Over the Middle: A Sports Romance

by Lauren Landish

  "Not too bad. They used a local anesthetic instead of putting me all the way under, so I got to watch. That was creepy-cool, like watching a zit vid on YouTube or something."

  "Ew. Don't tell me you watch those things," I say, coming over and giving him a kiss.

  Duncan laughs and gives my right hand a squeeze with his good hand. "Don't worry, just something a bunch of us did one night before an away game to waste some time. Not my normal thing for sure."

  "You are anything but normal," I answer, but Duncan's face clouds. "What is it?"

  "I didn't tell you about it before the surgery . . . but you know about my dad, right?"

  "Of course. You told me how he wanted you to throw the game. Kinda cool that you actually caught the game, literally, instead." Tyler Paulson may have won the MVP award for his passing, but Duncan's performance hadn't been overlooked. "Why?"

  "Well, I got a message from my stepmom. First time I've ever spoken with her, in fact. Dad's markers were called in, and in order to cover it all, they're taking everything, including most of my stuff too. I'm pretty much wiped out."

  I nod, considering. "What's left?"

  "The apartment—that was pre-paid until the end of the school year—my personal stuff like my computer, my team swag . . . but that's it. Sorry, babe. I don't think we're taking any more motorcycle rides up to Mission Park for a while."

  I lean over and kiss him, smiling at his worries. "I'm not with you because of your money. You could be dirt poor, with no job prospects, and I'd still love you because of who you are."

  Duncan smiles and gives me an awkward, one-armed hug. "Well, lucky for you, I'm not quite dirt poor yet. I still have a thousand or so in a personal account. And with your help, I've got great employment prospects. So hang on for just a while, and we'll be on easy street."

  "Easy street? Hmm, maybe. But first, we've gotta get that arm rehabbed. You know, I'm surprised that Coach Bainridge didn't stop by."

  Duncan shakes his head. "Coach sent me a text right before the surgery. He's got a meeting with the University President and the AD, then he'll come by after that. He wants to talk about when Western is going to schedule its Pro Day for the scouts. I think he wants to give me as much time as I can to rehab the arm."

  "Sounds like he cares about you."

  "I know. Funny, huh? In June, I would have sworn he didn't give a damn about me. Then again, I didn't give a damn about him either. I guess things have changed."

  I give Duncan a kiss, our lips playing with each other. When his hand comes up, cupping my breast through my t-shirt, I moan and chuckle at the same time, breaking the kiss to look him in the eyes. "Well, you haven't changed all that much."

  Two days later, I get a phone call just as I'm helping Duncan change the wrapping on his sutures. We're in the bedroom, since I've put all the stuff for Duncan's care on the dresser that I've moved from my dorm room to the apartment. I pick up my phone, surprised when I see who it is. "Whoa. It's the Honor Board."

  "Well, are you going to answer it?" Duncan asks, taking the rest of the bandage from me and wrapping it himself. He's wearing a team polo shirt and some shorts, since before changing out his bandage, we did his first rehab session, just passive movement that had me moving his arm for him. "Not pretty, but it'll do."

  "Hello?" I say, answering the call. Duncan tucks the end of his bandage into the rest and attaches the clips. "This is Carrie Mittel."

  "Miss Mittel, this is Dean Friar. How are you this evening?"

  "Just fine, Dean. Happy New Year."

  He hums in appreciation, and I can imagine him nodding on the other end of the line. "Why, thank you. And Happy New Year to you, too. In fact, I have some good news to start your new year. I just got done reading the report, and I'm ordering that all concerns involving you and the Honor Board are dismissed. We just got the rest of the computer forensic report on your phone finished. I must apologize to you."

  "What happened anyway?" I ask. While I talk, Duncan's moved behind me, massaging my shoulders. His hands are strong, and I groan slightly when he finds a tight little knot next to my neck and rubs it until it releases. It feels so good.

  "Miss Mittel? Are you okay?"

  "Yes," I reply, and I hear Duncan chuckle behind me. He knows what he’s doing, and right now, I don't mind too much either. We haven't been able to be intimate since right before I left on Christmas break, which means that for over a week, the most we've been able to do is hug and frequently kiss. But his hands . . . oh God, his hands . . . "Just happy to have it over."

  "Well, the forensics have shown that it was, in fact, Chelsea Brown who was behind it all. If you don't mind, when did she have access to your personal materials?" I have to think twice about what he just said, because Duncan's hands have moved from my neck and shoulders down my back, urging me to lie down. I roll over, onto my belly, and he straddles my hips, his cock already hard in his shorts and his fingers working in slow, wonderful circles up and down my spine.

  "Probably the trainer's office, or maybe my dorm room. She knew where I lived. She stopped by every once in a while. We were . . . friends, or at least I thought so." Duncan's hands sweep outward, working my back muscles, and I lift my hips just a little, feeling his cock pushing against my shorts. So hard . . . so perfect. My breathing quickens, and I know the Dean can hear me near-panting.

  At least, he sounds concerned as he continues. "Well, in any case, I've notified the Athletic Department, and you are now eligible to resume your internship. Best of luck."

  "Thank you, Dean. Good evening."

  I hang up my phone and toss it to the side, growling and working around, rolling underneath Duncan until I'm on my back, his hips still straddling mine. "You are incorrigible!" I laugh reproachfully. "You hear me on the phone with the Dean of the Honor Board, and you pick that time to try to seduce me?"

  "Well, you looked so good, I couldn't resist," Duncan says, leaning down and kissing me. Our tongues slide past each other, and warmth radiates out from between my legs as we continue to taste each other. "And what's this about trying to seduce you? I'd say I have seduced you."

  "You can seduce me with a glance and a smile," I admit, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down on top of me. "Especially since it's been so long."

  "I've missed it too," Duncan says, tilting his head to nibble on my earlobe. How he does it, I don't know, but each touch of his tongue and nip of his teeth brings fresh waves of arousal through my body. "But . . . shit."

  "Not into that," I tease, a common joke I've developed with him. I'm trying to get Duncan to not talk as much like a jock. He's far too smart for that much gutter language, so I always pretend that I'm not understanding what he's saying.

  He chuckles, then sighs. "What I meant is . . . we're out of condoms. I remember checking yesterday, out of curiosity, but we never picked any up."

  I push his head up and shake my head. "Not a problem, is it? I mean, I'm still on the pill, and we've been together long enough that I trust you."

  Duncan stops, then nods and kisses me tenderly. I can sense his feelings, the level of trust that I'm putting in him, but I know I trust him with more than that. The past two nights, I've dreamed of a family life with him, and they've all been great dreams.

  We kiss again, and Duncan kisses his way down to my waistband, even over my t-shirt. He pauses at my waist and shifts back onto his knees. "I'd normally do this myself, but do you think you can give me a hand?"

  I chuckle and nod, pushing my shorts and panties down and off, feeling so sexy as his eyes drink me in.

  Duncan slides back on the bed, bringing his head between my legs. His breath tickles over my slick skin, and I lean back, closing my eyes because it feels so good. Every inch of my skin is hypersensitive, singing in pleasure even from the non-touch of his breath.

  When his tongue strokes my outer lips for the first time, it feels so amazing. I twitch as wave after wave of sensation washes through my body, my toes curling when Duncan
brings his lips to mine and kisses my pussy like he's kissing my mouth, his tongue slipping inside and working back and forth. "Oh, God."

  He continues to lick and taste my deepest inner flesh. I grind up into his mouth, nearly screaming when my clit rubs against the firmness of his nose, and he pulls back just enough to bring his tongue up to my tender button, new meanings of the word heaven opening up as he wraps his tongue around my clit, sucking and drawing it between his lips.

  I feel my climax rushing on me, and Duncan's not stopping, his tongue flicking back and forth faster and faster on my clit, circling around the edges before dragging the whole of his tongue over the top, then starting the maddening licks again.

  "I'm going to come," I warn him, and he brings his good right arm up and places his hand on my stomach, holding me firmly while his tongue never ceases, never stops the amazing sensations. I clench, paused, trembling on the edge, and with a final lick, he pushes me over the edge. I'm coming, crying out his name softly as the amazing feelings wash through me, tears in my eyes as I've missed this for so long. At least, going a week and some change without it feels like an eternity, with Duncan bringing me higher again. "Duncan . . . stop . . . I can't take any more."

  He sits up, his face shiny with my juices. "That was delicious."

  I gasp, recovering my breath. “I’d reciprocate, but I want you a different way right now."

  Duncan grins and nods, pushing his shorts down. He pulls his shirt off, and I’m again caught breathless as his muscular body is exposed to me. Six months, hundreds of times seeing it, but it doesn't matter. I love this man, and his body is another way he is perfect for me. "I need you on your back."

  "Why?" Duncan asks but still complies. I wait until he's lying comfortably before rolling to my side and wrapping my fingers around the thick, veiny shaft of his cock.

  “Because I don't want you using that arm," I admonish him. I get to my knees and pull my t-shirt off, my breasts free from a bra since we're staying home tonight. "Instead, I was thinking this."

  I swing my leg over, and I reach down, taking his cock and aligning it with my entrance. "As long as we can, okay?"

  "Okay," Duncan replies, resting his hands on my hips as I guide him inside me. Duncan's fingers clench on my hips as I sink down onto him, and I'm moaning too, even though I came just a few minutes ago. "Carrie . . . you're so tight."

  "Ten days without you." I chuckle in reply, lifting myself up and sinking down again. Duncan's cock thrills me, hard and perfect, my pussy wrapping around it and clinging to it. It feels so good. Duncan adds another level of pleasure to my ride when he cups my breasts with his hands, my nipples between his fingers, stiff and electric.

  I shift back and forth, lifting and riding him, relishing the sensations of being on top of my man, his cock filling me over and over, my clit rubbing each time I grind down on him. It feels good, so good and natural. He's warm and thick . . . my hips move faster and faster as I open my eyes to look Duncan in the eyes. The gray orbs sparkle with glitters of amber and red, his pupils widening as we move together. I'm on the edge again, Duncan filling me so much, and when I nod, he nods too, his cock growing even thicker inside me before, with a deep groan that starts in his chest and runs all the way down his body, he explodes, triggering another orgasm that sends me away into delirium. I collapse on top of him, laying my head on his chest. Duncan holds me, his hands warm on my back, and I let my eyes close, safe and warm.

  "Hey, Carrie! God, it's good to have you back!"

  I laugh as I take my bag off my shoulder and see Alicia hopping from foot to foot while I get my gear ready. "Come on, Chicha. It's not that bad."

  I see Alicia's hopping stop, and I tilt my head in confusion. Alicia catches my expression, and she chuckles before getting up on the training table. "Sorry, I remember that you're with Duncan now, but sometimes, I still forget. He's the only other person to call me Chicha. What would it take for you to not be your man's personal rehab specialist and work just for me and the girl's basketball team?"

  I laugh and shake my head. "Sorry, but you don't swing enough weight to do that. I'll be happy to wrap your ankles for practice and home games, but Duncan's my main focus right now. Coach Taylor's even letting me do it as part of my internship, a project in supposed 'professional athlete draft preparation’. I hear Tyler and a few of the other guys who are going to try for the combine are going to join in."

  "Sounds sweet. I'd love to make grades by hanging out with a bunch of hot jocks and my man at the same time. Next thing you're going to say is that you get to get all sexy fit with them too."

  I blush, then nod. "Well, they do need to have someone show them what to do."

  Alicia shakes her head as I finish up her ankle. "You’re the luckiest woman I know."

  I finish up wrapping both of Alicia's ankles and help her off the table. "Have a good practice. See you after for the ice and mobility work."

  After Alicia leaves, I hear my phone ring, and I pull it out. Since Dean Friar told me that it had been cloned, I've become a bit obsessed about keeping it next to me, wanting to prevent another incident. I'd thought of changing my number and getting a new phone, but I never did.

  Still, I'm surprised when I see that it is, in fact, Chelsea on the other end of the call. I'm tempted to reject it and block the number, but I have too many questions that I need answered, and I hit the green button. "Hello, Chelsea."

  “Hello to you too, Carrie. I am glad to see there are no hard feelings between us."

  “There are plenty of hard feelings, but I figure there's a reason behind your call. Actually, there has to be at least some sort of reason behind everything you did to me. I'd like to know why."

  There's a bit of a laugh on the other side, and for the first time, I seriously worry about Chelsea's sanity. There's something not right in that laugh. "I didn't start with hard feelings for you. Actually, I liked you. You were just in the way."

  "In the way of what?" I ask, flabbergasted. "You were a senior, you had the internship too, and you were rocking along. If anything, I looked up to you!"

  "Your mistake," and I hear real venom in her voice. "You were so smart, weren't you? Just two years after you start school, and Coach T's got you working with teams and players. You were working with Duncan."

  "Wait . . . all this, all the lies, the bullshit, the hell you put me through, was about Duncan?"

  Holy shit. I mean, I understand being angry at a guy who dumped you, but to take it to such extreme levels?

  Chelsea didn't seem to grasp that simple fact. "It started as just against Duncan, but as I saw you climbing up to being Coach T's favorite, it became about you, too. I wanted to hurt Duncan and eliminate you from being in my way. Unfortunately, I didn't count on Duncan being quite so . . . loyal. You were so cocky. After the first time you fucked him, I could see it in your eyes. Hell, everyone did. You were floating and walking bowlegged at the same time. Worst of all is that I could see it already. You were falling in love with him, even after I warned you about him."

  "Yeah, you did. Doesn't matter, though. I've had the Hart Attack, and I love it," I dig back, tired of her bullshit. If she wants to get rude with me, I'm not going to hold back on her. This bitch nearly ruined my life. "In fact, I might just have it again tonight."

  "That's good," Chelsea teases back, nearly laughing. “After my little gift, that’d be smart."

  Ice runs through my veins, and my throat closes in horror. "What did you do, you crazy bitch?"

  "I just paid a visit to your dorm room when you weren't around. At the same time I flashed and hacked your phone, I did a little switcheroo. Those birth control pills I found in your room . . . well, since then, you've been taking sugar pills."

  My fingers go numb. Is she fucking joking? "You really are an evil, psycho bitch, you know that?"

  "I know. Just think, you might even have Duncan's baby in your belly right now. I wonder how well he's going to react when you drop that little bomb on him.
Or maybe you'll just . . . hmmm, nah, you're not the type to do that."

  Chelsea hangs up, and I look at my phone before dropping it and crushing it under my foot.

  I think about what Chelsea said—about how long I've been taking sugar pills thinking they were my birth control. How is Duncan going to react, especially if I am pregnant? Then again, she could just be fucking with me.

  Chapter 21

  Duncan

  It sucks sitting in the Pavilion, watching the Pro Combine with Carrie and Coach Thibs and Coach Taylor. Not that I don't enjoy the company. I do. But watching the other tight ends go through their drills and stations, I want to be out there. My hands are constantly wringing, and my feet twitch as I watch them do their drills, wishing I could be taking part. But not yet.

  "Oh, come on, they invited that guy?" I ask as the tight end from Northern Virginia runs the 40-yard dash. "He's a blowhard with weak hands, and he can’t read blocks!"

  "Tell us how you really feel," Carrie teases me, smiling a little bit. The past few weeks have been awesome, although Carrie's been looking a little tense. I can understand. I've been feeling tense too. While I'm sitting here trying to focus just on rehab, there are two other members of the Western Bulldogs who got invites to the Combine. Tyler already had his workout with the other quarterbacks, while tomorrow, Joe Manfredi gets a chance with the defensive backs. Today, though—today is the tight ends, and I'm watching my competition on the screen. "I mean, don't hold back at all."

  "He is holding back," Coach Taylor jokes. "At least, based off that stream of curse words that would make a sailor blush that he let go the other day."

  "Hey, I missed the weight," I weakly justify. "I got pissed. Besides, considering what you do in the weight room, I'm the Pope."

  "Still, I didn't know there were so many different ways to use the word 'fuck' in a single sentence without repeating yourself," Coach Thibs jokes. "You might want to work on that before you do the sit down interview portion of the Pro Day."