Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  Clyde popped by my place late afternoon and, as expected, he looked pretty damn pleased with himself.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, the second he’d stepped through the door.

  “Welcome for what?” Clyde asked.

  “Don’t be coy. You’ve got the look of someone who got laid last night, which means my plan worked perfectly.”

  “I didn’t get laid,” Clyde replied.

  “Really? Oh shit. I sent someone your way, but I guess you never met her.”

  “You mean Tasha? We met.”

  “But you didn’t screw her?”

  “No, of course not. We got talking at the party though. I’m seeing her again soon.”

  Such a romantic.

  “Man, I hate to break it to you, but Tasha’s not the type of girl you need to buy dinner first. You only need to buy a condom and you’re in. I was setting you up with a sure thing.”

  “And it worked. Like I said, we’re having dinner.”

  “But…. Fucking hell, Clyde. You could have got your dick wet last night.” He actually looked happy at the prospect of a date instead of sex. What was wrong with this guy? “We have very different approaches in how we act with women,” I concluded.

  “Yeah, no shit. I respect them. Anyway, maybe we’re not all that different. I couldn’t help but notice that you set me up with the sister of this girl you’ve been seeing a lot of lately.”

  I shrugged. “I’m working with her. Nothing special.”

  The words felt bitter on my tongue. What was the point of that lie? Clyde was the guy I told everything to. He knew about every woman I’d screwed whether he wanted to or not. Why couldn’t I tell him about Kristi?

  “Tasha said the two of you looked quite close. She wants you guys to fuck.”

  “She ain’t the only one,” I muttered.

  “Wow.”

  “Wow what?”

  “Have we found a girl that is capable of resisting the Barton Fenner charm? I thought they were a myth, like unicorns, or exciting games of soccer.”

  “She’ll give in eventually,” I said hopefully. She’d better, otherwise I was in trouble.

  “Why the effort? I mean, she’s a pretty girl, but usually you’d have moved onto another one by now.”

  Pretty? Kristi was much more than just pretty. She was captivating. When I was with her, I couldn’t bring myself to look at anyone else. When I wasn’t with her, all I did was think about her. I didn’t do that for a girl who was just pretty.

  “She’s a nice piece of ass,” I said eventually, echoing Doug’s awful description. “And I enjoy the challenge.”

  “If you say so. When are you seeing her next?”

  “Tonight,” I replied. “For work. we need to practice interviews so that I don’t make a complete ass of myself when speaking to journalists.”

  “How many times have I offered to help you with that?”

  “No offense, Clyde, but you’re a lawyer—or will be soon—and you talk like one. You’d have me pleading the fifth to each question. I’m all for not being an ass, but you’d just make me sound dull.”

  “Lawyers can be fun,” Clyde insisted. “Not everyone who works in an office is dull. Look at Tasha. You can’t accuse her of being boring.”

  “And yet you went and asked her out on a date, instead of just fucking her until she couldn’t walk.”

  “You and me definitely have a different approach to women.”

  “Yeah, I approach them, and stick my dick in their mouths. You approach them and offer to buy them dinner.”

  Clyde sighed in that way he always did when he realized he wouldn’t be able to bring me round to his way of thinking. He’d been trying for years. It was remarkable we were still friends, really. Even at school, he’d been the serious one, while I’d spent all my time playing football and chasing skirt. Now he was at law school while I was a professional footballer.

  “We could double date,” Clyde suggested. “Me and Tasha, and you and Kristi.”

  “I don’t date.”

  “You might have to with a girl like Kristi. I don’t think she’s the type for casual hook ups.”

  “I don’t care, I’m not doing the dating thing. I keep telling you, I’m not that interested in her. If she puts out then that’s all good, but if not, I’ll go and stick my dick in the next pussy that opens up in front of me.”

  Is that what I had to do to get Kristi? Go on a date? It had never even crossed my mind. I knew what dating was. I’d seen it on television, and I had friends like Clyde who insisted on doing it. Dating to me always looked like a pointless exercise that people went through solely to avoid being labeled as easy. If I wanted to fuck a woman and they wanted to fuck me, then we fucked. Simple. Dating sounded complicated.

  “You have such a way with words,” Clyde remarked. “I really don’t think you need interview training at all.”

  “Couldn’t agree more, but the manager insists on it.”

  “So no double date?”

  I shook my head. “Not unless you really need the help, and to be honest, you don’t. Not with Tasha. You’d have to try damn hard not to get laid with her.”

  Clyde narrowed his eyes and looked at me sternly. He was going to make a good defense attorney if that’s what he ended up doing.

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” he scolded. “She seems like a lovely woman. I don’t care if she’s slept around a bit.”

  “Yeah, sorry, man,” I said genuinely. “That was out of line. She does seem pretty cool.”

  I had to remind myself that describing a woman as easy wasn’t always considered a compliment in this stupid world we lived in. Clyde was right though; Tasha had a lot more going on between the ears than the women I typically introduced him to. I shouldn’t have expected any less from the sister of Kristi.

  “I’m going to treat Tasha how I would treat any other woman I’m interested in.”

  “That’s what I’m doing with Kristi.”

  Clyde laughed. “Yeah, to your credit, I suppose you are.”

  “I’m nothing if not consistent.

  “But Kristi’s not like your normal women.”

  “Deep down, she wants my cock just as much as any other lady. She’s just better at hiding it.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s go get something to eat, because I’m starving.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  “What can I say?” I replied. “I have an appetite for all the good things in life.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kristi

  I barely went into the office now. All my work could be done from home, and so long as I logged my hours, no one seemed to care all that much. After all, I was only an intern. Not an unpaid intern, though. Not anymore.

  Human Resources must have decided that perhaps a client-facing member of staff working sixty hours a week should at least be paid minimum wage. I ended up getting $10 an hour, backdated to when I started. That didn’t go far in San Francisco, but it did mean I could give Tasha some money towards the rent which she’d been paying single-handedly.

  She took that rent money and went out for drinks with some girlfriends, because, well, she was Tasha. No doubt I would be meeting a new guy over breakfast tomorrow.

  At least Tasha was out of the house. Tonight was devoted to one-on-one time with Barton. Tonight I would be paid to sit and stare at Barton Fenner. Not a bad way to make a living.

  Barton arrived promptly at eight, just after Tasha had left. He’d brought Chinese food and a bottle of wine, making it look more like a date than a work event. Thank God Tasha’s already left. I could have solved that problem by having this meeting in the office, but I didn’t want to be there any more than he did.

  “Ready to ride me hard all evening?” Barton asked.

  “Do you have to turn everything into sexual innuendo?” I asked. “We’re here to work.”

  “You’re just
hearing what you want to hear. I’m warmed up and ready to go. Whatever you give me, I’m going to give you back twice as hard.”

  “We’ll just see about that, mister.”

  I’d spent the last two days talking to Tasha about the interview techniques used by journalists. Some of the top journalists kept their techniques private, like a trade secret, but she told me everything she knew.

  The idea was to start with lots of softball questions to build a rapport, and perhaps lull the target into a false sense of security. Then the real work began.

  “Let’s sit at the table,” I said, moving the Chinese food into the kitchen. I then placed my phone down on the table and opened up an app to record the entire conversation.

  “You’re recording this?” Barton asked.

  “Yep. I want you to remember that every word you say is being recorded. You want this to sound like a casual conversation, but never forget that it isn’t.”

  “Alright, fine with me. I actually like the fact that you record things for posterity. That could be interesting when we finally hit the bedroom together.”

  I sighed. “I now have proof of you hitting on the reporter. Great start.”

  “I didn’t realize we’d started,” Barton protested. “Okay, from now. Go.”

  Barton put on what I assumed was his serious face. It wasn’t one I’d seen before, but I liked it. It was how I imagined him looking at me when he finally thrust himself inside me. A man focused on one thing, and determined to achieve his goals.

  Okay, Kristi, remember that you’re being recorded as well. Get your head in the game.

  I started off with some easy questions about how he’d settled in to the new area, and whether he liked the fans. He gave a smart answer about knowing the reputation of the fans, but still being amazed at the passion and support they showed for their team. It wasn’t original, but it ticked all the right boxes.

  “How is training going?” I asked. “It must be tough now that you’re making the step up to the first team.”

  “The last few weeks have been really hard,” Barton replied. “I have lots of pent up frustration. I feel like I’m going to explode any minute.”

  Thank God his cock was under the table, because on instinct, I wanted to look down at it like I had done the last time we were together.

  “Doesn’t training help relieve the frustration?” I asked.

  “Training helps, but it’s no consolation for the real thing. When I finally hit the field for real, well, let’s just say it’s going to be messy.”

  ‘I want to come inside your pussy, Kristi.’

  Barton stared at me with an expectant grin while I tried to remember my next question.

  “What happens if you play your former team in the playoffs?” I asked.

  Barton shrugged. “I’ll treat it like any other game.”

  “You’re not worried about retaliation from the offensive lineman after you slept with his wife?”

  “Hey, if he knew what he was doing, she wouldn’t have come to me begging for dick.”

  I dropped my head into my hands and sighed loudly. “Brilliant. You’ve just admitted to screwing a teammate’s wife.”

  “You already knew,” Barton protested.

  “No, I was guessing based on the rumors. You just confirmed it.”

  “Oh. Shit.”

  We kept going, and I tried to ignore the mental image of Barton with the teammate’s wife. I’d seen the pictures of her. She was stunning, and looked that way no matter how and when she was pictured. I could never compete with that. On my absolute best day, when I’d spent hours getting ready, I probably passed for an eight out of ten. Maybe.

  Barton took the exercise seriously, and after an hour I felt like we’d earned our Chinese food.

  “Wine?” Barton asked.

  “I can’t drink while I’m on the clock.”

  “Then come off the clock. We’ve done enough for the night, don’t you think?”

  I’d already billed twelve hours for the day; that was more than enough. “Okay, I’ll have a glass.”

  If we’d finished working, then Barton didn’t still need to be here. We both knew it, but neither of us acknowledged it.

  “How about we watch a movie?” Barton suggested.

  I arched an eyebrow. “You want to eat takeout, drink wine, and watch a movie? That sounds a lot like a date.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t do dating.”

  “Ah yes, you just wait for women to beg you for sex.”

  “It’s worked well so far.”

  “ ‘So far,’ being the operative words. I haven’t resorted to begging yet, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “There’s still time. Although if you want to hurry things along I won’t object.”

  “Not happening.” I threw Barton the remote and told him to pick a movie while I dished up the food. “I’m looking forward to the day you move on to your next target.”

  “Why do you deny yourself pleasure?” Barton asked. I did my best to ignore him as he stepped up behind me in the kitchen. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel his muscles nearby, as if they were affecting the air around me. “Do you have any idea how hard you’ll come when I fuck you?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Barton, stop it.”

  “You’ll shake and scream as your tight pussy clenches hold of my cock like it doesn’t want to let go. When was the last time you came so hard you felt like your head was about to explode?”

  My hand shook as I tried to pour the wine into the glasses without spilling it all over the counter in the process. My legs felt weak, like in my dreams when I’m being chased and can’t find the energy to run.

  What would happen if I took a step back? If I pushed my ass up against his groin and let him have me? He could reach has hand around and have me coming in seconds while he played with my clit.

  My panties were already dripping wet, and I could swear the smell of my eager sex was noticeable over the aroma of the food. All I had to do was give in. Would it really be so bad? Even if he did fuck me and leave me, at least he would have fucked me. When was the last time any guy did that?

  But then he was gone.

  I looked over and Barton was on the sofa selecting a film to watch. Science fiction. Great, if there was one genre that would never get me aroused it was science fiction.

  * * *

  I was so wet.

  Barton hadn’t touched me during the entire movie, but the characters fucked like rabbits, and each time they did, I just wanted to jump astride Barton’s cock and feel him harden between my legs.

  He’d picked that film on purpose. Bastard.

  “What did you think?” Barton asked.

  “Fine,” I replied. “Didn’t make a lot of sense, but the special effects were cool.”

  “I’d like to fuck in zero gravity.”

  “Is that the last thing to tick off your sexual checklist?”

  “One of few. I’ve not had sex on the Great Wall of China yet either, but there’s one goal I’m hoping to achieve soon.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “I’ve never fucked anyone in this apartment before.”

  “Really? That’s your goal?”

  “Yep,” Barton replied. “I’ve been planning on fucking someone here ever since I was a teenager, but it just never happened for me.”

  “Well, my sister might let you join her later if you ask nicely.”

  “I don’t share women. I want to be the only one touching them.” He paused and placed his hand on my thigh. “Licking them.” I closed my eyes and gasped as Barton leaned in and licked my neck gently. “Fucking them.” His hand moved up my thigh between my legs. He’d be able to feel the heat now. His fingers crept further up. Now he could feel the wet patch between my thighs.

  “Barton, we can’t do this,” I pleaded. Despite my words, I let my hips slip down towards his hand, so that he pressed against my pussy. I couldn’t risk my entire career just
for a quick fuck. Could I?

  “You’re going to be mine, Kristi Ward,” Barton growled. “I’m going to come all over you. Your face, tits, ass. Not a single bit of your skin will escape.”

  “Barton,” I moaned softly. I had no idea whether I was protesting him, or egging him on.

  His fingers reached out and touched my lips. “When was the last time a guy came in your mouth, Kristi?”

  I shook my head and whispered “never.”

  “I’m going to fill your mouth with my cum. You’re going to gulp it down like the greedy little girl I know you are.”

  I whimpered, and closed my eyes to surrender my body to Barton.

  Then I heard a laugh outside the door. Tasha. The door opened and she stumbled through with another random dude I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know whether to appreciate her timing or curse it.

  Barton and I quickly parted on the sofa, while Tasha was busy kicking off her shoes, and dragging her ‘date’ to the bedroom.

  “Hi Tasha,” I called out. I wanted her to remember I was in the apartment. Otherwise things had a tendency to get… loud.

  “Oh, hey,” she said, stopping and pushing her man into the bedroom. “I’ll be right there,” she said to him. She was clearly a little tipsy, even though it was still early in the evening by her standards. Her smile disappeared when she laid eyes on Barton.

  “Hi Tasha,” Barton said politely.

  “Hey. Um, that’s just a friend. From work. We’re just going to work on a story.”

  Barton nodded, and Tasha walked off sheepishly. There was no way that guy was a work colleague. Tasha refused point-blank to sleep with anyone from work, and she wasn’t attracted to other journalists anyway. And she’d never bothered to lie to me about what she got up to in her bedroom. I wished she would, mind you. There are some things even close sisters shouldn’t share.

  “That was weird,” I remarked. “She almost seems embarrassed.”

  “I probably wasn’t supposed to see her tonight,” Barton replied.