Johnny Deeper: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Yes, we are.”

  John lays his hands on my knees beneath the desk and I bite my cheek.

  Dr. Zach shows a quick smile. “So, I hope you don’t take it too personally when I say I’m benching you for the next few classes.”

  Strong hands force my knees apart and I softly kick John with my toes, tapping him wherever I can to stop him. “Benching me?”

  John keeps going, sliding his fingers between my thighs and my heart skips.

  “It took me years before I even mastered this stuff, so I’d rather take the wheel and make sure the students get it right. Not that I don’t think you’re more than capable of teaching this, Rose, you’ve definitely come a long way since your first day.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Zach,” I say, sitting still. “I completely understahhh—” I bite my tongue as John slides a thick finger inside of me.

  Dr. Zach furrows his brow. “Are you okay?”

  I try to ignore the firm stroke inching in and out of me. “Of course,” I laugh. “I skipped breakfast today. Just a bit hungry, I think.”

  Zach points a stern finger at me. “Take care of yourself. I need you sharp.”

  “Yes, sir.” I chew on my lip, feeling that familiar pleasure growing in me as John plays me like a damn drum.

  Dr. Zach leans back in his chair and I try not to moan. “So, are you doing okay? No classes giving you a headache? We haven’t had a chance to talk about your studies lately.”

  I breathe deep to quell the storm inside. “Oh, my classes are great. No complaints here.”

  “And are you having fun?”

  “Uhh...” I laugh as John lays his thumb against my clit. “Yep.”

  “Good. Letting loose sometimes is just as important for you. Just remember to—”

  “Keep the keg stands to a minimum,” I spit. “Got it!”

  He stands up and pauses next to the door. “I’m really proud of you, Rose. You’re going to go on to do great things.”

  My thighs tremble. “Oh, I hope so.”

  I clench my jaw, keeping it together as he opens the door.

  Dr. Zach waves. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Bye, Dr. Zach.”

  As soon as the door is closed, I roll back the chair and slap John’s forehead. “Are you crazy?”

  He laughs and manages to keep his finger inside me. “A little, yeah.”

  I finally let myself moan quietly as he continues that firm grind in me.

  “Do you want me to stop, Ms. Hawthorne?”

  I hesitate for far too long. “No...”

  “Good. Letting loose sometimes is just as important—”

  I slap his head again. “Shut up.”

  He laughs and intensifies the thrust, pushing me even closer to the edge. My muscles pulse around his finger, sending pleasure through my spine and I dig my nails into the arm of the chair.

  I bite my lip as I come for him. “Johnny...”

  He smiles wider as he feels my body submitting to his will. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

  I cover my red face with my hands as he leans in to kiss my inner thighs. “We can’t keep doing this, Johnny.”

  “I know…” He rips open the condom wrapper with his teeth. “But we will.”

  Chapter 13

  John

  I need to start drinking more coffee in the evenings… especially if I’m going to keep having so much sex in the middle of the day.

  Not that I’m complaining or anything, but satisfying Rose Hawthorne is a little on the exhausting side — in the best possible way. Luckily, there’s a coffee cart stationed at every corner of this university and I’m going to need to refuel if I want to make it through my last class of the day.

  I wait in line, scanning the crowd around me until I catch sight of that douchebag man bun about three people ahead of me. So greasy, yet fluffy. It’s like Douglas doesn’t even wash it. I swear, if he wasn’t so ripped, he probably wouldn’t get any pussy at all.

  He’s talking to a girl ahead of him. I can just make out the top of her head; petite, blonde—

  Rose.

  I blink, shaking my head, waiting for her features to blend into Stephanie Gomez again but they never quite do. First, Stephanie doesn’t wear glasses. Second, she also wears too much make-up and she’s not nearly as gorgeous as Rose is.

  Nope. It’s definitely Rose. Douglas fucking Floyd is talking to Rose Hawthorne ten feet away from me and she’s—

  Smiling. She’s smiling.

  Oh, hell no.

  I try to inch in closer and hear what he’s saying, but I can just make out the dull thrum of his voice on the air. That soft, cool way of speaking just above a whisper when you want to show a girl that she’s got your complete, undivided attention.

  I know it because I fucking invented it.

  Rose turns away from him to order her coffee and I push down the urge to rip his stupid hair off his head.

  Douglas gazes over his shoulder, somehow linked directly to my presence and he flashes me a quick wave and smile. I return the gesture with a head nod.

  Asshole.

  She pays for her coffee and leaves, but not before offering Douglas a kind goodbye and my chest tightens.

  Word in the quad is that Dougie’s already two out of three.

  Apparently, he just needs a teacher.

  Looks like he found one.

  I step out of line and tail close behind her as she heads through the quad towards the student union. Once we round the corner, far away from Douglas and that damn coffee cart, I clear my throat.

  “Hey, Ms. Hawthorne,” I greet.

  Rose peeks back at me over the rim of her disposable cup. “Hey, John,” she smiles.

  “Where are you off to?”

  She swallows a mouthful of coffee. “I’m on my way home, actually.”

  “Got any fun plans tonight?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she says, pausing her stride. “I have a paper to research for and I still have about half of Wednesday’s quizzes to grade. Should be a blast.”

  “So, you’re not going out or anything with anybody or nothing?”

  She raises a brow. “No.”

  “Cool.”

  Her lips twitch. “How about you?”

  “Me? No. Well… I usually make an appearance at the pre-game football parties. There’s one tonight at Ty’s…”

  “Cool.”

  “So, do you know Douglas?”

  She stiffens. “Who?”

  I point a thumb over my shoulder. “Douglas Floyd. I saw you talking to him at the coffee cart.”

  “Oh… that guy?” She shakes her head, chuckling softly. “Uh, no. He just walked up to me and asked for my number. One of the perils of being a pretty girl on a college campus, unfortunately.”

  I breathe a hidden sigh of relief. “I see…”

  “Why?” she smiles. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Me? Jealous? Pfft. Hell no…” I pause. “But I might have the urge to drag you inside and bend you over something sturdy.”

  “You really are just a caveman, aren’t you?”

  “Does that turn you on?”

  “Kind of,” she shrugs.

  “Then, yes,” I wink, drawing a laugh from her that leaves a little bliss in me. “Come on. Let’s go find a study room in the library. I’ve got a healthy supply of calculators in my pocket just dying to solve some maths.”

  Rose presses her lips together. “I actually have a lot of work to do tonight, John.”

  “How about later, then?” I ask. “You should come to the party, have a few drinks.”

  She squints. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why, John.”

  I take a short step back. “Right. Sorry.”

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I nod a few times too many. “You know me. It’s all good.”

  She nods and turns away. “I’ll see
you on Monday, John. Good luck at the game.”

  “Yeah. Bye, Ms. Hawthorne.”

  What the fuck was that?

  The caveman comparison doesn’t end with my desire to fuck a lot — that was some straight-up territorial shit. Rose isn’t even mine to claim and I go apeshit at the slightest wink in her direction from another guy?

  This isn’t just any guy, though. This is Douglas Floyd. The prick to end all pricks. The scum on the bottom of my shoe. Just the thought of him laying his filthy hands on her makes me nauseous.

  But come on, this is Rose Hawthorne. She would never go out with a guy like Douglas. No way. That still hasn’t changed so I have nothing to worry about. She’s still my Rose.

  My Rose?

  Nope. Wrong again, Johnny.

  ***

  These parties used to be more fun.

  I look around Ty’s living room, staring into the blissful faces of my teammates and classmates and perfect strangers and wonder why everything feels so different.

  The party hasn’t changed. It’s still the same people, the same cheap beer, the same pre-game ritual, but…

  I’m just not into it this time.

  I toss my half-empty cup into the trash can and round the corner towards the front door to go out and get some air, only to come face-to-face with Grant’s smug mug.

  “Hello, Johnny,” he says, smiling at me.

  “Hey,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  I raise a brow. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Yeah, nothing.”

  “You seem pensive,” he says. “You never seem pensive.”

  “Must just be an off night.”

  “Johnny…” He throws his arm over my shoulder. “Walk with me.”

  We spin around and he guides me away from the door. “Grant—”

  “Johnny,” he interrupts, “I think you’re going through what the psychologists refer to as an identity crisis.”

  I laugh. “What the hell do you know about psychology, Grant?”

  “I go on a lot of triple dates with Junior and his sister. Anyway, that’s not important. What is important is that my house parties are amazing. Would you agree with me when I say that my house parties are amazing?”

  I nod. “Yes, your house parties are amazing.”

  “Then…” he swings in front of me and stares me down, “why the hell do you look like your favorite show just got canceled?”

  “Grant—”

  “And why the hell haven’t you completed your trifecta yet?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Being pensive?”

  “Yes.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I don’t buy it. What’s her name?”

  “Her name is piss off, Grant.”

  “Ohh,” he grins. “Sounds Swedish.”

  I sigh. “If I tell you there’s a girl, will you let me leave?”

  He stands up a little taller. “Yes.”

  I lean forward. “There’s a girl. Excuse me…”

  “Wait, wait—” he says, grabbing my elbow. “If there’s a girl, then what the hell are you doing here?”

  “And miss one of your amazing house parties?” I ask.

  “Touché.” He releases my arm. “You may go.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walk towards the front door, briefly glancing back to see Grant furrowing his brow at me, deep in thought. Telling him there was a girl probably wasn’t the brightest idea but Grant lives for gossip. Those three little words should be enough to keep him preoccupied for a while.

  I step out onto the porch and fill my lungs with fresh, autumn air; enough to chill my insides and clear my head.

  Man, what the hell am I doing here?

  I used to come to these parties for a singular purpose and that was to find a girl to take home with me. It was easy. I’d spend an hour mingling with the team before setting my sights on some girl. A wink-wink and a nudge-nudge later and she was climbing into the backseat of my car with smeared lipstick but now…

  I just can’t be bothered.

  “Leaving so soon, Kirby?”

  Ugh.

  I pause on the stairs as Douglas climbs them. “Yeah,” I answer, brief and cold.

  “Hey…” He offers a forced smile, gently patting my shoulder as he stares back at me. “I hear you’re falling a little behind on your trifecta, John.”

  I shake my head. “No, not really. I still have plenty of time to get the last two before you manage to find a teacher willing enough to touch that fuzzy ball on your head.”

  “Last two, eh?” he smirks, ignoring my jab. “So you did get the teacher?”

  My tongue twitches with alcohol, resisting the urge to spill the whole truth and nothing but. “Yeah, I figured I’d knock out the hardest one first, you know?”

  He nods with respect. “I know what you mean. I got one in mind right now but she’s taking a little longer than I expected.”

  My stomach twists. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Sexy, little, blonde TA, man. She’s smoking hot but super frigid — the best kind,” he grins. “Just needs a little bit of extra grease to loosen up.”

  “Sounds like a whole lot of unnecessary effort.”

  “Nah, she’ll bend eventually.” He nudges me with his elbow. “They always do for guys like us, right?”

  I fight the urge to break his arm. “Yeah. Right.”

  Douglas squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll see you at the game.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  And that’s it. Douglas is absolutely gunning for Rose and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I can keep telling myself that doesn’t bother me; that Rose would never fall for his shit, but she fell for mine first. What makes him any different than me? He’s just as cool, just as smart. Stupid hair aside, I can’t think of a damn thing that separates us.

  I stumble down the street to my car, constantly resisting the urge to pull out my phone and call her. Instead, I drive home and fall into bed.

  Tomorrow is the Homecoming game. A good night’s sleep should be enough for me to regain some focus and compartmentalize this Rose issue. Now isn’t the time to worry about girls.

  Limit distractions. Concentrate on the game. Earn that championship.

  I close my eyes and as I start to drift off, I hear that wonderful sound of Rose moaning in my memories. Images form in my head, shaping into a very vivid picture of Douglas pounding her in the—

  I jerk awake.

  Goddammit.

  Chapter 14

  Rose

  “So,” Daisy says, “how are things with your little student fuck buddy?”

  “Shh!”

  I look over my shoulder at the sea of faces surrounding me on the bleachers just in case someone heard that. It’s the Homecoming game and this is the largest crowd I’ve seen at a game so far this year.

  “Rose, we’re on the phone,” she says. “Unless the chemistry department has started wire-tapping TA cell phones, I think we’re okay to speak freely about your casual fling.”

  “Sorry, just habit at this point.” I keep my voice low. “Dr. Zach almost caught us yesterday.”

  “Where were you?”

  “In the TA office.”

  She gasps. “You’re banging him on campus?”

  “Daisy...”

  “Bravo!” she praises. “Such a dirty girl! Even I’ve never done it in public. Good for you.”

  “Stop it,” I say, barely glancing at the field. We’re on the defense right now. As much as I love football, I tend the zone out whenever Douglas is on the field. “I think I should call this whole thing off. It’s getting too risky.”

  “But risky is what makes it fun.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with that, but…”

  “But what?” she asks.

  “I think he’s…” I lower my voice, “corrupting me.”

  She laughs. “Good.”

  “Is
it?”

  “It’s about time, if you ask me. I couldn’t even get you to swipe a tube of lipstick in high school.”

  “Well, that’s illegal,” I point out, “but this is just…”

  “Dirty.”

  “Yeah.”

  The crowd boos and my attentions fly back to the field. The other team scored yet another touchdown, giving them a very considerable lead over us. Good thing we’re only in the second quarter.

  The players shuffle around on the field and my chest flutters as I see John walking out there.

  “Don’t think too much about it, Rose,” Daisy says. “Just have fun with it.”

  “There is such a thing as too much fun, you know.”

  “Not the way I do it.”

  I bite my tongue as John gets slammed to the ground by a rather overzealous cornerback. Junior bends down and helps him to his feet as the crowd groans again.

  “What’s up with your boy today?” Daisy asks me. “He’s playing like shit.”

  “I don’t know…” The team huddles up on the field but I focus on him, craning my neck to see over the freakishly tall people in front of me.

  “Well, did you guys have sex today?”

  “No,” I answer.

  “Last night?”

  “… No.” I pause. “Why?”

  “Because sexual intercourse is a natural performance enhancer,” she explains. “It temporarily increases testosterone levels, makes them more focused, more controlled. All that fun stuff.”

  I shake my head. “That can’t possibly be true…”

  “Dude, you’re the chemist.”

  “Oh, man…” I look out at the field as the teams cradle the line of scrimmage. “Is this really my fault?”

  “Probably.”

  “Hike!” Junior spins around and hands the ball off to John, who instantly bolts to the left to dodge a fierce defense as it pummels right through the offensive linemen.

  I wince as John takes yet another hard tackle. “Ah, crap.”

  Daisy chuckles. “Or, you can acknowledge that football is a team sport and he’s probably not the only one out there having an off day… if that makes you feel any better.”

  “Right…” I chew on my lip and check the countdown timer. Three minutes left until halftime and we’re down twenty-one points. “I’ll give you a call after the game.”