallow.

“Where’s Jensen?” I stammer, unable to process this at once, the shock washing through me in icy waves. I can’t take my eyes off her, her breasts and dark nipples, that damned tattoo that so mocked me the last time we met.

“Scarlet, hi,” she says casually, like we’re simply two girls catching up, like her venomous pussy isn’t looking me right in the face. “He ducked out for a moment, but he’ll be right back.”

I try to control my breathing, but my windpipe is seizing up, my chest tight. “I don’t understand.”

She kneels up, hands coming underneath her breasts. They’re bigger than mine, fake maybe. I don’t know.

“It’s okay,” she continues. “We’ve been fucking for months now, a casual thing, but I think it’s starting to mean more, you know?”

“I thought you were with Josh.”

“I can’t have both? Though I must say Jensen’s far more experienced.”

The anger that floods through me is so hot, so alien, I have to stop myself launching forward and clawing her eyes out. “You’re lying.”

She leans back, hands on the mattress. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did you really think one girl would be enough for him? He’s Jensen fucking Collins. One girl can’t satisfy him.”

The insinuation that I’m not enough for him, that I can be topped by this, this trash… It makes my blood boil. “I don’t believe you.”

She runs a hand down her body. “Why do you think I’m here? It’s not for his autograph, I can tell you that.”

I open my mouth, but my tongue’s tied. I can’t speak.

“You know what I like best,” she continues, getting on all fours and padding slowly towards me across the bed cat-like. “That little seam between his balls. It drives him wild when I lick it.”

“You’re lying,” I gasp.

She raises an eyebrow, pausing, “Am I? Does he fuck
you
in the ass?”

I start to step away from the doorway, Carolina swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing, continuing to walk towards me. She’s taller than I am, physically dominant. “Look, it doesn’t have to be like this. We’re more alike than you think.”

“We are
nothing
alike,” I spit, eyes hot.

“We’re both player’s girls. We both like a good time. We’re
sharing
, practically sisters.”