Personal Foul

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Personal Foul Page 21

by Hayley Faiman


  “Sounds perfect,” she moans, arching her back, pressing her ass into my groin, the back of her head hitting my shoulder.

  “Baby,” I murmur as my hand slides up the inside of her tank to curl around her full tit.

  She jerks in my arms before she wiggles away from me. Then, before I can blink, she’s on her knees, on the fucking kitchen floor. I cup her cheek as she unbuttons my jeans, tugging them down my hips, her light brown eyes completely focused on me.

  Silently, she wraps her small hand around the base of my cock, giving me a slow stroke before she leans forward and presses a kiss to the head of my dick.

  “Jessa,” I breathe as my fingers shift to her hair at the side of her head and tightens against her scalp.

  I watch as she opens her mouth, sucking me in deep. Her cheeks hollow, and her eyes widen, focusing on me, gazing at me through her long lashes. She’s like a fucking dream, my dream, right at my feet. Swear to Christ, I never knew what true happiness was until I met her.

  Thrusting my hips, I allow myself to sink further down her throat, and she stills her movements, knowing I want to fuck her sweet mouth. I do fuck her mouth, too, moaning as I climb closer toward my release. Her nostrils flare and her eyes water slightly as I continue fucking her, trying not to hurt her, but unable to completely control myself.

  “You want my cum down your throat or on your face?” I ask grinding my teeth. Her eyes widen and she doesn’t pull away, so I fist her hair a little tighter and groan as I release down her sweet fucking, tight, wet throat. “Baby,” I moan as my cock twitches and cum fills her.

  JESSA

  COLE PRAISES MY meal, so much so, that I wonder if he really liked it, or if he’s just being nice. He swears that it was awesome, but I’m leery. I know that I liked it, but that doesn’t mean that he really did.

  I shouldn’t feel so self-conscious but I do. It’s my first try at being domestic, really domestic and I don’t want to screw it all up. When he does exactly as he promises and eats me for dessert, he praises my meal again and only then do I feel like he actually enjoyed it—especially with the exuberance of his show of appreciation.

  A few hours after dinner, we’re lying in bed, and I finally decide to ask him about his day. I can tell that whatever happened today, is still bothering him. His body is tense and tight, when it should be loose and sated.

  “Will you tell me about your day, now?” I ask, still slightly out of breath.

  Cole wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against his side, forcing my chest to press against his torso as my head rests on his shoulder.

  He makes a lazy pattern with his fingertips on the cheek of my ass, an ass he filled with the new plug he brought home just a few nights ago. It’s silver, heavy in weight, and the end has a large red jewel on it. I absolutely love it, and when it’s inside of me, along with him—delicious heaven.

  “How you feeling? Sore?” he asks as his fingers trail down the crack of my ass and gently massage my entrance.

  I smile against his skin, pressing my lips to the short hair he has covering him there. “Don’t try to change the subject, it won’t work. I feel good, not sore, but I know it was there,” I admit truthfully.

  “Sweet baby,” he whispers.

  I love it when he calls me that. It’s more than an endearment. He calls me baby as an endearment. But when he calls me sweet baby, it’s as though he’s speaking to every part of me. It makes my pussy pulse, because when he says it in bed, it’s usually when he’s inside of me, when I’ve made him feel good and it’s his way of praising me.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you,” he grunts, knowing that I won’t let it go.

  I wait for him, patiently, as he lets out a sigh and then speaks, finally. “I had the suspicion that some of the players were using steroids. I told Patrick. They popped positive, he told me today.”

  I gasp as I lift my head to look up into his green eyes.

  “And?” I urge.

  “He wasn’t going to do shit about it. Said we won a game, and he wanted to keep his job; so as long as we were winning, he didn’t give a fuck. That shit’s illegal, Jessa. I don’t want to lose my job because I knew and didn’t tell anyone.”

  I bite my lip and nod, wishing to know more, but not sure I really should.

  “Went to the athletic department, baby. They think the same fucking way as Patrick. Nobody wants to do a fucking thing. These boys are high on dope, essentially, and nobody wants to say boo as long as they’re winning. They’ve made it clear that once the season is over they’ll broach the subject, but mid-season they don’t want the scandal. I’m at a loss of what to do,” he admits.

  Lifting my hand, I wrap it around the side of his neck and let my thumb run along his jawline. “If you tell the press, you’d probably lose your job, and maybe not get another one coaching college ball, right?”

  He grunts, jerking his chin up. “That’s about the long and short of it.”

  “If you don’t say anything, and you just let this go and watch them play, knowing they’re all hopped up on this junk, then you’re no better than Patrick, and you can’t live with that?” I guess.

  He gives me a squeeze, and I chew on my bottom lip, unsure of how to help him. “What does John think?” I ask

  “Haven’t talked to him, yet. This all came about before I got home,” he murmurs.

  “Could you go back to high school ball? You loved it, didn’t you?” I ask.

  He grins, giving me a wink. “Don’t count college out yet, baby. I’ll get this shit figured out. When I do, we’ll talk about the options and come up with a solution together,” he whispers.

  “We?” I breathe.

  “Love you, sweet baby. We make big decisions together. We’re together,” he rumbles.

  I can’t hide the smile on my face. “Okay.”

  “Now, sleep.”

  I fall asleep wrapped in his arms, the comfort of his body next to mine feeling more at home, more at peace, and more comfortable than I ever have in my life.

  MY EYES POP open to the tune of my phone dancing along the nightstand. I roll over and reach out for Cole, but he’s gone. Reaching for my phone, I answer it with a husky greeting.

  “Jessa? It’s Jim,” Trent’s dad states as his greeting. I sit straight up, the sheet falling down to my waist and baring my breasts to the empty room.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask, my voice clearly panicked as my breathing starts to shorten.

  “It’s Margie. I don’t… she’s in the hospital,” he stammers.

  “Tell me, Jim, what’s happened?” I ask as I stand up and rush around the room, trying to gather clothes and quickly put them on.

  He makes a strangling noise. “You and Trent get down here. There was blood, Jessa, so much blood.”

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” I announce, unable to think of anything other than Margie.

  I hang up with Jim and hurry to slip on a bra and a t-shirt, brushing my teeth and throwing my hair up before I dial Trent’s number.

  “Knew you’d be back,” he chuckles cockily.

  “Not now, Trent. Your dad just called. It’s your mom. She’s in the hospital. We need to get back to Grant,” I announce as I slip my feet into my sandals.

  “The fuck?” he breathes. I feel the exact same way.

  I give him my address and tell him to hurry. It’s going to be four hours before we make it to Grant, four hours where we won’t know exactly what’s happened, or if Margie is okay. I don’t think about the fact that those hours will be spent alone in a truck with Trent. All I can think about is Margie.

  Standing outside of the place I now call home, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Trent’s truck pull up to the curb. I climb inside and slam the door before he takes off again. “Fuck, Jessa,” he whispers, his voice so small that I can do nothing but reach over and wrap my hand around his, squeezing his fingers for comfort.

  JESSA

  TRENT AND I run to the hospital
entrance and then hurry to the floor where they say Margie’s room is. Jim is waiting right outside the door, and I throw myself in his arms, uncaring that he’s not my father. He’s the only father figure I’ve had. I love him. His arms wrap around me and hold me tight.

  “What happened?” I ask on a whisper as I back away from him.

  Trent slides his arm around my shoulders and tugs me against his side. Completely in a daze, I let him. He’s familiar and warm, and I need the comfort of a friend, and that’s all he feels like right now.

  “She,” Jim whispers as he runs his hand over his face. “She was pregnant. Her age, I didn’t think it was possible. We tried for so many years after Trent, we just thought we couldn’t have any more.”

  “Pregnant?” Trent hisses, sounding pissed as his body goes stiff beside me.

  Jim nods. “Yeah, pregnant. We didn’t know. She started bleeding, a lot. I brought her to the emergency. She lost the baby and hemorrhaged. We almost lost her too, son,” he whispers as the pain from his words said aloud slices through him.

  “Oh, god,” I moan wrapping my arms around my stomach.

  “They did a hysterectomy and a blood transfusion. She’ll be okay, darling,” Jim rasps as he wraps his hand around my shoulder and squeezes.

  I leave Trent’s hold and throw my arms around Jim again, sobs wracking my body as I cling to him.

  “Babe, calm down,” Trent grunts from behind me.

  I turn around and my eye catches his. He looks void of emotion, and I wonder how he can be so calm himself?

  “Can I see her?” I whisper, tipping my head back to look at Jim, ignoring Trent.

  Jim nods, telling me that she’d like that, and then guides me into the hospital room.

  Margie is asleep as I stand at her bedside and look down at her. Jim leaves us alone, no doubt to talk to his unfeeling, uncaring son. My eyes drift to Margie’s face, and I let out a ragged exhale as I take her in. She looks pale, really pale; and for whatever reason, lying in this bed, she looks smaller than her normal self.

  My purse rings against my hip, and I dig inside, searching for my phone. Cole’s name flashes, and my stomach drops. I left without saying a word to him. He is probably worried scared because he can’t find me, because he came home and I’m not there waiting with his dinner.

  “Cole,” I whisper, trying not to wake Margie up.

  “Where are you, baby?” he asks. I can hear his worry drip through the phone.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I close my eyes before I speak. “I’m in Grant.”

  “Grant,” he states, almost unbelieving. “With Trent?” he guesses.

  “Jim called me so upset, I could hardly understand him. Margie is in the hospital. She almost died, Cole,” I mutter.

  “You didn’t call me,” he states. “How long you planning on staying?” he asks in the next breath.

  Tears well in my eyes. He’s pissed, so pissed that he’s calm, and that scares the hell out of me. We haven’t been together long enough for me to gauge his moods, but right now, I know he’s livid. I feel the urge to get home to him immediately, but then my eyes move to Margie, and I can’t go. She’s the only mother I’ve ever really known.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “And you’ll be staying in their house, with him?”

  Letting out a sigh, I turn from Margie and walk over to the sofa, sitting down to keep me from passing out. “You don’t think something is going to happen with Trent, do you?” I whisper.

  He laughs, though it doesn’t sound like he finds it funny at all. It’s a harsh sound. “Baby, you were with him when we hooked up, but that isn’t all. He’s fucking juiced up on shit and unpredictable. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that to me,” I hiss. “I love you, Cole and I can’t believe you would think anything would happen with Trent.”

  I don’t wait for his response. I end the call and turn my phone off before throwing it back in my purse. I close my eyes for a beat, but I’m interrupted by Margie’s soft voice. “You’re in love with someone else,” she announces.

  My eyes fly open, and I look over at her, crossing the room as quickly as I can to stand next to her, taking her hand in mine. “Margie,” I whisper.

  “Knew when you went off to college that you would find someone who was better for you and to you. Knew it wasn’t my Trent, no matter how much I hoped you’d stay dumb and blind to his treatment,” she whispers.

  “Margie,” I breathe as her words slowly sink in.

  She knew. She knew that her son treated me like shit, and she hoped I’d stay dumb to it—that I would continue to allow it.

  My heart aches at the realization. She doesn’t love me, not really; if she did, she wouldn’t want that for me. She’d want me to be happy, to have a man who loves me and treats me the way a man like Cole does.

  “Trent’s only hope to have a humble life is if you’re at his side. He’s going to be famous, Jessa. I want you, taking care of him, and watching the people he surrounds himself with. He makes poor choices, and if you aren’t there, he’s liable to make detrimental decisions.”

  Guilt washes over me. She’s right. Trent does make bad decisions. Cole’s words play on repeat in my head, Trent’s using steroids. My heart starts to race, he’s on drugs right now. Holy crap. I knew he drank heavily, along with partying and sleeping around, but drugs?

  I shake my head to try and rid myself of the thoughts. He tried so hard, to drag me down with him, without thinking about anything at all but himself. He doesn’t think of consequences, or of my own feelings or desires.

  I pull in an inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth before I squeeze her hand and give her a nod, telling her to get some rest. “You’ll get back with my boy?” she asks. I don’t answer, my eyes focused on her, but not willing to say anything else.

  Leaving the room, I tell Jim and Trent that she’s awake, but tired. They nod and start to walk toward her room. Trent stops right next to me, his hand wrapping around my waist and his eyes looking clearer than they have in months.

  “Thanks, babe, for coming back,” he rasps.

  I don’t get a chance to say anything before he leaves me standing there in the middle of the hospital hallway, completely shocked.

  Coming back.

  I think about those two words over and over again as I wait for the two men to emerge from Margie’s room. I’m not back. Margie wants me back, so does Trent, but is that what I want?

  I know that I don’t want Trent to destroy himself, or his future. But at what cost? Would I rather he destroys me just so that he may save himself?

  I’m not so sure that he’s going to be rich and famous, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about that stuff. The things that I do care about, kindness, love, caring, and gentility, along with good work ethic—he doesn’t possess them, and I’m not sure it would matter who was with him. That’s just not who he is, never has been.

  “We’re going to head to the house for the night. She’s wiped, on monitors, and needs some rest,” Jim announces, breaking me of my thoughts.

  I jerk my head in a nod and follow behind him and Trent to Trent’s pickup. The ride to the Keller’s home, what used to be my home, is quiet. I don’t know if Trent is thinking, but I know that I am. I can’t help but think, about everything that Margie said, then think about how I feel about it all. It plays on a loop inside of my brain, over and over again, with no end in sight.

  Not feeling much like food when we arrive back at the house, I leave the two men to ordering a pizza and I head upstairs. The first thing I do is take a shower, then I rummage in my old drawers for a pair of old pajamas and slip them on.

  I’m in some tatty shorts and tank top before I slip between the cool sheets of my old bed. I take my phone from my purse, tossing my purse on the floor and powering on my device.

  I cringe, thinking about the amount of missed calls I must have from Cole. I shoul
dn’t have hung up on him, I know that, but I didn’t know how to deal with him right then. I’ve never been through anything like this before. I’ve only ever been with Trent, but this is so much different. I don’t want Trent, and yet I still feel beholden to him and his family. Being here makes me feel it tenfold.

  Then there’s Cole. I love him, I really do, and I don’t know what is the right thing to do. Part of me wants to tell Trent Keller to screw off forever; the other part of me feels as though I owe his parents everything, so I should do what they wish and help take care of him.

  The doorbell rings as a text comes through on my phone from Cole.

  Cole: I’m coming to get you.

  COLE

  DRIVING INTO GRANT, Nebraska is sobering. This is where Jessa is from, where she grew up, and where she lived a life of mediocracy. She wasn’t happy here, never was. She breathed here, but she never lived.

  I pass the high school and decide to pull in. Parking my truck, I hop out and walk toward the football field. It’s dark, but it doesn’t stop me from ducking under the poorly guarded fencing and making my way to the fifty-yard line.

  It looks like every small-town football field, in dire need of repair and maintenance—but this is where Jessa spent all of her time, if I’m not mistaken. I can’t imagine her ever missing a Friday night game of Trent’s. I wonder if she misses it? Or if she wants to come back here after college? Then my mind wanders to the fact that she left today—got in a car with that little prick, and left without even fucking telling me.

  I’m fucking pissed, irate, and worried all at the same time. It was a dick thing, me throwing out her infidelity and making the accusation that she would do it again, to me this time.

  I shouldn’t have said it, because the situation isn’t the same. She loves me and I her. But that doesn’t mean that Trent can’t sway her with guilt. He’s fucking good at that shit. He knows her; he knows every button to push and every little word to say to her.

 

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