Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  'I want to fuck you so bad,' he sent after a few minutes. I could only imagine what he'd been doing in the interim. I groaned and pushed my fingers inside of myself, flipping my phone around and blinding myself with the flash. I texted a pic of my breasts and wondered what he'd think. I'd been flat chested forever, a real late bloomer. I hadn't started my period until I was sixteen, hadn't gotten boobs until months after that. But now, I had a good solid set of Ds. Even though Tyce and I had slept together, he hadn't seen these in the park.

  'I want to fuck those, too,' Tyce added, coloring my cheeks with a flush nobody could see. 'I want to hold them in hands, knead them with my fingers.' A pause that wasn't really a pause because I was touching myself, sliding my fingers in as deep as I could get them. It felt good, not as good as it would if Tyce were here, his long strong fingers teasing the molten core between my thighs. 'What do you want to do to me?'

  A million different responses pounded across the surface of my sex addled brain. I was fingering myself and thinking about Tyce's football hardened body, the Latin words tattooed on his right pec that I couldn't read. I was imagining him going down on me, putting his tongue where my fingers currently were, tasting me and bringing me to the brink of orgasm before he entered me with his thick, hard cock.

  'I want you to hold me.' I typed that up before I could even register what I was writing. I promptly deleted it and came up with something a lot less mood killing. Where did that come from? I wondered as I sent this instead: 'I want to taste your cock.'

  It was a wild thing to say, but I'd always been a little wild. I could drag myself to college on a scholarship, rent a room in a sterile gray apartment, study computer science, but I'd always be me, the girl who set things on fire and made friends with boys like Tyce Winship.

  My next message was a video, same angle as the pictures, a collage of sound and movement that brought a gasp ripping from my throat. Oh my God, Tyce. What are you doing? But I watched the video with wide eyes, moving my fingers back to my clit and rubbing the swollen flesh with vigor.

  Tyce pumped his cock with a firm grip, the camera shaking in his other hand with the rapid motions of his body. Beads of sweat rolled over those abs, catching in the grooves between muscles, making him look like he was all oiled up. This is for me? I wondered as I watched, completely enraptured. Because of me? Groans slipped from Tyce's lips, crackling against the speaker as he moaned and squeezed and coaxed an orgasm from his cock. When he came all over the black comforter situated above him, the phone collapsed to his hard belly and I could hear him taking several breaths. When he picked it up, he pointed it at his sleepy, sex mussed face.

  “Hey,” Tyce whispered in a husky voice drenched in male satisfaction. His blue eyes were shuttered and dark, more like a restless sea and less like a sun drenched lake. That signature full lower lip of his was twisted to the side in a gentle smirk. I had no idea how to interpret that. “That was all for you,” he continued, his voice already shifting from satisfied to sexual, desperate, wanting. “Because I can't stop thinking about you, Teagan.”

  I felt my breath catch as the video ended, and I promptly restarted it.

  I watched Tyce pleasure himself over and over again, working my body up until an orgasm came shuddering through me, purple lightning flickers of pleasure shattering my brain. I groaned, turning my head and biting my pillow as my back arched and I hit record on my phone. Panting, I collapsed back into into my crisp white sheets and quickly hit send, not bothering to even find out what I'd filmed.

  'Goddamn it, Teagan. I'm coming over there.'

  I panicked then, my brain wiped clean with the orgasm, giving me a crystal clear moment of unclouded thoughts. Tyce couldn't come over here. What would happen? We'd screw and he'd spring away on his fancy Ducks themed Nikes? I'd have to wait until his next game to see him on TV? And then what? How was this going to end? Not well was my guess. I'd lived my whole life with a shaky story, too many plot arcs, too many bad guys. I needed something that I knew was going to have a happy ending.

  This wasn't it.

  'You can't come here, Tyce,' I sent back, wondering exactly how drunk he was, if he'd even remember this in the morning. I mean, the proof would be in the pudding so to speak. He'd have evidence of this forever on his phone, but that wouldn't matter if he was missing the memories.

  'Why not?' That text was followed immediately by another video. It was Tyce's staring back at me, lids half-shuttered, mouth half-open in a pleading almost-kiss.

  “I want to fuck you, Teagan,” he said, his voice groggy and alcohol laden. Or maybe that was sex slurring his words? Desire? “I can't stop thinking about how good you felt pressed up against that tree. You were so tight, Tea. Hot and wet and tight. I can't focus at practice anymore. You're always in my head.”

  I pursed my lips against another rush of hormones. What he was saying sounded great to my body, not so much to my heart. I lost my virginity that night, got slapped in the face with a harsh dose of reality, the real truth that Tyce Winship was not the same boy I'd grown up with. I almost turned my phone off, but I was afraid he'd come over anyway and make a scene.

  I turned the camera on my face.

  “You can't come over, Tyce. I'm sorry. If you can't figure out why that is, then it's even more reason for me to say no.” I sent that and waited with tense anticipation for him to respond.

  'Why do you hate me?' he asked, surprising me.

  “I can't do this like … this,” I said aloud, leaving my phone on the bed and heading into the bathroom. I washed my hands vigorously in cold water, trying to scrub the brand-new memory from my brain. When I tiptoed back to my room, I grabbed my old gray wife beater and pulled it on before sitting cross legged on the bed.

  I had three more texts from Tyce.

  'I really wanted to talk to you that day, Tea. You shouldn't have locked me out.'

  'I needed to tell you some stuff, about why I left and everything.'

  'What happened to Venus?'

  I stared at the series of texts, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

  'I don't hate you.'

  Send.

  'You hurt me, Tyce. I wasn't ready to talk yet.'

  Send.

  'I'd still like to know why you left.'

  Send.

  'Can we have coffee or something tomorrow?'

  A whole five minutes passed before he responded, and I started to wonder if he'd fallen asleep.

  'I have morning practice, but how about we meet at four? I can pick you up. I'll borrow Kai's car.' The thought of seeing him after tonight, going out for a mocha or something, that sounded horrible. But it needed to be done. We really did need to talk things out. Despite his coldness towards me, if there was a way to recapture even a spark of the friendship we'd once had, I'd love to have it back.

  'Okay, Tyce. Goodnight.'

  'Goodnight.'

  I set my phone down next to me and stood up, heading to the balcony doors and stepping outside. It was cold enough to give me goose bumps, harden my nipples into painful points. It was late out, but there were always stray straggling college students. I probably should put some pants on.

  Instead, I turned my face up to the moon and closed my eyes.

  Emotions tumbled inside of me like clothes in a dryer. I could reach in a dozen different times and come up with a dozen different answers on how I felt about what just happened. None of them would match.

  I stood up and ran my hands down my face. My heart was both glowing and broken, a neon sign of aching feelings and burning desire. I was used to that when it came to Tyce. What I wasn't used to was him giving me an in at the same time he was desperately trying to snatch an out. He wanted me, but he didn't. He needed to talk, but he didn't. Things were so much simpler when he'd treated me like an asexual sidekick.

  I sighed.

  I just spent an hour sexting my childhood best friend turned star quarterback.

  How much weirder could things get?

  T
he answer was: a whole hell of a lot.

  I woke up with a serious hangover, and a weird feeling in my stomach. Unlike my headache, I knew that had nothing to do with the booze and everything to do with Teagan. I rolled over and snatched my phone off the nightstand, ignoring the flurry of new texts I'd already received today. There was only one person I was checking on and she hadn't sent anything since last night.

  'Okay, Tyce. Goodnight.'

  I sat up and looked over at Kai's rumpled bed. He was still asleep, sprawled out naked on his comforter with his dick lying flaccid against his thigh. There was a girl sleeping next to him, her head on his chest. She was a redhead like Teagan, and looking at her, I felt pissed the fuck off. Kai was gunning on bringing Tea back here and doing this, laying like this, with her. Lucky him he didn't. I would've fucking killed him.

  I sat up and turned the volume down on my phone, so I could watch Teagan's video again. Her mouth was open wide, her eyes closed. I could see the pleasure in the slackened features of her face, the complete abandon. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking last night? I started the whole sexting thing with her, sending those stupid ass pictures, pictures that could get my ass in serious trouble. The local media was always sniffing around, waiting for a Duck to screw up so they could report about it, tell the whole world what big dicks all athletes were.

  Now, a girl I'd fucked over and pissed off had several pictures of my dick, videos of me jerking off. If she wanted to, she could sell those. Maybe it wouldn't ruin my career, but it could definitely scramble things up.

  I watched her video again, scrolled up and stared at her breasts. They were creamy and full, obviously soft to the touch with hard pink nipples that just begged for my mouth to cover them. My morning wood morphed into a painful ache that I reached down to take care of.

  “Hey, you have a roommate, remember?” Kai laughed, acting like I hadn't had to wake up to him fucking his new friend over the bed about two hours after I finished with Teagan. He was absolutely loving having a roommate. Growing up a privileged single child, Kai was desperate for attention. From me, from girls, from Coach. From anyone, really. And with the administration desperate to prove to the world that their athletes weren't that spoiled, that overprivileged, we'd been put in the student dorms with everyone else. Kai had immediately requested me as his roomie. He was better than Mason, I guess.

  “Like that matters to you,” I said, putting my phone down and giving him a look. “You run around with your dick flopping in my face, like it's some sort of gift from god.”

  “I think it's a gift,” the girl next to Kai volunteered and he laughed, his big mouth opening wide as he chuckled like some Norse god or something. All big and blonde with his mouth full of square white teeth. He pulled the girl into his arms and they started kissing again.

  “We have practice, asshole,” I snapped as I stood up with a raging hard-on and Teagan's pictures burning a hole in my pocket. I hit Kai with my pillow and then dragged a shirt over my head. Practice first, Teagan second.

  And that was why she couldn't be mine. She needed—deserved—to be somebody's number one.

  “Where are you running off to?” Kai asked me after practice, right after I stole his car keys. “No, wait. Let me guess, it's that girl again.”

  “She has a name, dickhead,” I said as I smacked my gum and gave him a feral look. It was my don't screw with me right now look. Kai had learned it well over the years. My friendship with Kai is as old as my abandonment of Teagan. But I didn't abandon her. I saved her. I saved us both. I had to tell her that, how I would've been a mechanic and she would've been a mom and how that town would've trapped us both. Our love would've decayed and melted into hatred, just like my parents' had.

  I took a deep breath as Kai shook his head and started gelling up his hair again. With another game coming up tomorrow, I doubted he was going out to party again. He probably had a date.

  “Do whatever you want,” he said with a shrug of his big shoulders. “Just don't forget we have an actual game tomorrow. It's that thing you used to care about. You know, football.”

  “Shut the fuck up, asshole,” I growled at him, keeping a surge of violence in check by hitting my fist against the wall. The keys dug into my palm as I squeezed them tight. “I've been killing it in practice. And I don't see the NFL sniffing around your asshole, so step off.”

  “Whoa, overreaction much, Winship? Jesus. I was just reminding you to keep your head in the game, okay? I've seen a lot of the guys get caught up in girls. Just keep your nose clean.”

  “Don't you think I know that?” I snapped, running my fingers through my hair. I knew better than anyone the kinds of sacrifices that had to be made to bring dreams into reality. Sometimes, to get one wish right, you have to give up a hundred others. Or at least one really, really big one. “That's why I'm going to see her, to talk. Tomorrow, we'll crush the Sun Devils, alright?”

  “Okay, dude,” Kai said, but he didn't sound convinced. Maybe I didn't sound convinced either? Fuck, I'd spent the night sending nude pictures to Teagan Fletcher. I must've been out of my damn mind. “Hurry back.”

  “Try not to be bare assed and fucking when I come home.”

  “I'll try,” he chortled as I slipped out the door and down to the parking lot. As I walked, I noticed that my palms were sweaty despite the cool drizzle outside the dorms. It was cold as hell, but I was hot as a pig with an erection to match. Thick, hard, hurting. I wanted to bury it inside Teagan's warm body, move until I made her moan, made her jaw go slack, her eyes roll back. I wanted it so bad I could practically taste it.

  I pinched my wrist until it bruised, trying to drag my mind up from the gutter. We were going to coffee to talk, not to get get warmed up for another sexting session. Or a screw in Alton Baker park.

  I unlocked the doors to Kai's Mercedes.

  I made her bleed. I used her.

  Those thoughts would not stop haunting me. I needed this talk to clear my head. Thing was, I kept saying that to myself, that this visit with Teagan would make things better, but it only seemed to be getting worse. I tried cold turkey, two weeks and then some with no contact, and that didn't work either. The second she texted me, I fell right back into it.

  Teagan Fletcher was a trap that I was falling for.

  And I'd known all along this would happen.

  How could I not fall for that face, those round pink cheeks, that wicked smile, the fiery red of her hair? It was a lost cause to even try and resist that. I needed to do what I'd done before and run the hell away.

  “Talk is cheap, Winship,” I told myself as I climbed in and started the engine purring. I could hardly believe Kai was lending me this thing, but then again, his dad could buy a whole fleet of them and barely feel the dip in weight of his wallet. “Act now, ponder later.” I was quoting Coach Deryl now. Not a good sign. “This is the last play right here. Do what you need to do and finish it.”

  I sped all the way to Teagan's place, confident that the cops were well acquainted with this vehicle. Kai was a notorious speed demon, rich, a member of the team. Nobody pulled him over. The only guy on the team that was more privileged was Mason Fenna, and he was a fucking dick.

  I smirked as I thought about practice, about how I'd whipped his ass in frigging everything. Of course, he wasn't that far behind me and that freaked me out. I was the best. Me. The team was mine. I needed to keep my head in the game and keep things that way.

  When I arrived at Teagan's apartment, I stayed in the idling car and sent her a text. If I went up to that apartment, things might happen between us. Sweaty, hot, sticky, grabby things that made my jaw hurt when I clenched my teeth and reached down to cup my junk.

  'I'm in the parking lot,' I sent, rubbing myself as I wait for a response. It didn't help, just made things worse.

  'Three minutes,' she sent back, giving me a small window of opportunity to be an asshole. I pulled up the pictures of her breasts, her smooth belly, those sexy panties, and slid my hand into m
y jeans. My dick was almost literally on fire at that point, a bit of friction and a firm grip and I was coming hard and fast inside of two minutes. Not a performance I'd ever want to pull during a real game. Good thing Kai had wet wipes in his dash. Didn't want to know what they were for, but they came in handy for cleaning up.

  “Hey,” Teagan said, pulling open the door at just right the moment. I felt like she'd be easier to look at if I took care of myself. She wasn't. Her hair was loose and wavy, curled and falling around her shoulders in gentle waves like a river of liquid fire. Her shirt was new, white, almost see through. I could see her bra, the deep line of cleavage at the V-neck. But it was her eyes that really got me. They were as green and beautiful as usual, but they were also puffy, makeup smeared, moisture glistening at the edges. “Sorry about that. My roommate kind of freaked when I told her I was going out with you.”

  “Seriously?” I asked as I reached over and brushed a jiggling teardrop away with my thumb. I didn't mean to do it; it just happened. Teagan's eyes whipped over to me in shock and I withdrew my hand, stretching my arms above my head like I didn't give a shit. I watched as her gaze caught on the edge of my shirt as it rode up and exposed a few inches of my belly. Her pupils dilated and she glanced away suddenly. “Why? About what? Did she make you cry?”

  “Oh,” Teagan said, like she didn't realize her emotions were still showing, reaching up to rub at her eyes. “Sorry. No, that's something different.” I stared at her, waiting for her to explain. Instead she just looked at me like there was an elephant in the room, one she really wanted to sweep under the rug. “About last night,” she began, but didn't bother to finish her sentence. I guessed I was supposed to finish it for her.