Romance: SPORTS ROMANCE: The First Half (Bad Boy Alpha Male College Football Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Pregnancy Romance)

by Nicole Chance

  “Nah, no girlfriend. Other than that, same old, same old, really. I spent a lot of time here, as always. My arm has healed up pretty well and it’s not like I could feel it much, anyway,” he said with a chuckle.

  “No girlfriend, then. Well, that’s good to know.”

  “Is it? Are you uh—on the market? I mean, you’re still in the middle of a divorce and all—”

  “Well, I’m not really on the market, per se, but I wouldn’t mind going out with someone I kinda already liked,” I said with a smile. “Let’s do something other than the library, though.”

  “Yeah, actually anything other than the library sounds good,” he laughed. “What were you thinking?”

  I gave him a thoughtful smile.

  “How do you feel about sushi?” I asked.

  He made a face.

  “Got ya! I hate it too. How about pizza and a movie at my place?” I asked, rather boldly. “I can take Jase to my mom’s and my new apartment is actually ten times nicer than the old one. I’m kind of glad you burned the place to the ground.”

  He chuckled and murmured, “Your place? You sure that’ll be okay? I thought your apartment was off limits.”

  I blushed.

  “Oh, stop. You’re going to come over and you’re going to like it,” I replied.

  He took me by the waist with his good arm.

  “Well, if you insist,” he murmured, looking down into my eyes. “I’ll cover the pizza tab. You supply the chick flicks. How’s that sound?”

  I grinned.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  He leaned down and pressed his lips softly against mine. I felt butterflies in my stomach for the first time since high school.

  “You’re perfect,” he murmured. “Too perfect for some jerk to beat around. Don’t ever forget that.”

  I smiled.

  “Stick around and keep reminding me, then.”

  He smiled back.

  “I can do that.”

  *****

  THE END

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  Please Teach Me

  By Nicole Chance

  Chapter 1

  I’d been told I was methodical. Calculating. And sometimes, even a cold shrew by people who didn’t know me very well. And to an extent, I suppose I was once fine with that. As far as I was concerned, there was a time and a place for everything, and unlike most college students, or young people my age in general, I had the ability to properly calculate that time and place, to stay on track and avoid getting myself into unnecessary trouble.

  I’d been raised that way, really. My family had been old-fashioned, and for years had instilled in me a value of hard work and perseverance, and keeping my inner passions under control. I was the sort of girl who’d been given the example, again and again, of “if all my friends jumped off of a cliff, would I feel inclined to do so as well?” And of course I didn’t.

  What other young people might have criticized, I considered a means of rational behavior. Keeping in line to avoid consequences, and doing what I was supposed to, because like I said- there’s a time and place for everything.

  Or, at least, almost everything...

  I will confess to, at times, occasionally forgetting where the line of good sense ended and that of downright prudishness began. It was just hard for me to let loose I guess, spending all of my time behaving well, and keeping my nose clean. To a point, you just sort of get stuck in that mode, and sometimes that can make things confusing for you.

  I was in my junior year of college, studying hard for my degree in accounting. I could, in essence, plan ahead for just about every twist and turn in my career path ahead, foreseeing every obstacle and knowing what I had to do to overcome them. And though that was fine and dandy as far as my career life was concerned, it didn’t exactly make things easy as far as establishing any kind of social life was concerned.

  And my sex life was, to put it mildly, about as still and lifeless as it seemed possible to be...

  I had conflicting attitudes about sex, honestly. I’d always been raised with the “only after marriage” mentality by my parents, though I’d somewhat outgrown that with some personal reflection and objectivity since moving out of the house. I didn’t really see sex as something wrong anymore, but I did sometimes wish I could better maintain my urges, which could be intense, and which I often felt interfered with my master plan to a large extent, preoccupying me, and driving me to distraction.

  I was, however, still a virgin at this point, no matter how much I may have craved sex, for a variety of reasons. It wasn’t like I wasn’t attractive enough to find a sex partner–in fact that was about the furthest thing from the truth. I had a tight, lurid little body, with milky white skin and mouthwatering proportions. I was slight in figure, with perfectly portioned breasts and a cute, tight ass, which I suppose, as far as that was concerned, fit my anal retentive personality... My seductive, slim curves were absolutely delectable, as were my cute face, my shoulder length blonde locks, and even the thick, nerdy glasses I wore–they somehow seemed to accent it all, their obtuseness pushing my own desirability even further up through the roof than it necessarily needed to be.

  Suffice it to say, I was no eyesore... Had I allowed myself to engage in such undignified practices as seduction, all it would likely have taken to get into men’s pants was a look from my penetrating blue eyes, and probably a lot less than that... Indeed, as I walked around campus, I could feel guys’ eyes on me, gawking at me, mentally undressing me, and imagining what it must be like to be inside me, exploring me, and appreciating my many feminine treasures.

  I knew, all the while, that I couldn’t allow myself to indulge these fantasies, no matter how painfully they oppressed me… causing my chest to swell, and making it hard as hell to breathe.

  I would walk around campus, books clutched to my ample chest, as I tried my damnedest not to give into my own human weaknesses, and allow myself to be seduced into the frivolity that spelled the demise of so many academic careers. It wasn’t just the thought of giving into sexual temptation that frightened me, but the thought of having it happen with the sorts of guys I saw around me. Douchebag jocks who strutted around campus practically wagging their dicks around, acting like they owned the sidewalks they strolled along. Thick chests, powerful muscles, and cocky, arrogant looks that revealed how sure of themselves they were...

  I imagined being used and abused by such men, my virginity taken, only to be left high and dry once they’d satisfied their own needs. I had no time for that sort of emotional nonsense to distract my course, nor did I particularly want to run the risk of STDs or pregnancy, which would have proven an even greater hurdle to clear on my path to success.

  Of course, if ever anything did happen, I would be sure to be careful. I was on birth control, for one thing, partly to even out my moods and periods, and if I did end up jumping into bed with some airheaded stud I would naturally use protection, knowing as I did that the sorts of guys who most assertively expressed interest in me liked to sleep around like there was no tomorrow.

  But I still refused to even accept the notion that I might sleep with someone, and I wrote it off in my mind as an impos
sibility–until my life was perfectly on track and settled. Maybe, when I was in my late twenties or early thirties, then I could make time for that sort of gratification, and give into some of my fantasies. Down the road, when I could afford to take the risk...

  But for now, I had a small arsenal of sex toys that could do the trick just nicely when I was in the mood, as well as a sexual imagination that was completely at odds with my prudish, uptight nature, and let me indulge in whatever depraved cravings I may have felt come on, without running any real risks to my track in life.

  And God, did I ever revel in those fantasies of mine...

  Walking around campus, the flirtatious and sometimes downright lustful looks I got from my male coeds caused me to swoon with desire, my mind running rampant with even the slightest expression of interest, and my body almost constantly on fire as I considered the many possibilities.

  One day, for instance, I’d been walking along with a book in my hand, trying to cram for an upcoming test that I’d been dreading for weeks now, when suddenly I found myself distracted, and a very different type of cramming began to dance around inside my head.

  Two hot, young runners came barreling straight past me, their lithe bodies pumping down the sidewalk, shirts covered with sweat, one black and one white, and both of them stunning as hell as they smiled at me, and continued on their way.

  I was left standing in the middle of the sidewalk looking after them, mouth agape, watching their toned butts and powerful legs as they disappeared into the distance. My mind instantly began to consider which of the two men I would most like to sleep with, before at last I settled on both of them at the same time...

  And then I snapped back into reality, after having stood there and drooled for some five minutes straight.

  It was all just fantasy, I knew... I noticed that athletes played a special role in preoccupying my thoughts sexually, but since I was so bookish and about the least athletic person imaginable, I found that I resented men like this just about as much as I liked to imagine being taken by them.

  Such visions as a three way with the two nameless joggers were just fine as far as mental aids during my time in the bathtub with my selection of sex toys was concerned, but no amount of private time could possibly compare to the real thing.

  To me, the reality of sex seemed so madly enticing, and yet it nonetheless remained so very, very far away.

  Chapter 2

  Almost ironically, my love for education and my pursuit of getting ahead were what eventually led to me stumbling into the sort of passion I was secretly yearning for headfirst. Although, it was worth noting that it took me a good while to come around and see the situation for what it was, and I was predictably reluctant to let myself fall so very far from grace as I eventually did.

  I don’t think I’ve mentioned it up to this point, but my family, in addition to being an especially moral and uptight one, was also a very poor one, which was part of the reason for me working so hard to build a better future for myself. I mean, I wouldn’t say we went without much, but we kind of scraped by, and my parents did quite a bit of stretching in order to make ends meet for my sister and I. Mom and Dad hadn’t really been able to afford putting me through college on their own, and I’d mostly gotten in through scholarships for my academic performance, as well as, of course, huge student loans that would take me quite a bit of time to pay back.

  In addition to these two sources, I found myself taking on part-time work throughout college, to make things just a little bit easier–although it’s worth noting the time it took out of my already jam-packed schedule made things even more difficult as far as managing my activities was concerned.

  I was a math tutor, hand selected by one of my professors for my attention to detail and my ability to recognize and solve problems. A lot of my other classmates had chided me behind my back, I think, for always trying to challenge the professor’s occasional mistakes in class, being the first person to raise my hand, and frequently asking for detailed explanations whenever something on a test or paper got marked wrong. My professor, though, seemed not to share this opinion, and thus asked me to take on the paid position in as tutor, and pass along my knowledge of mathematics to other students.

  To some extent, I think I actually ended up scaring away my peers with my intensity and vigor for math. I sure as hell helped them often, but I think a lot of them just wanted me to do the work for them, instead of trying to explain things more thoroughly and making the work more digestible for them to understand, which I considered to be my actual job.

  Those brave souls who actually bore the agony of sitting through what I had to tell them generally ended up learning quite a lot, and more often than not they saw remarkable improvements to their grades. Gradually, I began to develop quite the reputation as a tutor, for my abilities to make complicated subjects simpler to digest, and eventually, all that extra effort I put into helping others paid off–sort of...

  I’d managed to attract the attention of our school’s football coach, who had a problem student whose grades seemed to be slipping, and who needed some serious tutoring in order to catch up and remain eligible for his athletic scholarship. Blake Philips was his name...

  At first, I’d been excited about the opportunity. Blake was crucial to our school’s team, a star player, and I was being paid extra to tutor him one on one, and give him whatever help he needed.

  Our first meeting, however, proved to be a bit of a let down as far as I was concerned...

  For starters, Mr. Philips didn’t actually even show up to what was supposed to be our first meeting. I’d sat at the library for hours, expecting him to show up at any moment, though in hindsight perhaps that was a bit too naïve and trusting of me. I reported this back to the coach, and I was still compensated for my time that evening, but it gave me a pretty good idea that the task ahead wasn’t going to be an easy one...

  The next session, Blake did show up, though fifteen minutes late, further testing the depths of my seemingly bottomless patience. Still, though, I tried to remain polite and friendly–and it didn’t hurt a bit, that I found myself immediately attracted to him–in a physical sense, at least...

  He looked absolutely stunning to me, the precise sort of studly gentleman I imagined pumping in and out of my body whenever I had my private time in the tub. His shoulders were broad and hulking, wrapped up as they were in the tight fabric of his varsity jacket, straining around his form as though on the verge of tearing apart down the center. He wore a t-shirt underneath, which was even tighter against his body than the jacket. I could clearly make out the intensity of his muscles, blazing and looking delectable, as well as the intense bulge at the crotch of his jeans–which I tried not to stare at for too long, but looked delectable as he took a seat next to me, putting his legs up on the table and thrusting out a set of papers in his hands.

  “Hey,” He said, with a cocky grin across his lips, as he gawked down at my cleavage. It was both gratifying and unnerving, and I reacted accordingly. I blushed, pushed my glasses to my face, squirmed in my seat, and cleared my throat, nearly all at once.

  “Hello, Blake, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Julie,” I said, in my chipper tones, trying to pretend like I wasn’t already fantasizing about him being my first mate.

  “Cool. Here’s my homework for today. The mistakes I made are all marked in red, so they should be pretty easy for you to fix.”

  I blinked at him, dumbly, not looking at the page. “I, um... Is that what you think this is? I’m your tutor,” I said, as though this should clear things up, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, as though this was obvious. There was no particular malevolence to his tone, like he was actually that stupid as not to pick up on what I was trying to convey. I didn’t really mean to, then, but I found myself giving him one hell of a mean look, my nostrils flaring, and my heart picking up pace. I think my anger at his arrogance was only a part of the problem... I was also fru
strated with myself, for how much I wanted him physically, how desperately I would have liked to be taken by him, when he was clearly such an imbecile, a slacker dummy who cared about nothing but sports.

  I recalled, now, in a blinding flash, why it was in my best interest to keep away from such blockheads as men such as Blake... They might have been gorgeous to look at, and even dynamite in the sack, but there was no room in my life to let some empty-minded numbskull such as this interfere with my carefully designed master plan.

  I tried to get a hold of myself... I cleared away all of the sudden thoughts I’d just been having of being bent over and fucked hard by him. And once that was all gone, I tried to regain enough of my composure to be able to speak to him politely, clear the air and get us on a proper footing without having to snap at him in my frustration.

  I forced a smile, one that probably seemed every bit as strained and unnatural as it was, and I probably blinked just a little bit too hard as I proceeded. “No, Blake...” I said calmly, but with some palpable tension behind the words. “No, see, my job is to help you figure it out on your own, not to do the work in your place. That way, you’ll know how to do it yourself, and in time you won’t need to keep coming to tutoring.” I said this a bit hopefully, as even though the pay was great and much-needed, I would be happy if these sessions could be expedited as much as possible, freeing me from temptation. “You see?” I said finally, when he hadn’t said a word in response.

  He just smiled that stupid smile at me, so cocky and so kissable, yet so capable of making me want to punch him in his perfect mouth. It was a smile that said he knew he could get away with anything, that he’d been given that lot in life and would be using it to its full advantage. “You’re cute,” he said finally, ogling me once more from head to toe. I must have turned red all over, and it only got worse when he asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”