Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  “I don’t know,” I sneer out with a glint of sass in my own eyes; “Maybe.” It’s a flat out dare, and I can see the fire spark in his face.

  “Don’t test me, Quinn.”

  “Oh yeah?” I toss back, biting my lip and feeling my pulse racing through my veins as I feel the thick hardness in his pants pressing hotly against my thigh; “What are you gonna do, spank me, Logan?”

  It’s everything I have not to actually moan as I see the truth writ large in the sharp look that spreads across his face; “Try me.”

  My breath comes ragged in my lungs and the thundering heat pulsing through my body is threatening to tear me apart as I raise up my chin, defiantly; “You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper.

  I gasp as he suddenly spins me around and bends me over the kitchen counter with a growl as he lifts my skirt up and starts to yank my panties down; “Logan-!”

  Smack!

  The sudden sting and heat of his palm across my ass has me crying out in shock. His hand lingers on the tingling feeling, teasing the skin there for a second before he draws back and brings it slapping back down across my bare ass again. I cry out again, but this time the thudding of my pulse and the raw desire that floods through my whole body has me melting for him.

  Logan Dempsey is spanking me, and as I moan and blush, I realize it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever felt. There’s something insanely arousing about being bent over my kitchen counter like this while a tattooed, cocky, dominant man pulls my panties down and spanks me, and it has me dripping wet for him.

  “And now?” He growls out, his voice thick with lust as he leans down to husk the words into my ear. I bite my lip and push back against him, feeling his cock pressing against my bare thigh through his pants.

  I shake my head, slowly; “I- I’m not sure.”

  Smack!

  The sting of his palm against my hot skin has me writhing against him, moaning as I gasp at the contact. I can feel his finger teasing over the heated, reddened and tender skin there before he slides them further, down between my legs. I moan loudly when his fingers find my wetness, slipping easily inside as he begins to rhythmically curl them against that perfect place right inside. He leans over me again, pressing his bulge against my thigh as he slides his other hand into my hair and uses his grip to pull my head up.

  “Such, a fucking, tease,” He growls into my ear, and when I feel his thumb brush against my ass, I actually whimper as the throbbing waves of pleasure shuddering through me.

  “Who’s- oh God - who’s teasing now?” I gasp out, pushing back against his fingers that have me teetering on the edge of a screaming orgasm while maddeningly and purposely keeping me from actually crashing over.

  His fingers curl deep inside of my wetness, his thumb just teasing my ass, and his hand just pulling my hair enough to make me gasp as his teeth graze over the nape of my neck; “You better ask me nicely then, darlin,” He whispers darkly into my ear.

  Another whimpering moan drops from my lips, and I find myself caught between not wanting to give him the satisfaction of begging him for it and the sheer need I have bubbling inside of me. He strokes his fingers into me once more, and the last of my will crumbles; “Please,” I breathe out; “Please, Logan!”

  I gasp at the sharp sound of his belt hitting the floor, followed by the sound of tearing foil. The delicious anticipation has me clawing at the counter top and biting at my lip, and when I feel his cock press against my opening, it’s like everything pent up inside of me comes flooding out. He chokes out a growl as he enters me, and when he fills me, I let out a cry, tossing my head back and just letting go. We move together like one, him rocking into me as I push back to feel him fill me; thrusting slowly at first, but then faster and faster and harder and harder, until I feel like I might explode. His hands roughly caress my hips, sliding up and over the skin of my back to my hair. He grabs a handful of it as he fucks me, pulling my head back and making my eyes roll back in my head at the pure and raw pleasure that sizzles through me like electric currents. A bowl of oranges on my counter topples crashes to the floor, and as I bite my lip as the wave begins to crest over me. He pulls my head around, and as I stare into his eyes, I go pieces around him. He growls out my name at his own release, his powerful hands clutching my skin hard enough to bruise in delicious wonderful ways, and I cry out as my orgasm tears through me like a hurricane.

  “So, what was that new rule you had about not kissing me anymore?” I pant quietly afterwords, standing now and leaning back into him.

  I feel his arms circle around me and hold me close; “Fuck the rules.”

  22

  Logan

  After that, it’s like we just say “fuck it” and go wild. After that, it’s basically open season on Quinn and I screwing around any and every chance we get. I even do get to act out the little fantasy I had before of fucking her bent over her desk at work one day, her lips wrapped tightly around my fingers to muffle her screams as she comes like a fucking rocket with me right along with her. Inappropriate touches and lingering looks turn into little squeezes and fondles, even to the point where at one point I’ve got two of my fingers buried deep in her pussy under the table at a power-point presentation, coaxing her to an orgasm that has her scratching her nails across the table-top enamel in the semidarkness of the room.

  But of course, we’re also still sneaking around and playing this big game of secrets about the whole thing. I mean, Reagan obviously knows by this point, but I’m still pretty sure that she hasn’t told her husband yet as evident by the distinct lack of Hudson beating me to death with my own arms. Secrets in-and-of themselves aren’t new to me; years of assuming a new name and a new life is a pretty good classroom for keeping truths hidden away. But there’s also not a whole lot I don’t tell Hudson and Bryce, so to be adding this on top of the whole Javier thing gets under my skin in this weird way.

  But it’s fun, and it’s wild, and I know somewhere deep inside that it’s probably more than that, but neither Quinn or I are touching on that particular facet of it. I catch myself worrying that the thrill of it being this secret affair type thing is what’s fueling the fire between. I wonder if Quinn is just viewing this whole thing as some sort of ongoing casual fling; that little good-girl Quinn’s got a temporary taste for playing with the bad boy. But that train of thought of course leads down an entirely new rabbit hole; one where I’m actually having thoughts about whether some girl likes me or not.

  Yeah, there’s nothing about any of that kind of thinking that’s me. But then of course, there’s nothing “some girl” about Quinn, either. She’s just too amazing, in that way where it’s clear she doesn’t quite see that herself. Beyond that, fuck is she sexy; again, in a way where it’s clear she doesn’t quite get that either.

  So yeah, generally you could say there’s nothing normal about this relationship.

  Yeah, relationship; because sneaking around like we’re having some sort of illicit affair and fucking around like teenagers in every private and even semi-public place we can find is exactly how you’d define a healthy a relationship, right?

  Right.

  “Stop!” Quinn looks at me with wide, wild looking eyes as she covers the phone receiver and hisses at me.

  “What?” I whisper right back, shrugging and resuming the slow advance of my hand up the inside of her thigh under her skirt.

  “Absolutely, absolutely; well, we’ll need to monitor infection rates in the clinical trials, but it does look promising.”

  Quinn’s on some phone call - actually on what I gather is a fairly important phone call - with someone in D.C. about a vaccination we might be investing in. Of course the importance of this call does nothing to curb the fact that I’m still alone in a room with Quinn Archer, and as such, I’m naturally taking every liberty I can to be as inappropriately hands-y as possible.

  Naturally.

  Because lingering worries about the nature of our “relationship” aside, I can’t get enough of
this girl. It’s bad enough in public, or while we’re in a meeting or something. But here in her office with the door shut and her wearing that little pin-stripe pencil skirt? Yeah, forget it. Her ass just looks too fucking incredible in that thing as she stands by the window talking on the phone, and I am apparently not a strong-willed man when it comes to forbidden, auburn-haired girls wearing ass-hugging pencil skirts.

  “Logan!” She hisses again, looking at me like I’m insane as she nods at something to do with the phone conversation; “Certainly, certainly. No, I’ve got time to go over the analysis now; sure.”

  Let’s hope you can multitask, Doc, I grin to myself.

  My hand slides up even higher, and she shivers as my fingers find the warm front of her panties. I push gently against the softness there, feeling her squirm as I start to slowly rub her slit through the cotton of her underwear. Feeling how wet she is immediately has me rock hard in seconds.

  “Well, preliminary testing has positive neurological feedback.” Quinn’s eyes close as she clearly struggles to keep the even tone in her voice while I rub her pussy; “Mhmm, no, the Watson trials for sure.” Her lip trembles as I hook my finger through the gusset of her panties and slowly begin to tug them down to her mid thighs. But she’s still talking over the phone, and I grin, actually impressed with how normal her voice is sounding despite the fact that her face and her body look like she’s dying to get fucked right here and now.

  I push her forward, one of her palms flat against the glass of her big office window as she bends at the waist while still holding the phone. She turns over her shoulder, her eyes wide in shock and arousal as she stares at me before nodding at something to do with her conversation and turning back. I drop to my knees behind her, pushing her skirt up over her ass and pulling her back towards me. I take a second to appreciate the pure, unbridled eroticism of this view.

  “Well, the secondary analysis could be an indication of- oh!” Quinn does her best to cover her moan as my mouth finds her dripping wet lips; “Mhmm, no, just some hot coffee.” She whirls her head back to stare at me mouthing “oh my God” at me as I grin before pushing my face back between her thighs.

  I inhale the intoxicating scent of her, slipping my tongue through her folds to taste her sweetness as I feel her shudder against me. My hands grab her ass, kneading the flesh there and coaxing her back and forth against my mouth, as if fucking her with my tongue. She’s rocking back against me, her fingers scratching at the windowpane in front of her as she arches her back and pushed against my tongue.

  “Mhmm, yes absolutely. The research is- uh, it’s there, we just- mmm, we just need to- um, expand on it.”

  I slip lower, teasing her clit with the tip of my tongue before wrapping my lips around her there and sucking as I feel her shudder against me. She’s putting up a valiant fight to keep this phone call going, but it’s a fight I’m doing my damnedest to make her lose sooner or later. And when I curl my tongue around her hard little clit and slide a finger deep into her channel, she actually has to hold the phone away from her mouth as she gasps out loud.

  “I- I’m sorry, but I have to call you back in a minute,” She manages to gasp out, before hanging up and dropping the phone to the floor; “Fuck, Logan!” She moans, pressing her hands against the glass in front of her and crying out as she pushes back against my tongue and my finger.

  And all it take is five more seconds of my tongue sliding over her hard little nub and my finger curling against that spot inside before she’s turning her head to bite her own shoulder. Her muffled moans come ragged against the sleeve of her blouse as I push her over the edge, and she comes in shuddering, exploding elegance against my tongue.

  Her hair is loosed from the normally conservative bun atop her head and cascades over her face as she closes her eyes and sucks in breaths of air, but I’m already standing and tearing at my belt buckle. I’m rock hard as my pants hit the ground, and as I slip the head of my cock against her opening, I lean over her to whisper into her ear; “You can go ahead and call them back in a minute, darlin, but something tells me it’s going to be a bit longer than that.”

  And it damn well is.

  23

  Logan

  “So, you two seem like you’re fitting together nicely.”

  I almost choke on my steak as I quickly glance up across the table at Hudson. He’s grinning at me, but I’m certain it’s more of a ‘I told you so’ look than a ‘hey buddy, I know you’re fucking Quinn’ look. He’s also not jumping over the table to murder me with his salad fork, so that’s a pretty good indication of choice number one.

  Of course, that doesn’t mean my pulse isn’t pounding like a fucking racehorse now. Yeah, dinner out with Hudson and Reagan, and Quinn was probably not a great plan. I’m sure this has double-date written all over it to anyone else in the restaurant, or our waiter for that matter, and that simple fact has me on wild edge right now. Fooling around like teenagers all over town and in the office is one thing, but playing couple out in public has this strange sort of serious undertone to it that has me more confused than it should.

  And then there’s also something about the way that Reagan’s curious gaze keeps lingering a little longer on me than necessary. I know she’s no idiot; even if she doesn’t explicitly know - and I’m pretty sure she does - she pretty obviously has a good idea. I’ll grant though that she probably hasn’t said anything to Hudson yet or he’d have tossed me out a window already.

  The thought of that actually pisses me off a little bit. Here I am sneaking around with this girl like it’s a big damn taboo thing, when he’s up and married another of the Old Man’s daughters. But he and Reagan look so fucking happy, and hell, he broke whatever rules we had first. ‘Protect them’; I mean don’t think William exactly meant ‘don’t date my daughters’ with those words, but I seriously doubt he’d be impressed with a roughneck grunt like me fooling around with Quinn like this. It’s different with Hudson and Reagan. Hud’s learned to deal with his shit, instead of like me who just hides it.

  My cellphone buzzes in my pocket, and as I take it out and glance at it, I’m suddenly reminded of exactly what I’m hiding; reminded like a slug to the gut.

  I scowl at Javier’s text under the table, gritting my teeth. Fighting has always been a thrill to me; there’s this rush of pure reality when you connect, or even when someone connects with you. But now, fuck, now it’s just this thing I have to do; like a jail sentence I just can’t get through. I’m over it, but it’s not over me, apparently.

  I glance at the address on my screen - some shit-hole part of the South Bronx - and stand from the table as I clear my throat; “I, uh, I’ve gotta run and do something.”

  Hudson frowns; “Aw, what the hell, man? We went over those shipping contracts all afternoon; we’re done with business for the day.” He shakes his head; “Sit your ass down and be normal.”

  “It’s- uh, it’s a date actually.” I say, raking my hand through my hair and trying not to look as guilty as I feel.

  “Oh!” Hudson looks up from his plate and grins at me; “Well, shit, get going then!”

  Reagan’s eyes narrow at me; “Good for you, Logan,” She says dryly, and I swallow and clear my throat again uncomfortably. Yeah, she definitely knows.

  I glance quickly at Quinn and see the frozen look on her face as she avoids my eyes and pushes food around her plate with her fork. She knows what this is.

  “Uh, so, OK then. I’ll see you guys later on?” I force a casual smile out at the table, but my eyes keep darting back to Quinn, who still won’t look at me.

  “Yeah, see ya,” She finally mumbles out, looking away and taking a sip of wine.

  It’s not until I’m about to climb into my car at the valet stand when I hear her shout my name as she comes running out of the restaurant. Her face looks white as she shakes her head when I turn to her, and it feels like a stab through my chest.

  “Don’t go,” She says pleadingly.

  “Qu
inn-”

  “Just don’t go? You don’t have to fucking do this! Please, Logan! Please don’t do this.”

  “I have to.”

  And I can’t tell you why, and I know you’re going to hate me for that.

  I can’t, though. Telling her everything would mean losing her. This might mean the same thing, but at least this way she just thinks I’m an asshole instead of knowing the utter piece of scum I was before. And if I have to lose her anyways, I’m sure as hell not going to let her into that part of me if I can help it; for her sake.

  “I have to go, Quinn.” I say quietly.

  “Please.” Her eyes are wide and searching my face for something that I know she’s just not going to find; not right now. “For me,” She says, and it’s like someone’s just punched me in the face; “For me, don’t go.”

  It’s all for you, I think, tightening my jaw as I look into those deep pools of her eyes.

  “Here,” I fish the keys to my penthouse out of my jacket pocket and push them into her hands; “It’s still partially under construction, but you can stay at my place.” She’s shaking her head and looking away from me with all the pain I know she’s feeling in her eyes; “Quinn, I’ll meet you there later; it’ll be fine.”

  She takes the keys, but she’s turning and slipping out of my hands and walking back inside; “It’s going to be fine!” I lie, calling out to her. She turns and gives me one last lingering look full of hurt and pain, and it kills me because lying to her face hurts the worst, worse than I know it’s going to hurt later.

  When I’m stepping into the ring later, sweat already pouring down my bare chest in the rush of the moment, the lights bright and the guy across from me looking like he wants to bury me, that last look from Quinn is the only thing I can see.