Jock's Baby

by Roxeanne Rolling

  Jock’s Baby

  A Secret Baby Sports Romance

  Roxeanne Rolling

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AUTHOR

  Copyright © 2016 Roxeanne Rolling

  This is a work of fiction.

  All characters appearing in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is not intended and is purely coincidental.

  All characters in this book are over the age of 18.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without express permission from the author.

  1. Jeff

  2. Lexi

  3. Jeff

  4. Lexi

  5. Jeff

  6. Lexi

  7. Jeff

  8. Lexi

  9. Jeff

  10. Lexi

  11. Jeff

  12. Lexi

  13. Jeff

  14. Lexi

  15. Jeff

  16. Lexi

  17. Jeff

  18. Lexi

  19. Jeff

  20. Lexi

  21. Jeff

  22. Lexi

  23. Jeff

  24. Lexi

  25. Jeff

  26. Lexi

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  Filthy Royal

  1. Luke

  2. Rebecca

  3. Luke

  4. Rebecca

  5. Luke

  6. Rebecca

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  8. Rebecca

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  10. Rebecca

  11. Luke

  12. Rebecca

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  14. Rebecca

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  18. Rebecca

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  20. Rebecca

  21. Luke

  22. Rebecca

  23. Luke

  24. Rebecca

  25. Luke

  26. Rebecca

  27. Rebecca

  28. Luke

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  1.

  Jeff

  “Nice work out there,” says Coach, patting me on the back as I enter the locker room.

  I grunt. I don’t have time for sycophants.

  Hell, I already know it was nice work. I’m the best Quarterback in the league, after all. Although, the sports announcers and commentators don’t know that yet. They will soon, though.

  “Who’s ready to party tonight?” I yell, as I pull off my shirt, flexing my muscles.

  My teammates are exhausted from practice. Coach and I were really pushing them hard. They’re standing around, half-undressed, drenched in sweat, leaning against their lockers, or sitting on the benches with their heads in their hands.

  They give a half-hearted cry of enthusiasm.

  “Come on!” I yell at them, my voice filling the locker room. I feel like I have boundless energy. That practice wasn’t anything for me. I could go on to win a league game right now. “Is that the best you got?”

  “Yeah!” they yell.

  “That’s better!” I say. “Fucking right. We’re going to go party tonight, and we’re going to destroy the Seattle Rabbits next week. Isn’t that right?”

  “We’re going to destroy them!” they all yell in unison.

  “Fuck yeah!” I say. “We’re headed to Pat’s as usual. Anyone not there is going to have to deal with me personally.”

  “Fuck yeah!” says Tom, rushing in, full of energy, and jumping into me, giving me a huge chest bump.

  “Fuck yeah!” I yell.

  Tom’s my best friend on the team. He’s always got my back, and he’s always jonesing for my sloppy seconds.

  “Come on, Tom,” I say. “We’ve got to get our drink on. We’ll meet these weaklings at the bar.”

  “Fuck yeah,” yells Tom. Tom’s always enthusiastic, that’s for sure.

  Tom and I throw on our t-shirts, and head out of the locker room, still wearing our football pants, which cling tightly to our thighs.

  “You been hitting the weight room more, lately?” says Tom, eyeing my thighs.

  “Got to get ripped for the ladies,” I say. “Not that they don’t already want all of me, all the time.”

  Tom laughs, and we get into my sports car in the parking lot, which is heavily modified of course.

  “Hey,” cries Coach, waving at us, running towards us.

  “What the hell does he want? He never leaves us alone,” says Tom.

  “It’s cool,” I say, to Tom. “What’s up Coach?”

  Coach leans down into the window. “Careful you boys don’t party too hard tonight. You know we’ve got the big game coming up soon.”

  “Don’t worry, coach. The Tanks are going to destroy Seattle, no doubt about it. And don’t worry about me. Alcohol’s an important part of my diet. I don’t think I could compete without it.”

  “And pussy,” says Tom.

  “Another important part of my diet of champions,” I say.

  “But, be careful,” says coach. “We can’t afford any more legal hassles… They’re telling me that one more scandal and…”

  “A champion can’t worry too much, coach,” I say, hitting the window button. The window starts rolling up into coach’s face. He pulls his face away just in time.

  I jam in the clutch, shift into first and roar the engine, speeding away, burning rubber as I do so, leaving coach in the proverbial dirt.

  Tom and I both cackle as we drive on, speeding out of the parking lot. I merge onto the highway, and immediately cut off three other cars.

  “He’s always trying to ruin our fun,” says Tom.

  “Shut up, man,” I say, as I turn up the music.

  We get to the bar before everyone else, of course.

  “What’s going on, Jeff?” says the bouncer, a huge muscular guy who looks like he’s taken steroids all his life.

  “You know,” I say. “The usual. Going to crush Seattle next week.”

  “For sure, man,” says the bouncer. “Enjoy yourself, eh? There’s plenty of hot tail here. I’m sure they’re just dying for your cock.”

  I smile to myself. It’s true, and I know it. The women just can’t stay away from me.

  Tom orders us two beers from the bar, and brings them back to our table.

  “Aren’t you Jeff Tallborne?” says an ugly woman coming up to our table. Her friends are standing behind her, giggling. Well, it’s not that she’s ugly, but she’s not my type. So I’m just going to call her “ugly.” Hey, maybe I’m an asshole. Whatever.

  I nod my head.

  “Oh, wow,” she says. “It’s so amazing to meet you. I’m such a big fan. You wouldn’t imagine it, but I watch all your games.”

  “Get lost,” I say. “I’m trying to pick up some hot tail tonight. Got to get ready for the game.”

  “Prick,” says one of her friends, but the ugly woman just giggles, as if I’ve just told a really funny joke. I guess she doesn’t realize I’m deadly serious. I can’t have someone like her standing at the table all night, blocking all the seriously hot ass that’s bound to come my way.

  “Here,” I say. “Just let me sign your tits, and then get out of here.”

  “I’d love that,” she says, producing a pen out of nowhere. Shit, I hope I don’t have yet another stalker. That’s a sure sign of a stalker—carrying a permanent pen marker everywhere.

  “Let’s get out of here, Sarah,” says one of the friends. “This guy’s a prick. You’re too good for him.”

  But the ugly one lifts up her shirt, revealing what I have to admit are some nice breasts, nice and juicy.

  I take the marker and sign my name in cursive, taking my
time and making sure to put the marker right on the tips of her nipples.

  “Thanks so much, Jeff,” she calls, as her friends drag her away.

  “Some people just got no boundaries, eh?” says Tom.

  “Let’s just concentrate on getting laid,” I say.

  Just now, the rest of the team shows up, entering the bar with whoops and enthusiastic cries. They’re waving a huge Tanks team flag, and one of them is draped in nothing but a sheet.

  “Looks like they had a couple drinks on the way over,” says Tom.

  “Good,” I say.

  After all, I can get laid any night. I mean, it’s not like I’m not going to get laid tonight. That simply hasn’t happened to me in…wow, I don’t even know how long. But as the team quarterback and team captain, I feel like it’s my duty to get the rest of the team laid tonight too. Or, at least as many of them as I can.

  It’s a sure way to get them to de-stress, and feel ready for a victory against Seattle next week.

  2.

  Lexi

  “You look tired, Lexi,” says Joanne, my secretary and friend.

  “Almost had to pull an all-nighter last night,” I say. “And I don’t know how I’m going to finish these McDermott documents tonight.”

  “Come on,” says Joanne. “You really need a break.”

  “What I need is an extra twenty four hours in a day,” I say.

  I stand up, getting gout of my swiveling desk chair, and stretching my arms way above my head. I look down, and see that my clothes are completely rumpled. I start straightening my blazer and my skirt with my hands.

  “You didn’t have time to change?” says Joanne. “I think those are the clothes you wore yesterday.”

  Shit, she’s right, and I didn’t even realize it. My mind is foggy, and filled completely with the legal documents I’ve been poring over for the last week. There’s a big case coming up, and I’m trying to work my way up in this law firm. It’s my first year, so I’m still doing the grunt work.

  “I guess these are the same clothes,” I say, my face flushing.

  “No big deal,” says Joanne. “I’ve seen it happen to every single new man and woman at this firm…it happens to everyone at some point. The only trick is to not let the partners catch you at it.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “That’d be the kiss of death.” This law firm is incredibly strict about appearance, professionalism, and not to mention working so hard that it drills you face-down into the ground, and you’re left gasping for breath.

  “Come on,” says Joanne. “You’re coming out with me tonight. You need to seriously de-stress, Lexi.”

  “But I’ve got all this work…” I say.

  “Listen, Lexi. I’ve been here for five years and I’ve seen new lawyers come and go. I’ve seen them get battered down by the crazy demands of the partners. Trust me when I say this, but you’ve already got this thing in the bag. They’re already impressed with your work ethic and your skill, and they’re just making you hang on for another few months before they promote you to your own cases.”

  “Really?” I say. “You really thing so?”

  I know I can trust Joanne. Sometimes, it feels like she’s the only friend I have at the Cremway and Posh law firm. She’s not as career oriented as the rest of us, since she already has a fiancé, and she’s planning on dropping out of the rat race and getting married in the next couple years. She doesn’t have any reason to stab me in my back, like the rest of the lawyers here, who are all trying to climb on top of one another for a partner position.

  Becoming partner is everyone’s ultimate goal. Mine included.

  I was always driven in high school and college, but here I’ve had to double my intensity, working harder than I ever have before in my life. The stress is incredible.

  “Come on,” says Joanne. “I know a quiet bar we can go to. Just one drink and you can head back to get some sleep. You can start your document work again tomorrow with a pair of fresh eyes.”

  “All right,” I say, finally. “What’s one drink going to do?”

  “That’s a girl,” says Joanne, turning off the light switch.

  I grab my brief case and follow her out the door. She has to lock up, because we’re the last people here, which is really saying something, since almost everyone works far past the official 5 o’clock ending time.

  The sky is already dark outside, and we decide to walk the few blocks to the bar that Joanne knows.

  “So any news in Lexi’s love life?” says Joanne, giving me a wink.

  I shake my head.

  “I’m just trying to concentrate on my career,” I say. “The last thing I need right now is to make some stupid mistake with some stupid guy.”

  “I actually find that work is a lot easier to tolerate with a loving guy at my side,” says Joanne. “I don’t know what I’d do without Jeremy.”

  Jeez, I think to myself. Does she think I really want to hear how great her life is? If there’s one thing I don’t like about Joanne, it’s always hearing about how perfect Jeremy is, how he’s taking her on vacation, and how he’s so kind and caring.

  “And we’re going to have a kid soon,” says Joanne. “We’re trying to get pregnant right now. And, really, the sex is the best we’ve ever had. You think you’ll ever have a kid, Lexi?”

  “Having a kid would be the stupidest thing I could do right now for my career,” I say.

  I see Joanne’s face fall.

  “I didn’t mean that…” I say, trying to backtrack. “It’s not stupid for you, Joanne. I just mean that for what I’m trying to do, concentrating on my career and all, I don’t think I could handle taking care of a baby.”

  “Sounds like you need a stay at home husband,” says Joanne.

  I laugh. “Yeah,” I say. “That might be nice. “I could just go to work and he could do everything in the house.”

  “Well,” says Joanne. “Here it is.”

  We’ve stopped in front of a darkened bar. It looks like a some kind of upscale bar, a calm one, but it also looks closed.

  “Looks closed,” I say.

  “Shit,” says Joanne, trying to pull the door open, but it’s obviously locked.

  “Looks like they went out of business,” I say, finally noticing a sign in the upper right portion of the main window. The sign says “out of business,” in huge red lettering. I must be really tired not to have noticed that.

  “Damnit,” says Joanne.

  “Well,” I say. “Come on, let’s find another place. I could really use that drink, after all.”

  We walk up and down the street, but there’s only one other bar in the area.

  “Come on,” says Joanne, looking up at the sign of the other bar, which is neon-lit and incredibly bright.

  “I don’t know…” I say. “It sure doesn’t seem like a relaxing spot.”

  The incredibly loud music is coming out of the bar. Through the windows, I can see that the place is completely full of people. I can’t tell if it’s a sports bar, a club bar, or something in between. Either way, it’s not really my scene. And I mean it. I was usually the one studying in the library during college when everyone else was at the bars.

  “We’ll just have one drink in the corner,” says Joanne, opening the door.

  The wall of sound hits us like a brick.

  “Fine,” I say, following Joanne inside, realizing even as I cross the threshold that this probably isn’t a good idea. I should be at home in bed, or back at the office, working on my documents.

  3.

  Jeff

  “On the count of three,” I yell, over the roar of my teammates. “For the Tanks!”

  “Yeee-haaa,” yells everyone.

  At the end of my countdown, everyone chugs their car bomb drinks.

  I shake my head, to make my vision a little clearer. I’m only slightly buzzed, but the rest of the team is trashed completely. I’ve always had a high tolerance fo
r alcohol. Maybe it has something to do with being stronger and bigger than everyone else.

  “Check her out,” says Tom, nudging me in my side.

  It’s a woman in a very low cut top, with streaks in her blonde hair.

  “Too easy,” I say. “Look at her top. And look at that skirt she’s wearing. It practically shows off her assets to everyone.”

  “That’s the point,” says Tom. “She wants it, right?”

  I shake my head. “I’m looking for a challenge tonight,” I say. “I’m looking for a real 10, but one that isn’t going to fall into my lap. I’m on the fucking hunt tonight.”

  “You mind if I…” says Tom, already walking towards the woman in the low cut top.

  “Go ahead, Tom,” I say, laughing as he walks unsteadily towards her.

  I don’t think he’s going to have her. Sure, Tom’s a good player, but he’s just kind of sloppy looking, not to mention always a little desperate for pussy. That’s not the way you’ve got to act, I think. You’ve got to feel in your bones that you don’t need them or care about them. That’s what attracts them.

  Sure enough, after I take another sip of my beer, I look over just in time to see the woman smacking Tom’s face hard.

  “Shit,” he says, turning back towards me.

  Time for me to split. Tom’s not going to be the best wingman tonight.

  Avoiding Tom’s glance, I move to the other side of the bar.

  That’s when I see her.

  Fuck, that’s all I can think. She’s hot, steaming hot, fucking hot, deliriously hot.

  She’s got shoulder-length brown hair that’s hanging loose, and she’s pushing it behind her ears every so often.

  She’s wearing glasses, and she has just a fucking perfect face. I imagine my cock buried inside her mouth, with her enthusiastically bobbing her head up and down along my thick shaft.

  She’s wearing a prim and proper outfit. Shit, she looks like some kind of professional, not to mention a little uptight. She’s exactly what I was looking for.

  I’m not the type to waste any time.