Erotica: Handcuffing Inhibitions (New Adult Romance Bundle)(Erotic Sex Taboo Box Set)

by Rachel Wilson

  As far as Latrelle goes, he was “tearing it up at practice.” The head coach had already awarded him the starting job. ESPN was already marking him down as the next rookie of the year. And if I thought that the crowds the followed him in college were vast, then the attention he received in public now was gargantuan. We could not go anywhere without files of people asking for autographs, pictures, words of encouragement, the whole nine yards. I loathed the fact that we could not just enjoy one date like a normal couple. He on the other hand relished in the glory. Extroverted through and through, the theory that opposites attract was very apparent in our relationship. I admired this quality about him, though. He never left a person hanging out to dry. Sometimes a trip downtown for dinner would take four hours. One hour to sit down, order, eat our food, and chat; three hours of in between time while he paused and signed, posed, and talked to whoever approached him.

  One night per week he would go out for drinks with some of his team mates. I did let myself get aggravated because of this fact. I understood that he needed to build relationships with the guys if he was going to be the starting quarterback and leader of the team once the season rolled around. What frustrated me was that they would be out until well after the sun came up. Social media would be littered with pictures and videos of them taking shots with fans, buying rounds for entire clubs, and slurring drunk words to people about how they were going to win the Super Bowl next year. Any Buccaneers fan had to know what an outrageous prediction that was.

  The atmosphere drew him back to it. Parties once a week turned into two, then three, then four. It was a vicious cycle that I had grown far too fond of. I was enough to keep him happy for a short time, but he always seemed to be chasing the happiness that large crowds of adoring fans filled him with. He finally talked me into going out with him one hot July night. I missed him dearly. He did not have to persuade me much.

  “You look gorgeous, babe. I can’t wait to show you off to all of Tampa Bay!” Latrelle said.

  The thought of him showing me off calmed my nerves considerably. Now all of these Twitter fiends would see that he was not an eligible millionaire bachelor, but rather a locked down millionaire boyfriend.

  11 p.m. meant the night was still young when I first stumbled into a table. Our party had been bouncing around from club to club. This, coupled with the fact that I still had a miniscule amount of downtown knowledge meant that I had no idea where the hell we were. Latrelle was there, so safety was not an issue. But, the decline of motor skills was. Lucky for my light weighted self the rest of the gang were as, if not more, drunk as I was. Nobody noticed.

  The club was dim and hazy from the cloud of smoke that hung stagnant in the air. Green and blue colored lights pulsed to the beat of techno sounds. The smell was a pungent cocktail of tequila and vodka. I did not know how anyone could carry on a place like this. Everywhere you walked there were people inadvertently pushing and bumping from all sides. I had to sit down.

  I unloaded in a seat at the table I had just carelessly rammed into. Latrelle made eye contact with me and shot me a quizzical glance as if to say, “Are you okay?”

  I lift a reassuring thumb up in the air. He smiled and continued on with his stardom.

  The thing about a crowd of humans this thick, is that it acts as a sort of riptide or under current. Even something as small as alternating your weight from one leg to the other can cause you to move a few inches further out into the sea.

  My attention had shifted for only a few moments as I gazed in bewilderment at all of the people who kept filing in from the front door. How on earth could this place fit one more person in here? I glanced back to the direction Latrelle was only to find that he was nowhere to be found. I immediately stood up to get a better look at the sardine can to see if I could locate him. To my dismay, he was nowhere to be found.

  The alcohol influence helped me to remain calmer than I would usually have been in this type of situation. I did not know anyone here, I was drunk for the first time since that night with Will a few months back, and I could not hear myself think with all this repetitive synths blaring from the speakers; but hey, I was in Tampa Bay.

  When I sat back down I noticed a new presence in the seat to the left out of my peripheral vision.

  “Hey there.” The presence said.

  “Hello.” I replied, giggling at how funny my voice sounded.

  The presence was a man, probably around my age. The limited vision of the club and my drunk eyesight hindered me from getting an incredibly good look at his face. But, I could have more than likely picked him out of a lineup if need be. The only hint I had at his age was the amount of youth left in his voice.

  “Do you want to dance?” He said, though I could only make out a few words.

  “What?” I motioned my hands to my ears to encourage him to raise the volume in his voice box.

  “Do you want to dance?” He repeated, leaning in closer to my ear.

  “I probably shouldn’t.”

  He pointed to his ears and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I said…” I started to restate. But he cut me off halfway.

  The stranger grabbed my hand and yanked me out of my seat pulling me through the river of drunk people. Once we reached a traffic jam where we could not travel any farther, he turned around, grabbed my hips and began to sway us back and forth to the rhythm of the music.

  “I’m Bryan.” He said. Or was it Ryan. Honestly, I had no clue. He could have said he was “tryin’” to do something and I would not have known either way. Regardless, my body was loose and we danced with each other. I could tell that he was experienced in this department. He spun me around like a ballerina and pulled my butt against him. Our hips began to sway back and forth again, moving in unison. The stranger leaned in and whispered inaudible messages into my ear while moving his hands further up my hips. My mind was now as loose as my body. The tingling between my legs was the first of the many sexual feelings I received during our time on the dance floor together. There is really no telling what would have happened if someone had not intervened.

  “Get the fuck off my girl.” Latrelle commanded. Red eyed and fuming as if a fire had started deep inside him and the smoke from which was filling every muscle in his body to maximum levels.

  “Latrelle McKay..?” The strangers dumbfounded response. He looked to me, and then back at Latrelle. “I am sorry, man. I had no clue.”

  “Save it.” Latrelle spouted, and shoved two hands into the stranger’s chest.

  The stranged might have fallen over from the force of the blow if not for the swarm of people around. His body braced itself against someone and recoiled back to place him back to eye level with Latrelle.

  “Look, man. I don’t' want any trouble. We were just having a good time.”

  Latrelle’s only response was a sarcastic smirk. His eyes never left their penetrating stare that looked as if it was going straight through to the stranger’s soul.

  By this point the people to our immediate flanks had realized what was going on and had long since stopped dancing, giving Latrelle their complete attention. Soon, the majority of the club’s occupants followed suit. I could tell the attention was making it worse. Latrelle was absorbing the attention he knew that he had, and his chest began to puff out further than its previous state. His eyes scanned the room and his smirk twitched just a hair. If the current turn of events had not caused me to sober up, I might have missed it.

  “Give me one reason why I should not knock you the fuck out right now.” Latrelle coolly stated.

  “I am not trying to fight you, bro. Peace.” With that the stranger turned to pierce his way through the mob to the front door. To his surprise, no one would let him pass. It was like a scene from “Never Back Down.” Everyone formed a circle and locked arms to create a barrier around the three of us.

  When you have been with a person for almost two years, you tend to see the things going through their head before they make those thoughts actions
. For instance, if you got your significant other a gift they did not enjoy, you would know straight away with little facial recognition at all. This was true with Latrelle and I. The amount of hatred inside of him was growing exponentially with each passing second. His current blood alcohol levels did not help matters either.

  I quickly wrapped my arms around Latrelle and whispered in his ear to calm him down, begging him to come home with me.

  “We are too drunk for this, babe. Let’s just go home. You can have your way with me.”

  No reaction. The bass was still pulsating through the speakers, but I know he heard me.

  “Latrelle! Let’s go!”

  He threw me off of him with such force that someone in the crowd had to embrace my momentum to keep me from falling.

  “Latrelle!” I screamed.

  But, it was too late. Latrelle approached the stranger and now stood face to face with him. Their lips were moving but now the uproar from the crowd combined with the roof raising music to keep me from hearing what was said.

  The stranger through the first blow. A right hook that landed square on Latrelle’s jaw. Now that he was in the light I could make out the dimensions of the stranger more precisely. He was about Latrelle’s height, so over six feet tall at least. But it was a lanky lengthy height. A body that looked suited for basketball.

  Latrelle was built. Even more so now that he had been in a professional offseason program for months. He had put on about 10 pounds of muscle to an already stout frame since we left California. The stranger made a mistake.

  With the agility of a Bengal tiger, Latrelle prompted a straight shot to the stranger’s nose. The stranger stumbled backwards, blinking feverishly to regain his wits. The crowd that he fell into was a pro-Latrelle bunch, and before he could even recover his balance he was flung back into the man-made ring.

  Punch

  Latrelle hammered another blow to the face.

  “Stop!” The blood curdling yell came out at a pitch that burned my throat.

  Punch

  Another.

  Punch.

  Another.

  The stranger fell to the floor in a heap of unconscious mass.

  Immediately I felt hands around my mid-section as someone lifted me off the ground and began to carry me, through the frenzy of people, to the exit. I turned my neck to recognize Latrelle’s teammate, Darius.

  “We have to go.” Darius barked.

  I glanced to my left to see another man with his arm around Latrelle leading him away from the commotion. I kept hearing Latrelle repeat the same words, over and over.

  “He punched me first. He punched me first. He punched me first.”

  Chapter Two

  The ride home in Darius’ SUV was a long one. No one spoke a single word until we finally arrived at our condo.

  “I will call you tomorrow, Latrelle. We can talk about this then. Get some rest.” Darius said.

  Latrelle nodded his head and opened the back door to get out.

  “Olivia, it was a pleasure meeting you.” Darius smiled.

  “Same to you.” I faked a smile back.

  Once I got the door unlocked, Latrelle burst through like it was a defender trying to tackle him.

  “It was a misunderstanding. I barely knew where I was, Latrelle.”

  He slammed the front door and threw me against the wall.

  “Not another word.”

  Too frightened to feel the pain that the impact left me with, I kept my eyes fixed in front of me.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  I obeyed. Still not daring to look at him. My hands began to tremble while I bent over to pull my panties off.

  Smack!

  His open palm met my bare butt cheek.

  I winced, continuing to keep my line of sight away from him. I was scared of the look that I knew he had in his eyes. I heard his belt jingle and then fall to the floor.

  Smack!

  “Ah!” I gasped when I felt his erection inside of me.

  Both of his hands took firm control of my hips and he repeatedly pounded me from behind. So hard that my knees began to strain and quake, and my head kept knocking against the wall.

  Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Like an animal he let out a soft, muffled grunt each time he thrust himself into me.

  Smack!

  “Oh my god.”

  A faint drip down the inside of my left thigh tickled me, proof of how aroused I had become.

  Smack!

  Another collision between his palm and my bare ass. My mind could not comprehend what was happening any longer. A stinging sensation of pain was throbbing from my back, but a blood chilling feeling of pleasure was coursing through my veins. My brain did not know whether to flinch or continue. My mouth did not know whether to scream or to moan. The end result was something near the middle ground of each option.

  Smack!

  My back arched and I let out a soft yell.

  “Don’t stop.”

  Smack!

  “Harder!”

  Smack!

  “Right there. Yes baby. Oh my fu-. Keep going.”

  Smack!

  My legs clinched together and I let out one last scream and lunged forward, using my hands to brace myself against the wall. Latrelle exhaled heavily, immediately followed by a warm liquid dripping on my lower back.

  I turned around to look at him for the first time since we had gotten home. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him so hard that I was sure if I did not pull away I would suck his lips off.

  “I am sorry for tonight.”

  “Shh. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  Rachel’s call woke me up around 11 a.m.

  “You need to turn on the TV, now.”

  “Okay. Call you back.”

  I hastily grabbed my remote, turned the power on. ESPN was already the channel tuned.

  The line at the bottom read:

  “Breaking news: Latrelle McKay involved in altercation at a Tampa bar. Multiple videos being released. It appears that Latrelle did not throw the first punch.”

  One of the analysts was in mid-sentence when the programming came on.

  “…this video showing Latrelle beating an unknown male to a pulp. According to my sources; the fight began when the unknown individual began dancing on Latrelle’s girlfriend Olivia Burke. She is seen in multiple videos and pictures from witnesses screaming for Latrelle to stop.”

  My phone buzzed at the incoming text message.

  Will: “Thinking about you. Hope everything is okay.”

  Without thinking, I swiped left to delete the message.

  “…it is unclear if the NFL will hand any punishment Latrelle’s way. Despite his past off the field struggles, this is technically his first offense as an NFL player.”

  My chest felt like the weight of a thousand tons was dropped onto it. Latrelle was in trouble again, and this time it was my fault.

  After this incident, I felt Latrelle drift away from me. Not in an obvious way. We still spent time together, made love, walked the beach, and all of the other activities we did as a couple prior to that night. We laughed together and flirted. But, in the back of my mind I noticed it every time he looked at me. It was little more than a fleeting expression, quickly erased by that bleached white smile. Just a momentary showing of the truth that lay within his mind, whether it be conscious or sub-conscious; it was there. Resentment.

  Chapter Three

  Latrelle was magnificent in his first career NFL game. The Buccaneers traveled to Indianapolis to play the Colts. We had decided that I would not travel to road games with him, but rather watch over the house and cheer him on via our multiple big screen TVs. This was not a decision that I can say that I hated. Traveling was not my cup of tea, leaving me more than happy to continue my stint as his biggest fan from the comfort of our beachfront condo.

  By the hallway point of the 4th quarter, Latrelle had thrown for three touchdowns and ran for anoth
er. The Buccaneers were on the verge of an upset. Leading the Colts: 28-24. The colts scored a touchdown with four minutes left in the game, and I was on the edge of my seat. I was not one to bite my nails, but in this moment my pristine cubicles would have to take one for the team. They pushed the ball down the field, shouldering the load on Latrelle’s right arm. Only 43 seconds remained when Latrelle took the snap from the shotgun, ran away from the pressure, and flung a dart to the back of the endzone…

  Touchdown! Touchdown!

  I threw the remote against the wall in celebration and ran around the condo wearing only a t-shirt and panties.

  After calming down slightly, an idea struck me. I picked up my phone and took it to the bathroom with me. Once I removed my shirt and underwear, I stood bare in front of the mirror.

  I faced the camera to the mirror, and took a picture.

  I raised my right leg to the counter, and rested my foot in the sink. The camera snapped for a second time.

  Lowering my foot back down to the floor, I turned around and looked over my shoulder to aim the camera back at the mirror. The camera clicked to produce a third image of my naked body.

  “Good game, baby.” Was the caption I selected, then I sent the three images to Latrelle.

  He replied with a simple “thank you.”

  The remainder of his Rookie season was not as brilliant as the opening game. Latrelle played great, but the rest of the team was not quite good enough to back him up. Losing really took its toll on him. For his entire life he had been on winning teams. To come into an organization that was going through such a struggling period was not easy for him. Alcohol consumption became more prominent.

  The media ate this up. Every night that Latrelle went out on the town, there was a story about it the next day. There came a point when the negative attention surrounding his life reminded me of a movie star. If he got in a team mates face in practice, it was a story. If he got drunk and ignored photographers, it was a story. If he ordered a fattening appetizer at dinner, it was a story. The sense came to me that most of the world had begun to cross their fingers for his failure. Latrelle always took the road less traveled in these situations, making me a very proud girlfriend. He ignored the hecklers, simply smiled at journalists trying to get a quote from him on what his favorite liquor was, and kept his head down when he traveled to another city to face opposing fans asking if he went to AA meetings.