Go Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  4

  Owen

  The driver pulled up outside Taylor’s apartment and I got out. It felt weird to have a driver, but the team had insisted that if I went anywhere in the city, I had to use their official cars. That was probably just to make sure the players didn’t get themselves into trouble, which made sense.

  Still, I hadn’t grown up with a damn driver. It was convenient, but I felt weird sitting in the back and letting him take me around.

  I walked up to her apartment door and found her name on the list. I buzzed her and waited.

  “Owen?” she answered after a second.

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “I’ll be down in a second.”

  I leaned up against the wall, smiling to myself.

  I didn’t normally go out before an early morning practice, but for some reason I couldn’t get Taylor out of my head. As I’d been sitting back at my place, I had kept seeing her in my mind, her smile and her body, and the way she pushed back at me like she didn’t want anything to do with me.

  I just had to see her.

  A few minutes later, she came down the stairs. She was wearing a tight little dress that accentuated her sexy, curvy body. She smiled at me as she stepped outside.

  “Not bad,” I said.

  She frowned. “You didn’t give me much time.”

  “You don’t need it.” I nodded at the car. “Ready?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Friend of mine told me about a new club in town.”

  “You have friends? I thought you just got here.”

  I laughed. “Okay, fine. Raylon told me about it.”

  “That makes more sense.”

  We headed over to the car. I opened the door for her and then climbed in beside her. The driver headed out, knowing where we were going already.

  “Just to be clear,” she said, “nothing is going to happen between us.”

  I looked at her and laughed. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  She made this face, adorable as fuck and defiant. “I’m serious. Nothing.”

  “That dress says otherwise.”

  “We’re going to a club. Was I supposed to wear a sweater?”

  “I don’t know what you’re supposed to wear. I only know what that dress says.”

  “It says nothing. Get it?”

  “I’m pretty sure it screams, ‘fuck me until I can’t breathe.’ And I speak fluent dress.”

  She sighed. “Are you always like this?”

  “If you mean charming and handsome, then yes.”

  She couldn’t help but smile a little bit. I liked that I was cracking that icy exterior.

  The club was only a five-minute drive, and before we knew it we were pulling up outside the building. The sound of pulsing bass wafted out from the front doors softly as we climbed out. We headed to the front of the line, and the bounced nodded as he let us in.

  I smiled at Taylor, and I could tell that she was impressed. The people in line weren’t too happy to see us getting in ahead of them, but that didn’t matter. Being a professional athlete had its perks.

  The club was packed inside. The place was modern looking, all clean lines and wood mixed with an industrial metal vibe. The dance floor was packed, but I steered Taylor toward an empty high top table.

  I got the waitress’s attention and ordered a whisky for myself and a gin and tonic for Taylor.

  “Cool place,” she said loudly over the music.

  “I guess.”

  “Not really my scene.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. It’s loud and crowded.”

  “That’s right. It’s a club.”

  “Maybe I don’t like clubs.”

  “Do you like dancing?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone likes dancing.”

  “Then you like clubs.”

  “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

  “Sure it is. Trust me. Once I get you on that dance floor, you’ll like it here.”

  “Who said we’re dancing?”

  I moved closer to her, my lips near her ear. She didn’t pull away, just like I knew she wouldn’t.

  “I said we’re dancing.”

  “This was supposed to be just one drink.”

  “We’re at a club. We can’t just stand here.”

  The waitress returned with our drinks. I held mine up and we clinked glasses. “To dancing,” I said.

  She sighed. “Okay. Fine.”

  “I knew you’d give in. Can’t resist it, can you?

  “I can’t resist dancing; you’re right.”

  I laughed and downed my whisky. “Come on.”

  She reluctantly followed me out to the dance floor. The place was packed, but that didn’t matter to me.

  The only thing I could focus on was Taylor’s body as she smiled and pressed herself against me. We fell into the rhythm of the music and danced together, our bodies pressed close in the crowd. We slowly drifted into the middle of the dance floor, other moving bodies all around us.

  I only had eyes for Taylor. The girl was fucking gorgeous, and she knew how to move her hips. She gave me these coy fucking looks, pretending like she was all innocent and shit, but I could tell that there was a freak underneath all of that professional talk. The way she shook her ass only proved me right.

  I was hard as fuck, but she didn’t seem to mind. She kept twisting her hips, shaking her ass, and grinding up against me. I’d danced with plenty of fucking girls in my life, but that was the first time I wanted to drag one off the dance floor and fuck her mindless in the bathroom. I felt like I couldn’t wait a second longer. Normally I liked the anticipation, the buildup, but with her it was more intense, more primal.

  With every new song and new twist of her hips, I wanted more. I grabbed her and pulled her against me, feeling her hips against my hard cock. She lifted her hands up and put them above my head. Then she slowly moved them down along my hair and face as we moved together, our bodies shaking like one.

  It was almost fucking. With the way her dress was riding up her hips, it really could have been. I wanted to take her right there on the dance floor, wanted to press against her until she moaned.

  But just as I moved my lips down to her ear, there was a flash to our right. I stood up and looked over. Some guy was standing there with his phone out, taking a picture of us.

  Taylor looked horrified. I yelled at the guy to fuck off. He disappeared into the crowd, but it was too late. Other people were looking at me, taking out their cell phones.

  I took Taylor by the hand and pulled her away. We headed back toward the bar, walking fast.

  “What was that?” she asked me.

  “Just some asshole fan. Probably recognized me.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll find out.”

  We ended up back at another high top, but the waitress was nowhere to be seen.

  “Stay here,” I told her.

  She frowned. “I thought just one drink.”

  “You’re free to leave whenever you want,” I said to her, and then I headed over to the bar.

  The crowd was two deep, but I managed to slip through. The bartender recognized me immediately and took my drink order, the same drinks as before. I glanced back toward the table and frowned.

  Taylor was still there, but some guy had come up to her. I couldn’t see what they were saying, but she didn’t look too happy. As I watched, I realized that it was the same asshole from a few minutes ago who had taken my picture without asking.

  The bartender came back with the drinks. I paid and tipped and picked them up as I headed back toward the table. I walked fast, because Taylor’s look of distress and annoyance had turned into anger.

  “You should leave,” I heard her say loudly.

  “Come on,” the guy answered, “just one dance. I want to dance with the slut Owen Rack is fucking.”

  “Back off,” she said ag
ain. “I’m serious, asshole.”

  “Dance with me, you slut,” he said, stepping toward her.

  Calmly, I placed her drink in front of her and then slammed mine back.

  “What?” the guy asked me. “You tough or something?”

  I smiled at him, set my glass down, and then punched him in the jaw. He stumbled back as I stepped up to him, punching him again in the stomach and again in the face.

  He dropped like a stone, blood streaming from his nose. People were staring, and I noticed more phones coming out.

  “Fuck,” I said. “Piece of shit.”

  The guy groaned. I turned and grabbed Taylor by the hand. I pulled her along behind me as we got out of there.

  The crowd parted for us, and I pushed out through the front door.

  “Hold on!” she said as we headed down the block. “Owen!”

  I was so fucking angry that I could barely think. That piece of shit scumbag was being a fucking shithead to Taylor, and he deserved everything he got. But there had been a lot of phones out, and I couldn’t be sure that nobody got it on video or maybe even as some pictures.

  “Owen!” Taylor said again, and finally we stopped.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her.

  “I’m fine. Why did you do that?”

  “Because that piece of shit wouldn’t leave you alone.”

  “I was handling it.”

  “Did you hear what he called you?”

  “So what?” She shook her head. “Owen, you’re a professional athlete. You’re a public figure now. You can’t do that sort of thing.”

  “Fuck that,” I said. “I won’t back down.”

  “It’s not a matter of backing down,” she said, clearly frustrated. “You have to be smart.”

  I shook my head. “I’m smart to a point, but when he called you a slut, he was finished.”

  She sighed. “You don’t need to defend my honor.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Call the car. I want to go home.”

  I looked at her for a second, and I realized that she was probably more upset about what I had done to that guy than she was over what he had said to her. I didn’t understand that, but fuck it. If she wanted to go home, I’d get her home. I got out my phone and texted the driver.

  He picked us up a few minutes later. She wasn’t talking, and I wasn’t going to force her to talk. I was too fucking angry and amped up to really have a conversation anyway.

  I was used to that sort of thing from college. I’d had plenty of guys step up to me and want to fuck with me just because I was good at football. I’d even had people take pictures of me.

  But this had been different. It had felt like the whole club knew who I was and was staring at me. Maybe that was part of being a professional athlete, but I wasn’t letting it stop me from fucking up an asshole when he got out of line.

  It just wasn’t in my personality to back down. I’d protect my girl no matter what. Even if she didn’t think she needed protecting, I’d still protect her.

  We pulled up to her apartment and sat there for a second in silence.

  “Look, I know you meant well.”

  “Nobody talks to you that way,” I said simply.

  “Thanks,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Without another word, she climbed out of the car and went inside.

  I sighed, leaning back in the seat. I knocked on the divider once she was inside, and the driver headed out.

  As we went back to my place, I still couldn’t get her out of my head. I had thought taking her out would get it out of my system, but it had only made me want her more. That dancing, that fight, it all got to me.

  She was something special. I wanted more of her, and I was going to get it.

  5

  Taylor

  I was exhausted the next morning as I got to the office bright and early. I had beat most of the staff in and had a few minutes to myself, sipping crappy coffee and staring at my computer.

  Last night had been a huge mistake. I didn’t know if anyone had gotten a picture of me with him, but I knew it was bad.

  That guy had been scaring me, though. He’d been aggressive, and he had said some things that Owen had missed. I’d been afraid of him, but I’d also been furious that he’d come at me like that.

  When Owen stepped in, at first I was excited. I couldn’t help myself. Owen was primal, intense, and powerful. He took care of that asshole like it was absolutely nothing, and I’d felt a thrill run down my spine. Owen had been defending me, and there was something animalistic and powerful about seeing that.

  But I didn’t need defending, especially not by Owen. I wasn’t his to defend, and besides, he was a public figure. Now there might be pictures of the two of us together, and if the director saw them, I might lose my job.

  I nervously clicked through the gossip websites as my coworkers slowly filtered in, but I didn’t find anything. There was no mention of an incident at the club anywhere, and no pictures had surfaced yet.

  It had happened fast. One second Owen was drinking his drink, and the next that asshole was on the ground. Owen had moved fast, all power and intensity. Nobody had had time to get their phones out until the guy was already on the ground and Owen was dragging me away.

  I glanced at the clock and stood up, sighing. I needed to meet Owen in the exercise room for his pre-workout stretch. I quickly headed down the hall and went to the first floor.

  He was already there, waiting. He grinned at me as I came in.

  “Missed you last night when I got home,” he said. “My bed felt empty.”

  “Get used to it,” I said. “On your back.”

  “Right here?” He smirked at me. “Someone could walk in.”

  “Owen, come on, we don’t have much time.”

  He lay down for me and I started in on his right leg.

  “I like you better in that dress you wore last night,” he said.

  I didn’t answer, just kept stretching and working his knee.

  “And the way you danced? I can only imagine how you’d slide along my thick, hard cock.”

  “Owen!” I said, surprised.

  “That’s exactly what you’ll say.”

  “Please.” I could feel myself blushing. “Can we just get through this?”

  “Why? I’m having too much fun. Now I have you thinking about what it would be like to ride my cock. You’d twist your hips as you took me just like you did last night.”

  I bit my lip but didn’t answer. I switched to his other leg. “I checked the blogs,” I said. “No mention of what happened.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It’s lucky, is what it is. Owen, you can get us both in serious trouble.”

  He laughed. “So what? Maybe I like getting in trouble.”

  “Well I don’t. I need this job. You’re important to me.”

  “You’re important to me, too.”

  “Not in the same way.”

  “No? I think it’s the same. We both want each other for the other’s body.”

  “Your body is my job.”

  “And I want to make your body mine.” He laughed, smirking at me. “You worry too much.”

  “You don’t think.” I tweaked his leg slightly, and he clenched his jaw. “You can’t get in fights like that.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Damn, girl.”

  “Okay.” I finished up his leg and stood. “You’re good.”

  He stood up, shaking his head. “I hate to be done already.”

  “You have practice.”

  “Going to be watching me today?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good. Think about what it was like to dance with me last night.” He stepped closer to me, and I felt his lips brush against my ear. “Think about how hard my fucking cock was as we danced.”

  “Owen,” I said, but he was already walking away.

  “See you later, princess.”

  I watched him walk away, frustrated, an
gry, and so soaking wet.

  That man had a magic about him. I didn’t know what the hell it was, but he made me so frustrated but so excited. I hated how forward he was and how cocky, and yet I kept thinking about how we had danced. And I was thinking about his hard cock pressed against my ass.

  I had loved it at the time. I’d lost myself in the music as our bodies had moved together. He was surprisingly good at dancing for such a big, strong man. He had worked my body, and I’d shaken my ass against him, thinking about his hard cock the whole time.

  I would be lying if I pretended like I hadn’t thought about how it would feel if he took me the way he said he would. I wanted to know what Owen’s body against mine would be like as he worked me, got me sweating and tired.

  I stood there, frustrated and excited, until footsteps in the hall pulled me out of it. I quickly headed back to my desk.

  I was going to have to go watch Owen practice. It was part of my job after all. If he got injured during play, I was supposed to be there to immediately help out. I knew he was going to make some cocky comment to me, and I was dreading it, but I also was a little excited.

  I did love watching him play. The man was incredibly powerful and graceful on the field, I had to admit. He was amazing to watch.

  I had to stop thinking about his body against mine. I had to keep it professional.

  I hurried back to my desk to scroll through more gossip blogs before I had to be out on the sidelines to watch.

  6

  Owen

  Taylor had nothing to worry about. Over the next few days, none of the pictures or videos that had been taken that night surfaced on any blogs. She kept acting all cool and distant during the day, but that was fine with me.

  I caught her looking at me during practice when I was on the field. She didn’t think I noticed, but I couldn’t notice anything else.

  I saw her standing there, arms folded. I saw her talking to a colleague, laughing at some joke. I saw her taking a drink of water.

  It was distracting as fuck, thinking about that night. The days wore on, and the first game was coming up faster than anyone realized.

  She continued working on my knees, but we also graduated to some back stretches. I had to admit, I was feeling pretty damn good, although I wasn’t sure if it was because of her exercises or if I was just excited to get on the field.