Quarterback's Secret Baby (Bad Boy Ballers)

by Imani King

  “Ok, Odell,” my mother would say as the nanny would take me by the hand and lead me to the car in my little ballet slippers. “Say bye to mama.”

  I'd wave “bye bye,” but she would barely look up from her Chardonnay and legal documents, always working. I close my eyes and let that worrying image fade just as I used to in the studio, letting the music take me over and move me with its rhythms. Before long I feel someone in front of me, and I open one eye. It's the guy from the bar, and my stomach does a little flip before I recover and smile. Sandra's right. He is even better up close with those piercing blue eyes, rugged jaw with just the right amount of stubble, and lips that look very kissable.

  Despite his large stature and amazing musculature, he's good on the dance floor—moving smoothly like a man who understands rhythm. That's what I need right now, I think, as he smiles a sexy smirk at me. He complements my movements, and we begin to dance together as Sandra turns to another dude who's joined the dance floor as well. I hope lover boy doesn't think I'm going to grind with him. I may be out to party but I don't want to party that hard. He doesn't make any moves like that, so I relax and we get a little closer, closer, until I can almost feel his breath on my neck.

  We haven't exchanged a word, and I kind of like it this way. So freeing. A man I'll never see again, who I can be completely myself with. Sneaking a glance at him dancing, I get a whiff of his cologne mixed with his natural musk and I can't help but move as close as I can. There's a force field between us—an electric fog—where we get as close as possible but don't touch. The thought of touching makes me tingle down to my core, and I feel myself getting wet. That's it, I want this man. His eyes meet mine, and wordlessly we stare into each other's eyes. Now that the ice has broken I somehow feel like I could stare into his blue eyes forever. They're dark blue and fringed with dark lashes; the eyes of someone who has felt pain and been hurt but made it through to the other side. The eyes of someone who is looking at a person he desires completely. I want to fall into those eyes, and forget everything for the night.

  I want to forget the fact that they're probably making me a partner not because of my stellar grades, but to improve their reputation for diversity and inclusion. I want to forget about the fact that my parents are too busy to care that I've finally reached my dream of working as a partner at an established law firm, even if it is one my father began. And I want to forget the sad fact that I haven't had sex in forever, because I've been trying so hard to live up to everyone else's standards that I haven't even thought about what I want.

  But right now I know exactly what I want. This man, this delicious man whose every sensual move matches mine. Whose body is so perfect, it looks like it's been carved out of marble, but better—because marble doesn't have tats. No names, no nothing. Just one night of passion with a bad boy I have absolutely no business being with.

  I dance closer to him, and for the first time, our hands touch, sending a burst of pure electricity through me. As a slow song starts, he takes my arm and drapes it over his shoulder, and my other hand disappears into his as he smiles. We sway back and forth, and all I can think of is tilting my head back so that he can touch his lips to mine and pull me closer to him. I don't want to make a scene in this bar—I can't be making out with strangers on a dance floor —so despite the fact that it takes all my strength to keep my head where it is, I console myself by drinking in the sight of his strong shoulders, his bulging pectoral muscles and his biceps. I breathe him in deeply and my body relaxes against his.

  When the song ends, I look around for Sandra, and see she's at the table by herself.

  I smile apologetically.

  “Thanks for the dance, gorgeous,” he grins. His voice is low and sweet.

  “Thanks for the drink,” I shoot back.

  “Pleasure's mine.”

  I disentangle myself from him feeling a little lightheaded, and return to the table.

  “That was pretty hot,” Sandra says as I sit down. “I'm impressed!”

  “What can I say, he's perfect.” I realize I’m a bit out of breath, and it’s not because of the exercise. What a man.

  “He’s perfect for one night,” she corrects me. “Hold out for a lawyer when you want to get married. Athletes are no good.” She says adamantly.

  “Too true,” I concede. “In fact my first case has to do with some famous athlete, I heard. So I'll get an earful every day of just why a person shouldn't get wrapped up with one of them.” I glance at him back at the bar. “Still where is a lawyer going to get a body like that?”

  “Forget the body, look at his face!” She smiles. “Just the right amount of dangerous.”

  “God, I know,” I say, leaning forward. “The tattoos alone!”

  “So sexy,” she nods. “Just don't fall in love.”

  “No worries there.” But the way it feels when he's close to me is something that I don't want to let go right away either.

  Two more drinks appear at our table. “From the gentleman at the bar.” The waitress says matter-of-factly.

  “I think he's trying to get us drunk,” I laugh. “Little does he know I'd go home with him right now.”

  “You're so bad,” smiles Sandra. “I love it!” We clink glasses and take long sips.

  * * *

  Lover boy and I are in the alley. His incredible body is pressed up against mine, pushing me against the wall. He's got my arms above my head, and we're kissing ferociously. His lips and tongue are addictive and I can't get enough. He tastes like whiskey and cosmopolitans, which probably shouldn't taste this good, but I can’t get enough. His hand slithers up from my waist to catch my breast, and he circles the hard nub of my nipple with his thumb, making me moan and squirm.

  I can feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, and I push against it, loving the feeling of his desire. There’s nothing but pure lust between us. He lets my hands go and I take the chance to run my hands down his body. He's just so big, and strong. I can feel the ridge of muscle that makes a v at his hips, pointing down to his succulent cock, and I have to pull him closer. Both of my hands take his ass and press him into me, and he moans a little.

  “Shh,” I say. “I don't want anyone to hear us!”

  “Why not, who cares about them,” he grins before taking my face in his hand and silencing me again with a kiss. God, he is more intoxicating than the five cosmopolitans I had tonight. “But if you're that worried, we can go to my place,” he murmurs. His place is probably a ratty old college-type room with posters on the walls, I bet. But what the hell—it’s my last night of freedom, and I want to live it up. Anonymous sex with a beautiful man: Odell's finally finding her freedom. At long last.

  “Ok,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

  “Excellent.” He kisses me again, and leads me out to the street, where we jump in a cab. He gives his address to the driver before he pulls me onto his lap. Our mouths meld together, as the bulge of his cock presses into me. His strong hips lift me gently up and down as he mashes my breast with his hand. I might come right here in this cab if I'm not careful.

  “Hey,” he says into my neck. “I don't even know your name.”

  “Let's keep it that way,” I say.

  “I like the way you think, sexy,” he says, and I cover his mouth with mine. I don't want to talk, I just want to kiss. He feels so different from most of the other guys I've been with—huge and built like a Mack truck—except beautiful.

  When we get to his place, I'm a bit surprised to find out that it's not seedy and cheap like I pictured at all. It's quite beautiful. Not ostentatious, but clean and modern. There is nothing inexpensive about it at all. Lover boy has money. Serious money. Maybe he's successful, or a trust fund kid. Doesn't matter I decide, it’s none of my business. I’m only here for one thing.

  He pushes me down on the couch. “I'm going to give you the best head you've ever had in your life,” he boasts with a saucy grin. I watch him undo my jeans and slide them off, revealing my lacy thong I wore
just in case the night went as I had hoped. He groans, feeling the flimsy fabric between strong fingers and trails his tongue around the edges where lace meets skin. It's making me wild, seeing him between my legs, teasing me mercilessly. He pierces me with his impossibly blue eyes, before pulling my panties to the side and licking my whole slit from bottom to top, making me gasp. His rough tongue laps at my lips before he takes my clit ever so gently in his mouth and sucking at it softly. I'm squirming, squealing.

  As he swirls his tongue around my clit, suddenly I feel him push in with his finger, and before long he coaxes a loud moan from me as the energy coils inside of me, ready to break into a thousand stars. Then it happens, I come, but he won't release me. He keeps the feeling going and I thrash around on the bed until I've come three times in short succession.

  “Now you're ready for me,” he growls, and I can only whimper in response. I've never simultaneously felt so worn out, and still so ready for more. He climbs on top of me, his massive cock in one hand.

  “You want this?” he asks.

  “God, yes,” I breathe. I wanted it as soon as I laid eyes on him.

  “You sure?” He teases me with the head of his cock, and our eyes meet again. There's something more in those eyes, a depth that I don't expect from a one-night thing. Not that I'm some kind of expert. It's been a long time since I've even been in a man's bed, but when I imagine having some kind of affair, I don't expect to see a real soul inside.

  He quickly sheathes himself then thrusts inside me, slowly at first, and then pushes all the way in, and I clutch him. It feels so good, so hard and unrelenting. I wrap my legs around him and our hips meet and collide, until he withdraws to the last inch and thrusts all the way in again. I'd almost forgotten how good sex could be. Every thrust makes me feel more and more whole, more and more myself, and more deserving of pleasure.

  I cry out, wildly and freely. I don't have to pretend. I can be exactly who I am around him, because I don't want anything more from him than this—his hot cock and strong arms around me. He moans along with me, and with every move of his expert hips we move closer and closer, until we both come together; he sends jets of his hot seed inside me, and my body quivers and convulses around him.

  When we finish, he lays down beside me, pushes a strand of hair off of my face, and kisses me tenderly. Then his eyes close, and with his arms wrapped around me, he falls asleep, his breathing changing.

  I remain awake in the throes of afterglow from the most satisfying experience I've ever had, before snuggling closer to him and falling asleep as well.

  * * *

  When the first light hits my eyes, searing straight into my brain, I can't figure out where I am at first. All I know is that my tongue is so fuzzy it feels like squirrels nested inside my mouth and my head is pounding. Then I realize there's a big, tatted, meaty arm around me. I turn my head and see him. The face of the man I banged last night. It's all coming back to me: the dancing, the drinks, the alley. The cab ride. Oh God, the sex. It was amazing.

  I turn and look at his face again. The dark hair, the stubble a little longer than yesterday night, the fringe of eyelashes, the strong jaw. He's definitely beautiful, and also definitely trouble. I need to get out of here.

  Carefully extricating myself from under his arm, so as not to awaken him, I slide out of the bed. Luckily its one of those mattresses that feels like a soft pillow wherever you lay, and I don't bounce him awake. I try a door, and it's a huge walk-in closet. Oh yeah, forgot he's rich. The next door leads into a sumptuous marble bathroom, all black stone and mirrors—in which I can see my shame all too clearly.

  It's that moment that I realize I’m supposed to be at work for my first day. My phone must be in my pocket or purse, and I have no idea what time it is. Oh Lord, Odell, what have you done? You're always such a good girl! I splash soap and water over my face to rid myself of the raccoon eyes that are the remains of last night's makeup, and dry on the plushest, softest towel I've ever felt. The way my head feels I want to curl up in this towel and try to die, but I can't. Gotta get home stat. I hope it's early enough I can just rush out and grab a taxi. It's time to get out of here. Slipping out the door as quietly as I can, I see that lover boy is still sleeping. Perfect. I slide my jeans on, grab my purse and tiptoe as soundlessly as I can out of the nicest apartment I've ever been in. So strange when he's so rough and ready. Who is this guy?

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