Without any hesitation, I slipped my dress off my shoulders and lifted it over my head. I found my bra clip and clicked it open, allowing my tits to tumble free under his intense stare.
"My bag," I said, regaining some of my senses. "I've got condoms in there."
Jack scanned the room and found my bag on the table I'd tossed it onto. The firm muscles of his perfect arse rolled as he walked to grab it, and his cock reared in front of him, shifting from side to side as he moved.
He threw me my bag and I fumbled inside for the box, ripping the cellophane from it as I retrieved it. "Should I have got large ones?" I asked, running my eyes over his length and girth.
"That's just a marketing ploy," he laughed, "they all fit."
The foil package opened easily and I removed the ribbed condom, moving to the bottom of the bed as I squeezed the air from the teat.
He smiled as I reached out with a tentative hand and wrapped my small fingers around as much of his erection as I could. Dear God, it was thick. So fucking thick.
Air escaped from his lips in a hiss as I placed the condom on the fat purple head and began rolling it over his inches of hard flesh.
When just over half of his cock was sheathed, the latex ran out and I glanced up at him. "Fuck me," I said in a half whisper. "Please fuck me."
He grabbed me by my hair and gently but firmly pulled me to my feet at the foot of the bed. "Turn around," he said, his hand on my arse, already guiding me into the position he wanted me to take.
Placing my hands on the bed and lowering my face towards the duvet as he pushed my head downward, I lined myself up to take the first cock I'd had in over half a year, and the largest one I'd ever taken.
He released my head and took an arse cheek in each big hand, spreading me wide as he guided himself towards my slippery entrance.
The view between my legs was spectacular, and I lowered my head further to watch his throbbing manhood approaching the pulsating mass of excitement which edged ever nearer to orgasm with each touch of his body on mine.
With a sigh from Jack, and a contraction from my pussy, his cock head nudged my hole, beginning to open me up for the thick inches that were soon to be within me.
My jaw clenched as he entered me, my pussy stretching wide to accommodate him. I wanted to tell him to slow down as pain stung, and my insides burned, but I knew he expected more from me. The way he'd looked at my exposed pussy as he'd lowered his face to eat me had said so much. He wanted a woman who would do as he wished, and that night, I wanted nothing more than to be that woman.
Pain gave way to a building spiral of intense pleasure as he gave me more of himself, and I heard myself grunt as my pussy spread wider than any man had made it before. A wave of hot heat flooded me as he touched me deeper than I'd ever been touched, and the throbs of his excitement pulsated on my tightening pussy walls as he gave me the last couple of inches, his thighs making contact with my arse.
I allowed myself to adjust around him as he stood still for a moment, his cock filling me and his balls hanging low and heavy. I reached between my thighs and smiled as I watched his balls tighten as I took them in my hand and rolled his testicles gently between finger and thumb.
He groaned his pleasure and began pulling out of me, the empty feeling only momentary as he rammed himself into me again, my arse wobbling as his muscled thighs struck my soft flesh.
"Yes," I shouted, as he sped up, his thrusts hard, and his hands pulling my cheeks wider apart, giving himself more space inside me.
I moved a hand between my thighs and found my hard clit. It throbbed beneath my finger as I circled it with fast strokes, my finger sliding with ease over my wet folds of skin.
My orgasm came quickly and with hardly any warning. My legs buckled, and I moaned as Jack slid a strong arm under my stomach, holding me upright as he fucked me with a passion I'd never known from a man before.
Intense waves of pleasure ran through every muscle in my body, and over my skin, as my toes curled in the soft carpet, my climax making my body shake as Jack urged me on.
"Come on my cock," he grunted as his free hand slapped my arse, adding to the unrelenting cycle of my climax that carried my orgasm on and on as if it would never end. I didn't want it to end, I'd never come so hard, so powerfully, so perfectly.
As my stomach muscles tightened and my body rocked, Jack withdrew from me with a wet slurping sound that filled the room.
"Turn around," he said, his hand on my hip, and his voice coarse.
I swivelled to face him and he cupped my chin in one hand, the other grabbing my tit as he leaned in to kiss me. The taste of my own sweet muskiness on his lips sent fresh waves of desire through me, and I reached for his cock, stroking the slippery latex that covered it and feeling the strong throb beneath my fingers.
He took his hands from me and unlocked his lips from my mouth as he bent forward and hooked his arms under my thighs. With a sudden tensing of his body he lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and I hooked my feet around his back as his cock nudged me in the place it truly belonged.
I shifted my position until I felt the head of his dick slip inside me and lowered myself onto him, my arms around his neck and my mouth pressing on his.
I'd never felt so feminine — so petite, as he began lifting and dropping me on his length, my weight insignificant to him and my body a tool to help him reach his climax.
His tongue swept around my mouth as his breathing intensified, and with a sudden powerful throb inside me, his own orgasm swept through him, making his face contort in pleasure and his toned stomach tighten against mine.
As he groaned his delight into my mouth, I tightened my pussy on him, helping him to empty himself, wanting him to feel as spent and satisfied as I did.
As the last of his spurts filled the condom and his cock began to soften inside me, he tossed me onto the bed and slumped beside me, his big chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took, and his tattoos briefly shifting positions as his muscles began relaxing again.
Sleep began to make him blur in my vision and as I allowed it to take me away from him, I whispered in his ear. "I've never felt so satisfied, and I've never come so hard."
He smiled at me gently, and stroked my cheek. "We'll do it all over again when you wake up," he said.
Chapter Five
~Emily~
I woke with a gentle ache between my legs, reminding me of what had happened the night before. It wasn't the ripples of pleasure in my sore pussy that had woken me though, it was the incessant vibrating of my phone on the bedside table next to my ear.
I picked it up to see Megan's name flashing on the screen.
"Hello," I whispered, not wanting to arouse Jack from his sleep. He looked peaceful, and I had plans to wake him with a cup of coffee, and hopefully stir him into the same lustful state he'd been in the night before when he'd shown me what I'd been missing in my life up till then.
"You need to come and see something," said Megan, "it's about Jack."
"What is it?" I said, wondering if Megan had been overcome by a case of the green eyed monster, and was trying to rip me from the arms of my stud.
"He's all over the fucking newspapers," said Megan, "the back pages anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Just come back to the room. I'll show you. It's important."
Megan finished the call and I stared at Jack. The back pages meant sport, which I did my very best to avoid. Maybe Megan and I had been onto something when we'd thought we recognised him.
I slipped out of bed and dragged my dress over my fluffed up hair. My shoes were still where I'd flicked them from my feet and I slipped them on, grabbing my bag from the table as I passed it.
The door opened quietly and after pulling it closed behind me, I travelled the nine and a half feet to the room I was supposed to have shared with Megan.
The door was ajar and Megan was sitting on the bed with a newspaper in front of her and her tablet next to it.
"Come here," she said, "look at this. I picked it up at breakfast. This is just one of many."
She held the newspaper up for me to read, and Jack's face looked back at me below a headline that made me shudder — Jack Bailey banned for violent misconduct.
I skim read the article, getting the gist of it, and turned to Megan as she held up her tablet. "I've googled him," she said, showing me a list of entries with Jack's name against them. "He's a real piece of work. He's a rugby player, but a fucked up one. Drugs, drink, women, violence. He was only banned yesterday, Emily, for breaking a man's nose. That's why he was in the bar. He was drowning his sorrows."
I clicked on an internet article. "Jesus," I muttered, studying an image of him standing over an unconscious man on a rugby pitch. Blood poured from the victim's nose and Jack's face was a mask of rage. "He wasn't just drowning his sorrows," I said, "he was looking for a woman to help him forget."
"Look who he plays for," said Megan.
I scanned the article until a familiar town name leapt out at me. Budbury, the town in which I lived and worked. "Christ, he plays for the Budbury bears?" I said.
"Yup, we said he looked familiar didn't we."
You didn't need to be a sports fan to notice the team members in and around town. It was normal to see them in bars and shops, although I never paid any more attention than was needed to check out the occasional toned body or two.
"What do you want to do?" said Megan, "I'm guessing you don't want any further involvement with him." She crossed her arms. "I'm hoping you don't anyway."
That went without saying. I hadn't been dumped by a cheating fiancee to end up involved with a mad rugby player. I had a lot more sense than to travel that particular road.
"What do you think?" I said, "of course I don't. In fact, I want to go home right now and forget it ever happened."
"I've already packed for us," said Megan, nodding at the small cases in the corner of the room. "But about that forgetting it ever happened… can that wait until you've told me all about last night, on the way home?"
I laughed as I headed to the bathroom and tidied myself up. I didn't laugh, however, as we sneaked past Jack's door towards the stairs. I'd enjoyed my time with him, and deep down, I'd been hoping for more from Jack. A lot more.
Chapter Six
Jack
Mondays are mostly bad, but some are worse than others. Having to face your head coach at an early morning meeting, to discuss a playing ban you'd received, is a very bad start to the week. The memory of the most perfect woman I'd ever fucked, running out on me, didn't make the morning any easier to tolerate. It had been a long time since a woman had left me after a one-night stand. No, it had been never. I was the one who decided whether I'd see a woman again, not the other way around. Emily obviously hadn't received that particular memo.
That was life though. You rolled with the blows, took them on the chin like a man and didn't fucking whinge and whine. I shook Emily from my mind and took a left turn.
I parked the car and gazed up at the stadium. It never failed to make me feel proud of being a player for the Budbury Bears. The Stadium of Angels was built tight on the banks of the River Avon, and was named after a ring of ancient stones known locally as the angels. The stadium soared above any other building in the area and impressive swirling steel arches gave it more height at either end.
The statue of Arthur Davies ignored me as I said a cheery 'Good morning'. He was the Budbury Bears most famous player, earning fifty-four caps playing for England, and captaining them fourteen times. He was a legend, but he was looking down at me with judgement in his bronzed eyes.
Ignoring his accusing stare, I made my way towards the stadium entrance. The car park was almost empty — training didn't start for another hour, and the only players who would be there that early in the morning were the ones receiving physiotherapy, or the ones who needed some extra gym time.
Taking two at a time, I descended the stairs into the bowels of the building and headed for Harry Rickman's office. Harry was a fair man, and I hoped he'd not be too hard on me for my latest ban. My head was still aching from the beers I'd drunk the night before, and I could do without the stress.
Harry's door was open, and he'd laid the weekend's newspapers on his desk in a fanned out shape of shame, the back pages looking out at me. I'd already seen a few, but Harry seemed to have papers on his desk that I'd never even heard of, let alone read.
He didn't bother with small talk. He simply pointed at the leather seat opposite his. "Sit down and take a look at the photos on the wall." he said, doing his best to disguise his frustration.
Theatricals. I hated them. It was obvious that asking me to look at the pictures was part of his plan to humiliate me, but I sat down and humoured him anyway.
When he'd decided I'd studied them enough, he spoke. "What do you think they'd think of you, Jack?" he said, placing his chin on his hands. "What do you think some of the finest players the Budbury Bears has ever seen, would think of you dragging the club's name though the fucking dirt?"
First the statue, now the photos. There was something eerie about being judged from beyond the grave.
"Jesus, Harry. I —"
"Don't you Jesus Harry me," he interrupted, "I don't think I can walk on fucking water, Jack. That's a misapprehension you seem to have about yourself."
"You know what I meant."
Harry picked up a newspaper. "What do you think he'd make of this headline, Jack?" he said, nodding at one of the largest pictures on the wall. "What do you think Arthur Davies would think if he could read this?" Harry cleared his throat and read from the back page. "Jack Bailey, the shame of the Budbury Bears."
Harry dropped the paper and stared at me, his eyes narrowing behind the thick glass of his half-moon glasses. "Do you think he'd be proud of you, Jack? Wearing the same number he wore?" Harry shook his head. "That was a man who was proud of wearing number eleven. You seem to think it's a joke."
"I don't think it's a joke, Harry."
"What about this one?" said the head coach, ignoring me, and holding up a paper for me to read.
Big black letters ran across the top of the page. Bear-ly a year since his last ban.
"That's not even clever," I said.
"No, it's you that thinks you're clever, Jack," said Harry, "and the club owners have lost their shit with you this time. You're lucky to still be signed."
"Danny Evans gouged my fucking eyes and called me a cunt," I said, "I lost my temper. What was I supposed to do?"
Harry shook his head and sighed. "It's never your fault is it?" he said, leaning back in his seat. "It's always someone else who started the fight, or someone else who had the cocaine —"
"That was once," I said, my temper flaring. It had only been once. A stupid mistake three years ago. A mistake that still followed me. My own personal albatross.
"Once, twice. Who fucking cares? I've lost count of the amount of times you've sat in that seat, making excuses. You need to get your shit together, Jack, or you'll have no place in this club."
I began speaking, but Harry spoke over me. "A decision's been made. While you're sitting out the playing ban, you're banned from training too."
"What the fuck? Come on, Harry, you know that's not fair."
"If it had been my decision, maybe I'd have kept you in. But it wasn't, so you need to take it on the chin. Use the time wisely, Jack. You can still use the gym and the other facilities, but you're out of training sessions."
"What am I supposed to do, Harry? Use my time wisely — what does that mean?"
"That brings me onto my next point. The owners want you to get help."
"Help? What sort of help?"
"Well, I don't fucking know, Jack. Help with the anger. Help with the drinking. Help with… the way you are."
Harry's face softened, and he shuffled the newspapers into a stack. "Look, forget about what everyone's saying about you. You're a good player, a fucking good player,
but you're a loose cannon. You're not getting any younger either, and to be honest, with the amount of drinking you do I'm amazed you still pass fitness tests."
I shocked myself sometimes, but I'd always been blessed with a naturally high level of fitness. I'd never had to work as hard as the other guys did. I knew I was pushing the boundaries a little though, I was thirty-two and played as a left winger — I needed to be fit.
Harry continued. "You've got a few years left in you, Jack. If you sort yourself out. Do you want to play for England again? Do you want that twenty-fifth cap?"
Of course I did. I didn't like odd numbers. I would have passed thirty caps already if it hadn't been for the bans I'd previously received.
"You know I do," I said.
"Well get a fucking grip!" said Harry, slapping the desk with the palm of his hand. "You won't get selected for England while you're all over the newspapers for the wrong reasons."
I knew he was right, of course I did, but I didn't need help. I could work out any issues I had myself.
"I'll sort it," I said, "I don't need anybody else sticking their nose into my business."
"That's not an option, Jack. If you want to remain with this club, you need to be seen to be doing something proactive. Plenty of people see psychologists these days for all sorts of shit. You won't be unusual."
I sat forward in my seat. "I'm not seeing a fucking ologist of any description, Harry. Jesus Christ. I punched someone, I'm not fucking insane."
"They're not psychiatrists, Jack. You don't need to be insane to see a psychologist, you know that… we've got a sports psychologist here for God's sake." Harry stood up. "The ball's in your court. I've made you appointments with three psychologists in Budbury, find the one you like the best and talk to them, or you won't be playing for us again, Jack. That's not coming from me, that's coming from the people who pay your wages."
"So they've got me over a barrel?"
"A barrel full of your own shit, Jack." Harry walked around his desk and handed me a piece of paper. "Here's the list. I've booked you under the name of Reynolds — I didn't want your reputation preceding you." His face softened, and he nodded towards the door. "Come on," he said, "I'll see you out. You need to go home and think about what you want."
Pitbull: He plays hard on the field...He plays harder off it. Page 3