It was not all for not, though. Sometimes, when a particularly ridiculous story surfaced, Latrelle would come home fuming with rage. Since he did not like to talk about work at the house, what resulted was usually just really passionate sex. He released stress, and I was relieved of my mid-season loneliness. It was a win-win.
One particular Monday, after the Buccaneers had just lost their 4th game in a row, Latrelle came home in tears.
“Baby. What is the matter?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair and taking his bag from his shoulder.
“Nothing it was… Just a rough trip that’s all.”
“You can tell me. What is going on?” I lead him to the couch to sit down. He plopped on the cushion like a bag of bricks. Shoulders slumped. Head down.
“It is just hard. Hard to go out there every day and give it everything I got, for nothing. I work harder than anyone, and have put up better numbers than any quarterback in history in a rookie season.”
I ran my fingers down his spine. Scratching softly with my regrown fingernails.
“And despite all this, I am one of the most hated people in the NFL.”
“Baby nobody hates you.” I reassured.
He glared at me as if I had just spoken blasphemy. “I watch the news. I read the paper. Even journalists in Tampa are speculating for the Buccaneers to trade me.
“Well if they do that, then they are the dumbest organization in football.” I said, smiling.
He gave a halfhearted smile back.
“There’s that smile I have missed so much.” I leaned in for a kiss.
He grabbed my face with both hands and planted his lips against mine.
“I missed you so much.” I whispered.
His hands meandered under my shirt, and popped my bra strap. Once my shirt had found its way off of my perspiring skin, Latrelle picked me up and carried me into the bathroom, and started running warm water in the whirlpool tub. Our lips rarely strayed from one another, only pausing once in a while to remove another piece of clothing. When our bodies were no longer concealed by cloth, we descended into the steam that was now filling the air. Latrelle proceeded to the corner of the tub, sat with his back to the wall, and turned on the jets. Powerful plumes of water shot from every angle around us, making the water so turbulent that it was not crystalline any longer.
I saddle my legs around his torso and grazed his earlobes with my teeth. His hands palmed my ass like the footballs he threw at practice. Not able to wait any longer, I reached behind me and filled my hand with his length, positioning it in such a way that the next time I sat down on him, he would go deep inside of me.
And deep he went. I rode him so hard that the water around us began to ripple and rise. Creating waves that splashed and crashed to and fro and out to the floor below. His fingers pressed against the skin of my back. His nails dug just deep enough that I felt the faint scratching against my epidermis, but shallow enough to keep from drawing blood. We knew each other’s bodies so well. When he moved, reciprocated. When I moved, he mirrored. We were connected at a far deeper level than just physical. Feeling his girth inside of me became more of a spiritual experience each time we made love. My soul yearned to connect with his. In those brief moments, I felt peace. All of our past troubles washed away in the jets, and disappeared down the drain.
The regular season came to a close a month later. Latrelle had managed to stay out of trouble for the most part, and with the individual awards coming up, the American public had begun to bandwagon around him once more. All the shows and articles that I read had him as a lock for Rookie of the Year. Wanting to surprise him, I customized a jersey online that was drastically too small for me.
It was a Buccaneers jersey with his number (2). On the back where the last name text box sits atop the jersey number was this:
“Mrs. Rookie of the Year”
At just shy of $200, it was a bit pricey for my taste. But, since Latrelle paid me well to be his “Public Relations Specialist” and given that it was a special occasion, I splurged.
When the ceremony finally came, I dressed up in my favorite black dress to accompany him as his date. It was a skin tight sequined fabric that stopped three inches above my knees. It was strapless, and the top part covered my shoulders with a quarter sleeve that went almost to the elbow. The chest piece was a rounded cut that came across the top fourth of my breast linearly. Just enough to show a little cleavage to make his mind wander to would transpire later that night, but not too much as to be labeled as “Latrelle’s Ho.”
A few awards came before Rookie of the Year but I have no recollection of what they were. People clapped, I joined and pictures were taken of them shaking hands with what I assume were important people on stage.
Finally, the commissioner approached the microphone again…
“This years’ Rookie of the Year…”
I reached under the white tablecloth and gave a reassuring squeeze to Latrelle’s left leg.
“…of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers: Latrelle McKay!”
A standing ovation followed him to the stage as he took his award. A smile so big, that his cheeks were sure to touch his ears if it got any wider, lit up the room.
My attention was briefly deterred from the stage. The table vibrated and I looked down to see a light glow coming from my phone. A text message.
Will: “Call me when you are at a point where you want something more in your life.”
I briskly swiped left to delete, without drawing attention to myself, and placed my phone back in its previous location.
Latrelle practically ran back to our table holding the trophy high in the air for the world to see, and snatched my hand.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror while Latrelle waited in the other room. The small sized jersey clung to my skin like a t-shirt on a hot day after a long rain. My nipples poked peaks out of the see through mesh material. I gave them a gentle rub with my left hand, and put my right in between my legs to prepare myself for the night. I turned to take one last glance at my back; to make sure that just enough ass was visible, and to triple check the text above the numeral.
“Mrs. Rookie of the Year”
It was perfect.
Latrelle’s eyes grew to rival that of a deer in front of oncoming traffic when he saw me walk out into the candlelit bedroom.
“You are stunning, my dear.” He said, inching closer to the edge of the bed with his outstretched arms inviting me to come and play.
“You haven’t even seen the grand finale.” I teased. Running my fingers up his solid chest to his shoulders and down his back so that he could get a whiff of my fragrance. I slowly turned around to put my butt in his lap.
“Mrs. Rookie of the Year. It has a nice ring to it, if I do say so myself.” He muttered, sending his hands on a journey across the landscape of my thighs.
“Tonight, I am whatever you want me to be.”
He stood up pressed his penis in between the crack of my butt. Rubbing it up and down in between the cheeks. His off-hand reached around to the front of me and nestled two fingers inside of my already wet lips. I craned my neck around to touch my lips to his face, opening wide and exhaling heavily on his skin each time he pushed his hand further inside of me. Just as my body began to move to the rhythm of his hand, he took it out to tease me, rubbing the outside of my vagina ever so softly.
He lay back onto the mattress and pulled my hips to his face. Taking the hint that he was strongly delivering, I lowered my top half to his pelvis, and wrapped both of my hands around his shaft. Working my right hand clockwise, and my left counter-clockwise, I watched in amazement as the growth began to occur in front of my very eyes. Keeping my movements steady was difficult, because each time I would get a few good strokes in, he would delve his tongue in between my whispering eye to explore the wet cavern that lay within. Desperate to keep up, and make him want it as bad as I did, I lowered my mouth to engulf all of his bla
ck shaft in one gulp.
Gasping for air as if I had just came up for a breath from a snorkeling expedition, I took two long breaths and went back down for more. This continued for several minutes until ultimately both of our bodies gave up from holding out for so long. He flipped me off of him to land on my back, rolled over and with one swift thrust was in me.
My hips lunged into the air as every muscle, every vein, every vessel in my body breathed a collective sigh of relief. He was finally inside of me. My legs were pushed back, lifting my hips further in the air. His hands around my ankles, holding me in suspension. His face glistened with the moisture I had precipitated it with during our dinner for two session. I clawed at his biceps, begging him to keep going. My body ached to feel him further inside of me. I spread my legs out to a status that was parallel with the bed, so that nothing would keep him from going all the way in me. His entire length was being submerged on each dive now. I felt my insides relax and open their doors for him to come inside. So deep that I was not certain how much of it I could take. My spirit screamed in euphoria, that my body let loose as repetitive moans. I came.
He did not stop. My hips seized and the contagious shaking traveled down the nerves of my legs to end at my feet. My toes curled so hard that the joints cracked, as people crack the knuckles of their hands. This sent a shockwave of pleasure back up my legs that ebbed and flowed to the rest of me. My whole body was shaking now, and Latrelle kept going. He pushed down on the inside of my thighs, spreading my legs so far apart that the outside of my ankles made contact with the sheets. I came again.
This time, he did too. A warm river so crisp and abundant that my stomach looked like I was being prepared for a full body, lotion rich massage.
I could not move. My ears were ringing and my feet were flexed to the brink of cramping. I just lay there. Legs spread. Heart pounding. Certain that I had just experienced the best sex of my entire life.
Chapter Four
I could not help but feel the depressing realization that sex was all we had, though. When he was deep inside of my body, my world stopped. I felt whole as a person. But, as the months went along, those were the only times that I felt that way.
His habit of spending long nights on the town only increased when the season ended. I figured out early on that going with him was only a recipe for disaster. Not only that, it just was not my idea of a good time. I wanted to stay in, cuddle naked on our wrap around couch and watch movies all night. He gave me those nights from time to time. But, the bulk of his time was spent at clubs, as usual.
The media loved party Latrelle. The cycle had spun back around, yet again. He would leave around 10 p.m., come home sometime around the crack of dawn, and I would watch the antics that he performed the next morning while his hungover body recovered in bed.
His attention span was growing further and further away from me, and us. One day, I finally put my foot down.
My phone buzzed from underneath my right leg. A text message.
Rachel: “TMZ.”
I immediately changed the channel to the TMZ network, and they were talking about the self-destructive lifestyle that Latrelle lived. They started showing pictures and videos from the past month worth of partying. It occurred to me suddenly, that they had pictures that ESPN would not show. Photo upon photo punched me in the face through the screen. Images of Latrelle with bundles of women. Some even had women kissing him on the cheek with a handful of Latrelle’s crotch. Videos of Latrelle doing body shots out of teenagers’ belly buttons. Latrelle’s face swallowed up in the double D rack of a waitress, shaking his head from side to side as if it would propel him further into her cleavage.
“Asshole!” I threw the remote at him after I turned the bedroom TV on to the same channel.
He blinked his eyes open like a bear that had been hibernating for months.
I emptied the cup of water, which I had prepared and left on the nightstand for when he woke up, on him.
“What the hell is your problem?” He demanded, rubbing both fists against his eyes.
“My problem? My problem?! My problem is your lying ass! What do you have to say for this?” I pointed at the TV.
His entire demeanor changed once he saw the events unfolding on the screen, that left him nothing but red handed.
“I’m sorry, babe. It was a hard year. I was just having a little bit of fun. Those girls mean nothing to me.”
“Oh, a hard year. Well I am so sorry for interrupting your ‘hard year.’ A ‘hard year’ that left me alone in a strange town. A ‘hard year’ where I left my only true friend to come across the country with you. A ‘hard year’ where I had to wait up for you every night, praying that you were safe. A ‘hard year’ when you won Rookie of the Year and turned me inside out. So sorry that you are in such a difficult situation.” Tears streamed down my face.
Latrelle wrapped his arms around me. I wanted to throw them off and scream some more, but the comfort of his skin against mine slowed my overworked heart’s beat down to a normal pace.
“I am sorry. I thought you liked it out here.”
“I like being with YOU out here. I would go anywhere in the world as long as I was with you. Sometimes I don’t think you feel the same.”
“I do, baby. I just like to go out and have a good time, also. If I am stuck here on this team that can’t win more than four games in a season, then I might as well enjoy myself, right?”
“Sure.” I muttered. But I did not mean it.
That was the hardest I had ever fought with Latrelle, or anyone for that matter. Usually when I would get upset I would just lock myself away from the world, and wait for whatever bothered me to blow over with the evening wind. Not this time. I had to stand up for myself, even if it was only for a brief minute.
To my disappointment, nothing changed. He stayed in with me for a few days in a row after the fight. Picking up take-out and renting some of my favorite movies to watch. But it was all plastic, and I could tell he was itching to get out and do something more exciting. After a while, we were back to square one; me watching the events of his previous night while he slept the fun away in the bedroom with the curtains drawn.
I may have not been the most disappointing part of his life, though. The Buccaneers sure had their own right to be fed up with his choices. Latrelle had gained around 15 pounds of fat by the time the summer rolled around. He rarely showed up for practice, and when he did it was always late. Those cut washboard abs that I had lusted over for years were replaced by a jiggly layer of skin and beer. When we did have sex now, it was nothing like the mind altering sexual marathon that he used to give me. He gyrated on top of me for a few minutes, that half inch thick layer of fat bouncing around more than my breasts did when I rode him. Then he would finish on my stomach, and pass out cold from the alcoholic state he was in. But, I did not yield. True love endured, and that is what I would do.
The first game of his 2nd NFL season was a cluster. The speed he had built his game upon was nowhere to be found. He would take two steps forward, attempt to make a move around a defender, and get clobbered by 300 pound lineman. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to watch. Much more difficult than watching him motor boat some slut that served him free drinks. Tougher than anxiously awaiting the verdict that would decide if his mistress carried his child. Nothing compares to watching the only man you have ever loved get pancaked to the ground time and time again, then get up and nonchalantly walk back to the huddle without a care in the world.
After 5 games as the starter, with no improvement, Latrelle was benched. He came home that night in a drunken rage and broke our living room TV with the fire poker, and the sliding glass patio door with his shoe.
Oddly enough, that night we had better sex than we had since he was named Rookie of the Year.
My body was in need of something to quench its thirst. I fed off of the opportunity of his rage and threw myself onto him.
“I know you are mad. Take it out on me. Give me
your stress.”
I did not have to tell him twice. He ripped my shirt off at the seams and sunk his teeth into my chest. We stumbled into the kitchen together, undressing bit by bit with each step. I popped open the bottle of champagne that I had been saving for a special occasion. After all, this served as a special occasion. For me, anyway.
I took three huge gulps of the sparkling beverage and poured another glass full all over my naked body. He ripped the bottle out of my hands and turned it up. I took this opportunity to go down on him.
“Oh, how I have missed your touch.” I said to no one in particular. Latrelle did not respond.
My tongue painted up, down, and around him. My mouth sucked at the tip of his rock hard member. The taste alone was enough to put me over the top. But, I had been backed up without pleasure for too long. I had to make sure that he did me right this time. So, I kept going. I turned him around and nibbled on his lower back while my right hand continued to stroke him from the front. I stood up, grabbed his fingers and coaxed them down my chest to find their home between my legs.
“Catch me.” I taunted, and jumped up to rest my knees on the counter behind him, legs wrapped around his stomach. His left arm kept me steady, while the right sat underneath me. The index and middle finger pointed to the sky. I gently lowered myself down onto them, keeping my arms locked around his neck to control the ride. His face sunk deep in between my breasts as I gradually bounced up and down on his fingers. I could finally see it in his eyes. The look I had been longing for. He was ready.
He placed a hand on each cheek behind me, and composedly lowered me down to the level his hips were at. Keeping his arms under my legs to hold me in place, my heels remained on the countertop to his posterior. The veins were bulging from the skin of his arms as he held my entire weight in mid-air. His biceps and triceps flexed to a ball. Latrelle was back in control.
Erotica: Handcuffing Inhibitions (New Adult Romance Bundle)(Erotic Sex Taboo Box Set) Page 20