Snapped: A Sports Romance

by Meghan Lockley

  He groans at my eagerness, and pulls back. He stands before the bed, and I take in the sight of him as he slowly unbuttons his pants and peels them off. His athletic thighs are exposed, and he watches my awestruck face as he steps out of his clothes entirely.

  His cock, hard and throbbing, is more than I had imagined. Ignoring the intimidating size, I reach out to stroke him, and listen to his breath grow ragged as I learn what he likes. And it seems he likes everything as long as I’m the one doing it. But as I’m wrapping my hand around the enormity, I’m afraid. I don’t know how it will fit. Not when I’ve never been with anyone before. I’ve never even used a toy . . .

  Sensing my hesitancy, he lifts my chin to look at him. His eyes are searching, but I can feel the heat from them as they scan my face and then my body.

  “We don’t have to do this if you-” He says gently.

  “I want to,” I say before he can finish. And it’s true. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. As I speak the words, he takes a condom out of his wallet and rolls it on.

  Laying me back against the bed, he kisses my neck. He tucks a loose curl behind my ear. Our tongues meet and any fear I have is surpassed by the neediness below. He’s everything I’ve wanted, and that means I need to take everything he has. He works his circle magic on me for a few moments, making sure I’m still ready. I don’t need to tell him, we can both hear the wetness against his fingers.

  “You’re so wet, baby,” he moans, positioning himself between my legs. I spread my legs and get a good look at him between my lower lips. He rubs himself in my wetness, and I arch towards him, anxious to take him.

  Sensing my readiness, he lowers the head and slowly pushes himself inside me, just an inch or so. He uses all of his strength to be gentle, but I still wince with pain and dig my nails into his shoulders. He groans as he feels himself squeezed inside me.

  “Are you okay?” He pants into my ear. I nod and say nothing. I close my eyes as he pushes himself a little more inside me. I whimper, feeling myself stretch to fit him. He’s kissing my neck and his hands are tangled in my hair. He gives me time to adjust before giving me another couple inches. It hurts like anything, but I don't care. He's inside me.

  "God, Breezy. You’re so tight, uhmmm,” he moans, fighting to keep still. His praise encourages me, and I spread my legs a little further, taking the rest of him inside. Before this moment, I never knew that a part of me was missing, just waiting to be filled by him,

  Slowly, he partially withdraws. Even more slowly, he thrusts back inside.

  His head is hitting every spot in a curious mixture of pleasure and pain. I’m whimpering, and he stops moving, kissing my lips and neck. Part of me wants to stop, but even more than that, I want to see him cum.

  “Do you want to stop?” He asks, his voice sounds as though he’s afraid what my answer will be. I shake my head against his shoulders, not trusting my voice.

  “You’re amazing, Bree.” His voice is husky, like he just woke up. He’s moving his hips slowly again, and I can feel myself gripping him tightly. His hands are running down my body, like he can’t get enough of me. His eyes are everywhere, and I had always imagined I’d be more self conscious than I am now, even in my fantasies. But his eyes are shining in adoration. He's been anticipating this as much as I have.

  He’s thrusting a bit faster now, and my breasts are bouncing slightly with each push. The momentum is building, and between kisses, I can see that his face is darkening in concentration. He reaches down between my legs and starts moving the steadfast circles that he knows I like.

  “I don’t think-” I begin, trying to explain that the pain might be too much for me, that I might not be able to cum again. But his fingers hit a rhythm in time with his thrusts, and I stop talking. My body is arching against the bed, and he’s deeper in me than he’s been. I flinch, expecting it to hurt more. But instead, all I can feel is his fingers in time with his rhythm.

  I’m panting against his shoulder, lips parted, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. My eyes are closed tightly, but I will them open. His chiseled abs are flexed and glistening as they work for me. His biceps bulge as he’s reaching between my thighs, taking me with him as he gets closer. His eyes are watching my face as I gasp and moan. The pain is still there, but he makes it worthwhile. My legs are flexing, and I can feel the pressure building within me.

  I grip the sheets tightly, almost fighting the feeling because I didn’t think it could be possible my first time.

  “Stay with me, Breezy,” he says in my ear. His voice sounds like leather and smoke. His fingers are relentless. My legs wrap around him and I dig my nails into his back. I’m whimpering again, but this time because I am on edge of finishing. He’s groaning, and I can feel him throbbing inside me, desperate to release.

  Knowing he’s that close, and that I’m the one making him want to cum, ends me. I cry out, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face. Wave after wave ripples through me, and my limbs are shaking and twitching. Inside me, I can feel him pulsing, and a warmth spreads below. The throbbing prolongs my orgasm, and I’m clenching around his hardness, draining him.

  He’s groaning against my ear as his thrusts slow. Then his lips are on mine, long and slow. There’s an unfamiliar ache below, and as he withdraws slowly, I realize just how sore I really am.

  “Are you okay?” He asks, noticing my wincing. He lays next to me, pulling me against his strong chest. His heart is beating hard and his skin is hot against my face.

  “Yeah. I’m perfect,” I say truthfully.

  “You are,” He says, kissing the top of my head and resting his cheek against my hair.

  Our breath slows together and I notice a bit of blood on the sheets. He follows my gaze and sees my worried face, then squeezes me tightly.

  “Don’t even worry about it.” His voice is sleepy now.

  “Do we need to go back to the party?” I ask. He smoothes my hair and kisses my forehead.

  “Definitely not. Stay in bed with me,” he says, closing his eyes.

  The music from the party is still thumping loudly, and it's hard to relax. But I try ignoring the pain below, and allow the hammering of Sean's heart to drown out the sounds of the party. As my heart rate slows, my anxiety subsides.

  Through the darkness, I see the outline of his tattoos. I follow the designs with my eyes until they feel heavy. His arm is wrapped tightly around me, and the completeness of my heart lulls me to sleep.

  Sean

  My door is about to be busted down, but I refuse to open my eyes. Bree is in my arms still and I’m not ready for it to end. Not after it took so long to get her here. It's so early that it's still dark. I close my eyes, willing whoever it is to go away.

  But Bree's body is tensed in alarm. She sits straight up, her dark eyes wide and alert. She looks to me for direction and draws the blankets up around her sexy curves. I run my hands through my hair and sigh, annoyed with the interruption.

  “Who is it?” I yell, not hiding the agitation in my voice.

  “Sophie. Will you fucking open the door?”

  “Go away.” I try, but she just pounds the door harder.

  Stretching, I stand and find a pair of shorts in my dresser. Bree’s watching me move, her expression is a mixture of wonderment and worry. Her dewy skin is glowing and her hair gorgeously mussed, and I wish I could marvel at her in the dim morning light without intrusion. I take a mental snapshot and hand her one of my sweaters to wear. It barely covers the bottom of her ass, and I have to force myself to look away.

  She perches on the edge of the bed. Neither of us know what to expect from my sister, who usually sleeps in until noon if she can get away with it. I swing the door open and pull her in. We don’t need my parents to see Bree in my room. Not right now.

  Sophie's eyes dart between us, and she covers her mouth with her hand. She’s either gagging or masking a smile. I can’t tell and I don't really care either way. But her eyes are shiny and ha
ppy, and she is giving Bree a look that I don’t understand.

  “Can I help you?” I say, lifting my hands up.

  “The video was posted,” she says, shoving her phone into my hands.

  Fuck. It’s been up for a couple hours and has just under a million views.

  I press play, and the video starts. The angle is shot over Mike’s shoulder as he’s holding people back. I’m already on top of Vince. His face is bloody, and he’s lying limp beneath me. Despite his slack body, I'm landing punch after punch. The clip is less than 20 seconds long, but it doesn’t look good. I'm the one who looks criminal.

  “Sorry, I should have asked you before I played it,” I say as I notice that Bree has pulled covers around herself. My throat feels raw, and I hand Sophie back her phone before putting my arm around Bree.

  “I just feel bad,” she says, fighting back tears.

  “None of this is your fault, Breezy,” I say. Sophie is nodding, but her eyes are looking at her phone, reading the comments.

  “I need to make a statement or something. They have to know you weren’t just being an ass,” she says. Her voice is close to breaking.

  “They don’t need to know shit,” I say. My voice is firmer than I’d like, but she needs to know how serious I am. “We don’t need to involve you at all.”

  “If Vince presses charges . . .” Sophie trails off. I glare at her for even bringing it up in front of Bree.

  “Let him. It’s not like I haven’t done time before. At least this time it would be for a good reason,” I say. “Besides, maybe I can say the reason for the fight without identifying Bree. We don’t need all of America hounding her for details if this blows up.”

  “You are being optimistic, Sean. This is fucking blowing up as we speak. It was shared 19 times while you finished that sentence.” Sophie says, glaring at her phone.

  The three of us sit in an uncomfortable silence as we process the information. Sophie’s phone is pinging relentlessly as she gets tagged in comment after comment. No wonder she woke up so early.

  “Are Mom and Dad awake yet?” I ask.

  Sophie shakes her head. “This is going to be a hell of Christmas, though, unless you tell them the reason why you-”

  “Soph, just forget it. It isn’t anyone's business but Bree’s. That’s who I’m concerned about. She should be your priority, too.”

  Bree shifts as if she can’t get comfortable. Sophie’s arms are crossed and her eyes are narrowed. I know the look well. She's wearing an expression reserved solely for making my life a living hell.

  “If you think for one second I don’t care about Bree, I swear, I will never speak to you again. I care about both of you. But you’re my brother, Sean. And if you ever want to play football again, you’ll listen to what I’m saying.” Her voice is quivering with barely controlled rage.

  “If she wants to stay anonymous-” I begin, but Sophie cuts me off.

  “Anonymous?! Sean! What planet are you living on? Even if Vince doesn’t press charges, her name is already being mentioned in comments. It won’t matter whether she files a report or not. Her name will be picked up by the press. Our best bet is to go on the offensive. Have Bree file a report stating what happened. That way there is at least a record of it if Vince does try to press charges,” she pauses, and drags her eyes to Bree. “We should have done that from the beginning.”

  Bree covers her face, and for a moment I think she’s crying. But she rubs her face and lowers her hands.

  “Sophie’s right. I’ll file a report.” Bree says in a steady voice.

  “You don’t have to-” I begin, still trying to rack my brain for an alternative solution.

  But Bree is standing up and finding her dress. Her pretty silhouette is illuminated by the early light coming through the window. Her dark eyes are focused and calculating.

  “Just let me tell my parents, first,” she says. “I don’t want this to be sprung on them.”

  Sophie nods and I run my hand through my hair. I’m gritting my teeth, angry at Vince for putting her through this.

  “I’m taking screenshots of anything that can be used as evidence,” Sophie says. “Anything that identifies Bree. That shows that they were aware that she was at least in the room when it happened.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my word against his. All that shows is that we were alone together. He might twist it. Say that I wanted it . . .” Bree says, not meeting either of our eyes.

  “I know. And they’ll use Sean’s history to say that he was in a jealous rage or something. You really haven’t done yourself any favors there, Sean. If you’d have mellowed out some-” Sophie says, but she sees my expression and stops. “I mean, I know you have been trying. And this was unavoidable. But before. . .”

  I say nothing but stand to walk with Bree. Sophie falls silent for once and returns her attention to her phone. Bree collects the last of her things, and my heart feels heavy. All the times I’d imagined her sleeping with me, never did I consider a morning after like this.

  “Where’s Mike,” Bree whispers as we pass Soph.

  Soph shakes her head and darts her eyes at me. “Don’t ask.”

  Outside, the temperature is well below freezing, and I’m kicking myself for not grabbing a sweater for Bree. I pull her close and we walk slowly, careful not to slip on the thin layer of ice. She smells faintly of lavender and sex, and I wish I could take her back to my bedroom and forget the world. But she’s walking gingerly, and I know it isn’t just because of the ice.

  “Are you okay?” I ask after noticing her wincing.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Never better,” she says with a genuine smile.

  I bend to kiss her warm lips, and her hands start rubbing down my chest and abs. Her kiss is like an electric shock, moving straight from my lips to my cock. Everything is at attention for her. She notices, and moves her hand lower to graze my hardness through the fabric of my shorts.

  “Don’t tease,” I say into her ear, and she giggles.

  “I’ll see you later, okay? Try not to stress,”she says.

  "That'd be easier if you'd distract me," I whisper, running my hands down her hips. I kiss her slowly, deeply, savoring every second. She’s standing on her tiptoes and I have her against her front door. Her ass thuds against the door as I press against her, and we hear shuffling from within.

  She breaks away, her eyes wide in panic, but she's smiling. “Merry Christmas, Sean.” she says, as she fumbles with her keys to open the door.

  I tuck myself into the waistband of my shorts in an attempt to hide my obvious arousal. Despite all the drama happening, all I can think about is getting her back in my bed.

  Breanna

  Guilt washes over me as I see my dad sitting in his chair. My mom is bringing him a cup of coffee. They both smile at me warmly, and despite my guilty conscious, it’s clear they have no idea I was between Sean's sheets last night.

  “Sorry, have you guys been waiting long?” I ask as I smooth my dress.

  “We just got up. Did you have fun with Sophie?” My mom asks, taking a seat on the couch. She takes in my rumpled appearance and frazzled demeanor.

  I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m just going to shower before we open presents if that’s okay. I spilled a soda on me last night and I feel sticky still.” The lie pours out of me uncontrollably, like it’s been ready and waiting.

  I turn the water on so hot that it nearly scalds my skin. I close my eyes and let it rush over me, absolving me of any perceived sins. I didn't realize I'd feel so guilty, and I know it's only because my parents had instilled in me the belief that premarital sex was unclean. I had no regrets, but I did feel remorse about lying to my parents.

  But the night I shared with Sean isn't the only thing weighing on my mind.

  My chest feels tight as I imagine explaining the Vince situation to my parents. They’d want to pursue it to the fullest extent of the law. But there was no evidence. I’d have to convince them of the tr
uth: that it’s too traumatic for me to pursue. The best I can hope for is filing a police report. Then, if it ever happens to another girl, at least it will be on record that he has a history. I don't think I can tell my mom and dad. Not yet.

  “You okay, Breanna?” My mom asks through the door, and I realize I’ve been in the shower for well over my usual time.

  “Yeah, sorry! Just zoning out.” I call, and quickly turn off the water.

  I sit next to the tree and pass out presents. I try to focus on the joy of the holiday, but all I can think about is what I’m going to say on the police report. Thankfully, my parents are so caught up in making memories that they don’t seem to notice my distance.

  They really outdid themselves this year. Once again, I am reminded of how spoiled and lucky I am to have their love and support. I don’t think they missed a single item on my wish list. If it weren’t for the party, I’d say that this season brought me everything I wanted. My family, gifts, time with Sophie and Sean. But of course, a price was paid.

  For the first time in the past two days, I dared to look at my phone. I had many notifications, but not nearly as much as Sophie. Some people asked if I was okay, others named me as the pair of ankles in the top right corner of the video, and most were fairly respectful.

  Some had no fear, though. Among them was Tiffany. She had found my profile online and messaged me:

  Congratulations on ruining Sean’s life and career by being a dirty slut. He risked everything because you can’t keep your legs closed. Enjoy having that on your conscience, whore.

  I know she's wrong. I know she's jealous. I know that I did nothing wrong. But that doesn’t stop me from throwing my phone against the bed and sobbing. For well over an hour, I cry into my pillows, allowing the full weight of guilt to settle with me. If I hadn’t gone to the back room, or allowed Tiffany’s answers to the drinking game affect me, none of this would have happened. I should have left the instant Vince came in.