Pitbull: He plays hard on the field...He plays harder off it.

by Silvetti, Sam

  "Stand up," I said, using her hair to lever her from my cock. "I have to fuck you."

  "I thought you'd never ask," said Emily, her lips wet with spit and the pre-cum that was spilling from my dick.

  "I didn't ask," I said with a grin, gripping her under her armpit and bringing her to a standing position in front of me. "I said, I have to fuck you."

  "How do you want me, big boy?" Emily teased, running a finger along my throbbing erection. "Bent over? Legs in the air? Me on top?"

  My God she was hot. Hot, sexy, and dirty — everything a woman should be.

  "On your back," I said, gesturing at the bed. "Let's go old school."

  Emily kept a hand on my cock as she walked to the bed, dragging me behind her. The boat rocked from side to side as we moved, and Emily giggled. "I've never done it on a boat before," she said.

  "There's a first time for everything," I said, pulling her legs apart as she sank into the mattress. The small triangle of golden red hair above her pussy gave way to her wet slit, the lips puffy with excitement and her erect clit visible under its hood.

  Emily's big tits wobbled as she moved herself into position, and her nipples looked painfully hard.

  I lowered my head to her chest and sucked a nipple between my teeth, hearing her gasp as I nibbled it gently.

  Her hands played in my hair as I rolled my tongue over her, tasting the remnants of the river water and feeling her grinding her arse against the bed.

  I could take no more, and stood up, pulling her to the edge of the bed, her cunt wet and ready and her eyes shining with lust.

  "I haven't got a condom," I said, stroking my erection and hoping it wouldn't matter.

  "This boat is getting less safe by the minute," smiled Emily, "no life jackets, and now no condoms." She placed her hands between her legs, and with long fingers she opened herself up for me. "It's okay," she said, "I'm on the pill. Just fuck me, Jack."

  With a desire so intense that I almost came as I felt the burning heat of her pussy on my glans, I pushed into her, feeling her tighten around me, and watching her eyes roll into her head.

  She gasped as I bottomed out, my balls pressed firmly against her and my cock throbbing. Her hands found my arse and her nails dug deep, willing me to move. With a long slow stroke, I moved out of her until only my swollen head lay nestled in her outer lips. I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth for a moment, before ramming myself deep, relishing her squeals as I began fucking her.

  She tossed her head from side to side, screaming my name as my cock hit her deep inside, and in less than a minute she was coming, her tight pussy becoming tighter, teasing me towards my own climax.

  As the tell-tale tightening of my balls signalled the rise of my ejaculation, I slumped onto her and pressed my mouth against hers. "I'm going to come," I murmured into her lips.

  "Yes," she gasped, her nails digging further into my arse. "Come in me, Jack."

  With a groan that echoed in her mouth, I came, my body trembling, and a wetness spreading from deep inside her as my seed flowed into her.

  She held me tight against her as I emptied myself, and moved her hands to my head, pulling me close into her face, her tongue dancing in my mouth.

  I'd never felt so close to another human being — so close to a woman, as I did to Emily in that moment. It had been more than just sex, and for the first time in my life, I didn't want to let go of the woman who was in my bed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ~Emily~

  After a few bottles of beer, and a promise from Jack that he'd get me back to my car in time for me to at least try and get to work the following day, we lay next to each other on the small bed, Jacks arm across my chest and my hand encircling his wrist. The sound of water lapping against the hull filled the small cabin, and the rocking motion of the boat, combined with the fact that Jack was next to me, made me feel safe.

  As tiredness and sexual satisfaction began to steal me into sleep, Jack spoke, jolting me awake. "It was my fault," he said.

  I turned to face him, propping my head up on an elbow. "What was your fault?" I said, stroking a strand of hair from his eyes.

  "My mother," he said, "I told her I'd save her, and I couldn't."

  "Tell me about it," I said, my psychologist's mind sensing an important revelation.

  His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, and he closed his eyes, the dim ceiling light illuminating the hard edges of his face in a soft yellow glow. "She got ill," he said, "cancer. Just as I'd signed my first contract with a professional club, in the north of England. I was earning good money, real money. Far more than my mum and dad had ever earned, and I was only eighteen."

  "Go on," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder, the mention of cancer bringing memories of my own mother's death flooding back.

  "The doctors said there was nothing they could do, she was going to die, but I told her that was rubbish. I told her that I'd pay for the best treatment money could buy. I told her she'd get better."

  "And she didn't."

  He shook his head and a tear ran down his cheek, which I wiped with the back of a finger. "No," he said, "she didn't. I tried everything, I even tried to get a doctor to come over from America, but he wouldn't, and all the time I kept telling her it would be okay. I kept telling her she'd live. I lied to her."

  "No you didn't," I said, wiping away another of his tears. "You thought you could help her, Jack. You were a teenager, you were losing your mum, you made yourself believe that she would live."

  "I made her believe it too, and I'll never forgive myself for that."

  "Jack," I said, squeezing his arm. "Your mother wouldn't want you carrying this unfounded guilt, beating yourself up like this. No wonder you have issues, you're carrying guilt which doesn't belong inside you. It's eating you up, making you believe things about yourself that aren't true."

  "After mum died, my dad carried on drinking. He'd never been there for her, or me, drink was more important than family, but when she died, he realised what he'd lost. He was dead within two years, his liver just gave up."

  "Jesus, Jack," I whispered, pressing my forehead against his wet cheek. "I'm sorry."

  "You're the first person I've ever told," he said.

  "How long after your mum died did you start going off the rails?" I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I didn't want to provoke the wrong reaction from him, but I sensed that he was ready to relieve himself.

  "Almost straight away," he said, "I started drinking, fighting… womanising. You name it, I did it."

  "You were self-medicating, Jack. You still are. All those feelings inside you have been creating havoc in your mind, they had nowhere to go. You tamed them by doing things you shouldn't have, and by doing that you fed them… because misery thrives on misery."

  His body shook as he sobbed, and I held him close until he began drifting off to sleep. As I watched his chest rise and fall, I understood that I loved him, that I wanted to help him, and that he needed me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jack

  I woke up in the early hours of the morning, my mind feeling calmer than I could remember it ever feeling. Something had been unblocked. Telling Emily about my mother had opened a part of my brain that had been firmly under lock and key for the past fourteen years. It was exhilarating, and it was liberating. It was a feeling of hope.

  I turned my head to watch Emily as she slept. Her perfect nostrils flared as she breathed, and her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamt. She was perfect, and I smiled to myself as a word came to me, a word I hadn't used for a very long time, a word I'd never thought I'd use again. Love.

  Jesus Christ. I was in love.

  I pressed my lips against her forehead and whispered the words I hadn't said since my mother had died. "I love you."

  Emily's eye lids stuttered open and the emerald green of her eyes shone bright. She placed her hand on my cheek and said the same words back to me. "I love you too."

  Chapter
Twenty-Three

  ~Emily~

  Megan tore open a paper sachet of sweetener and poured it into her black coffee. Mister Snuggles sat at her feet on the pavement smelling the world go by, and occasionally wagging his tail as somebody came near enough for him to see.

  "You've got yourself into a fine mess," said Megan, stirring her drink. "I can't help feeling… totally responsible."

  "You didn't make me fall in love with him," I said, breaking a complimentary cinnamon biscuit in two and handing one half to Mister Snuggles, who swallowed it without even attempting to chew it first. "You're not responsible for the chemical reactions which go on inside our brains, Megan."

  "Ever the romantic, aren't you? I don't believe it is all chemicals. I believe in a thing called love."

  "Well, whatever it is," I said, "it's real, and I've decided not to take the job in Germany."

  Megan pursed her lips. "I'm not trying to put a dampener on things," she said, "but… really? You're turning down the job you've been raving about for the past six months, for a man who has more personal problems than a washed up pop star?"

  I blew the steam from my tea. "He's working on them," I said, "I'm helping him. He's had a tough time, and nobody's ever been there for him."

  "Have you told him you were going to Germany? Have you told him what you've put on the line for him?"

  "No, of course not," I said, "I don't want him to think he's holding me back."

  "But he is holding you back, Emily. You've only known him for a few weeks. What will you do if he does something else stupid? What if he gets into another fight, or gets himself arrested? Are you just going to be one of those women who picks up the pieces for their other half?"

  I sipped my tea and wiped my lips with a paper napkin. "You know I won't be," I said, "but he deserves a chance to show me, and everyone else, that he can change."

  Megan pulled Mister Snuggles closer to her feet as a young mother pushing a pram squeezed past the table. The cafe was pushing its luck by stating it had an outdoor eating area. A two metre strip of pavement hardly constituted al fresco dining.

  "You promise me," said Megan, "that at the first sign of him causing any trouble, you'll be gone. To Germany… or wherever the next job offer comes from."

  I smiled. Megan meant well, but I was big enough, and old enough, to look after myself. Nonetheless, I gave her the answer she wanted. "I promise," I said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ~Emily~

  Jack's balcony had the best view for miles around. Budbury wasn't renowned for its tall buildings, so the modern apartment complex was a thorn in the side of traditionalists, and a haven for the wealthier single people and young couples of the area.

  Jack had laid a nice balcony table, although the food that he placed on it was in metal foil trays and had been delivered by a very friendly Chinese man, who spoke in broken English, but seemed to understand the concept of tipping perfectly. He'd stood outside Jack's door pretending to look for change of the twenty and the ten that Jack had handed him, until Jack had relented and told him to keep the extra six pounds.

  It had been nearly two weeks since the night on the boat, and Jack had opened up to me fully, showing me parts of himself that he told me he'd never shown to anybody else before.

  As he spooned special fried rice onto our plates, I realised that I'd not felt so happy in a long time. Not at the promise of Chinese cuisine, but at the promise of a future, and at the hope of being able to help Jack overcome his problems.

  The wind ruffled his hair and his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on giving us equal portions. It was nice eating with Jack, he loved his food as much as I loved mine, and he never made me feel guilty about having a second portion. My ex fiancee, who had become just a distant bad memory, had always made sly comments. 'Seconds on the lips, years on the hips,' was his favourite, closely followed by, 'are you sure you want that?'

  Jack was the polar opposite, he actively encouraged me to eat more, and watched with pleasure as I enjoyed whatever it was that was on my plate, in my takeaway carton, or sandwiched between two wafers with a sticky chocolate sauce on top.

  The past two weeks had been a whirlwind. An exciting whirlwind, but a whirlwind nonetheless. I'd had more sex in a fortnight than a woman should ever need, but it felt amazing — it made me feel awake again, desired again. When a person is cheated on, it does nothing to make them feel desirable, but Jack had given me back those positive feelings about myself, and I was more grateful to him than I could put into words.

  Jack pushed my plate in front of me and sat down, reaching for the wine bottle that stood between us. He'd been trying to work his problems out, but drink still seemed to be more of an issue than he liked to admit.

  "What are you doing next Friday night?" he said, as he poured me a drink.

  "Nothing, as far as I know," I said, "but I've got a feeling that you're about to ask me to do something."

  Jack scooped a fork full of rice towards his mouth, but had the decency to speak before he shovelled it in. "As a matter of fact, I am," he said, the rice travelling closer to his lips. "There's a charity thing going on. It happens every year. A swanky hotel and loads of sports people… and a slap up dinner with a free bar. All we have to do is be there, and donate some money to the cause."

  "Are you sure you want to take me?"

  "Why not?" he said, giving into temptation and stuffing the food into his mouth. "I'm normally the one who turns up minus a significant other. It'll be a nice change, and show the club that I've sorted my life out… in that department at least."

  I ignored the pieces of rice that flew from his mouth as he spoke, and took a bite of my own food, eating it with a little more decorum than my dining partner. Or so I hoped.

  "If you're sure," I said, "it would be nice to see you with your peers."

  "My peers?" he said, laughing. "It sounds like I'm going on trial, being judged by a jury of my peers!"

  I washed my mouthful of food down with a long sip of wine. "Well, you sort of are on trial aren't you?" I said, "people want to see you on your best behaviour, don't they?"

  "Hey, I've done nothing wrong for a long time," Jack said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've been a good boy since I met you."

  "You have," I said, "just try and keep it that way. The last thing I want is to be with a man who's in the papers for fighting."

  "I've already promised you that, haven't I?" he said, piercing a large prawn with his fork. "You gave me an ultimatum, remember? Behave, or lose you. I picked behaving."

  "Just as long as you know I'm serious," I said, "you're still on probation."

  "The story of my life. You have my word, Emily. No more silly stuff from me. I'm a changed man."

  I hoped he could deliver on his promise. I was still a little disappointed that I'd turned down the job in Germany, but the American I'd spoken to on the phone had been more than enthusiastic about me getting in touch with him if I ever changed my mind. "With an airbase full of young aggressive men," he'd said, "they'll always be room here for a new psychologist."

  I looked into Jack's eyes and saw the determination in them. "I believe you," I said

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jack

  Emily looked amazing. She wore a black dress which finished just above her knees and hugged her figure tightly, making it hard for me to concentrate on anything but the body beneath the fabric.

  She'd taken a little persuading to wear the dress, saying she'd put on weight and shouldn't wear something so tight, but I was glad she'd finally seen sense. I was looking forward to showing her off at the charity meal. Yes, she'd put on a little weight since she'd been spending time with me, but she was by no means as big as she thought she was. Voluptuous, and with curves in all the right places — that's what Emily Slater was.

  Her hair was balancing on top of her head, utilising a jumble of small metal pins that had looked like a far too complicated process to me, as I'd watched her doin
g it.

  I was dressed in the tuxedo that was expected of the men at a meal such as the one we were attending, and Emily had stood on tiptoes as she'd adjusted my dicky bow, her fragrant perfume and coconut skin moisturiser sending my senses into overload. Everything about Emily sent my senses into overload, and I'd reminded myself how lucky I was to have met her as she'd fastened my rugby ball cuff-links.

  Our table was shared with two other couples, and as Andy sat down with Megan, I was glad that Emily had set her best friend up with mine. Andy deserved a decent woman, and with the amount of injuries he picked up on the field, a doctor was the perfect choice for him. They seemed happy together, although they were only on their second date.

  The dark cloud that hung over my night was sitting three tables away from ours, throwing glowering stares at me with every chance he got. His nose had healed remarkably well, but Danny Evans still had one of those faces that just begged to be punched. He was the reason I'd been banned, and I was going to have to pull out all the stops to remain calm that evening.

  Andy had laid an arm on mine as he'd seen me returning Danny's venomous glances. "Don't let him bother you, mate," he'd said, "the club owners are here, and if you still want a job on Monday morning, you'd better ignore that wanker."

  I was trying my best, but as the alcohol began taking effect, it was becoming harder by the second.

  "Are you okay?" said Emily, looking at my half empty pint glass. "Is that your last one?"

  "One more after this," I said, taking a sip.

  "Jack, you promised me. Three pints you said. That's at least your fifth."

  I looked away from Danny Evans and put my hand on Emily's. "What do you think is going to happen if I have another pint?" I said, "look around you. Everyone's drinking."

  The place was full of drunk people, although it would have been a lie to say that everyone was drinking. Most of the rugby players were, but the football players who were there seemed to take their health more seriously.