Taken By The Baller: A Bad Boy Romance

by River Laurent

  “Let it go,” he murmurs, his voice closer to a growl than it had been before.

  I drop the skirt and force myself to meet his gaze once again. He seems focused on my panties. It’s lace and it is clinging to my hips. He flexes his fingers, as though he longs to reach out and touch me.

  “Bra,” he says thickly.

  I quickly unhook my plain black bra, pulling my arms out of the straps as I drop it at my feet. I can feel the blood pulsing in my veins, feel my heart as it drums against my ribcage. As his eyes take in every inch of me I feel that heat between my legs growing and growing, soaking my panties. He cocks his head to the side as though deciding what to do next. I still can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe that I’m doing this. Can’t believe how much he seems to want it. I stare at him, waiting for his next order with baited breath.

  “Play with yourself.”

  “What?” My eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a dirty girl. You know what I want,” he responds, his eyes glinting. “Or do I have to show you?”

  This is taking things further than what I agreed to, but the heat between my legs is starting to turn into an ache and I need some relief too. If that’s what he wants, why not give it to him? I lift one hand, and hover it over my sex for a second before I slide it quickly beneath the lace of my panties.

  I’m used to touching myself in the privacy of my own bedroom, but I’ve never had a man so much as see me naked before today, let alone watch me masturbate. Somehow, his presence isn’t off-putting. If anything, his intense regard and interest is encouraging and makes me feel bold and daring. I brush my fingers over my clit, and my own touch makes me shiver. I’m so sensitive and swollen that everything feels tantalizing intense.

  I let my eyes drift shut as I draw small circles around my clitoris, pressing gently until I feel myself grow pert and solid beneath my fingers. Even with my eyes shut, I can still feel his hot gaze on me, and it’s the only encouragement I need to go further and further. To entice him into my performance. My head goes back as my hips start gyrating gently upwards.

  I hear a rustling sound, and my eyes pop open.

  Standing in front of me is a completely naked Drake. My mouth drops open, and I feel another jolt of arousal as my eyes skim down his body… until they fall on his erection. Holy amazeballs! He is enormous. I have never seen a man’s cock in person before, and it looks very… good. Not the way a pretty painting looks good, but the way a tasty meal looks good. It lights something in me, some need, something dark and heavy that has been lying buried deep inside me.

  My fingers move quicker, and my mouth hangs slightly open as I look back at his face. His expression mirrors mine. Desperate, hungry, horny. I buck my hips back and forth in time with my fingers, and my breath begins coming in short, sharp bursts, until my entire body tenses up, every muscle seizing, and I know I won’t be able to last much longer-

  When my orgasm hits, it is explosive, practically taking me off my feet. My pussy clenches repeatedly, my body crumpling as I press a hand against the wall behind me to keep myself upright.

  “Fuck!” I gasp. I’m not much one for cursing, but there is nothing else I can possibly think of to convey the intensity of that moment. I look up at him once more and find him grinning at me, a victorious, possessive smile on his face. He loves this, loves the power he has over me. And I must admit, I’m not adverse to it, either. In fact, I love it.

  I love having him watch while I play with myself.

  By the time my vision clears and my orgasm fades away, I can tell that the heat between my legs still hasn’t dissipated. If anything, it has grown more intense. I slowly withdraw my hand from my panties, and let it fall by my side again. I stare at him, unsure of what to do next, and he cocks his head to the side to observe me for a couple of seconds.

  “Are your panties very, very wet?”

  I nod.

  “Take them off then,” he orders, his voice low.

  I obey at once. It is as though my body has registered the intensity of what has just happened, and it is desperate to find some way to recreate that feeling. I step out of my underwear and stand buck naked before him.

  He runs his tongue across his bottom lip as his eyes fall to my pussy, and I wonder for a moment what his mouth might feel like on me. He seems to weigh his options, and I have no idea what he is going to request next. The blood is whirling around my head because I already know that whatever it is, I don’t have it in me to say no.

  He sits down on the bench between us, facing me, so he’s eye-level with the apex of my thighs. I cross my legs a little, suddenly nervous, but he reaches out and parts my thighs so I am fully on display for him. As soon as his fingers touch me, I feel a jolt of pure electricity, followed by a trail of sparks as he lightly runs his thumb across my wet inner thigh. He takes his thumb up to his mouth.

  “Freshly shaven pussy. My favorite,” he murmurs and licks at my juices slowly while watching for my reaction. The action is so hot my lips part involuntarily.

  He brings his hand forward again and lets his fingers graze my slit.

  I bite my lower lip helplessly. God, he has complete control over my body.

  “When did you shave it?” he asks softly.

  “In the bath, last night.” My voice is breathless.

  “For me?”

  I shake my head.

  “Liar,” he taunts softly. “You shaved it for me.”

  “No,” I say, but I feel hypnotized by his eyes. They never leave my face.

  “Let me feel that pussy,” he murmurs, and he is so close to me that I can feel his hot breath against my swollen lips.

  I suck in a sharp breath. “Wh-what do you mean?” I ask. I want him inside, but I am suddenly afraid.

  “Rub your pussy lips on my cock,” he replies, scanning my face as though waiting for my reaction. “I want to feel your wet little cunt sliding on my dick.”

  I stare down at him then my eyes shift down to his cock: so thick, and alive, and jerking with need. Pre-cum is dripping from the tip. Though a part of me, the sensible, good girl part of me, knows I should say no, the rest of me just wants to feel his skin next to mine too.

  Leaning down I wrap my arms around his neck, and lower myself down so my pussy is just barely touching his erection. He pressed me down so that I am enveloping his shaft the way a bun accepts a hot dog.

  My wetness makes it easy for me to grind myself along his meat. It’s a delicious feeling and I savor it while I watch his face the whole time. His eyes never leave mine, even as his mouth tightens and his jaw clench. His hands come up to my hips, and he guides me along, both of us moving in perfect rhythm with each other.

  Just when I feel as if I am going to climax again, there is a flare in his eyes, and his strong hands curl around my waist and lift me up until I am hovering over the tip of his engorged massive cock. Through that haze of lust, a tiny alarm suddenly goes off in my brain. Oh, God, he is going to impale me on that thick shaft. I pull my arms off him and jump back. I don’t know what came over me, but I didn’t mean to go this far. I can’t do this. Not here. With him. Morgan’s son. In a men’s locker room. Not after waiting all this time for that special guy. My breath is shaky as I reach for my clothes. He furrows his brow at me.

  “What’s this then?” he asks. “A fucking cock tease!”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I should go. I didn’t think it would get that far,” I hurriedly, pull on my skirt and my top, then fumble in my pocket for the address I’d scrawled down earlier. I thrust it at him. “Here, this is the address.”

  He takes it without looking down at the paper. “That’s it?” he asks, sounding furious.

  “I’m really sorry about this, but you should go and see your mother.”

  He doesn’t say anything as I go to the door.

  “Good meeting you,” I mutter, undo the latch, and make my way out into the corridor. Taking in giant gulps of air into my lu
ngs, I press my fingers to my temples and wonder what the hell I just allowed to happen to me.

  Chapter 3

  Drake

  The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m left there looking like a dumbass fool, horny as fuck, and reeling with the image of her creamy thighs spread open, her head thrown back, her round breasts jiggling in my face, and her pupils so dilated they are nearly as big as her irises. And that sexy meow that slipped out of those plump lips.

  I look down at my hard cock. He’s still waiting for a hot cunt to drop down on him. Fuck. What a little tease? I snatch up the discarded towel from the floor and wrap it around my waist, raging and frustrated beyond belief. Why’d she leave like that? She looked like she was having a great time and then … she’s out the door faster than shit through a goose.

  Beneath the towel, my cock aches, and I consider jerking off just to get rid of my erection, but no, I’ll save it for her. I’ll find her again, and she’s gonna open up, and take all of me inside her pink hole. After that, I’m gonna pump into her over and over until my cum is dripping out of every orifice. Her mouth, her pussy, her ass.

  I stop suddenly. What the fuck?

  Unbelievable, but I realize that in the hot haze of mindless lust I was about to fuck her bare. I actually wanted to slide my bare cock into her wet flesh. Hell, I’m still fantasizing about it. I must be going insane. A girl like that? Who offers herself to anybody. Shit, I’ve been hit in the head too many times to be thinking such crazy shit!

  I swipe a deodorant stick under my arms, pull my clothes out of my locker, and begin to get dressed, but she’s etched onto my brain. She walked her ass into a men’s locker room like she was some innocent, pure thing. All big eyed and dressed like a schoolteacher, but she was so astoundingly into it, so open, so fucking hot. I practically had to keep myself from drooling when she was fingering herself. The look on her face. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. She was utterly lost to the pleasure she was bringing herself, and not paying any attention to my presence.

  Every other woman I’ve been with has been either so focused on pleasing me so she can become a permanent fixture in my life, or just looking good while she was doing it so that she can become a permanent fixture in my life, but this girl. This girl made herself cum as though there was no-one else in the room but her and her dirtiest fantasies.

  And then… the sensuous way she rubbed her pussy lips on my dick. That sure was something else. The slick softness tantalized me. Her juices coated my cock, the sweet scent driving me crazy, while her little hard clit rubbed and rubbed, and begged for more. Oh, Jesus!

  I fuck a lot of women, no, make that a shitload of women, but I never felt like I had to have any of them before. Not like I need to have Reese. This is like something out of a damn chick flick. I walk to the bench and pick up the piece of paper she gave me, looking for a clue as to how to contact her again.

  My eyebrows shoot up when I see the address on the paper. It’s from my hometown, Petersville! Not that, that gives her story anymore legitimacy, but it does establish that whoever these people are they’ve taken the time to do their research. Obviously, I’m not falling for it or anything, but… seeing the address does make a tiny flicker of doubt light up in the back of my brain. I grab my phone, pull up Mom’s number, and dial.

  “Hello, honey!” she answers after a couple of rings.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “I saw the game. You were just wonderful,” she gushes.

  “Yeah, it was good,” I reply, pacing the locker room floor.

  “Good? Drake Kelly, you scored the winning touchdown. You deserve a medal,” she says proudly.

  I fucking deserve a medal for the control I showed this evening when I let Reese’s hot pussy walk away. “Yeah, it wasn’t bad,” I agree distractedly.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, sounding concerned, and I have a flashback of the time I fell out of a tree when I was seven years old and broke my hand. She was so frightened and distressed her hands were shaking, and I had to tell her to stop worrying. It was nothing. The image puts everything into perspective again and suddenly the logical side of my brain takes over. What the hell am I doing? How could I even consider for a moment that she is not my mother?

  “Yeah, I am,” I reply quickly. “How are you and Dad?”

  “We’re great, honey. Dad and I were just listening to your game on the radio.” Her voice muffled as if she’s just turned her head to look at something else. I must have interrupted her while she cooking dinner or something.

  “You busy?”

  “I was making dinner, and I think I heard the oven ping. Can I call you back later this evening?”

  “I’m out with the guys, Mom.”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a lovely night, honey. You deserve it. Dad’s out in the garden. I’ll tell him you called.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Before you go, I just want you to know that I’m so proud of you, Drake. You’re everything I ever wanted, and I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

  “I love you, Mom,” I mutter guiltily.

  “I love you too. Speak to you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” I say, and hang up. Thank God, I had enough sense not to ask her outright. Now that I can think about it without the smell of Reese fucking up my head, the whole idea sounds crazy even to me. I screw up the paper the phone number is written on, and chuck it into the bin by the door as I exit the locker room.

  I get as far as the corridor before I come to a complete stop. A janitor is coming up the corridor with his pail and his mop. He’ll empty out the bin, and her number will be gone forever. I realize that I can’t let it go. I don’t know why, but I just can’t. I whirl around jog back to the bin, and retrieve the screwed-up ball. I smooth it out, turn it over, and spot something on the other side.

  It’s a torn off hotel stationery, but a piece of the logo and name is still intact. What’s more, it looks familiar. I hold it closer to my face, squinting, and finally, it clicks. The Regatta. Okay, that is good to know, because I’ve been in it once before. It’s just outside town. A Swedish girl I was banging years ago, was staying there. I feel happier, suddenly. I stuff the paper into my pocket and head out of the stadium.

  I’ll ask Dad about the adoption thing tomorrow, but I’ll build up to it slowly. No point hurting him. In the meantime, I’ll work getting my mind off Reese.

  My phone rings. It’s one of the guys, probably already hammered on whiskey shooters. Tonight, I’m just not in the mood to get completely fucked up and have my pictures snapped by the paps as I stumble out onto the street in the early morning hours.

  I don’t pick up the call and decide to drown my sorrows in my favorite bar instead.

  My body is still buzzing when I slide up a bar stool. It’s like Reese sashayed into my locker room and pussy whipped me in one encounter. I like it here because it’s small and private and everyone knows me, so I can usually come for a drink and not get mobbed by half the city. I know some of the guys really dig that side of playing, but it’s not my thing. Sure, notice me when I’m on the field, but off it, give me a break, will ya?

  Sandy one of the bartenders comes over with a bottle of beer for me.

  “Great game,” she says with a friendly grin.

  I nod my thanks. As I slide my card along the bar surface I tell her to get herself and the rest of staff a drink too. She flashes an even wider grin and goes away.

  I take a long slow swallow and let out a satisfied sigh as the cold liquid splashes down my throat. Closing my eyes, I try to lose myself in the social buzz of the bar for a few seconds. This is my happy place, but today I find myself fucking tormented by the image of Reese, in nothing but her panties, hand busy underneath the thin fabric. My dick twitches.

  Fuck, that girl…

  Before the image earns me another painful erection I snap my eyes open. I stare moodily into my glass and feel someone’s gaze on me. Not an un
usual thing. I spend a lot of time with people either recognizing me outright or squinting at me while trying to figure out where they’ve seen me before. I turn around and clash glances with a woman sitting at the other end of the bar. She is staring hard at me.

  Her mouth curves. I smile back as I lift my glass to my mouth. She’s hot, not Reese-hot obviously, but hot nevertheless. Blonde hair down to her breasts and a tight sweater that accentuates a trim, athletic figure. I trail my finger down the condensation on my glass and wonder what it would be like to ask her to strip, play with herself, then sit on my cock the way I asked Reese to do.

  I don’t have long to wonder because, a couple of seconds later, and she’s making her way over to me. She leans right into my ear to talk to me. It isn’t exactly loud in here, and she really doesn’t have to get so close, but hey, I’m not complaining. She smells good, not Reese good, but good enough and Reese did leave me with a bad case of blue balls.

  “Drake Kelly, right?”

  “Yep,” I confirm, as she pulls back, and beams at me.

  “Damn, I was just watching you play,” she gestures towards the TV above the bar. “You’re hot.” She bites her bottom lip. “I meant to say good.”

  “Thanks,” I raise my glass to her, and her eyes dance down my body, lingering here and there, and ending up at my crotch. Not hard to tell what she’s thinking.

  “Uh, look, I never do this,” she whispers, leaning up against the bar and raising her eyebrows. “But do you want to come back to my place? I’ve got plenty to drink, and…”

  She lets her sentence trail off, leaving the obvious unsaid. I stare at her for a second, waiting for that stirring between my legs at the thought of hooking up with her. She looks like a girl who knows how to give good head, and I was left high and dry, and I’m carrying a full load, but I don’t feel anything. Dammit, really? Has Reese had that much of an effect on me?