Bad Ballers: A Contemporary Sports Romance Box Set

by Bishop, S. J.

  Standing over by the outdoor bar were my old classmates, people who either hadn’t gone home yet, or who still lived here.

  They hailed me, cheering a bit, miming tossing and catching a football, and beckoned me over. I took a quick look around but didn’t see Courtney anywhere. I tried to smile, and I went to join the group.

  7

  Courtney

  I spotted Ryan almost immediately. He was over by the patio bar, surrounded by a group of his old teammates. He was leaning casually against the bar, watching Elise Lashinsky as she told some story that had the whole group of men laughing.

  I shouldn’t have come.

  It had been a real challenge to force myself out of the house, to try and channel the old Courtney – the confident Courtney. In high school I’d never wanted for dates. Even when I was dating Ryan, guys still tried to get me to look their way. Once I had Lea, that all changed. People saw me differently as a mother, and I began to see myself differently, too.

  Elise said something funny and checked to see if Ryan was laughing. She reached and touched his arm twice while telling the story. I was slightly annoyed to see that Ryan was smiling, enjoying himself. What a sucker. Elise was desperate now as she’d been in high school.

  I was two seconds away from high-tailing it out of there, but I stopped myself. I’m not high school Courtney anymore, but high school Courtney would never have stood by to watch Elise make a conquest out of Ryan Mcloughlin.

  I took my hair out of the clip I’d put it in and let it fall long. I knew I looked good. I’d left the house in a pair of black silk shorts, a sleeveless red blouse, and red high heels. I’d put on red lipstick too. Red lipstick will hide a lot of confidence problems. Just the act of wearing it alone screams confidence. As I strolled over to the bar, I put a swing in my step and waved at a patron I recognized. Rory Gates was in his mid-forties, owned a yacht, and pulled his boat up to The Mangroves at least once a week to get lunch.

  “Hey Rory,” I said, sauntering up next to him. I glowed inwardly when Rory did a double take.

  “Hey Courtney,” he said, blinking. “Wow honey. What’s the occasion?”

  “Gal’s gotta get out every once in a while. Help patron other restaurants.”

  “Oh hell no, this one’s on me,” Rory said, waving the bartender over. He ordered me a pinot grigio which I thanked him for. Rory is married, I know his wife, so the flirtation was harmless. Rory introduced me to a few of his friends. One of them was incredibly interested and inserted himself between Rory and me to deepen the conversation. Elise had nothing on me.

  I finished my pinot and had another in hand pretty quickly. I was warming up. I could feel that thousand watt smile coming back, and the men around me were putty. Laughing and getting louder and louder, trying to gain my attention.

  “Apparently, I’ve been on the wrong side of the bar,” said a voice over my shoulder. “Looks like the party’s over here.”

  “Honey,” I said, whirling to face Ryan, who was smiling, but looking unamused. “You’ve been on the wrong side of the bar for the last ten years.”

  Oooohs and Ohs! Filled the air around us and Ryan looked decidedly uncomfortable. Good.

  “Who’s this Court? You know him?” asked Rory, sizing Ryan up and sounding protective.

  “Gents,” I said, gesturing at Ryan. “Aren’t you football fans? Surely you recognize Mac Mcloughlin.”

  “From the Patriots!” One of the guys said. It was clear that some knew Ryan and some didn’t. My introduction bought me five minutes to watch Ryan try to answer a hail of questions from a bunch of investors and business CEOs.

  Ryan was more poised than I expected him to be. I guess when you’ve spent the last six years of your life giving press conferences, you can handle a few tipsy members of the country club set. In the end, I figured I’d rescue him.

  “Come on,” I said, reaching in and running my hand down the smooth sleeve of Ryan’s expensive cut suit jacket. “I can get us a table.” Blood surged through me when my fingers tangled with his. I didn’t think too much about the pounding of my heart, or the low throbbing that was starting between my legs. I towed Ryan out of the crowd and towards the tables.

  8

  Ryan

  It was hard to play nice and make conversation when jealousy was coursing hot through my blood. And when Courtney reached down and tangled her fingers into mine, that jealousy turned into something else. Something more urgent. Fuck. Me. This was going to be a long night.

  I’d decided when I saw her enter and head over to the blowhards in the checked shirts that maybe Gabe was right – that I’d been a real dick to Courtney. I didn’t want to do that again – in fact, I had told myself on the way over that I was not going to try and get her into bed. I wanted to find out more about her life, I was interested in the business of running a restaurant, I wanted to know who her kid was and who the kid’s father was. What had happened to him? But it was hard to focus on those thoughts when I was at half-mast.

  “I can’t believe that whole group still hangs out together,” Courtney was saying as she sat down at an empty table. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her long, tanned legs. My mouth went a little dry.

  “Do they all still live here?” I said, glancing back to the group of our old classmates. I figured they were in town for the funeral and just hadn’t left yet.

  Courtney shrugged. “I don’t keep track.” She peered at me beneath her lashes, her look all come-hither and flirty, completely at odds with brusque way she treated me earlier. “I keep track of you, though.”

  “Do you?” I leaned forward, drawn by that look in her eye. I’d seen that look on so many women’s face in the past. DTF. Down to fuck.

  “Sure. You’re a career Patriots player. That’s impressive given the fact that your coach is supposed to be mercenary.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not an idiot. I do my job, don’t get ahead of myself, and I don’t ask for more money.” I tried to change the subject. “So you know about me. Great. Let’s not talk about me. I want to know about you.”

  Courtney tossed her hair. “What’s to know?” she said, pursing her lips at me. Courtney was wearing her “fuck me” red lipstick. That’s what she used to call the color. I remembered that weekend we’d spent in Miami in that cheap motel suite. We’d desecrated every single surface, and I’d had “fuck me” red lipstick all over me. Before I could stop it, I was inundated with images of all we’d done there: Courtney on the kitchen table, legs thrown over my shoulders. Courtney’s face when she came.

  “Everything,” I said, trying to clear my head. “Anything.” Goddamn. When was the last time a girl had gotten me this distracted? I distracted women, they didn’t distract me.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” said Courtney, taking a long sip of her wine, twirling a finger absently through a strand of bright blonde hair, “I can’t say my life is that interesting. I run the restaurant. I go to West Palm to see my sister, Karen. Do you remember Karen? Once a summer I go up to Maine to visit my folks…”

  Her words were conversational, but the look she was giving me: Like she wanted to strip my suit off me one piece at a time. Courtney, ass in the air, staring at me in the mirror as I slid in and out of her.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked. Shit. I was rattled.

  “Famished.” I knew she didn’t mean food. “In fact. Let’s get out of here. I’ve got cheesecake at my place.” Her smile grew mischievous a moment, mouth quirking up at the edge, eyes sparkling. “And hot fudge.”

  Fuck. I knew exactly what she meant. Smuckers. We’d used it in high school. It stuck to everything and you had to suck hard to get it off.

  I took a deep breath. “Courtney…” Maybe we should cool it. Let’s just catch up. I want to hear about your life.

  I heard her high heel clatter to the deck and felt her bare foot sliding up over my calf. Well fuck.

  “My place,” she said. “For old time’s sake. Don’t worry baby. If you’re hu
ngry, I’ll take good care of you.”

  This wasn’t high school Courtney – flirty, fun, magnetic. This was someone more dangerous. A woman who knew her appeal and knew what she wanted. And fuck if I wasn’t going to give it to her.

  “Let’s go,” I growled.

  9

  Courtney

  I wanted to blame the wine. I wanted to blame Adriana. I wanted to convince myself that this was about revenge, but I’d be lying. This was about sex. Ryan was still the best I’d ever had, and Adriana was right. I hadn’t had sex in too long. Way. Too. Long.

  I pulled into my driveway and shut the car off. Ryan’s red mustang rental car growled to a halt behind mine, and I shivered as I got out of the car.

  Ryan was already out of his. His suit jacket was gone and shirt sleeves were rolled up. He’d crossed his arms and stared at me.

  “You’re too hot for South Florida,” he said, his voice gravelly with lust. “Between you and the weather, I don’t think I’m going to survive.”

  “Come on in baby,” I cooed. “I’ll kill you sweetly.”

  Ryan strode up to me so fast that I nearly back-peddled. “Promises, promises,” he murmured, towering over me. His hand snaked into my hair, holding me still. Then his mouth came down slowly.

  The kiss was electric.

  I don’t know how long we stood there, kissing. But this was not the Ryan of the past: fierce and passionate. This Ryan was in total control. His hand was firm in my hair, his lips moving slowly, tongue thrusting deep.

  And he seemed to remember all my hot spots. His mouth broke from mine, fastening just beneath my ear. My knees buckled.

  “Yes baby. I remember each and every single spot,” he whispered, breath hot in my ear. He bent his knees, his hips hitting mine, pressing me against my own door and grinding in a slow, delicious rhythm. My hand fumbled out, searching for the door knob. His came down to cover mine, gripping it a moment before twisting. We all but fell inside.

  I pulled away from Ryan. Control. I needed control. I was going to leave him wanting more! But I didn’t even have time to get my bearing before Ryan was on me again, pushing me against the wall, running his hand across my rib cage, his lips finding my neck, teeth hitting that sensitive spot where neck and collar bone met. Fuck. I needed to retaliate!

  I reached up and wound my fingers into the silky dark locks of his hair. I tugged and he growled, drawing back.

  “You looking for rough, baby?” he asked, his eyes unreadable in the dark light of the hall.

  “Is that how you like it?” I asked. “I have cheesecake and hot fudge in the fridge. I’m going to go get it. I recommend you head down the hall. Second door on the right.”

  Ryan pulled away from me, and I could feel his eyes on me as I walked into my kitchen. He didn’t go to the bedroom. He followed me, and I opened the fridge. As I bent over to get the cheesecake, he grabbed my hips, smoothed his hands across my ass. I pressed back against him and he groaned as I straightened slowly. I slid the cheesecake onto the counter and knelt to grab the hot fudge.

  Make him tremble!

  This time, I didn’t get back up. I turned and got onto my knees, my hands finding his belt buckle.

  “Shit baby,” he said. Moonlight lit the kitchen and Ryan’s eyes were obsidian.

  I’d forgotten just how perfect his cock was: hard and engorged, jutting up and demanding attention. Opening the jar of hot fudge, I used a finger to scoop some out. With one hand, I massaged his balls; with the other I rubbed the chocolate all up and down his shaft. Then I fit my lips to it.

  Cock and chocolate. He was almost too big to fit in my mouth. My jaw ached, and I hummed as I sucked and watched as Ryan gripped the counter behind him, knuckles going white. Up and down, tongue swirling, I polished all the chocolate off and then stood up. Ryan seemed to sag against the marble countertop, eyes still closed. Using my fingers, I scooped up a bite of cheesecake. I held the bite to Ryan’s lips and he took it, licking my fingers clean and sending bolts of desire from my fingers straight to my core. I kissed him and it tasted sweet. Ryan groaned, hands coming down to grab my waist and pull me close.

  “My turn,” I whispered.

  Ryan sucked in a deep breath and I shrieked as, next thing I knew, I was over his shoulder, and he was striding down the hall. While one hand trapped me to his shoulder, the other slid up my shorts, fingers spreading to play with the contours of my ass.

  “No panties,” he growled. “Nice.” His fingers dipped down to trace the outline of my lips. “You’re wet baby.” He coated his finger in my juices and then slid it deep. I groaned against his back and his finger retracted as he swung us into my bedroom. I landed on the bed on my back and Ryan followed two seconds later. He made quick work of my clothes, stripping me of my top, bra, shorts, and shoes. I was all but panting with anticipation as he kicked off his shoes and socks (he’d shaken off his pants in the kitchen), ripped at his tie, and all but tore his shirt from his body. I gasped at the array of tattoos spread across his shoulders and chest like a set of football pads. But that was all I had time to see. He moved.

  His hands tossed me higher up onto the bed and he covered me with his body, kissing me fiercely. I gasped against his mouth as his finger returned, thrusting deep inside me. The sensation was incredible, heat and pleasure streaking through my body. A second finger came to join the first, stretching me. Then Ryan’s mouth left mine. He moved down, trailing kisses down my sternum and across the top of my breast before fastening on a nipple. Lightning shot through me and I groaned, tilting my hips into his hand. As he sucked, sensation began to build. His fingers slid in and out, working me into a frenzy. Then he withdrew, and I was so close to coming I cried out. So much for control. Shit!

  “Shhh, baby,” he said, coming up to take my lips in a searing, brutal kiss. Then he was gone. I opened my eyes just as his head disappeared between my legs. His tongue swept from the bottom to the top, so hot I nearly leapt out of the bed. His hands stilled my hips and he feasted on me as I’d feasted on him. I was close to sobbing. It was like he was in my head, like he knew exactly what I needed when I needed it.

  I realized it was because I was begging. “Fuck me baby, please baby! I want you inside me!” I was chanting. Ryan was ignoring me, so I reached down, tangling my fingers in his hair and tugging. He looked up then, and ran his tongue over his lips, licking me off his face. He came up, kissing me so deeply that I tasted myself.

  His hands reached down, fingers stretching me again, and then his cock pressed against me, rubbing up and down, coating himself. His hands directed my hips, tilting them upwards. I had the momentary thought that it was supposed to be me riding him. But then all thoughts fled as he sank deep, filling me almost to the point of pain. I cried out as he nudged forward, hitting my clit and sending pulses of lightening through my veins. His withdrawl set my nerve endings aflame and when he flexed his hips, he filled me again, pushing even deeper than before.

  I opened to him, slave to my body, tilting my hips and devouring inch after inch of him greedily. Ryan groaned, burying his head in my pillow. In and out, slow and fierce. I cried out each time he surged forward, each stroke sending me into a tailspin. As if he sensed how close I was he stopped and pulled out so sharply that I nearly came then and there, but he was moving, flipping me on my stomach, one hand tilting my hips, the other hand coming around and pressing against my clit as he entered me from behind. Fuck! Fuck! He was hitting that sensitive spot inside, that spot almost too intense to bear! The friction this way was electric. He picked up speed, his voice in my ear begging me to come. “Come on Court, come for me baby.”

  I was sobbing, desperate for relief as he hit that spot over and over...

  My climax came on me in a surge so violent I saw stars.

  I clutched the quilt on the side of my head, sobbing as Ryan thrust with a vengeance, in and out in brutal rhythm, seeking his own release. He bellowed, hips slamming into me, cock swelling and then throbbing inside me as he
exploded. His arms trembled, and just before he collapsed on top of me, he fell onto his side, taking me with him.

  We both lay there for a while, wordless, panting. That fire that had exploded in me was kindling again. More. I wanted more.

  Ryan was still half hard inside me, and I moved my hips suggestively.

  He groaned. “Round two?” he said. “How about some cheesecake? You want to go again, Imma need to refuel. Damn Courtney. I think you almost killed me.”

  10

  Ryan

  I should have been worn out. Courtney certainly was. After round two she’d passed out on her stomach, her sleep the soundless sleep of the well-fucked. I felt pretty damn proud of myself.

  And yet, I couldn’t fall asleep. Usually I had no trouble falling asleep. Despite the fact that most people think I’m an asshole, it doesn’t trouble my conscience any. But I was thrown off. Anxious. Part of me wanted to wake Courtney up – but I didn’t know why, or what I’d say to her. I wasn’t ready to face her. My heart was doing that awful catching thing it used to do in high school whenever I looked at her. So I got up and decided to wander.

  The house was dead silent. Living in Boston, there’s always traffic, always noise. But here, in Old Serenity, away from A1A and the ocean, the only sound was the throbbing chirp of the cicadas. I thought about dinner. My plan to not sleep with Courtney, to get to know her better hadn’t gone all that well. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t get to know her now. I wanted to know what her life was like.

  High school Courtney had been a wild thing, always active: running, biking, swimming. She’d oozed confidence and energy. She knew she was pretty, knew she was strong, and knew she was smart. She had a restless spirit that was never content sitting still. The only place she ever seemed to zen out was near the ocean, and so she’d spent a lot of time down there. High School Courtney had lived in a cluttered room.