SNATCHED (A Sports Romance)

by Harper James

  "Spanish guitar. Goes with the wine."

  "It reminds me of Gaudi's Curse," I say. Chase's eyebrows arch up in interest at my mention of his tenth book. "The movie, I mean. It had more music and scenery in it than the book." God, what a stupid thing to say. Of course it had more music and scenery in it than the book! It's a movie. "I mean, you could actually hear the music."

  Luckily, Chase is nodding. "I know what you mean. And yeah, that was one of the more well-done Bowker films."

  "Did you get to go hang out on the set?"

  "Of course. I do at all my movies. But Spain, I mean, come on. I didn't want to leave."

  I wonder if that was because of the actress who played Bryce Bowker's love interest in that movie, that one with the Grecian goddess name. I open my mouth to ask Chase if the rumors were true that he dated her during the filming, but think better of it. Do I really want to know? And besides, who hasn't he dated? Normal people. Average people. Just red carpet walkers and catwalk strutters.

  Chase might just be reading my mind. "I liked shooting in Spain because we weren't bothered as much. By the paparazzi, that is."

  "So you gave them even more reason to hound you by dating what's-her-face?"

  Oops.

  "Touché," he admits, giving me a you got me smile. "But, it's funny. I never really liked that whole scene much."

  "So someone held a gun to your head and made you date famous women?"

  Chase laughs. "I guess I got swept up in the glamour of it. I kept thinking it could all go away in an instant. And those women? Like Athena?" Oh, that was her name. "There wasn't a thing on her that was real."

  Yet he was still with her, and for how long? I just grimace a smile at him and sip my wine. It really shouldn't bother me who he's been with or how long they were a thing.

  "That's why you intrigue me," he says slowly.

  I intrigue him? My bell warms again, and this time the heat settles a little lower between my legs. "How?"

  "You're different." He sets his goblet down on the coffee table and stares at it like he's asking it to help him form a sentence. "You're authentic," he finally says.

  "Well, yeah. I can't afford plastic surgery."

  "You don't need it. You're beautiful without even trying."

  There's no way I can stop the blush that sweeps over me this time.

  "And I'm not even just referring to physical authenticity. You have a genuine air to you that follows you around. Like, this 'No BS' vibe, while still being nice. You're like the girl next door, but you don't take shit. I could take you home to my mom right now and she'd love you."

  "She didn't love Athena?"

  "Hated her." He rubs his hands on the knees of his jeans and tilts his head at me. "But then, I've never let my parents dictate how I live my life."

  The silence hangs thick in the air. I don't think he meant it as a jab, but it feels like one. Or maybe it's because I inwardly jab myself whenever I think about my parents and what I'm doing.

  "I need more wine." Chase gets up and brings the bottle to the coffee table, refilling his glass. His strong biceps flex under the material of his t-shirt, and the ache between my legs intensifies. I shift on the couch and avert my eyes from his muscles.

  "Tell me," he says, sitting back down. "What would your parents say if they knew you were interviewing for my class?"

  "They'd ask if it was an elective." I decide to leave out what they'd say after I told them it's not an elective.

  "Is it business school or nothing with them? What's their story? Let me guess, at least one of them is big in some Fortune 500 company."

  I nod. "Kind of. My dad co-founded True Threads." I glance down at my fleece jacket with the TT emblem and roll my eyes at myself. Why couldn't I have put on my North Face?

  "And your mom?"

  "She had zero professional ambition, so she focused on her goal of marrying my dad."

  "Ah. So she's a businesswoman, too."

  I laugh. "A different kind, but yeah."

  "That must be where you get your tenacity." His eyes are on me, his gaze unwavering, and I shift again in my seat and take another sip of wine. I’m so thrown by him. Just his presence is unnerving.

  "I'm sorry to say it," I begin, feeling that need to burst out with the truth again, "but you'd think you'd want people from other departments besides English. Don't you feel like you have too many of those? It's like those pageant girls."

  Chase blinks. "Pageant girls?"

  "Girls who do beauty pageants. How they’re all elementary education majors."

  His face is suddenly stoic. "My sister was a pageant girl."

  Uh oh. "Oh, mine too," I say quickly, breaking my promise not to lie. My sister Aubrey's peppy name fits that image, but that's where it ends. She wears way too much black eyeliner and one of those necklaces that could double as a deadly weapon. "Well, no," I admit. "She wasn't. Sorry."

  Chase's look of offense morphs into amusement. "You’re not a very good liar."

  "Apparently not."

  "I can't lie, either. My sister got her degree in Elementary Education."

  "See?" I relax a little as Chase lets out a laugh-- and something in me catches. In all of his interviews, I've never heard his laugh. It's melodic. Delightful, even. Makes his whole face light up.

  God.

  “I lost my virginity to an Elementary Education major,” he says. “I forgot about that until just now.”

  “Was she one of your sister’s friends?”

  “Sure was. Back of a minivan when she came home with my sister from college.” Chase gives me a long look. “How about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Your virginity. How did you lose it?”

  “Uhh.” I’m not sure how to answer this without sounding ridiculous. “It’s dumb.” I set my wine down on the table, hoping it will signal to him that a change of topic is in order. But Chase Brooks is just getting started.

  “It can’t be worse than the back of a minivan.” He’s leaning forward now, closer, and his thigh brushes against mine.

  “It’s… it kind of hasn’t happened yet.”

  Chase leans further forward, eyes now two huge blue pools. “You’re a virgin?”

  “Is it that shocking?”

  “Kind of.” He’s still wide-eyed. “You’re so beautiful, I’d think you’d have been unable to resist at least one of the many offers I’m sure you got.”

  I feel my face heat up. “It’s like that Amy Schumer quote. ‘I can catch a dick anytime I want.’ And I have. I just haven’t taken full advantage yet.” I can feel my face is beet red, and I wipe my hands on my jeans, the humiliation intense. Chase Brooks has been with countless movie stars and gorgeous women, and here I am, talking about how I haven’t even been with someone as pedestrian as a frat boy.

  “It’s not a bad thing,” Chase insists, noticing my embarrassment. “Just surprising. Is there something in particular you’re waiting for?”

  “In my good girl form, my answer would have been ‘love,’” I say. “But now, I think maybe just… a sexy situation. The right situation.”

  “Oh? Like?”

  “I dunno. Like… like Bryce Bowker in Spain, when he had sex with that redhead on the grand piano.”

  “I watched Pretty Woman before I wrote that.”

  “I figured.” I swallow. “Why are you so interested in my first, anyway?”

  “Because it would be a tragedy if you didn’t get an epic first time on a piano.”

  “I’d settle for a fabulous first time somewhere else.” The words are out of my mouth so fast I can barely register that I said them.

  He pushes closer to me, until he’s right next to me on the couch, his body pressing against mine. I hope he can’t hear my heart thudding. “And what kind of guy would you want, Addison? For your fabulous first time?” His voice is low, sexy, and I feel myself getting wet.

  This isn’t fair.

  “Ridiculously good-looking,” I say.r />
  “And?” He reaches down and touches my chin gently, tilts my head until I’m looking him in the eye.

  “Smart. Definitely smart.”

  Chase gives me a look so deep that I think he can read my thoughts. “Interesting.”

  I can’t help it. He’s so sexy, and that way he’s looking at me right now… I can’t handle it. “Someone like you,” I burst out.

  Chase leans over and I realize he’s going to kiss me. I shut my eyes as his lips brush mine, soft and gentle. He pulls away. “Someone like me?” he repeats gruffly.

  “Yes.” I gulp. “I think so.”

  He kisses me again and this time his tongue pushes past my lips, parting them. My body responds to his, and I’m suddenly pliant in his arms, his tongue tangling with mine as his hands move to my hair. He pulls back and looks at me, not asking permission but giving a half smile, like he knows he’s going to get what he wants, and then he’s kissing me again, our kiss becoming more deep and passionate, my head spinning with the intensity of it.

  His hand travels across my back, and around my ribcage. When I feel his fingertips brush the swell of my breast through my sweater, I have to fight to hold in the way I want to react. “I can’t do this,” I say. “It’s not… I mean, I don’t…”

  “You can do anything,” he whispers. “Anything you want.” He kisses my neck. His lips are warm and I shiver. “Sometimes it feels good to be bad, Addison.”

  What I want is his hands all over me. I take a breath as his hand moves back to my breast, my nipples hardening through my sweater as my body betrays me. “Aha,” he murmurs in satisfaction as his fingertips brush the tight peak. “I thought so.”

  His touch feels so good. This is not even close to how the guys I’ve dated used to touch me. Their awkward fumbling and grabbing me way too hard immediately—it was nowhere near this level of pleasure.

  It’s not long before his hands wander underneath my shirt, moving over my bra, teasing my nipples through the lacy fabric. His touch is setting me on fire, and I shut my eyes as he pulls my arms over my head and slides my shirt off.

  “Gorgeous,” he whispers, kissing my lower neck and moving down my chest.

  When he reaches around to unclasp my bra, I feel a small surge of self-consciousness—will he like them? But that melts away when I see the look on his face as my bra falls away, my breasts exposed to him. “My God,” he mumbles, palming my tits in his hands.

  He closes his mouth around my nipple and I lean backwards, easing into a full reclining position. Chase gently sucks and massages my breasts, which sends my nerve endings into a frenzy and I can feel my panties getting wetter. When Chase’s fingers travel down my abdomen towards my jeans, I suck in a breath. Chase plays with the button for a minute, teasing, and then unfastens my jeans. Before I can get them off, he plunges his hand down the front of them and begins stroking me through my panties.

  “Have you ever had your pussy touched, Addison?”

  I think about lying, but his words reverberate through my mind. You’re not a very good liar.

  “No. I mean, not by… not by anyone but myself.” I blush at the admission.

  “Oh, yeah?” he says, his eyes alighting with that same look, like I’m a challenge. “Do you touch yourself a lot, baby?”

  “No, not a lot.”

  “Does it feel like this?” he whispers, as his thumb skates over my clit, his fingertips giving me sensations that I’ve definitely never been able to give myself. Jesus.

  I shake my head, and I open my mouth to say no, but instead, I moan.

  My sounds make him rub me harder, and then his finger pushes my panties out of the way and slides inside of me.

  I gasp and grab his wrist, nervous at the unfamiliar stretching sensation.

  “Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll go slow.”

  I loosen my grip on him as he slides a finger into my pussy, my hole stretching out around him.

  “Fuck, your pussy’s tight, Addison.”

  I moan again, turned on by the dirty way he’s talking to me, and the way his finger feels inside of me. He’s right – I am tight, and I can’t imagine taking a dick inside of me, if just his finger is such a snug fit.

  It feels so good that I’m afraid I might lose my mind. He tugs my jeans off, and pretty soon he’s on top of me. His dick is hard through his pants, his body strong and heavy on top of mine. I’m in just my panties, and he leans back, his eyes racking up my body, and I blush under his scrutiny.

  He removes his shirt, revealing his toned body. I gape at the perfection of his arms, the lines of his chest, the ridges of his abs. He straddles my hips and then leans down and kisses me, his tongue rubbing against mine, his hands on the back of my neck, drawing me to him.

  Then he takes my hands and brings them to his jeans. I unbutton them, my hands fumbling with the zipper.

  “Take out my cock, Addison.”

  I obey and pull his cock out of his boxer briefs. It’s hard and huge, and I almost gasp at how thick it is.

  He takes my hand and guides it to his dick. I wrap my hand around it softly, not sure what he wants me to do. I mean, I know what he wants me to do, I’m just not sure exactly how to do it.

  I begin to stroke him, tentatively, and he gazes down at me. “Good girl,” he says. “Good girl, stroke my cock.”

  His encouragement gives me confidence, and I stroke him some more, letting my thumb brush against the underside of his dick, earning me a moan.

  “Harder, baby,” he whispers and his hand covers mine, showing me how to pleasure him. “Fuck, Addison, yes.”

  I jerk him harder, my hand tightening around his dick as his big hand encircles my smaller one, teaching me how to please him.

  He stands up and removes his jeans, then stands at the side of the couch, his dick in front of my face. He brushes the hair back from my face and trails a finger down over my tits. My panties are still on, but they’re covering my pussy, and he reaches down and pushes the material over so I’m exposed, then runs his finger over my wet slit. My legs mash together instinctually, and he looks amused.

  “Have you ever sucked a cock before, Addison?” He takes his dick in his hand and pushes it toward my mouth.

  I shake my head, panic seizing me at the thought of having it in my mouth.

  He laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll save that for later.” But he’s rubbing the head of his hard cock over my closed mouth, tracing my lips with his dick. “Spit on it,” he instructs, and I do.

  It’s the dirtiest, most debasing thing I’ve ever done, and I watch in fascination as he palms his cock, using my spit to lubricate himself.

  Then he’s back on top of me, grabbing my hands and pushing them over my head, holding me down against the arm of the couch, pinning me with his body weight.

  “Tell me you want it,” he whispers, his dick poised at the entrance of my bare pussy.

  “I want it,” I whisper. He slides my panties off and then he’s pushing into me, and for a second I feel a pop of pain. I grit my teeth.

  “Relax,” he whispers. “It will go easier if you relax.”

  He stays still inside me for a minute, getting ne used to the sensation, and he slowly starts moving—out, then back in, and out. As the pain ebbs, I relax more, and when I look up at Chase, the intensity on his face is the best thing I think I’ve ever seen.

  He fucks me like that for a while, nice and slow, in and out, in and out, until I’m so slick and wet he’s sliding in nice and easy. He’s alternating kissing me with staring into my eyes, and his tongue against mine and his hands trailing down my sides send shivers down my spine.

  “I’m going to go harder now, baby.”

  “Okay,” My breath is coming in ragged pants, and I brace myself for him to go harder.

  “Tell me you want me to go harder.”

  “I do,” I say.

  “Tell me.”

  “Harder,” I breathe. “I want you to fuck me harder.”
/>   Chase intensifies his motion. I love hearing his breath as he thrusts into me.

  Chase goes deep into me, and I feel the pressure building, and I want more than anything to make him come.

  “Lift your legs up,” he instructs me. I do, and he mumbles “Ohhh, my God,” as he pushes deeper and deeper into my tight pussy, rutting away at me.

  I grit my teeth, feeling the sensation rising up from deep within.

  “I’m going to make you come, now,” Chase says. “I’m going to make that tight little pussy come all over my dick.”

  A second later, I feel something stirring deep between my legs, and the exquisite pleasure builds out from between my legs until it’s taking over my entire body. My pussy spasms and convulses, squeezing his cock as I come.

  Chase pinches his lips together, speeds up, and then cries out before I feel him going off inside of me, shooting a load of warm hot, come deep inside of me.

  He kisses me on the lips, hard and deep, and then gentle at the end before he pulls away and stares into my eyes, brushing my hair back from my face.

  “Bet you never thought you first time would be on a couch.”

  I smile.

  “And as much as I like this couch,” he says. “I think we might have more room in my bed.”

  CHASE

  Not so innocent anymore.

  I guess that's my fault. Yet I'm not sorry, not in the slightest.

  I can't stop gazing down at this girl in my bed. Is this the girl who froze when I helped her stand up in the dining hall? The same one who came into my office looking hopeful and meek?

  Addison sleeps in near silence, her breathing so soft I have to hold my own to hear it. Her golden brown hair is swept to the side, and I can see tan lines on her bare shoulders. Unable to help myself, I reach over and run my palm over her collarbone. Her skin is so soft, and while I'm not typically a shoulder guy-- legs and asses have always been my things-- Addison's exposed upper back is somehow getting me hard all over again.

  I kiss her shoulder, slowly, and her eyelids flutter. "Mmm," she says.

  "Hey," I whisper.

  "What time is it?"

  "Still night time," I assure her I won’t allow her to leave, not now. I kiss her neck and then keep kissing her, all over her upper body, and she turns over. The sheet drops, giving me full access to her tits, which seals the deal-- if I wasn't hard enough a minute ago, there's no going back now.