BULL: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  I didn’t love Cole’s world. It was violent and seedy. But I maybe understood where he was coming from, why he felt the way that he did. I didn’t want to stay married to the guy, but I didn’t hate him quite so much.

  “Take us home,” Cole grunted at the driver, and we pulled out into traffic.

  6

  Cole

  It was early the next morning, the sun just peeking over the horizon, as I finished my run. I hated getting up early, but I could barely sleep the night before. I kept thinking about her, about my stepsister, about my fucking wife.

  I’d never brought a girl around my life like that before. It felt safer because she was my stepsister, but it was definitely far from safe. We were married, and I kept imagining all the dirty shit I wanted to do to her body.

  I knew I could make her wet like a waterfall with just a touch. I wanted that soaking pussy to grip my cock like a vice, and it drove me fucking crazy. The run did barely anything to get her out of my brain.

  Why the fuck didn’t I just divorce her and be done with it?

  I was a masochist and knew it.

  “Good morning,” Cindy said as I came into the kitchen. “You’re awake early for once.”

  “Good morning,” I grunted at her, filling up my coffee mug. I felt the two-day stubble on my chin and resolved to shave.

  “How are you adjusting to the new house?”

  I shrugged. “Fine. How are you adjusting to your new husband?”

  “Frank is a good man. I wish you’d get to know him.”

  “I’m sure you wish a lot of things, Cindy.”

  “Don’t be a brat,” she spat at me. “You can at least be civil.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “Fine. Frank seems nice enough.”

  She nodded curtly. “Thank you.”

  “I’m told there’s trouble in paradise, though.”

  “With Frank? Things are great.”

  “Your job.”

  “Ah.” She nodded and looked away. “That’s great, too.”

  I knew she was lying. My mother had only ever cared about one thing, and that was power. People sometimes called her the Ice Queen, and for good reason. I liked to call her Mussolini behind her back. She was intense and task-driven, always on to the next thing that would further her desires.

  We were similar like that. I was driven to be the best at what I did, just like she was. The biggest difference was, Cindy was willing to sacrifice anyone or anything for her own personal gain.

  I believed in hard work. I trained my ass off and put my body on the line. I didn’t need anything from anyone, and I never would. I also didn’t believe in fucking others over just because you wanted something.

  “Not what I heard,” I said.

  She gave me a frown. “My work is not your concern, Cole.”

  “Please, mother. You’ve been trying to get me to act proper for years because of your job.”

  “And now you’re interested?”

  I shrugged, sipping my coffee. “Trying to make pleasant conversation.”

  She sat up and looked at me. “Okay. My marriage to Frank has caused some problems, it’s true. There’s talk of nepotism and other scandalous lies.”

  “You wouldn’t marry a man to further you career,” I said, nodding, though I knew full well that she would.

  “Of course not,” she said quickly. “It was just a coincidence.”

  “Of course.”

  She gave me a look and nodded to herself. “If you suddenly care about all this, there is something you can do.”

  “Maybe,” I grunted.

  “There’s a dinner for certain shareholders and other prominent members of the company tomorrow night. I’d like you to attend with your stepsister.”

  “And why would I do this for you?”

  “I thought you were trying to be a family, Cole.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. The idea of her trying to be a family again was absurd. She didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, which was probably why I had ended up seeking pain for a living.

  But that was just stupid armchair psychology.

  “You have no interest in being a family. If you want something, you have to give up something. You know how this works; you’re a businesswoman,” I said.

  She nodded, thinking. “Very well then. If you do this for me, I’ll give you free reign of the cars all summer.”

  I raised an eyebrow. It was an intriguing proposition, especially considering her fondness for vintage muscle cars. It wasn’t exactly a feminine hobby, but my mother never cared much for gender stereotypes. She was something of a feminist like that.

  “You have a deal.”

  She smiled. “Good. Now convince your stepsister to come along.”

  “That wasn’t part of this.”

  “I need you both.”

  I grunted. “She doesn’t listen to me.”

  “You seem to be getting along. Try.”

  “Fine.”

  She nodded again and went back to her paper. I took my coffee upstairs.

  I didn’t usually give in to my mother’s bribes. Normally, the idea of taking something from her made my stomach churn. But I was beginning to realize that if I was staying in that house with her and Frank and Alex, I had to at least pretend to get along with everyone.

  As I crested the staircase, I saw her sneak out of her room. Alex was wearing short cotton shorts and a tight tank top, her long brown hair spilling down along her back. I could see the bottom of her ass, and I felt my cock stiffen instantly.

  She was the reason I was going through all this bullshit. If we weren’t married, I didn’t think I’d stick around. But we were, and I had to admit that I was having a ton of fucking fun with it.

  I took a long drink of coffee as I came up behind her. “Good morning, sis,” I said.

  She whirled around. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to my room.”

  “You scared me. Quit being a creep.”

  I walked up closer to her. “You look good this morning. Bedhead suits you.”

  “Bedhead doesn’t suit anyone,” she mumbled.

  “Reminds me of how you look after you come. Your skin gets flushed and your hair is a mess.”

  “It’s too early for that.”

  “It’s never too early. Right now I’m thinking about ripping those little shorts off your incredible body and fucking you right here against the wall.”

  “Be quiet,” she hissed. “My dad could hear you.”

  “So what?” I stepped closer to her, and she didn’t move an inch. “They’ll find out how badly I want to fuck that perfect pussy of yours eventually.”

  “No, they won’t, because you’re going to give me that divorce.”

  I smirked. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m going to make your body want to stay married to me.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered and turned away. I could see the blush in her cheeks, and I knew I had riled her up. I could practically smell how soaked her pussy was, and I bet if I really did push her against the wall and press my fingers against her pussy, they’d come away soaked.

  Instead, I followed her into the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” she practically yelled. “You can’t just follow me in here.”

  “Word from the parents,” I said. “There’s some dinner bullshit tomorrow night. You’re expected to attend.”

  She made a face. “Already? I hate those things.”

  “Been to one before?”

  “Sure. It’s all old people and sleazy businessmen. Not my scene. I’m amazed your mom never made you go to one.”

  “She tried, a long time ago. She stopped trying pretty quick.”

  Alex leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “If I say I’m going, will you get the heck out of here?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe I want to taste that wet pussy first.”

  “I’ll go. Get out.”

  I grinned at her. “You sure you
don’t want me to get you off? I bet your body is begging for it right now.”

  “Out.”

  “Your loss.” I turned and left, laughing quietly to myself. I couldn’t help but tease her mercilessly. I loved the way she responded to me, denying in her words but begging in her body language.

  My cock was practically tearing through my shorts, but I didn’t care. That was the reason I was sticking around. The look on her fucking cute-as-hell face, that perfect body, those lips, those eyes, that everything. I needed another taste. I was going to get another taste.

  Maybe the dinner was the perfect place to show her exactly what she wanted.

  “Car’s here,” I said, knocking on her door.

  “Just a minute!”

  I leaned up against the wall. “How are you not ready yet?”

  “I said, just a minute!”

  I laughed and shook my head. Finally, after a few minutes she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

  I took a sharp breath. Her dress was the perfect shade of blue, and it made her light skin and pale eyes stand out so much more. It showed just enough cleavage to have me fucking hard already, but not enough to make our parents complain.

  “Not too bad,” I said, looking her up and down.

  “Can it,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  I followed her down the hall and out front, feeling a little stiff in my tuxedo. I hadn’t worn it in a long time, but it still fit. Alex’s ass swayed as we moved toward the front door, and I grinned to myself as we approached my final surprise for the night.

  “Where’s the car?” she asked as we got out front.

  “There.” I pointed.

  “No way.”

  I nodded, grinning hugely. “Yes way.”

  Parked out front was my mother’s 1970 Shelby Mustang GT350 in bright yellow. I had to admit, I wasn’t much of a car guy, but there was something about classic muscle cars that was just so damn cool.

  “Whose car is that?”

  “Cindy’s. I’m using it for the evening.” I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. “Your carriage awaits.”

  She smiled despite herself and got inside. I closed the door softly and walked around to the other side.

  “I have to admit,” she said, “this is kind of cool.”

  I hit the ignition and the car roared to life. “Hell yeah it is.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  I hit play on the tape player and Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” came blaring through the speakers as I hit the gas and sped out into traffic.

  She laughed loudly as I wove my way toward the suburbs and the banquet hall where the dinner was being held. I was surprised that she seemed to love driving fast as much as I did. The cool night air flooded in through the open windows, and although it whipped our hair around, hers coming undone from the fancy updo she clearly had worked on, she never once complained. In fact, she turned the music up louder and rolled her window down lower.

  I was in awe. Part of me had wanted to mess with her, but my plan was backfiring. Clearly, there was more to Alexa than I had thought.

  Attractive stepsister slash wife at my side, we sped through the cool California night, whipping wide around slower cars, rubber screeching over pavement, the stars coming in through the past and exiting further into it.

  We enjoyed the ride in silence, not bothering to try to make small talk. We got to the banquet hall much sooner than I had expected, though, and I was a little disappointed that I had to stop driving. I would have loved to keep going with her by my side, but duty called. I parked and helped her out, and we walked into the venue together. We found our place cards and wove our way through the surprisingly large crowd.

  “Alexa!” Frank said as we approached, clearly surprised as we made our way to the table. “What are you doing here?”

  “Cindy demanded we come,” I explained.

  He nodded, smiling. “Well, I’m glad you’re both here.”

  We took our seats at the head table as Frank returned to his conversation with another old white dude. I felt completely out of place among the stuffy rich people, but Alexa seemed totally fine. In fact, she shook hands and smiled like she was born for it.

  I knocked back my drink and gestured for one of the staff to bring me another. I might as well try to enjoy myself if I was going to have to endure that all night long.

  “You’re good at this,” I grunted into Alexa’s ear after a half hour. She smiled at me.

  “It’s easy. Just don’t act like a jerk and you’re fine.”

  “I’m being pleasant.”

  “Drinking too much and grunting at everyone is pleasant?”

  “Is for me.”

  “At least try, Cole.”

  Before I could come up with some witty retort, my mother walked onstage and the crowd slowly quieted.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “thank you for coming.” The crowd applauded politely. “There have been huge changes here with Semingo, as everyone knows. When Semiotics Inc. and Blingo merged last year, nobody was sure where that would lead. What was a major producer of computer components doing merging with a software company? Well,” she said with a flourish, “now you all know.”

  The crowd clapped louder.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered to Alexa.

  “Semingo. New company,” she whispered back.

  I shrugged, my eyes glazing over as my mother continued her presentation. It followed the standard formula of thanking the shareholders, the board members, and every other old and rich and important member of the company. Next she talked logistics, going over numbers and such, and finally she ended with projections.

  It was all well and good but boring as hell. I tuned it out after ten minutes, and then suddenly a spotlight was shining directly on Alexa and me.

  Alex was giving me a look, and I glanced up from my drink. People were staring, and Alex was standing. I ambled to my feet and raised my glass to the room, smirking.

  “Our children, everyone,” Cindy said. “Frank and I are so proud of them and are so happy they could be here.”

  Scattered applause. We sat back down. Alexa scowled at me. “You’re doing more harm than good.”

  “Maybe,” I grunted.

  And the speeches continued. When Cindy was finished, she rejoined our table, shooting me looks. It was easy to ignore her when Alexa was so damn distracting by my side.

  We were forced to sit through increasingly dull people talk about increasingly mindless things. Even Alex was looking a little haggard at the end of the first hour.

  “Hey,” I whispered in her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “We can’t leave,” she said. “It’s not over yet.”

  “Won’t leave,” I said back. “We’ll just take a break.”

  She gave me a dubious look. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. I can tell you’re ready to claw your own eyes out.”

  I stood up as the speaker finished onstage. She had a moment of indecision, and then she quickly stood to follow me. As the people clapped and the staff bustled to freshen drinks as the next speaker set up, we skirted around the edges of the large banquet hall. We came up toward the bar, and as we passed I grabbed a bottle of whisky, pushing it into my jacket. I quickly went out an emergency exit and into a stairwell before anyone noticed.

  Alexa was right on my heels. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.” I took a slug of the whisky as we climbed up the steps. I could hear the clacking of her heels on the concrete steps as she followed me.

  “Did you steal that?” she asked.

  “It’s an open bar.”

  “Give it here.”

  I handed her back the bottle and she took a swig, making a face. “Whisky is gross.”

  “It’s an acquired taste.”

  “Shouldn’t things just, like, taste good? And not have to be acquired?”

  I shrugged. “Some
times the best things seem bad at first. Come on.”

  We reached the top of the stairs and I pushed out the door.

  “Wow,” Alexa whispered.

  I had to agree. The door led out onto the roof, and the view of the bay was incredible. We were pretty high, and the night sky was clear, so everything was visible. We walked over to the edge and leaned up against the brick, looking out over the water.

  “Beats that shit downstairs,” I said.

  “I have to agree with you there.”

  “Think your dad will be pissed we left?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Guess I don’t.”

  I took a sip of the whisky. I had never loved San Francisco that much before I left the states, but I had to admit that it was pretty beautiful. Sure as hell beat the shit out of the stinking Thai jungle.

  “Why don’t you and your mom get along?” Alex asked suddenly. “Too much of a bad boy to be nice to mommy?”

  I laughed, looking at her. “Not exactly.”

  “Then why?”

  “Does it matter? You just want a divorce from me.”

  “I guess not. But we’ll still be stepsiblings after the divorce.”

  I leaned closer to her. “I tell you something, and then you have to tell me something. Deal?”

  “Fine. Deal.”

  “Cindy is an intense woman, but you’ve noticed that by now. She’s been pushing me hard ever since I was a young kid. When my dad died, it only got worse. When I decided I’d rather go into fighting than business, I guess I disappointed her. She hasn’t let me forget that since.”

  “That sounds hard. But it’s not like she doesn’t love you.”

  “Love,” I snorted. “Love doesn’t win Cindy any influence or power, and that’s all she cares about.”

  “What about my dad, then?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to tell her the truth, that Cindy was probably just using her dad. “Freak accident, maybe.” I moved closer to her, passing her the bottle back. “My turn to ask a question.”

  She sighed. “Okay. Go for it.”

  “Why did you marry me?”

  I watched her mouth drop slightly as I moved closer to her. She looked away, red coming into her cheeks. “I didn’t think it was real,” she said.