Small Town Daddy: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on,” he said softly. “You don’t really want to do some project with me. You want me to take you back into the shadows and make your body feel things.”

  “Gibson,” I said seriously, although he was totally right, “I really do need this project.”

  He laughed. “I know. I’m just teasing.” He leaned up against the statue’s base and crossed his arms. “So what’s up?”

  “Okay, well, here’s the thing. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, since I know the season is coming up this weekend.”

  “You can’t take up too much time,” he said.

  “I can, but I won’t. So I’m thinking that I could take your vital measurements before and after practices, and maybe get some more intensive work done once or twice this semester.”

  “You can work me as intensely as you want,” he said, smiling.

  “Good,” I answered. “Does that work for you? I’d have to be at your place early, and I’d meet you after practice. Taking vitals would be quick.”

  “Sure,” he said. “That’s fine with me. Can you get to my place by seven every morning?”

  “I guess so,” I said, and I already felt exhausted.

  He grinned. “We don’t have to do it this way. I just leave at seven thirty every morning for class, and I don’t have another break until right now.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be there. Then we can meet here every day around now?”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Let’s start on Wednesday. Want to get some work in right now, too?”

  “No, thanks. I’m pretty sure of what you’re going to say.”

  He smirked at me, shaking his head. “You keep pretending you don’t want me, but we both know the truth.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Gibson.”

  He stepped close to me, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. “I’m sure. I see the way you look at me, like you can barely contain yourself. I’m willing to bet my career that if I put my hands down those tight jeans, I’d find a dripping wet pussy.”

  “Not even close,” I said, although I was lying. He was right; he drove me wild every time I saw him.

  “Lie all you want,” he said, “but I’m not going to pretend like my cock isn’t fucking hard as hell thinking about your ass in the air, begging to be fucked.”

  I shook my head, taking a deep breath. He came closer to me, and our bodies were inches apart, practically pressed together in the shadow of the large statue. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, wanted him to press my back against the concrete as his fingers found my soaking pussy.

  I wanted to feel him again. I wanted it so fucking badly.

  But just as I felt like he was about to pull me against him, a group of guys came walking around the corner.

  Hearing their voices snapped me out of it. I turned away from him, embarrassed, and took a couple steps away.

  “I’ll see you bright and early Wednesday,” I said to him.

  “Yeah. All right, Avery.”

  I quickly walked away.

  I had been inches away from throwing myself at him. If those kids hadn’t shown up, I didn’t know what I would have done. I could barely control myself when I was around Gibson, as much as I wanted to. There was just something about his cocky grin, the way he stared at me, the way he spoke to me, like he was constantly about to take whatever he wanted, and what he wanted was my body.

  I kept thinking about that night in his truck, the way his cock filled me to the brim, his warm lips against my neck. I’d never felt that incredible before. He had fucked me rough and hard, like he couldn’t get enough of it. That was probably why the condom broke, after all. Gibson couldn’t be contained.

  But I was going to need to contain him somehow. I needed to set boundaries if we were going to make this work. It was complicated enough being pregnant with his baby. I didn’t need another level added to our already fraught relationship.

  I sighed and headed back toward my apartment. I had lots of planning and charts to make.

  11

  Gibson

  The ball left my hand, another tight spiral. I threw over and over, hitting my targets one after the other, but my head wasn’t really into it.

  Coach was going easy on me, letting me get in a little rest day. I couldn’t complain about that. But even if he decided to run me into the dirt, I still wouldn’t be fully present for this practice.

  Too much was going on. I kept thinking about what the mafia wanted from me and how much they were willing to pay for it. They wanted me to purposefully play badly, to go into halftime behind. I wasn’t sure I could even pull that off, because I only had control over our offense. If our defense played well, we might still be up at halftime.

  I didn’t know what they’d do to me if I couldn’t come through. I’d heard some pretty fucked-up shit about the mafia when I was a kid, mostly from my dad. They cut people’s hands off who couldn’t pay back their debts, or at least that was the sort of shit my dad used to say.

  I couldn’t be sure how much of that was bullshit, but the mafia was known for some pretty violent and brutal tactics. They had to do that shit, otherwise people would try to take advantage of them.

  I wasn’t fucking around. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it for real. I couldn’t half-ass it, couldn’t go halfway. I was going to do what I could, make sure the offense couldn’t get into a rhythm, and let shit play out.

  “Gibson.” I turned my head and saw Reggie staring at me. “The fuck you doing, man?”

  I cocked my head. “What?”

  “You just threw three miscues in a row. You fucking around or what?”

  I shrugged. “I’m good.”

  “Whatever, man.” Reggie crossed his arms. “Quit playing around and throw the ball.”

  Reggie was the best receiver on the team, but he thought he was the best thing in the fucking world. He was an asshole, no doubt about it, and I could already hear the shit he was going to say on Saturday. Reggie wasn’t going to touch the ball that half if I had anything to do with it.

  Mostly because when he caught the ball, he tended to make shit happen. As much of an asshole as he was, Reggie was a good player.

  I got my head in practice for the rest of the session. I couldn’t make anyone suspicious that something was going on. Hynes was the only person who knew about Avery, but I doubted one bad half was going to make him start telling everyone.

  After practice was over and the team showered off, I walked back to the apartment with Hynes.

  “You see that girl lately?” he asked.

  “Which one?”

  “The one with your fuckin’ baby, man.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been seeing her.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Fine.”

  “You tell anyone about it?”

  “Just you.”

  “Probably for the best.” He looked around. “A lot of fucking haters out there in the world. You having some illegitimate baby won’t play well.”

  “What do you think Coach would do?”

  “Don’t know,” Hynes said, musing. “He might protect you. He might throw you under the bus. He’d be pissed either way.”

  “Yeah.” Not pissing Coach off was one of my goals in life. The man did not give a shit about anything when he was angry, and I could already imagine the kind of punishing work he’d put me through if he found out about Avery.

  But how was I going to keep it a secret? I didn’t even know if that was right, trying to keep her a secret. It wasn’t like I was ashamed of her. Avery was gorgeous, smart, and funny. If I was going to impregnate someone, at least it was someone like Avery. There was just so much shit surrounding me and my future, and a knocked-up girl who was not my girlfriend could look pretty damn bad.

  And in sports, as with most things, image was important. The media liked to talk about how I was from the wrong side of the tracks, a rough family, b
ut I’d gotten out of that and grown up. I was supposed to be some reformed bad boy.

  Truth was, I hadn’t reformed shit. I just played football and did whatever the fuck I wanted. I could just imagine the field day they would have with this story, though.

  “What are you doing about her?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “She’s having the kid and I’m going to support her.”

  “Good for you, man.”

  “She’s even doing this project for her biology class on me.”

  He stopped me. “Hold up. She’s doing a project for biology on you?”

  “Yeah, man. She’s doing a study on athletes.”

  He cracked up, practically doubling over with laughter. I couldn’t help but grin at him.

  Finally, he got control of himself. “Shit, man,” he said. “That’s just some funny-ass shit. You’re amazing at getting yourself into this stuff.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, man, she’s going to be all close to you and shit, taking your vitals, studying you.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that might look bad.”

  “Looks pretty good for you as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Well listen, she’s going to be stopping by the apartment in the mornings to take my measurements and shit.”

  “All right, man. Whatever you want.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just don’t get all fucked up on this girl. We need your head in the game.”

  “I’m not. Have I ever been the type to get all twisted over some girl?”

  “Nah, man,” he said, “but you don’t normally see them for very long.”

  “Relax,” I said as we started walking again. “It’ll be fine. I got this handled.”

  He looked at me, skeptical. “I’m not so sure about that, but I trust you.”

  I had to admit, he probably wasn’t wrong, but I had no other choice. If only Hynes understood the situation I was in and could even begin to fathom all the pressure I was under.

  I’d work it out, one way or another.

  12

  Avery

  I was up at the crack of dawn. I hated getting right up, but I couldn’t spend time lying around in bed. I had a job to do, and I couldn’t be late.

  I went into the bathroom and got ready. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gotten dressed seriously before five in the morning, but I wasn’t going over to Gibson’s looking like a total slob, even though I was a total slob, especially this early.

  Still, I managed to get myself together. I grabbed a blood pressure monitor I had borrowed from the lab, a stethoscope, and a few other instruments before heading out the door.

  Fortunately, Gibson lived a short bike ride away. I got to his house and locked my bike up right at seven. I was inside his building and knocking on his door a couple of minutes later.

  He answered after the second knock. “Good morning, nurse,” he said.

  “Morning.”

  He let me inside his apartment and I looked around. I’d been there once before, but I hadn’t actually gotten to go inside. The place was clean, surprisingly clean for a place two jocks lived in. It was actually a pretty nice apartment, especially for college kids.

  “Avery, this is Hynes.” His roommate was standing in the kitchen, making coffee. He yawned and nodded to me. “You guys met before I think.”

  “Briefly,” I said. “Hi, Hynes.”

  “Yo. Good to meet you.”

  “Okay, where do you want to do this?”

  I shrugged. “Right here is fine.”

  He grinned. “You sure? Right in front of Hynes?” He looked back at his friend. “No offense, man, but I don’t think I can get it up with you watching.”

  “Please,” he said. “You can’t get it up no matter what you do.”

  “Nobody needs to get anything up,” I said quickly. “I just need you to take off your shirt.”

  He smirked at me. “You’re sure Hynes can stay?”

  I sighed. “Just sit on the couch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He stripped his shirt off and then was wearing nothing but loose black workout shorts and his dark tattoos.

  I tried not to stare at his ripped body as he sat down and I got out my equipment.

  “First thing we’ll do is blood pressure.” I took out the cuff and wrapped it around his arm. I got out my stethoscope and put it on. “Ready?”

  “Go ahead, nurse,” he said. “I’m all yours.”

  Ignoring him, I tightened the cuff and listened to his heartbeat. I took my measurements and wrote down his blood pressure, which was unsurprisingly fantastic.

  “Okay,” I said, taking it off him. He smirked at me the whole time, and I was having trouble being so close to him. It was so early in the morning, and yet I still found myself wanting to strip off the rest of his clothing.

  “Checking me for a hernia next?” he asked.

  “No. I just need your pulse.” I took his wrist and a shiver ran down my spine.

  “You look like you’re enjoying this.”

  “I’m just being professional.”

  “I don’t know. I can see it on your face.”

  I glanced in the kitchen, but Hynes was gone. I looked back at Gibson, at his intense, laughing eyes. “I’m trying to keep it strictly professional between us.”

  He laughed. “Was that before or after I got you pregnant?”

  “After, obviously. Now quit moving.”

  I took his wrist and found his pulse. I counted the beats for fifteen seconds and then multiplied that by four to get his resting heart rate. I wrote down the number in my little chart.

  “Okay, now just breathe normally,” I said, placing my stethoscope on his back.

  “Hard to do that with you so close,” he said. “Did you feel my heart hammering?”

  “You have a very normal resting heart rate. Please stop talking.”

  “I’m sure it’s skipping like crazy with you touching me.”

  “Quit talking so I can concentrate.”

  “I’m sure you want to concentrate more on my body,” he said.

  I sighed but got his respiration rate. I wrote that down and then pulled out a thermometer. “Under your tongue, in the back.”

  He put it in his mouth, and mercifully that shut him up for a second. We waited until the thermometer beeped and then I wrote down the reading.

  So far, he was above average in everything but temperature. Just as I had suspected, an athlete working at his level was in peak physical condition, even when he was just sitting around. Really, I didn’t need any numbers or anything to tell me that. I could see it just looking at him.

  Finally, I got out my measuring tape. He raised an eyebrow at it.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “I want to measure some of your prominent muscle groups.”

  His grin spread across his face. “Are you sure that’s all you want to measure?” he asked. “I’ve got a few big places you might want to check out.”

  “I’ll stick with your arms and chest, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  I took his arms and spread them out then wrapped the tape around his chest, getting his measurements. I tried to keep my face calm and my heart steady, but as soon as I touched his muscles, I couldn’t help but feel excited. He was just so intense and strong, so ripped and hard. I quickly measured both of his biceps and wrote the numbers down, trying not to linger too long.

  I could tell he was enjoying this. He liked being studied by me, liked that I was touching him. He wasn’t hiding it at all.

  “That’s it,” I said when I was done.

  “Really? I was hoping for something a little more intense.”

  “I’m trying to keep this simple.”

  “I’d rather we went in-depth. Maybe something a little more physical.”

  I was suddenly very aware of sitting so close to him on the couch. I put my stuff back into my bag and stood.

  “Look, that was it.
I’ll let you get going.”

  He stood up and put his shirt back on. I wished he’d take it back off, but I didn’t say that out loud.

  “How about you walk me to class?” he said. “Since you’re going that way anyway.”

  “Sure,” I said, eager to get out of his apartment.

  He walked back into his bedroom and grabbed his bag. “All right, lead the way.”

  I left his place and went down the steps. He followed and we walked side by side toward campus.

  It was a beautiful, crisp morning as we followed the path toward the stadium.

  “What class do you have?” I asked.

  “English lit,” he said. “You?”

  “I have bio in an hour. I’m probably just going to hang out in the library.”

  “Sounds good. You’re a big bio nerd, aren’t you?”

  “I guess,” I said. “Are you an English lit nerd?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “I don’t have much time to read.”

  “Why is a finance major taking English lit anyway?”

  “It’s my art requirement,” he answered, “but I actually like it a lot.”

  “Oh yeah? I thought you didn’t have much time to read.”

  “I don’t, but I make time for class. We’re reading a book by Virginia Woolf. Do you know her?”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard of her, sure.”

  “It’s really weird, like, hard to read, but it also makes a lot of sense. I don’t know. Hard to explain.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

  As we walked, I couldn’t believe I was talking to Gibson Evans about Virginia Woolf. He didn’t seem like a stupid jock, but it was hard not to have that sort of stereotype about football players.

  “What made you want to go into bio?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know. I’ve always been into science, and I guess I feel like we don’t know as much about the human body as we should.”

  “What don’t we know?”

  “We don’t know what a healthy diet actually is. There’s all this disagreement about it.”

  “Huh. Interesting.”

  “Yeah, I mean, and a bunch of other stuff. I don’t want to bore you.”