Offensive Rebound

by Mj Fields

  “I’m not fucking you,” she claims, her eyes narrowing.

  “And I’m not gonna eat your pussy, so get in here, because it’s apparently your bedtime.”

  She doesn’t say shit, and she doesn’t move, either.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Courtney, so get in here.”

  “Don’t try anything,” she warns as she walks around the bed.

  “I’d say I wouldn’t dream of it, but I already have.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sleeping with a Stallion

  COURTNEY

  I SHOULD RUN, YELL, THROW a tantrum, or insist he leave. I don’t.

  I want him here. I just don’t know what he wants.

  I walk over, grab my moisturizer, squirt some into my hand, and rub it on my face. Then I squeeze lotion into my hand and rub it up and down my arms. Finally, I turn toward him as I take off my watch and set it down before turning off the light.

  “Nobody can know you stayed. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Shit, I better send out a retraction to the Huffington Post,” he remarks, closing his eyes.

  “No funny business, either.”

  “Right, only if you’re drunk so you have an excuse,” he remarks as I lie down.

  I look over at him and see the moonlight glowing over just his face and chest. “You don’t get to fuck me until I say you can.”

  He opens his eyes and looks at me. “My fucking isn’t timed or scheduled.”

  “Except the night before games.”

  He nods. “Exactly.”

  “Just so we’re clear, I am—”

  He grabs the sides of my face and pulls me against him. Our lips crash together, and I whimper. Then he sweeps his tongue across my lips, and I open to him. His grip on my neck tightens as he angles my head slightly so he can push his tongue farther into my mouth, sliding it up and down against mine. I swear every part of my body comes to life.

  I rub my tongue against his, and he groans, swiping his against mine even harder, no doubt trying to prove a point. I don’t care. I want him to keep proving it.

  I push my chest against his, trying to ease the ache caused by my erect nipples, when he pulls his mouth back. He then cups both sides of my face and rolls me to my back.

  “I want to fuck you.”

  “You can’t say things like that, okay? Just...Just...” I close my eyes and sigh. “Just the truth. I don’t like being lied to or made a fool of.”

  “Then don’t tell me I can’t say what I want to do to you, what I will do to you, what I am dying to do to you right now. Fuck,” he groans. “What I’ve wanted to do to you since I saw the most beautiful, sexiest woman I have ever laid eyes on the day I opened the locker room door.”

  “Trae...”

  “Don’t even fucking try to say you didn’t want me then, too. You did.”

  I don’t say anything. He’s not wrong, but it feels like I would be naive to admit it to him. Been there, done that, burnt the tee-shirt, and threw away the ring.

  “You wanted me then. You wanted me when we were driving, and...Jesus, Court, you were what I envisioned my dream girl to be in that car. And not because the car is tits, but because you were happy, laughing, smiling, and not looking at your watch.

  “I’m not a hundred percent sold on what you are at the arena, but it’s hot as fuck watching you try to be a badass, knowing damn well this is the hardest shit you’ve ever faced. And no, I don’t think they know you’re terrified to lose the team, but I know you are, and that vulnerability makes me want to nail you even harder, just to show you that you can fucking take a pounding and still stick that lovely little nose of yours in the air when you walk away.

  “I wanted you last night, but you were wrecked, and I can promise you, I didn’t want to fuck you for the first time wasted. I want to watch your face when I sink deep inside what I can only imagine is the hottest, little cunt I’ve ever been in.”

  I instinctively slap him across the face when he says cunt, but he doesn’t even flinch.

  “I’m...I’m—”

  He isn’t pissed. The son of a bitch is amused. I’m pissed, though. What the hell was that?

  “Don’t do it again. And get used to the way I talk to you when we’re alone, because that’s as real and truthful as it’s gonna get, you feel me?”

  I nod, a sorry on the tip of my tongue.

  “Goodnight, Courtney.” He kisses my forehead then rolls off me.

  His breaths are hard and pained, in sync with mine. Meanwhile, I don’t say a word. I just slapped him across the face, so disgusted with myself for wanting him so badly at that moment I could do nothing else.

  “Where’s your friend?” he abruptly asks.

  Confused by the sudden question, it takes me a moment to tell him, “I can’t say.”

  “If she’s on her way to Parker’s, call her and tell her to get her ass back here.”

  “I can’t do that,” I gasp.

  “You want a win tomorrow night?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “Not trying to tell you how to do your job, but do you want your team to be little fucking well-fed ponies, or starving stallions?”

  “I...I—”

  “Parker’s damn good, so are the rest of them, but they aren’t hungry. Get her back here, and you might have a chance at a win.”

  I sit up, turn on the light, grab my phone, and call Christa.

  “I just got to the hotel. Please tell me you’re not chickening out,” she says before she even says hello.

  “Come home. You can’t feed him tonight, because he’ll play like a pony,” I tell her, causing Trae to chuckle.

  I turn and scowl at him as I hear Christa take a deep breath.

  “What?”

  “Just come home. You can go all out tomorrow,” I say, trying to make sense.

  “Did Rhodes turn you down again?” she snaps.

  I glance at him, hoping like hell he didn’t hear her, but he clearly did.

  “No. Yes! God, Christa, just come home.”

  Trae snatches the phone out of my hand.

  “Parker wants you. Let him be hungry. Send him a nasty text, and tell him, if he wins, you’ll swallow his cock.”

  “Trae!” I snap, taking the phone away from him.

  He only smirks.

  “Christa, just—”

  “Is that what you told him? I mean, it’s hot, but...could I really send him a message like that? And how can I swallow Parker’s pounder?”

  I feel my face burning as I look over at Trae, who is clearly amused.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asks, holding back a laugh. “You’re fucking adorable.”

  “Aw, did he just say—”

  “Are you coming home?” I interrupt Christa.

  “Yes, but ask Trae if he really thinks I should—”

  “Here, ask him yourself. I want no part of this. It’s past my bedtime.”

  I toss the phone at Trae, and he catches it. Then I lie back down and close my eyes.

  “Hey, Christa. Yeah, I think you should send him a message and come home. It’s best for the team.”

  I hear her ask, “Will you tell me again what to text?”

  “Tell him, if he wins, you’ll swallow his cock.”

  I really wish I wasn’t in the room.

  “Is that possible? I mean, he’s big.”

  “He’s pretty hung, but you’ll be fine. Just make sure you’ve had a few drinks before you give it a try.”

  “All right, you two, enough,” I groan, covering my head with my pillow and then humming loud enough to cancel out their conversation.

  After a minute or two, I stop humming to see if they are done, and I hear him say, “He has the second biggest cock on the team. Mine’s the biggest.”

  I throw the pillow onto the floor and sit up. “Okay, that’s it. Conversation over. Give me the phone.”

  He smirks. “Phone’s on
the nightstand charger.”

  “Well, who the heck are you talking to?”

  “Just wanted you to be prepared for what you have in store.”

  “Goodnight, Trae.” I roll to my side.

  “It’s a good night. Tomorrow, it’ll be even better.”

  What am I getting myself into?

  ***

  I WAKE UP TO THE smell of coffee right before I feel lips on my forehead. When I open my eyes, I see Trae standing in front of me in ball shorts, a tank top, and beads of sweat on his forehead.

  “Good morning. You have about two hours until you need to get that sexy, curvy ass of yours to the airport.”

  I close my eyes and roll to my other side.

  “Not a morning person?” He chuckles, and then I hear him set the cup on the nightstand. “Noted.”

  Not wanting to appear rude, I tell him, “My alarm goes off in fifteen minutes.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I feel the bed dip behind me and then the covers lift. He groans right before his lips touch my ass, and then I feel his teeth scrape down my butt cheek.

  Shocked, I lie perfectly still.

  “I had to go for a run because I was staring at the most perfect ass I have ever seen and wanted to bury my cock between your—”

  I sit up quickly, and he stands off the bed.

  “You are...” I pause and shake my head.

  He grins cockily. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

  I point toward the door. “Go away. I have fifteen minutes.”

  “How about you lie down and let me continue groping those globes.”

  I throw a pillow at him, immediately regretting it because I wish I had it to cover my face so he wouldn’t see me laugh. Instead, I allow it.

  “No wonder the honeys keep hanging around,” I tell him.

  “I’ve never even looked in their direction, Courtney.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve had your share.”

  I wish he would tell me I’m wrong, but he doesn’t.

  “Remind me to have a new playbook drawn up. Those lines are probably way overused.”

  His eyes narrow slightly, and then he chuckles as he turns and walks away.

  ***

  CHRISTA AND I SIT ON the plane next to each other, watching the flight attendants basically trip over themselves as they try to serve, or maybe even service, the Stallions.

  I try to catch Trae checking them out, but he doesn’t, not once.

  I look over at Christa, who keeps playing on her phone, and see a new message from 23 pop up. I look closer.

  - Tell him you’ll meet him after the game. The more points he scores, the more favors he gets.

  - What kind of favors? she asks.

  - Discreet favors, or your boss will have both your asses.

  “Who are you texting?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong.

  “No one,” she says, turning her phone facedown. I snatch it up, and she sighs, explaining, “He’s really good at this, and I’m not.”

  I thumb through the texts, and Lord help her. She is very naturally blonde from root to tip, but I certainly don’t like them messaging, and I don’t like that she’s getting a detailed glimpse inside his naughty, little mind.

  I give her back the phone and unbuckle my seatbelt before I say something I don’t want to say. Then I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror.

  “Shake it off.”

  After fixing my hair, I walk out and past Trae. He winks, and I give him a semi-dirty look, hoping he doesn’t think I’m jealous.

  Am I jealous? Maybe? Oh, hell no. I can’t afford to do jealous. It’s just for a season, I remind myself.

  When I walk by Coach’s seat, we make eye contact. I half expect a smile, some sort of gesture that we are on the same page, but I get nothing, so he gets the same.

  I don’t even look in Brock’s direction. My skin crawls that I even considered marrying him. I feel...ugh, gross just thinking about it.

  When I get to my seat, I see Christa typing and look at her phone again.

  “Give it a rest,” I grumble, buckling my seatbelt, sitting back, and closing my eyes.

  Her phone chimes, irritating me.

  “You really shouldn’t be messaging on the plane.”

  “I’ve got the WIFI; it’s safe.”

  I close my eyes again and try to relax.

  “We’ve got this, Court. We’re gonna win this game, and then...the Super Bowl!”

  I open my eyes and glare at her.

  “I’m joking! I did force myself to learn a few things before coming here.”

  “Like...?”

  “The Stallions are in the Western conference. Regular season is from October until April, and we’ll play three days a week, eighty-two games a year.”

  I grin at her. “I’m impressed.”

  “So am I. Hell, football players have it made.”

  I chuckle. “It’s true. Basketball is one hell of a sport, and the season is long and taxing.”

  “You know what else is long and taxing?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Give it a rest,” I grumble.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Vegas

  TRAE

  AS SOON AS WE TOUCH down, I take my phone off airplane mode and see a picture message pop up from home. It’s of Mom and Callie holding up a sign that says, “Go get ‘em, Stallion,” and the number 23. Callie is focused on the ground, while Mom is smiling proudly yet sadly at the screen.

  I send back a text saying, I wish my two favorite girls could be here.

  I know they can’t be, and that’s a part of life, one I chose.

  I look around and see Courtney. That makes missing them a little easier.

  There are many reasons I like Courtney Cohen. Her ass is now in the top three, just below her tits. Also on that list is that she keeps my mind occupied and focused on something besides being an NBA player, which is a pretty big fucking deal.

  I’m now where I should have been right after the Olympics. My childhood dreams have come true, yet I’m not caught up in it. My focus, like hers, is about the business. Unlike her, I’m here for only a season.

  Seven months, including training, and I walk, hopefully without a limp, which will piss off the man who, not only had a hand in my leaving the world I love, but to teach him a lesson.

  I look at the picture again and take a deep breath before standing up and looking back at Brock, who is looking back at me, deadpan. I can’t help myself. I give him a wink before walking off the plane and into the dry air of the Vegas desert.

  Three vans are sitting outside the airport, waiting to take us to the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Convention Center.

  I fall back from the crowd, hoping to avoid riding in the same vehicle as Coach D or Brock. And luck has it that Courtney does the same. We end up in the third van with Coach Langley, Parker, Christa, and Anthony.

  When I sit down, I look out the window to find Boeheim glowering at me. I give him another wink and a little wave before I flip him off with a smile.

  “Is that necessary?” Courtney whispers as she sits next to me.

  “He’s a piece of shit.”

  “But tonight, he’s your teammate.”

  “We’ll be fine. It’s not like Coach D will put us out together, anyway. I’ll be lucky to have play time.”

  “You’ll have play time.” She smiles then looks down. “Not because I like you or whatever, but because I’m taking back the time they took from the team by being late for practice.”

  “Badass,” I tease, my eyes dropping to her tits.

  “And, Trae, this is a big day for you, and maybe I should have said something this morning or last night or—”

  “It’s a big day for you, too.” I nudge her, and then my phone messenger goes off.

  I open the text to find a picture of Mom and Callie in the garden.

  - Good to see her out. I hit send.

  I glance at Courtney, who is looking at the picture.
It takes her a minute to say anything, which is understandable. It’s also why I keep Callie to myself.

  She smiles. “Your daughter?”

  “My Callie and my mom,” I answer, watching her and waiting to see what comes out next. The questions, possibly the distance it creates.

  I start to say, “I’m here for a season,” when she interrupts with, “She’s beautiful.”

  “I think she is, too.” God, it feels good to see someone’s reaction to her not be tainted. My girl is beautiful.

  “Well, then you’d be right.” She smiles as she nudges me. “Don’t tell anyone I agreed with you. Remember, I’m a badass today.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, leaning back in my seat and trying like hell to calm my want to kiss her.

  “You have any more pictures of her?”

  I hand her my phone. “Password’s Callie.”

  I watch her as she thumbs through the pictures, seeming legitimately interested.

  “Let me see yours.” I hold out my hand.

  “My what?” she asks, looking at me briefly and then back at my phone.

  “Your pictures.”

  She pulls her phone out of her bag and hands it to me.

  “Password?”

  “Trae,” she says, and I look at her. She looks up and smiles. “Joking.” She holds her thumb over the home key while continuing to thumb through the pictures on my phone. “You have horses?” she asks with a small smile. “Stallions?”

  I nod. “Something like that. Mostly older horses. Mom always wanted them, so now she has them.”

  “So, Callie...?”

  I look over to see she’s looking at a picture of Callie and I lying on the couch.

  “Not a hundred percent sure, but fetal alcohol syndrome and possibly autism.”

  “High functioning?”