Romance: Teen Romance: Game On (A Nerd and a Bad Boy Romance) (New Adult High School Sports Romance)

by White, Stella

  “You think I’ll take you back?” Vanessa asked.

  “No, I don’t need to be with you to be a father. I want to be a father. I love that baby. And I love you too; I realized that, but that’s not why I’m here. My dad…. He left. I might have turned out differently if he had stayed. Not been arrested five times, not having spent a year of my life in jail when I was nineteen. Things could have been different. I love my club, and I love my bike, but I love this kid more. Girl or boy, I don’t know, but I want to be a dad.”

  “It’s a boy,” she said softly.

  Tank clapped his hands together and smiled. “Are you kidding?”

  “No.”

  “I have to go shopping. Do you want to go?”

  Vanessa smiled, but she shook her head after a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later, though, alright. Things are going to be different, alright?”

  Vanessa nodded, smiling despite herself. His obvious joy at having a boy was almost infectious. She shut the door as he turned to leave.

  Tank showed up again that night, carrying in bags of toys.

  “I got him a baseball glove, and a bat,” Tank said as Vanessa watched him dump everything out onto her couch.

  “He’s going to need diapers before he needs a baseball bat,” she said, not unkindly.

  “I know, I know,” Tank said. “Let me have baseball, though, alright?”

  “Okay. How did you get all that stuff here on your bike?”

  “I didn’t ride the bike; I borrowed Dip Stick’s jeep.”

  Vanessa gasped, half jokingly, half serious. “You didn’t ride your bike?”

  “I told you, I can change,” Tank said, and they laughed.

  The next few weeks were wonderful. Tank took an active role in the baby’s life, such as it was while it was still in her stomach.

  One day he was sitting in her apartment, on the couch, while she was modeling the latest in maternity wear.

  “I hate my belly,” she said, frowning. She wore a breezy blouse of sorts, with a soft pastel floral pattern. Tank leaned forward. As different as he had been, he was still Tank. It’s what she called him, and it was probably what she would always call him. The young man looked her in the eye and held a handout. She stepped to him and let him take her hand.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I have to say, pregnant; you’re even hotter. You give me some… well, I’m just saying, you look amazing.”

  Vanessa smiled. “Thank you for saying that,” she said. Tank nodded, and then stood up. He was inches from her, still holding her hand.

  “I want to kiss you right now,” he said. Before he never would have asked, he would have just done it. Vanessa opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t a good idea, but instead she said something that even surprised her.

  “Do it then.”

  He did. She closed her eyes and their lips met. She parted hers to his tongue, and their tongues danced together. He pulled her close, mindful not to push against her stomach. His fingers went down, finding the hem of the shirt and tugging it up. She didn’t stop him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and when the shirt was off and on the floor he broke the kiss and found one of her nipples with his mouth, where he sucked softly upon it. It grew hard against his tongue, and Vanessa felt herself yearning for the man.

  “Bedroom,” she groaned, and he took her hand once more and pulled her in. They kissed once more while his hands cupped her breasts softly. She pulled his shirt off, dragged her nails softly down his chest. She pushed him onto the bed, and then pulled his pants off. He was nude, his cock hard and jutting up from his body. She crawled over him after pulling her own pants off, and dropping her panties to the floor as well, stepping out of them as she got onto the bed.

  She teased him, running her tongue in slow circles around the head of his cock, before finally taking him into her mouth. He groaned and fought the urge to thrust his hips up; He let her stay in control, and she was moving slowly, driving him wild.

  When she took her mouth from his cock it shone in the dim light, most of the light stopped from streaming in through the single bedroom window by a closed blind. Vanessa moved up along Tank’s body, planting kisses as she did so. She kissed just above his unruly bush of pubic hair, up his stomach. Her breasts brushed over his hard cock. She kissed his chest, his throat, his chin. Finally, she pressed her lips to his. She reached down, taking his throbbing member in her hand, and began to jerk him off slowly. Up. Down.

  “I need you,” he groaned, and she smiled. She gave him what he wanted. She rode him, his cock sliding into her tight, wet pussy. His hands were at her breasts, pawing softly. Her hands on his chest as she leaned over. He placed his strong hands on her shoulders, pushed her back. He touched her stomach as she rode, rocking her hips slowly.

  She was coming, it didn’t take her long. She hadn’t been with anyone in the months since she and Tank had broken up. She had too much on her mind. It had just been her at night, with her fingers, with her vibrator. Now he was there, the man she loved. The man who had won her back with his enthusiasm for being a father.

  Her pussy tightened on his cock as the orgasm rocked her to her core. Warm juices flowed out of her, running down the side of his dick. She didn’t stop rocking her hips on top of him, their pelvis’ meeting with soft slaps. She quickened the pace, he reached up and pawed at one breast while his other hand found her hair. He pulled on it softly, causing her to groan and smiled.

  “Fuck,” Tank said as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto his cock. His member jumped inside her as he came. He filled her with his hot semen.

  Afterward they lay together, naked and sweaty and panting.

  “I want you,” Vanessa said. “I want you to be mine. And the baby’s.”

  “I want that too.”

  “What should we name him?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” The young man said. “Tank Jr.”

  Vanessa laughed and slapped his chest playfully. Then she lay her head in that same spot, and together they drifted off to sleep, napping in the late afternoon.

  *****

  THE END

  MOTORCYCLE CLUB Romance - Bad Boy Biker’s Bride

  Five years is a long time. It would have been longer if my mother hadn’t up and got sick. She was an old bat, crazy as they come, and to me, she always seemed invincible when I was younger. I guess I was wrong.

  I hated her while I was growing up. We never saw eye to eye. She was devout and resolute in her beliefs. I was always the carefree spirit, ready to hit the road when the whim took me. She probably hated that about me, kept wanting me to settle down and start a family. She should have known that just wasn’t who I was.

  When the taxi dropped me off in front of the old house, I wanted nothing more than to set the place on fire and leave, almost did when I was younger. Too many memories were made in this house, and most of them I wished I could forget.

  The house looked as it always had, run down but taken care of. The paint was faded and cracking, and the windows were so grimy they couldn’t be seen through. The small white picket fence was still there, almost entirely knocked over now.

  I wondered what my dad would think of it after all these years. I always thought of his grizzled face staring down at me from whatever cloud he was sitting on; judging as he always had. I’d still received messages from him the entire time I was away, but they stopped after he caught a bullet. I guess if you live as loud as he did, you’d end up in a grave sooner rather than later.

  “Hey momma,” I shouted from the front door.

  “Tara, is that you?” she replied from the den.

  I clomped around the house in my old motorcycle boots till I found her.

  “Yeah, it’s me, momma. How you feelin’?” I asked.

  “How the hell do you think I’m feeling? I can barely get up to take a piss. Get over here and give your momma a hug,” she said.

  I learned from an early
age that you don’t say no when your mother asks you to do something. I leaned over her and gave her a solid embrace.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked.

  “You can get me the last twenty years of my life back; that would do it,” she laughed only to start hacking and coughing.

  I patted her back in a vain attempt to help her. I looked through her prescriptions; one of which was empty, looked like painkillers.

  “How about you just get me a refill on that before my aches start acting up again? I was just going to watch TV anyway.”

  “Alright, momma. I’ll be back.”

  “I think your old bike is still in the garage, if you want to use that to get around. I haven’t had a car for a couple of years now.”

  “I’m glad you never got rid of it,” I said.

  “Some things you can’t get rid of,” she replied.

  I gave her a kiss on the forehead and took the pill bottle, tucking it into my pocket.

  I went back outside and circled around to the old garage. My dad’s old car was still sat there, waiting for someone to care. I eyed my old motorcycle, peeking out from behind a canvas sheet I’d thrown over it years ago.

  My hand moved automatically, tugging the sheet away. She was a killer ride, and I wondered how I’d gone so long without her in my life. The day to day just didn’t have the same feel as it had when I was younger and more irresponsible.

  I ran my hand along the gas tank, wiping away the layers of dirt she was covered in. She wasn’t the biggest bike, nor was she the fastest, but she was mine, and that was all that mattered.

  I threw my leg over, and a cloud of dust met me as I settled into the seat. I jerked down on the starter and just as she always had; she turned over on the first crank.

  I hadn’t ridden in so many years; I started to get antsy. She wanted to be taken out to flex those old muscles. I walked my way out of the garage carefully avoiding the old car.

  I started feeling that sense of freedom I’d had all those years ago. The freedom I had when I snuck out late at night to meet up with my old boyfriend; the nights when I’d make a mistake and come home in handcuffs; even the nights when I wouldn’t come home at all, the memories were all flooding back.

  I steered myself away from my old home and joined up with the road. There was a canyon road that had some of the finest sights in the area, and I felt it the perfect time to see them, momma could wait a few more minutes.

  When I was free from the town I let loose, my hair whipped in the wind, and the sun warmed my face. I opened her up and leaned into the corners; I had these roads all memorized and could ride them blindfolded.

  Then the familiar rumble of a motorcycle gang filled the canyon. I sense of dread befell me; if it was the person I thought it was, then I had no idea what I’d say to him. I pulled my cycle off the road and clicked her off.

  From the bend in the road, a band of motorcycles filed out. I didn’t recognize any of them, which left me with a feeling of relief. But, the guys still made eyes at me as they rode by.

  I was used to it. I’d had a lot of guys fight over me in the past. But, none were as strong as Buck. I once saw him beat up three guys at the same time just for looking at me. He knew how to impress a woman.

  There was a time when I would have done anything for that man, but he could never see me as his one and only. I’d always catch him with another girl, and he never understood why I thought it was such a big deal. If he wanted me to be his, then he needed to be mine.

  Two of the bikers from the gang pulled off, and I knew what was coming.

  “Hey there,” said the taller of the two that stopped.

  “Howdy,” I replied.

  “Who do you ride with?” he asked.

  “I’m with Buck and his boys,” I replied.

  The two of them looked at each other, in a sort of horrified way.

  “Pleasure meeting you,” they said as they turned and zoomed back to their motorcycles waiting nearby.

  I laughed; Buck’s reputation was still just as serious now as it was before. He had a bad temper and a lousy habit of letting everyone know.

  Despite all his faults, I still wanted to see him. I somehow felt that he deserved to know that I was back in town. Not a single member of his crew would come through without at least paying homage to the leader. I felt no different.

  I slung myself back in the saddle and kicked the old girl back on. I tore down the road and towards the old bar that raised me; it wasn’t very far from here.

  The Whiplash Tavern was a sort of landmark in these parts. The sign outside was well past any state of repair. The front of the bar was full of motorcycles of all shape, size, and color. The signs in the windows hummed their neon tune as I eased my cycle into an empty place.

  Before I could finish pulling in, I heard a loud crash echo from inside the bar. Then what sounded like glass breaking, followed by the sound of a gunshot.

  Then I saw Buck, sauntering out the front door with another man held by his collar and his belt.

  “You take your shit and stay out of my town,” shouted Buck in his grizzly tone.

  He threw the man to the ground as though he were a sack of flour.

  “You’ll regret this,” said the man on the ground.

  “I get told that a lot,” started Buck, “and I’m still waiting.”

  The young pup picked himself from the ground and sprinted to a nearby motorcycle. Another man, about his same size, ran out of the tavern and joined him. They looked like they were in a hurry.

  Then Buck turned over to me. It was the first time I’d seen him in five years, and it looked like he hadn’t aged a day. He was still the barrel-chested and grizzled man I’d known since I was a girl. He towered over nearly every other man I knew, and when he wasn’t the tallest, he was still usually the biggest. His cropped and disheveled beard was starting to show slight signs of grey, giving him a distinguished look, and his tattooed arms still looked just as strong as the first day I met him, maybe even a little bigger than before.

  He clenched his jaw and let out a grunt before disappearing back inside. Maybe he wasn’t excited to see me, and it made me a little nervous.

  I entered quietly, but recognized everyone, and they all recognized me. A loud cheer echoed through the small establishment, and I waved a meek hello.

  “Thought that was your bike comin’ down the road,” Buck said as he walked back behind the bar.

  “I’m amazed you can always tell,” I said.

  “I damn near built that bike myself,” he replied, “I know my own work.”

  He shoved a beer my direction. I took it and sipped anxiously.

  “What brought you back to town,” he asked.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, so I just stared into my drink.

  “My momma’s sick,” I said.

  He stayed silent and washed a glass with his dishrag. He wasn’t one for words.

  “I’ll be here a couple of months till she either gets better or dies,” I said, “and I don’t know which one would be better.”

  “That old hag won’t die,” he started, “Paul knew how to pick his women. And, he picked a good one.”

  Paul was my Dad’s name; he used to run the gang here. Buck was always his second, and when Dad finally kicked the bucket, all his assets went straight to Buck; the bar, his bike, and to some extent, me.

  “Whatever happens, I just don’t want to be here too long. I got a new life to get back to.”

  Buck slammed the glass on the counter so hard it shattered.

  “Why the hell you gotta go sayin’ stuff like that. You just got back, and you’re already fixin’ to leave.”

  “I’m not fixin’ to leave nowhere, yet. But, my eye is always on the door,” I replied.

  “I’ll never get what made you take off the first time.”

  “The train of girls that was always walkin’ out of your bedroom would be a good place to look.”

  �
�I quit all that, and you know it,” he said.

  “I never saw any of that,” I replied.

  “Well, maybe if you stuck around like you were supposed to, you would’ve seen it.”

  I turned to look him in the eye. He still had that soulful glare; I could never tell if he was getting ready to break something or kiss me, but sometimes I’m sure it was both.

  “I’m here now, Buck.”

  He started sweeping the shards of glass from the bar with his hand.

  “That’s right, you are,” he said.

  The men around the bar seemed entranced by our conversation, but as I looked around at them, they all did their best to return to their normal conversations.

  “What’s that supposed to mean,” I asked.

  He leaned over the bar, which I could hear crack and groan under his weight, and whispered in my ear.

  “Now that you’re here, I’m going to make you remember why it was so hard to leave. You always get me hard when you walk in the bar in those tight jeans.”

  I wanted to have him, but I knew that if I did, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I needed to keep that part of my past closed. His boyish charms were the hardest to resist.

  I leaned over and whispered a reply in his ear.

  “I can’t do it, Buck. I can’t go back to that life.”

  He stood back up, only to lean on the back bar. I made the mistake of letting my real feelings show with my eyes, and he knew it. I always had large expressive eyes; which were a blessing and a curse. Buck told me, once, that he could tell what was on my mind by what showed through my eyes. I didn’t want to believe it but knew it to be true.

  “What the hell, Tara,” he said in frustration.

  “I know what I want, and I know what I need,” I said, “you’re what I want, but not what I need.”

  He snapped his fingers to a couple of guys in the back of the bar, and the two of them hopped right up.

  “I’m goin’ for a ride, and this time, I’m ridin’ solo. You’ll come around, but I can’t be here waitin’ for you till you do.”

  He stomped his way out of the bar, and my eyes followed him. Buck climbed onto the largest bike outside, beautiful and black glossed. The bike was still covered in scratches and dings from road wear and tear. It roared to life, a deafening rumble that shook my glass, and he pulled away.