by Hart, Lane
ALL IN
PLAYING TO WIN
By Lane Hart
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2015 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Edited by Wendy Ely
Cover by vocaldesign
https://www.fiverr.com/vocaldesign
Photo © iStockphoto.com
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY AND CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX SCENES AND ADULT LANGUAGE!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Dedication
For all the fighters, survivors and breast cancer angels.
Chapter One
Zack Bradford
Easing down into my jumbo leather recliner, I inhale a deep calming breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. My aching glutes and quads protest when I pull the lever to lift them in the air, but I assure them that they can finally relax after a long day that started at seven a.m. this morning.
I pop the top on the first of many cold beers, giving my Nazi trainer the proverbial finger while turning on the fourth quarter of the Eagles and Cowboys' game. Unfortunately, the fantasy football ticker rolling across the bottom of the screen distracts me from the action. The repetitive reminder of how shitty I played Thursday night is threatening to kill my moment of Zen. Or it was until my doorbell rings, echoing through the house and beating the mocking performance ticker to the punch.
Fuck.
I'm sure as hell not expecting anyone, but I have an idea who it might be after I failed to reply to his idiotic text messages. Besides, only a handful of people are on my approved guest list at the guard house. I consider ignoring the interruption, but know it's a lost cause. It's unlikely that the persistent bastard will just give up and go away.
Grumbling to myself and apologizing to my muscles, I ease my way up and out of the chair to answer the damn door. Pulling it open I come face to face with Jake Young, my best friend and go-to wide receiver on the field. But of course he isn't alone. A scantily dressed blonde chick is clinging to him tighter than a pair of skinny jeans, rubbing a hand over his chest and down his stomach. Or she was, until she sees me and turns around, immediately dropping her hands from him.
Great, this is an intervention.
"What the fuck are you doing home alone at eight o'clock on a Sunday night when we've got the day off?" Jake asks, while simultaneously reaching around with both hands to grope the bimbo who’s now facing me. The woman has huge fake tits, and it looks like those bad boys are about to float right out of her low cut top.
"Oh my God!" the blonde exclaims, a hand covering her blood red mouth that's painted to match her two sizes too small shirt. "I can't believe Zack Bradford is standing right in front of me!"
I smirk when Jake rolls his soulless, nearly black eyes in jealousy. He should be used to it by now. It's nothing new for me to garner more attention than all the other players. I'm the star quarterback, Heisman Trophy winner, first round draft pick and last season's Rookie of the Year. Oh, and of course I'm also better looking.
While Jake is by no means considered ugly with short cropped brown hair and lean athletic build, I'm several inches taller at six-five, bigger with two-hundred forty pounds of pure muscle, have blonde hair that's earned me shampoo sponsors, and I'm People's Sexiest Man Alive, two years running.
Women rarely refuse Jake, but they can't resist me. That fact, along with my inability to turn them down, is the reason I got dumped four months ago by my ex-girlfriend, Lacy. Possibly my baby's mama.
"I'm not in the mood for this shit tonight, Jake," I tell him, sounding like the biggest fucking chick ever. I should go ahead and add "I have a headache" just to make my pussy statement complete.
"Mandy here is a huge fan, and I'm sure she'll do whatever it takes to get you in the mood. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" he asks the slutty woman. She nods her empty head enthusiastically.
This is the moment where I seriously regret confessing to the bastard that I think my dick is broken.
Without another word, Jake urges the woman forward into my house and follows. I sigh in defeat and have no choice but to close the door behind them.
Heading back to the dark living room lit up by my ridiculously large flat screen, I watch Jake pull out a set of tri-folded papers from the back pocket of his jeans and toss them on the coffee table. We've done this so many times before that he doesn't have to tell me what they are. I know they're our attorney's CYA (Cover Your Ass) forms signed by Big Tits to keep us out of jail and out of tabloids. An agreement that all types of physical contact are allowed and have been consented to, and a non-disclosure agreement guaranteeing the slut will keep her mouth shut afterwards or our attorneys will sue the fuck out of her.
If my ex-girlfriend knew I could fill our team's massive stadium with similar papers that had been signed during the year she and I had been together, she'd see that I'm an even bigger dick than what she currently believes. As it is, she thinks I was only unfaithful to her a handful of times.
I just never specified how many hands it would take to hold them all.
Jake crashes on one end of the tan sectional while Big Tits stands nervously in the middle of the room like she isn't sure what she should do. I pick up my can of beer from the coffee table ready to try and relax again in my favorite recliner when the woman's hands are suddenly on me, fumbling to undo my pants.
Holy hell! This slut isn't wasting any time. I almost spill my beer down her blouse before I recover.
"Whoa, baby. Why don't you take care of Jake first?" I tell her, taking a step back so I'm out of her reach.
I'm not ready to explain that lately my cock's been racking up on the delay of game penalties. I really didn't want that particular rumor floating around. I'm content being the league's playboy, rather than limpboy, thank you very much.
Blondie takes my directive in stride and sashays in her four inch heels back over to Jake. Gnawing eagerly on his bottom lip, he smacks the tops of his spread thighs, inviting her to climb aboard.
I settle back into my front row seat and watch as she straddles Jake's lap and crushes her mouth over his. He doesn't waste any time raising her short, black skirt. He kindly flashes me her ass, covered only by a hot pink thong before he palms a handful of her flesh. It's a nice ass, but it isn't Lacy's.
Fuck. I have to stop thinking shit like that.
Looking down at my lap, there's still no response from my cock. Maybe it really is broken. I may even need to go see a
doctor or some shit.
It could be that it's just tired of being used and abused by the revolving door of gold-digging whores. Honestly, I feel like I've fucked at least half of the country's female population, and other than those few seconds I get off, it all just seems so repetitive and unmemorable.
The excited voices of the sportscasters easily yank my attention away from the live peep show and back to the television. Oh look, the Eagles scored a touchdown, tying things up with only two minutes left in the game. I watch the replay of the forty-eight yard reception and only glance back over to the couch when I see movement.
Jake’s busy laying Big Tits out on her back in the curve of the sofa. With expert efficiency, he relieves her of her short skirt and thong while her namesake heaves from her breath coming in pants. Spreading her lean thighs, he lowers his head and starts feasting on her pussy, making her body writhe while she moans and calls out his name.
Why of all damn things does he have to go and do that, making me feel even shittier? Probably because he isn't a selfish jerk like me. But I have to say that it's one thing for me to stick my condom wrapped cock in a record breaking number of sluts and quite another to put my mouth on them.
Hell. Fucking. No.
I refuse to drink from a cup after someone else, so I'm sure as shit not going to eat what's already been pounded by God only knows how many other dudes' cocks. Although, that still doesn't explain why I never went down on my ex.
After we broke up, Lacy called me out in a club full of people, including her new four-eyed guy, for never going down on her. I admit, I probably should have my man card revoked for not licking the pussy of the most gorgeous woman in the fucking world. Lacy was practically a virgin when we started dating, innocent and so damn sweet. I can't figure out why I never pleasured her in the entire year we dated.
I'm a self-centered prick, that's why.
For the past few months it’s been a coin toss as to whether or not my dick will cooperate when I need the bastard. My unfortunate problem started right around the time Lacy dumped me, and it's only gotten worse since she told me she’s pregnant and there's a one in four chance it might be my baby. I'm almost certain my condition is psychological and not physical since I'm only twenty-five. At least I hope that's all it is.
After Big Tits comes screaming like a banshee, Jake flips their positions. Now straddling him, she frantically unzips his jeans, pulls out his cock, and inhales it like she's competing in a hot dog eating contest.
Damn. The woman's gag reflex is clearly non-existent.
Of course my cock decides to jump to attention now because I'm a receiver not a giver when it comes to fucking. As long as random, nameless women keep hitting their knees for me, I'll greedily take whatever they offer without giving them anything in return.
The way I see it, it's not my responsibility to get them off if they throw themselves at me. I'm just a scratch-off lottery ticket. A chance for them to hit the big jackpot payday. And if they don't win a prize then I become a trophy fuck. Bragging rights they can tell all their friends about. I should have t-shirts made to hand out that say, "I rode Zack Bradford's famous cock," making it easier for them to spread the word around.
They probably think that if they fuck me real good I'll fall in love with them or some shit.
Never going to happen.
So, if they want to use me, then I use them up whenever they offer.
Back on the sofa, Jake looks like he's in heaven as he raises his hips to meet the back of Big Tit's throat, moaning encouragement to her the whole time. He grabs handfuls of her fake blonde hair as he guides her mouth up and down his cock. When he apparently can't take any more he pulls her head away.
"Get your fucking top off before I roll this rubber on or I'll rip it off," Jake growls at her. She quickly complies while he pulls a condom out from his pants pocket and suits up.
Jake and I should probably consider investing in something stronger than latex for our promiscuous lifestyle. Do they make Kevlar condoms?
And goddamn! When freed, the woman's tits are even bigger than they'd seemed, upgrading her to Ginormous Tits. Those bitches don't even try to bounce while she rides Jake's dick like a cowgirl on speed.
My cock throbs under my zipper, now ready to try and make up for my recent hit or miss pattern, as I watch them fuck. I've still been screwing a few women a week, although nowhere near my previous record of several women a day, or better yet, at the same time, while I was technically in a relationship with Lacy.
If the NFL instituted a category for man-whoring, well, Hall of Fame here I come.
While I'd been lost in thought the rodeo with Jake has ended. Ginormous Tits is looking over at me and licking her lips like she's ready to mount up again. She seems hesitant, like she’s unsure if I'll turn her down. I haven't quite figured that one out yet, either.
Oh, what the hell. I better get off while my dick's cooperating. No telling when it'll be ready to get off the bench and play again.
"Come on, baby. You gonna put on a show like that and then leave me hanging?" I ask and she smiles coyly before climbing off Jake's cock.
I reach and sit my beer on the coffee table, so I can undo the fly of my jeans to push them and my boxers out of the way. Pulling my cock out, I don't make a move to get up, hoping she'll take the hint.
God bless her heart. She kneels right down between my legs and swallows my long, hard length down her throat. If this woman isn’t a porn star then she missed her calling in life. She could deep throat with the best of them.
"Fuck, woman," I groan when I quickly start to feel the tightening at the base of my spine. That's what a fickle dick will do to you.
"I'm not going to last baby. You gonna take it all?" I ask in warning and whatever her name is nods with her mouth full. Hell yes.
Knowing from past experience that I'll get too rough with her if I touch her head, I grab the arms of the leather chair and thrust down her throat so hard I see spots when I come.
Jake barks out a laugh after Ginormous Tits stands up and goes back over to sit on his lap. "At least you know your dick's not broken," he teases. "Although, you still might need to get it checked out for coming faster than a virgin, bro."
I flip him off, even though making my middle finger work on command is difficult to accomplish at the moment.
After a few minutes of recovery I stand up and finish my one lonely beer, already wanting to sink my neglected cock somewhere in her again. Anywhere will do.
"Let's go," I tell them as I start down the hall for one of my four lower level guest bedrooms. I sure as hell don't want any wet spots in my bed, and I'm certain there are going to be a lot of fucking wet spots before this night is over.
Knowing the drill, Jake is instantly up and carrying Ginormous Tits in his arms. Her giggles follow me down the hall. I pull off my shirt and strip out of my already unzipped jeans and boxers before he unceremoniously throws the woman on the king-sized bed. Her whole body, except for her tits, bounce from the amount of force he uses.
"You think you can handle both of us fucking you at the same time, sweetheart?" Jake asks. I'd bet my Mercedes that he doesn't remember her name either.
The naked woman chews on her bottom lip and stretches her arms over her head. "Oh my God yes!" she says with another annoying giggle.
"Top or bottom?" I ask Jake.
He grabs a handful of condoms from the sex drawer beside the bed and throws them on the mattress before he begins undressing. Promiscuous as fuck we might be, stupid we're not. I've only ever trusted Lacy to go bareback with, and look how well that shit turned out for me.
"You know I'm all about the tits, so I'll take bottom," Jake responds with a grin. "At least this round."
That's fine with me. I'm more of an ass man myself, and have never really cared much for huge, fake breasts. I've always been afraid I'll squeeze one too hard and they'll burst like a water balloon or some shit.
I tear open a foil wrapper and ro
ll the condom on my cock that's hard as a rock and ready to go again. All that's left is to wait for Jake to get in position. He finally stretches out on the mattress and pulls Ginormous Tits on top of him. After she lowers herself down on his cock he groans. Spreading the wetness of her arousal, he fingers her tight backdoor, making her moan.
"Oh fuck, she's ready. Aren't you, sweetheart?" he asks and she gasps out a "Yes."
Good enough for me.
I climb up behind her, grip her ass with both hands and thrust deep into her tightness with one hard push.
My filthy rich neighbors probably all hear her scream when she comes the first time between us. She might not be Lacy, but she'll do for now. She's here, ready and willing to do anything we want all fucking night.
Chapter Two
Natalie Adair
My teeth are chattering, a ridiculous side effect of my overwhelming nervousness, as I follow along behind the team's public relation's man through the maze of their state of the art administrative facility.
I can't believe I'm actually here, in the Wildcat's stadium, getting ready to meet some of the best NFL players in the league! Not to mention some of the hottest. But there's a bigger purpose for my visit, I remind my long neglected libido.
I'm here to get a box full of pink Wildcats' merchandise signed by several of the star players for the breast cancer fundraiser auction. For the last few years it's been one of the most lucrative events for the foundation I work for, and it's up to me to make it a success this year. My goal is to beat last year's earnings by at least twenty percent.
"Here we are, Ms. Adair," Bill Jones says after he flips on the lights in the empty conference room. The middle-aged, slightly balding man kindly sets the big cardboard box down on the shiny wooden table that runs down the center of the fancy space. "Go ahead and get set up. We've scheduled each of the players to stop by in ten minute increments to make this go smoothly for you and them. I'll be in my office if you need anything. Just let me know when you're finished up, and I'll help you load all this into your car."