by B. B. Hamel
I used my hand to jerk his shaft while he pressed his cock deep into my mouth. I gagged, and he pulled out as I gasped. He pulled me by the hair up to his lips and kissed me hard before slowly sliding down my body and pulling my panties the rest of the way off.
He spread my legs wide and began to tongue my clit, working my wet pussy. I moaned, rolling my hips, and let him lick me. I felt his warm tongue slide inside me as I groaned, my head tipped back.
His tongue rolled around my pussy like that, sliding in and tipping out, sucking and licking my clit. I moaned, my hips rolling. I laced my fingers through his hair and gripped him as he ate me, pleasure rocking through my body.
I pressed his face down harder against me, and he responded by licking me faster, like a starving man. I loved the feeling of his stubble against my sensitive skin. It sent tingles racing down my spine, every inch of me aroused and on fire.
Finally, he pulled back. He moved up me and grabbed my wrists again, putting them above my head. I felt his cock press against me.
“Beg,” he said. “Beg for my fucking cock.”
“Fuck me, Owen,” I said, needing it, needing him to take me. “Make me yours.”
I felt his cock press inside my pussy, spreading me wide open, filling me up. He slid himself deep inside me and then thrust once, twice, pumping hard. I groaned, and he put a hand over my mouth, dampening the sound as he began to fuck me harder.
He held me down like that, and I felt completely controlled. His cock filled my tight little pussy as he slammed into me, violent and strong. Pleasure and pain rocked my body, and I spread my legs wider, wanting to take every inch of him, needing his thick cock to spread me open.
“Is this what you fucking wanted?” he asked. “To get fucked by me on my floor? Your fucking dirty girl. I’m going to fuck your tight cunt until you scream my name.”
I moaned into his hand as he continued to thrust deep inside me. I moved my hips, rolling with his motions, loving the slick sound of his cock fucking my soaking pussy. I was dripping wet, and he easily took me, sliding in and out, his bare cock filling me.
He pulled back and took my hands, rolling me over. He grabbed my hips and pulled them into the air, keeping my face against the cool tile floor. He took my hands and put them behind my back, holding them with one massive hand as he slowly slid his cock deep inside my pussy.
I groaned as he pushed into me from behind.
“That’s right,” he said. “Look at this fucking ass in the air. You’re dripping wet for me. You’re a dirty fucking girl.”
He slammed into me, and I moaned. “Yes, Owen,” I gasped. “Oh god, fuck me. Make me yours. Make me yours.”
He fucked me roughly, pulling my hands behind my back as he slammed deep into me. I rolled my hips and bucked back against him. He held my hands tighter, locking me into place as he rocked me, fucking me, pulling me back and forth.
I took over, moving my hips along his hard shaft. I slid along him so easily, sliding up and down his cock. I couldn’t believe how soaking wet I was, but I needed it, needed him to make me his. I looked back over my shoulder at him as I worked back.
He let my hands go and slapped my ass. I pressed myself up as he grabbed my hair and pulled it. The slap of him against my ass filled the kitchen as he fucked me furiously, rough and deep, pulling my hair back. His lips found my neck.
“You’re all mine now,” he said. “Your tight little cunt is all mine. I want to hear you moan as you come on my thick cock.”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Please don’t stop.”
He grunted as I bucked back against him, harder and desperate. Sweat dripped down my skin, and I knew I was close. He slapped my ass and slammed into me, placing one hand around my throat but not squeezing as he fucked me.
I could feel the orgasm beginning in my toes. It spread all through my body as he completely dominated me, fucking me roughly and unrelentingly. I came hard, his cock deep inside me, thrusting in and out. My whole body went into spasms as the pleasure rocked through me, taking me away from myself.
I nearly blacked out from the pleasure. As I came, I said his name over and over, moaning his name.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m going to fill this pussy up. I want you to feel me still inside you tomorrow.”
He came inside me then, his hot cum filling me. I moaned, loving the feeling of taking him, loving that he was filling me up.
Slowly, we finished and collapsed onto the floor together. I put my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.
We stayed there silently for a few minutes. The only sound was our breath, and that was all I needed.
His strong arms around me, his skin against mine. Maybe things were still bad, but this moment was right.
30
Owen
It felt strange to be suited up but not starting.
I practiced the rest of that week behind Kennings. It was strange at first, but we quickly fell into a rhythm. Fortunately, Kennings was a decent guy, and he wasn’t a total dick about it.
There were serious egos in the NFL. The kind of guy who would work his ass off in a single sport to become the best is also the kind of guy to be a total asshole about starting positions. Kennings, though, he was the rare decent guy.
Liking him made it harder to be gunning for him, but not that much harder. I was going to earn back my starting spot no matter what, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop me.
Tony didn’t contact me again that week, and Raylon just acted like nothing had happened. At least, Raylon didn’t say a word about it. I didn’t hold anything against the guy, because I knew how things worked with the mob, though I did wonder what they had against him.
Didn’t matter. Sunday rolled around, and I was listed as Kenning’s backup to nobody’s surprise. I had expected it. Hell, I knew it was happening, but I still didn’t like it.
I stood on the sidelines in my gear and glanced at Taylor as kickoff happened. We were getting the ball first, and for the first time in my career since going to college, I was going from starter to backup.
Which meant I wasn’t on the field for that first drive. Coach didn’t work me in at all, just let Kennings do his thing.
And he did okay. Nothing special, but he was hitting the line hard and working his ass off. That was all anybody could ask of him. That drive stalled out around midfield, so the offense punted.
I got my first touch ten minutes later, after a weak three-and-out from the Bengals. It was an insane handoff from shotgun, and I barely picked up three yards. I was off the field again, and Kennings was worked back in.
The first half went like that. I was given a touch or two, and I actually caught a pass for a first down on one drive, but otherwise Kennings got the biggest workload.
I hated standing there and watching. It was bad enough when I was hurt the week before, but knowing that I could be out there making a difference was driving me insane. Kennings was playing fine, not great, but he was getting some yards on every carry. He didn’t look as good as he had the week before, fumble aside.
Still, we scored on a quick slant toward the end of the half. Kennings did some good work to get the team to that point, and although he didn’t bring it home, it was clear that he had helped out that drive a lot.
I hated standing aside. I kept giving glances to Taylor, and she just kept nodding at me. I was keeping loose and trying to make the best of every touch, but I just couldn’t get into a rhythm. I didn’t have the time to read the defense.
Just before halftime, the Bengals scored to tie the game on a huge bomb down the sideline. We went into the locker room, and Coach was clearly pretty pissed.
His usual speech was all about how we needed to work harder and get better. I wasn’t really listening, though. I was too busy running through each of my touches in my mind, trying to figure out where I could improve and where I had gone wrong.
“Hey.”
I looked up. Taylor smiled at me.
> “Hey.”
“You look good out there.”
“When I get the ball, at least.”
“He’s working you in. That’s good.”
“Is it? I’ve had maybe ten carries at most.”
“That’s a lot. Kennings could be carrying the whole game.”
I frowned. “That’s true.”
“You can’t get anything going, but it’s not your fault. Kennings can’t either.”
“He looks decent.”
“I told you before: He can’t hold a candle to you.” She sat down on the bench next to me as the guys started to filter out of the locker room.
“I should go.”
“Listen, Owen. No matter what happens, you have me.”
I cocked my head at her. “I know,” I said, grinning.
She laughed. I grabbed her and kissed her and then stood. She was blushing red and looking around.
“Relax. Nobody saw.”
“You have to be careful.”
“Fuck being careful.” I turned to leave. “See you out there.”
I met up with my teammates and we ran back out onto the field together.
I felt decent as I hit the turf and did my quick warm-up. The Bengals got the ball to start the half, so I could keep myself loose on the sidelines.
They managed to snag a field goal. I watched as Kennings went out there and was stuffed back twice, leading to a three-and-out.
It was a close game. The teams went back and forth, and I barely got any touches in the third quarter. Kennings was playing even worse, totally unable to find any traction, while the Bengal’s running back was beginning to break out some big moves. Luckily, their quarterback was playing terribly, so we remained closed.
The third quarter ended with the game tied, ten to ten. The fourth quarter started, and I got the nod from Coach.
It was a basic run up the gut. Our QB was under center. He took the snap and I dove forward, pushing my way through the mass of brutal men. I broke a tackle, smashing through the guy’s arms, and suddenly ahead of me I saw open field.
I ran my fucking ass off. I wasn’t thinking; I was only reacting. As I got maybe twenty yards ahead, I saw the safety coming up from my left. He managed to dive out and just barely clip my feet. I stumbled and stepped out of bounds.
But the crowd was going fucking insane. It was at least a thirty- or forty-yard run, and now we were well within striking distance. Coach called me off and switched Kennings in, since I was winded from that play, but I could tell the momentum had shifted.
Kennings got the ball twice but went nowhere. On the third down, they put me back out on the field. Our QB got into trouble and dumped it off to me. I made two guys miss and dove forward for the first down, putting us in the red zone.
Coach left me in after that. We managed to score another touchdown on a passing play. I had set that touchdown up, though, and I didn’t come out for the remainder of the game.
I didn’t get a chance to score, but I did break out a second big run after a string of small pushes. We went on to win that game by two touchdowns, the entire momentum of the game having shifted in our favor.
The locker room was ecstatic. People were cheering and celebrating, and nobody seemed to have believed that we were going to win. Everyone kept congratulating me, including the coaching staff, and I felt so damn good.
That was what I lived for. Performing to my highest ability and earning my spot on the team was the greatest feeling I could imagine. There was nothing better than busting out onto that field, bursting through strong men trying to take me down, proving that I was stronger and faster.
But in the middle of all that celebrating was Kennings. He had a smile on his face, but it was strained. I could tell he was angry with himself and probably with me for what had happened.
I could understand what he was felling. That had been his shot. That game had been his opportunity, and he had missed it. He would probably never get another big starting gig like that again, because he had blown it. As things started to settle down and guys started to filter out, I went over to Kennings and sat down on the bench next to him.
“Good game,” I said.
“Yours was better.”
“I got the luckier runs. You kept us in the game.”
“Maybe, but I couldn’t win it for us.”
I sighed, staring at the wall of lockers. “It’s just random chance,” I said. “Random shit happens. I was lucky and got a big run. The momentum shifted, and Coach kept me in. That’s all.”
“Yeah. That’s all.” He grunted. “That was my shot.”
“I know.”
“I’m still gunning for that spot.” He grinned at me.
“Good. I hope so.”
We lapsed into silence for a second, and suddenly I had an incredibly strong urge that I couldn’t stop. I knew it was probably stupid, but I had to say something.
“Kennings,” I said.
“What?”
“Listen. One day, someone is going to approach you about the mafia.”
“The what?”
“The mafia. They’re going to try to recruit you. Maybe they have something on you, maybe they don’t. No matter what, don’t listen to them. Don’t get sucked in.”
He stared at me like I was fucking insane. I couldn’t help but smile a little bit.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but trust me.” I stood up. “When they come, don’t give in.”
“Yeah. Okay, man.”
I nodded and then walked away.
He thought I had lost my damn mind. I could see it written all over his face, concern mixed with pity. He probably thought I had gotten hit in the head too hard and my concussion was catching up with me.
I couldn’t blame him. That was an insane thing to say to someone out of the blue. I just couldn’t sit by and not try to help the guy out, though. After all that had happened, he was still a decent man.
And I wanted to be better. I had to start by doing good things if I wanted to be a better man. I was starting by warning Kennings. Maybe he’d remember that moment in the future when the mob came after him, and maybe he’d actually listen to my warning.
Or maybe he’d forget all about me. Or maybe any number of other things.
All that mattered, in the end, was that I had tried.
All that mattered was that I wanted to be better, and I actually tried.
As I got back to my bench, I saw Taylor standing there, waiting for me.
I smiled at her. She smiled back. I knew right then and there that the reason I wanted to be better was her. She made me want to improve, to become a better man. Not just a better ball player, which was what I had only ever thought about before, but a better human being.
She brought out the best in me.
31
Taylor
Watching Owen earn back his spot made me prouder than I could have imagined. I was part of the reason that he was even up and running. Our therapy sessions had helped him to heal faster, and they kept him healthier.
But more than that, I hoped that I helped him stay mentally healthy. Because of me being there and trying to keep his spirits up, I hoped that he was able to keep his head in the game.
Maybe I was giving myself too much credit, but as I walked back toward my apartment from the stadium, a long walk through the city, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.
I felt good. I had plans to meet up with Owen later that night. I wanted to just enjoy the nice evening as I walked back through the city. I kept finding my mind running back to Owen and what had happened. I felt his deep, burning pride in my chest, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I didn’t know what we were doing. I didn’t know what our relationship meant, or if we even had a relationship. I sure as hell loved being around him, and I loved the way he made my body feel. But I didn’t know if what we had went beyond that, or if either of us even wanted that.
; I didn’t care. What I cared about was enjoying how it felt in the moment and trying not to overthink it. I spent so much time already worrying about my job, worrying about everything. I wasn’t going to worry as much. I was going to accept what I could accept and not worry about the rest.
It was about a forty-minute walk from the stadium back up to my neighborhood. I was pretty tired by the time I got close, and that was probably why I didn’t notice the person following me.
I walked on a few more blocks, crossing the street, after I finally noticed him. I couldn’t get a good look at him, because he was behind me, but I knew he was there. He’d been there for a few blocks, and there was no way he wasn’t following me.
I felt paranoid. I took out my phone and called Owen’s number, letting it ring. I started to walk faster and turned down an alleyway.
The figure walked faster, too. He was definitely following me. My heart was hammering in my chest as Owen’s phone rang. It rang and rang, and I wanted to scream.
“Taylor.”
I stopped. I recognized that voice. I dropped the phone from my ear.
It was the man from the game, the mafia man. Tony, I thought his name was.
“What do you want?” I asked him, fear spiking through me.
He smiled and raised his hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve come in peace.”
“You’re that guy.”
“The mafia man.” He laughed and took another step toward me. “I’m the man who owns Owen Rack, just like I own a lot of guys in the league. The mafia has more pull and power than you know.”
“Why are you following me?”
“I want you to get Rack to reconsider,” he said. “He hasn’t done what we asked yet, and it’s making us angry. Tell him to do it.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not involved in his business like that.
“Sure you are. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
I didn’t respond to that.
He laughed. “Of course you are. Use that little pussy of yours and get him to listen.”