Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Teagan Kade

  He kneads my breasts, clenching my nipples between his fingers at the same time I clamp myself around his cock, squeezing and drawing him in until I’ve taken him to the hilt, the puffy lips of my pussy flattened out against his pelvis, the scent of sex heavy and hot around us.

  I moan, soft, loud, everything in-between and it doesn’t sound cheesy or forced but perfectly natural. I’m dripping wet, his cock plunging faster into the depths of my pussy. He lifts me, levering off the bed as our bodies come together loud and wet.

  He holds my ass cheeks, fingers pressing into the pillowy flesh there, lifting and spreading and driving himself in to the balls unable to quench this thirst for my body.

  I roll my hips to take his strokes, getting a feel for his rhythm.

  We’re in tune, both of us working together perfectly and my core tightening further in response ready to snap and release, flood him completely.

  He captures my wrists and rolls us over so he’s on top, lifting a leg and holding it by his hip, holding my hands pinned above my head as he drives into my body hard. He kisses me with abandon, wet tongue shifting and rolling against my own, the heat we’re giving off unbelievable.

  We break and I stare into his eyes, beg him to make me come.

  I see how much he wants this, the longing and pent-up lust, everything about to explode.

  The tingling starts deep inside as he pounds into me. My inner muscles seizing around his cock, the creamy flesh of my thighs locked around his hard body.

  A hand runs up the inside of my thigh, finds the point where his cock spears into me. He plays there, feels me out, before a solitary fingers slips lower, lightly tapping against the dimpled hole below.

  It’s a move that instantly pushes me over the edge.

  I lift my head up, bite his ear gently and finally allow myself to fall into an orgasm. It roars up my spine, hits me so hard that for a second I’m temporarily paralyzed, caught in some strange limbo while my body shakes and flaps underneath him.

  He crushes his lips against my own, a hard, bruising kiss as his own release arrives. He runs to the end of me and stiffens, whispering my name in a panted mantra as I cream over his cock.

  When we’re finished, he holds me against him, presses his body to mine. My breasts, tender and heavy, flatten against his chest, his heart beating powerfully next to my own.

  I roll away from him, a delicious, raw warmth between my legs.

  His cock is bent, but still hard.

  I notice the Polaroid camera sitting on his drawers. I reach take hold of it, pointing it at him. “Smile.”

  I press the shutter button, pull the film out and wave it in the air, watching as his prone body comes into focus. It looks like a bad Instagram filter. “Like something out of Boogie Nights,” I note.

  “Keep it. The Fuckbook’s no more.”

  I lift the camera up and focus it on his cock, taking a snap. “Hey, hey.”

  “That’s not fair.” He bundles me up in his arms and wrestles me around the bed, planting kisses all over me, no inch of skin spared, not even the sensitive slit of my sex still wet with arousal.

  “Fuck you taste good,” he says, moaning with his head trapped between my thighs. I try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his tongue lapping up and down my pussy and the sensitivity way too much, threatening to tip me over into another orgasm at any moment

  I finally manage to get him off, rolling over, but when I open my eyes there’s a flash, the glossy Polaroid coming out from the front of the camera. He shakes it above his head as I try to reach it. “Give me that!”

  “It’s for my personal collection, sorry.”

  He tosses it onto the floor and takes me in his arms, rolling us over until he’s back on top, his cock poised between my legs. “Ready for round two?”

  I reach down and take hold of him, the velvety warmth of his shaft still hot and slick from its first foray inside me. “Only one way to find out.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BLAKE

  I’ve found my nirvana, my top of the world. Usually after I sleep with a girl I’m almost instantly wracked with loathing, can’t wait to get away from them, but not Tia. I’d be a happy man if we never left the bed.

  I walk a little stiffer than normal to training. What a workout. Who needs weights?

  I can’t help my smile is lotto-win wide, waving and nodding to everyone I pass. Even the sun has decided to show its face, the whole world on my side this morning.

  I’m about to push through the door to the pool complex when I hear voices.

  I stop, listen harder. They’re coming from the back.

  I move to the side of the building and peer around the corner.

  Ethan’s standing in the middle of the rear walkway. In front of him are three men in leathers—built, ratty, the kind of guys who you’d find running a pawn shop… or shooting off your arm. I’ve seen their kind before, motorcycle-club most likely. What the fuck are they doing talking to Ethan?

  They’re far away enough I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s clear whoever these guys are, they aren’t happy. There’s too much pointing for that, too much cowering from Ethan.

  A split second passes where I consider helping him out, but no, not this time.

  One of the goons grabs Ethan and pulls him into a headlock, shouting into his ear. This time the words are clear: “Just fucking get it.”

  The biker lets Ethan go and shoves him into the wall, the three amigos walking back down the walkway towards me. I press my back up against the building and wait for them to pass, laughing as they pass around a lighter.

  Coast clear, I look back around the corner at Ethan. He’s talking to himself, slapping his head and cursing. Whatever’s happening, he’s got issues—big fucking issues.

  Who cares? Let him deal with it. You’ve got other things to worry about.

  Ethan comes up behind me when I enter through the front doors. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn inwards. He sees me, looks and keeps walking to the changing rooms, completely ignoring the others, even Coach.

  Coach looks to me. “What the fuck’s up with Oscar the Grouch and his perpetual period?”

  I shrug. “Boy problems, I guess.”

  I know the reality is much darker, but he’s on his own. I’m done with Ethan Knight.

  *

  Tia texts me saying she’ll be out shopping with Lacey. I smile again at the string of emoticons that follow, little hearts and puppies.

  You’ve done it. You have fucking done it now.

  I sit on my bed back at the apartment, pull the sheets up to my face and breathe her in. God, she smells good.

  I’ll be counting down the minutes until she’s back again, that’s for sure. So much to explore, to show her. If she thought last night was incredible, she’s about to get her mind blown when I pull out the toys.

  I notice the Polaroids we took on the floor. I pick them up, shuffle through them. She managed to keep my cock out of most of them, even covered herself in the shot I took of her. I run my finger over where I know her cherry nipples are, her flushed and sweaty skin, the puffy mound hidden between her legs that only moments before this photo was taken was sheathing my cock.

  I toss the photos back down. Nice as they are, I can’t keep them. I make a mental note to burn them later. The camera itself can be relegated back to taking embarrassing photos of Billy. There’ll be no shortage of material there.

  *

  Tia texts me again come nightfall to say she’s staying in town with Lacey and the girls. Probably dying to tell them all about her heated encounter with the ‘bad boy of swimming’. I suddenly seize at the thought she might be playing me like she played Ethan, but no, she wouldn’t do that. I can feel the connection, feel it deep down in my gut that we’ve got something special going on, something unbreakable. I’ve never felt like this before, never even fathomed it was possible to feel this way.

  I text Magnus to see if he’s up for The Tro
phy Room. I shout the same through the wall at Billy. If there are cheap drinks and even the remotest chance of picking up chicks, they’re in.

  Saturday night and The Trophy Room is going off. I see a lot of new faces, some I’d rather forget.

  Billy’s looking at me funny as we approach the bar.

  “You right there?” I tell him. “Have I got something stuck in my teeth?”

  “It’s weird. I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a while, bro. What happened? You finally bang those badminton twins?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing quite that exciting, no.”

  He blocks my path, unconvinced. “Spill it. Something’s going on in that coconut of yours and I want to know what it is.”

  He sees right through me. It doesn’t help I can’t stop fucking smiling. “Holy shit. You slept with Tia, didn’t you?”

  “Shh,” I tell him, “keep your god-damn voice down.”

  He lowers his voice, pulling closer to my face. “Reed is going to fucking kill you, man.”

  “Reed is not going to find out.”

  Cutter claps me on the back. “Find out what?”

  I give Billy the ‘don’t you fucking dare’, but he’s useless at keeping secrets. “Blake’s banging Tia.”

  Cutter laughs and shakes his head. “You dog. Goliath knows no bounds.”

  “It’s not like that,” I protest.

  “Sure,” Billy nods mockingly. He looks to Cutter. “Pay up, bitch.”

  Cutter pulls out his wallet and thumbs out a hundred-dollar bill, passing it to Billy.

  I intercept it. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Billy snatches it from me. “Hey, that’s mine, fair and square.”

  “You bet Cutter that I’d sleep with Tia?”

  Billy takes my shoulder. “I knew you’d deliver the goods, bro.”

  I push him away. “Fuck you,” pointing at Cutter, “and you”.

  “We’re happy for you, man,” continues Cutter, “happy until old man Reed cuts your balls off”.

  They have a nice little laugh, but they’re not wrong. Now these two idiots know it’s simply a matter of time before Coach finds out. I don’t think I’m prepared for that kind of butt hurt yet. I need time to lube up.

  I go unwillingly to the bar, the boys ordering round after round until I feel myself slipping back into old shoes.

  I’ll give them one thing. They’re relentless. They could have been reporters in another life.

  “Spill!” cries Cutter, helping me down another fireball.

  I wipe my mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

  Billy butts me in the ribs with his elbow. “I bet hers weren’t.”

  And off they go again.

  I grab my beer. At least if I’m drunk I won’t be able to remember what they’re saying.

  Another two fireballs and they’re tag-teaming, chanting, “Tell. Us! Tell. Us! Tell. Us!”

  “One thing,” Billy pleads. “One small detail. I beg of you. Did you use the camera? Tell me you took some shots. I could do with new wank material.”

  I try to keep quiet, look innocent, but he knows me too well.

  “Ah,” he says, eyes lighting up, “you do have photos”.

  I push him away. “Dream on, cockasaurus.”

  I need to piss. I get up a little off-kilter, stumble forward and notice Ethan sitting at a table right behind us. Holy shit. Prick’s probably heard every word.

  “What are you doing here?” Even getting that sentence out is a struggle.

  He holds up his beer. “Last time I checked, this was a public bar.”

  I press down on his table, come close to belching. “You should leave if you want to keep that pretty face of yours.”

  Cutter and Billy come up behind me. “Listen to the man, Ethan. Time to go.”

  He downs the last of his beer, wipes his mouth and stands. “If that’s what you want.”

  He backs out slowly to the doors smiling, arms wide. He’s smug, way too smug.

  I watch the doors close behind him as Billy and Cutter pull me back to the bar. “No, no, we’re not done with you yet.”

  “What is this?” I cry. “The Spanish inquisition?”

  Billy whispers into my ear. “By the time we’re done with you, you’ll wish it was.”

  I take a seat again, turning back to the bar. “Can you dickheads just keep your voices down?”

  Cutter stands on his stool and cups his hands around his mouth. “Blake Johnson fucked Tia Reed, everybody.”

  A couple of whoops follow from patrons unseen. I pull Cutter down. “The fuck, man!”

  A voice from the front doors. “Yes, what the fuck?”

  We both look sideways to find Tia and Lacey standing there.

  “Tia,” I begin, but I know nothing I can say is going to fix this.

  She points at me, eyes growing wet. “I trusted you.”

  Lacey pulls her away. “Come on. The further away you get from these assholes, the better.”

  I start to run after them. “Tia, wait.”

  Cutter holds me back. “Don’t do it, bro.”

  I swing at his head, but I’m drunk. I miss it by a mile.

  He jumps back. “Whoa, I fucked up, but you’re the one who told Billy. It’s your mess, man.”

  Story of my fucking life.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TIA

  Dad tosses a pile of blankets onto the bed, a bed which only just fits inside his tiny spare room. Even Tyrion Lannister would feel the squeeze in here. “I know it’s a bit tight, but it’s all I’ve got, sorry. You’re not going to tell me what this is all about?”

  That would go down well. I pick up the top blanket and start spreading it out. “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “If those Johnson boys got up to something…”

  “I can handle it, Dad. I just need some time. That’s all.”

  Placated for now, he raps the doorframe. “Well, I’m down the hall if you need me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  The door closes and I’m left with my thoughts. I can’t believe Blake would go bragging about us so openly. The worst part is I was lured right in. He honestly made me think we had something unique together, that he could be more than the playboy that everyone painted him to be. I guess he’s shown his true colors now.

  I’ve been texting Lacey on and off all night. Her roommate is away at a training camp abroad next month, which means I’ll at least be able to crash there for a while until I work out what I’m going to do.

  More than anything, I’m angry at myself. You should have known. Guys like Blake Johnson do not change. He was an asshole when you met and not you, not anybody is about to change that.

  A text arrives from Lacey: U OKAY?

  BEEN BETTER, BUT I’LL SURVIVE, I reply.

  LET ME KNOW IF U NEED ANYTHING.

  I get under the covers, the miniature room closing in on me. It’s so weird to be living under Dad’s roof. My whole life’s really been reversed lately and I can’t necessarily say it’s been for the better.

  It takes hours for my busy mind to calm and sleep finally claims me.

  *

  I’m dreaming about an endless pool. It’s dark, a single spotlight above Blake, who watches on from the end. I kick and heave towards him, but whatever I do I can’t get any closer. I call out to him, but he remains motionless. The water turns to oil, thick and impenetrable. Finally, out of energy, unable to swim any longer, I slip under the surface, Blake’s shadowy visage sinking with me.

  I wake with sweaty palms, eyes snapping open in the darkness.

  Two eyes stare back at me.

  I go to scream, but a firm hand closes over my mouth.

  It’s Blake.

  He slowly releases his hand. I sit upright, pulling the blanket around me.

  “Are you nuts?” I whisper.

  “Please,” he whispers back, reaching out to me.

  “Go,” I reply, “before
Dad finds you”.

  “He’s sleeping like a log.”

  I can’t believe he’d take this risk. God knows how he even got in here in the first place.

  As if to answer my question, he holds up a key. “I used to crash here, before we got the apartment.”

  I swipe the key out of his grip. “Go!”

  He kneels beside the bed. “Not until you hear me out.”

  The anger rises again. “There’s no excuse. Bragging about what I thought was special, like I’m another sticker in your book of sexual conquests? How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “Billy—” he starts.

  “Do not blame your brother.”

  He puts his hands up. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

  I tug the blanket tighter around myself. “Not good enough.”

  “I didn’t say anything, I promise. The others pieced it together. It’s obvious. I can’t hide it.”

  “Hide what?”

  “That I’m in love with you.”

  I want to berate him, slap him, but those words, words which no man has ever said to me, take the wind out of my sails. “You don’t mean that.”

  He reaches out to take my hands. I let him. “I do. You’re incredible. I know it’s early days, but I know, I know what we have is special and I don’t ever want to let you go. I’m not going to let you go,” he corrects.

  “You’ve only known me for a few weeks and you’re so certain, after all the girls you’ve been with?”

  “I’m excited. I want to tell the world. Is that so wrong?”

  “You can start by telling Dad. How do you think he’ll react, two doors down?”

  Blake lowers his head, butts it against the mattress. “Coach… Yes, well, I’ll need time to work out how to broach the subject with him, but in the meantime, can you forgive me? Can we forget this whole night and get back to where we were? I need you. I want you. I can’t go back.”

  God damn him. He’s pulling me in. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?”

  He looks to the door before lifting his head and drawing me into a kiss. By the time he’s done I’m panting and breathless, the danger of the situation adding to the excitement. “You have to go,” I whisper. “You are dead if he catches you.”