Single Dad Boss: A Small Town Romance

by Kara Hart

  “I don’t know. I thought you’d be outside lifting weights or whatever it is that you do to train for the big games.” I laugh, avoiding eye contact with his huge cock. “Wait, aren’t you sick?”

  “I guess the Gods are on my side today. I’m not sick anymore,” he says. “Also, this is what I do to train,” he says, grabbing my hand. He places my finger against his abs and slides it across the spilt orange juice before bringing it up to his mouth, sucking on it. “Mm…” he smiles and gives me a wink. I gulp loudly.

  “Well, I brought you Mexican food,” I tell him. “You hungry?” My eyes fall toward his cock. I can’t help it. I have to get another look without him noticing me. My eyes fall toward his thick shaft and when I glance at it, I quickly look away.

  “I saw that,” he laughs. “Mexican food, huh? Well, I am hungry. Just not for that. The real question is, are you hungry?”

  “Am I hungry? Quit joking around, Jackson. I’m trying to be a friend here,” I say, moving away from him. I sit at the bar in his kitchen and lean back against my chair.

  “I’m not joking. In fact, I never joke around. I’m a very serious guy,” he says. He’s still naked and I can’t stress enough just how much my eyes keep darting around his body. It happens so much that I start to get fed up.

  I walk up to him and stare into his eyes. “Yes,” I tell him.

  “Yes what?” he says, still smiling at me, the arrogant prick that he is. He reaches out and runs his fingers against my wrist. His hands are rugged and wild. His stare is deep and longing, and surprisingly serious. He’s brooding, yet cocky.

  I swallow hard and say the words I didn’t want to say to him. “Fuck you, Jackson.” This time, I’m smiling.

  With one short grab, he reaches out under me, and grabs my ass through my jeans. He pulls me toward him and I fall against his lap, hard. “What’re you doing?” I nearly yell and he pulls me even closer to him, so that my lips are inches from his.

  “What?” he asks. “You want me to stop? Honestly, tell me if you do.”

  I gulp down, once again, and struggle to keep my eyes fixed on his. “I…” I stutter, unable to get the right words out. “I don’t know,” I say to him. This is the honest truth. I don’t know what the right choice is anymore. Is my job really that important, that I’m willing to sacrifice my happiness for it?

  “I think you know,” he says. There’s no smiling anymore. There is just the sound of our breathing. Our eyes begin to close and I already know what’s about to happen. I reach down and place my palm over his cock. It’s warm, extremely hard, and I need it inside me. Now.

  “That’s right,” he moans. “You know exactly what you want. Let yourself have it.”

  He doesn’t mess with the buckle of my jeans, or the zipper. He grabs the back of the denim and pulls down hard, until it slides over my ass, down to my ankles.

  “You’re not wearing any panties,” he groans, smacking my flesh, his eyes locked on mine. Our lips finally meet and they meet with an unexpected force. His tongue soon follows, wrapping around mine and sliding away.

  We create a rhythmic motion with every one of our muscles, until I’m straddling his lap. He rips off my heather grey shirt and he places his mouth around my tits, pressing them together. “No woman can compare,” he moans. “I keep dreaming about these. Why do you have such a hold over me?”

  “I can’t stop it either.” I moan, loudly. His hand curls around my pussy and he spreads my wetness over my lips. Some of it even falls against my thighs and it’s not long before he’s sliding his shaft against my clit.

  I grab his thickness, that incredible girth, and I glide it into me. He thrusts, until his cock is deep inside me, and then we both moan together. He holds onto my waist, fingers dropping to my hips. I grind against him, feeling the tip of his wonderful cock press against my g-spot.

  “I keep thinking about your cock. When I’m outside, when I’m dreaming, when I’m talking to friends… I can’t help it,” I admit in between breaths. “I don’t want to have to need you.”

  “Need me,” he moans. “I want you to. I need you to need me.” He thrusts into me with more force than ever before. He holds my shoulders down until he bottoms out inside of me. I push off of him and walk up to his glass door to the backyard. I place my hands, tits, and face against the glass and he walks up behind me, as if he is examining my ass.

  “Perfect,” he whispers to himself.

  He places his cock against my ass and slaps my tender flesh, making me wait for him to fill me again. “Stop teasing me,” I beg him, wiggling my ass. “And fuck me, already.”

  He grabs my hair and pulls back, forcing himself inside of me. I feel my skin prickle and grow warm. The hairs on my neck begin to rise and my legs feel shaky and weak. I push back against him and suddenly feel every bit of his strength. Normally, I would just feel desire pulsing through my body. Instead, there’s something more. It’s something I can’t quite figure out. It’s a feeling…

  My whole body falls hard against the glass as he pulls my hair back. I fall limp and I begin shaking harder than I anticipated. Soon, my eyes close shut and I’m skyrocketing out of my body. All my nerves are shot. My pulse quickens and my mouth falls open wide. I can feel the wetness dripping down both of our bodies.

  He pulls away from me, only to pick me up in his arms. He places my legs around his waist and stares into my eyes. “Hey, beautiful,” he says.

  I’m too shaky to even reply. I simply smile, feeling happily exhausted. The way he fucks me, no other guy could ever compare to him. All doubt I had about being with him goes right out the window now. He kisses me and pushes my frizzy hair out of my eyes with one finger. He smiles and kisses me again, licking his lips. “I can’t get your taste out of my head,” he says. “Come on. Take a chance. Be with me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I could lose my job,” I whisper, feeling his hands wrapped firmly around my ass and thighs.

  “Fuck your job. You don’t need it when you’re with me,” he says. This is exactly what Jennifer said to me and, though it didn’t sound so hot when she said it, it kind of sounds okay now.

  “We’d have to be secretive,” I tell him. He smiles and I can tell he’s thinking up some devious shit. “No, I mean it. We have to be really secretive. Okay?”

  “I promise. Look, pinky swear,” he says. He puts his pinky finger out and I put mine against his, kissing it. “I won’t leave you. I didn’t think this would happen, but it’s happening. And now I need you, dammit. I’m not going to mess this up. I promise.”

  “No more fighting?” I ask him, still straddling him awkwardly.

  “The only fighting I want to do is with you,” he laughs.

  “Fine,” I say. “Let’s do it. Let’s be together.” I can’t believe the words are spilling from my mouth. Will I regret them in the morning? Will I want this years down the line? Better yet, will I lose my job over some jock ex-boyfriend of mine?

  Before I have time to think, he’s got me pinned against the bed and he’s thrusting like a wild animal. “I’m so fucking happy,” he says.

  “Me too,” I say. The emotions I have right now are too complex to understand. Butterflies are flapping inside my stomach. My throat tightens, but it actually feels good. A permanent smile is plastered on my face and when I open my eyes, I can see he’s smiling too. “I just can’t believe any of this,” I whisper.

  His hands slide down to my breasts and he cups them softly. “I’m going to cum,” he says, staring into my eyes. His pupils seem to grow bigger and darker, and his body grows more tense. His breathing becomes rapid and strong and his cock doubles in size before he explodes. One more thrust, and he’s done for.

  “Fuck!” he screams, sliding his rigid flesh deep inside of me. He cums inside of me and pushes his cock even deeper. He opens his eyes again, regaining consciousness, and he’s fully aware of what our new dynamic is now. We’re, uh, dating. I expect it to be awkward. Instead, it’s e
verything a girl could ever ask for.

  He rolls over and kisses me some more, hand sliding across every curve of my body. I feel his hand smack my ass one more time. “I could really get used to this,” he says.

  “Well, don’t,” I kiss his cheek. “If you do, I might fall in love with you. And you know what that means.”

  He sighs, but keeps his eyes steady on me. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise,” he says.

  “How can I believe you? How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” I ask him.

  “You don’t, but you’ll have to have faith in me,” he says. “Look, I was young then. I made a ton of mistakes. I wanted fame so fucking bad, I was willing to throw away everything to get it. Not to mention, I just wanted to get away from my past. I wanted to forget my father. I needed to forgive my mother for just standing there when he…when he…” He sighs and looks away for a second, and I can sense his anger is getting the best of him.

  I kiss his lips and run my hand across his cheek. “I’m sorry, Jackson. You don’t need to explain it to me anymore. I understand. I still think you’re a prick for not telling me the honest truth, but I forgive you nonetheless. We’re older now. Much older,” I tell him. He kisses me back and smiles.

  “I’ve got a lot of learning to do, I guess,” he laughs. “But I’m doing better. I’ll apologize to Landon first thing at the game tomorrow. I swear.”

  “Fuck Landon,” I declare, getting out of bed and running to the bathroom to comb my hair. I see my naked body staring back at me and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Wait, what?” he asks.

  “Fuck Landon,” I repeat. “He’s more of an asshole than you are. He’s jealous of you and has nothing to show for it. Still, you can’t fight him. You can’t let him ruin your career.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “But what can I do? Let him rag on me?”

  “Actually yeah,” I tell him. “Let him rag on you. Let him talk shit. And then, when you head onto the field, you play the best damn game of your life. Your teammates will start to see the correlation of shittiness with Landon soon enough.”

  I do the unthinkable that night. I fall asleep in his bed with his arm placed strategically around me. Just like that, everything changes.

  81

  Jackson

  The next game we play is in Portland, thank God. However, it’s not what I expect. At first glance, everything seems to be fairly normal. Only, right before the game, I realize what’s happening. They’re shutting me out.

  “Get in there, boys! Let’s show these idiots how it’s done!” my coach screams as we run onto the field. “Whoa, not so fast,” Coach grabs my jersey as I walk past him.

  “What’s up?” I jog lightly.

  “We need to talk,” he says. I run onto the field and head to the sidelines. We need to talk. This is never a good phrase to hear, on or off the field.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him. “You worried about the game or what? Dallas is pretty tough, but I think I can take them on. How’re we doing this, coach?”

  I glance to my left and Landon is off to the side, giving a short interview to a local sports station. The image burns a fire inside me, so I force myself to look away immediately.

  “I’m going to have you sit this one out,” the coach sighs and crosses his arms, standing in front of me. He sees me glancing at Landon and smirks a little. “That’s exactly the reason why.”

  “Because of Landon?!” I blurt out, nearly laughing myself. “Come on, Coach. You’re not serious. Are you?”

  “I’m very serious, son. And if you think you can just smile your way back on the field, you’re wrong about that,” he says, turning a bit angry. I back off with the smiling and listen intently. All I feel is that this is bullshit.

  “Sorry, Coach,” I say, sucking up my pride. “I’m listening to you. I promise. I’ll follow whatever orders you give me. I know we’ll win this and go to the Super Bowl under your guidance.”

  “Enough with the ass kissing, Jackson. I know you want to be on that field more than anything,” he says. The sound of the cheering, among the sounds of cleats hitting the field, always gets to me. I need to be out on that field, dammit! “But I think, for the team’s morale, I need to do this. It was wrong to keep you in the Arizona game. If it was any other player, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Coach, that’s because I’m the best in the league,” I whisper, making sure none of the other players or media can hear me. Cameras are turned to me and I know they’re saying shit on the Sports Network about how I’m getting talked down to about my past behavior. I can just see Fiona’s reaction. The hearts in her eyes are probably fading as I speak.

  “You need me in this game, Coach. The players need me. This game is huge. We need to win this if we want to go to the Championships,” I plead to him. I’m practically begging at this point. If the coach wants me to drop to my knees, I’ll do it. I swear.

  “The players may need your ball playing, but they sure as hell don’t want to be around you right now,” he says. “Look, I heard all about the little incident at the bar. I know you tried to swing at Landon.”

  This time, I throw my helmet down on the ground. I can’t stand for this bullshit. I can’t sit here and listen to the coach spit lies. I know it’s not his fault. I know Landon, or one of his goons, probably told the coach that I swung at him, but it’s not true. He swung at me, remember?

  “He swung at me,” I protest. “Ask Loke, coach. I’ve been good since that practice.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, son. Something happened at that bar. I’ve heard multiple accounts that you went nuts in there. Who am I supposed to believe? You? Or the other 5 people that don’t corroborate your story?”

  “Respectfully, this is bullshit!” I yell out, throwing my hands up into the air. All the cameras are on me now and I know I’ve made a big mistake.

  “Get the hell off my field,” the coach says.

  “Are you kidding me?” I scream back at him. “This is bullshit! It’s utter bullshit!” I turn to my right and find Landon smiling on the bench, just looking at this go down.

  “Fuck you, Landon! I know what you’re up to,” I scream at him. Security’s already on the sidelines to escort me off the field and I’m fucking pissed. It takes all of my energy not to swing at the one guy who grabs my arm to lead me out. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss at him, but he just pushes me hard into the catacombs of the arena.

  In the center of the arena, everything is quiet and muffled. The filtered sounds of cleats echo on the ceiling above me, as someone makes a play for the highlights reel on the field.

  Right now, it all hits home for me. I start to remember something back in high school. During one of our big games, I threw a punch at an opposing player. This hardly happened back then. If it did, you better believe you’d be sent to the Principal’s office to face expulsion. At least, that’s what they told you happened to everyone.

  Instead, nothing happened to me. I remember it like it was yesterday. There were the sounds of kazoos and wacky horns being blown for all the players, the stomping of the crowd’s feet, and the sounds of helmets bashing into one another, all in the name of football. That really lured me in and the next day, I got the offer to join a really great college team. They told me “Son, you could make it to the pros with your talent.”

  And I did. I made it. And now I’m standing here, in no-man’s land, underneath the arena. I start pacing and the guards simply walk away. “Go home,” one of the guys says to me. “It’ll work out by the Super Bowl.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I tell them both. “I’ll get on out of here.”

  They turn away from me and I walk in the direction of the exit. I circle around the building and come back through a side entrance. Of course, they let me in. Most of the staff has no idea what goes on during the game, so they move aside within seconds. I come back to the entrance of the field, but I don’t walk on.

  I just wat
ch. If I can’t play the damn game, I need to at least watch it from the sidelines. I deserve that much, right? My eyes meet Landon’s back and I target him. “You bastard,” I mutter under my breath. It’s times like these that make me lose my cool.

  He’s sitting on the benches, laughing his ass of. But that smirk can’t last long. Once he’s sent onto the field, all hell breaks loose. Dallas seems to have made a comeback while I was gone. While we were neck and neck, we’re now losing by two touchdowns. I can see my coach’s face, turn bright as a tomato. I know a lot about the guy, and I can tell he’s pissed.

  “Looks like you made the wrong choice,” I whisper.

  Landon lives up to his name, Brickwall. He stands his ground and, I have to say, he does it really well. The defensive line is unable to shake him, letting the rest of our team through and the ball is ours. The coach’s face turns to a normal-looking color and everything is okay again.

  I turn and walk off the field. I’ve seen all I needed to see. At this point, I know my role. I’m the black sheep. I’ve always been the black sheep. When I made it to the pros, I realized I could go above and beyond what was considered “normal.” Now, I think it’s time to realize that my crown has been thrown into the wind. Landon’s won, and I’ve given up.

  82

  Fiona

  “Okay, so you were kicked out of the game for talking back to the coach. Big deal,” I tell Jackson, who’s curled up in my bed with me, acting as the bigger spoon.

  “I’m just over all of the bullshit now,” he says. “I just want to play the damn game.”

  “At least your team won the damn game. I don’t know what coach Stern was thinking, but he was really being ballsy by throwing you off the field,” I try and reassure him. It’s all I can do, really. Normally, I’d be pissed. But there’s a new side to me now. I have to back him up. And I will, until he really fucks up.