Football Dick (Big Girls, Bad Boys, and Babies)

by Violet Blaze

  “What can I say? I like to have fun. Life is too damn short to screw around with bullshit.” He grins at me, dark eyes sparkling. “That's why I was so curious about you and that Walter guy. When he touched you, you froze up completely. It looked like you were about to pass out. But now that you've explained it, it makes sense.”

  I take another drink, watching Rhoden as he watches me, half-loving the fact that he understands my position and half-wishing that he'd tell me it was complete crap, that I should make me happy, that I should run off and find my Leonardo DiCaprio à la Jack Dawson like Kate Winslet/Rose did in Titanic.

  “I read your blog,” he interjects randomly, smiling at a girl as she passes by and waves to him. But then his attention rivets straight back to me. I like that. Too much. This is dangerous territory you're treading here, Della.

  “Seriously? Why?” I ask with a laugh. “It's mostly like a diary for me. I just try to … extrapolate my feelings and experiences so other people know they're not alone. That, and I just … want everyone to learn to love themselves. It's a trick I still haven't mastered yet, but I'm working on it.”

  “What's not to love about you?” Rhoden asks with a raised brow, shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the log we're sitting on. The tattoos on his right arm stand out sharply in the flickering light of the fire. Without having to lean closer, I know what they are. More branches from that tree, wrapping around his muscular bicep all the way to the elbow. Everything is in black, white, and gray, all of it in excruciatingly careful detail. I read online that it has some special meaning he's alluded to but refuses to outright admit. “Smart. Educated. Good with words.” A smile that melts my panties off. “You're gorgeous, by the way.”

  I snort.

  “Compared to the supermodels you usually date? I don't think so.”

  Rhoden scoots in closer, putting us way too close again. And then he runs his knuckles down my arm, making me shiver.

  “I'm not so into supermodels to be honest with you. Yeah, it's fun to take someone pretty and popular out on your arm, just for the fun of it, the publicity. But … I like a woman with curves.”

  “Like I haven't heard that one before.” I try to make a joke of it, but Rhoden's eyes are half-lidded and he tilts his head to the side like a dog.

  “Well, because it's true. I like my women soft.” He takes me in again like he did that first night at the party, a slow once-over that sizzles and burns, leaves me gasping for breath as I dig my nails into my thighs and resist leaning forward to kiss the spot where his jaw meets his ear. “You were like a breath of fresh air, Della. I want you underneath me again.”

  I almost choke and the puppy barks a warning yip at me. I reach down and stroke his orange ear to comfort him.

  “Are you trying to romance me?” I joke, but I kind of want it to be true. And I don't. I really can't do this, any of it.

  “No,” he says, completely unashamed. “I don't do romance of any kind. But I do want to fuck you again.”

  “Because of fate?” I ask, and I'm trying to make this friendly banter, but it's not working. My breath is husky and labored, and my skin sings where he touches it with his knuckles.

  “Honestly? Yeah. That wasn't a line. I really do believe that things happen for a reason, that there's no such thing as coincidence.” Rhoden takes his hand away and sits back in that chocolate brown shirt of his, the color a perfect match for his eyes. “I guess there's always Walter Virgin to think about though.”

  “It's Virgil by the way,” I say, but I'm pretty sure he already knows that.

  “You know that guy's a fucking asshole, right?” Rhoden asks, like he has any room to talk. I mean, he's been pretty goddamn nice to me so far, but I've seen the headlines, the photos. I watch him on the field every single week. Whatever he's presenting right now, I know this man is as big a dick as his nickname suggests.

  “So you do know Walter personally then?”

  “I know his type,” Rhoden says, sitting his drink in the sand and then lifting his hands up to unbutton his shirt. I have no idea what he's doing, but it's enthralling the way he slips those buttons through the loops. “Rich, successful corporate trained fucktard. Money instead of blood in the veins, a bottom line instead of a heart. This isn't a man you marry for love—or sex.”

  “You're saying he deserves to be cheated on then?”

  “I'm saying your reasons for marrying him might not encompass all of your needs.” Rhoden slips his shirt off his golden shoulders, the fine dusting of hair on his arms and chest begging for me to run my fingers over it. “I'm saying you should fuck me tonight and worry about Virgin in the morning.”

  Rhoden stands up and drops his shirt into the sand, kicking off his boots and peeling his black socks off.

  “Swim with me?” he asks, reaching down for the button on his dark jeans. Oh God, he's getting naked?! I feel my resolve crumbling away into nothing. But then I remember I'm in a crowd of people, people with six pack abs and model-perfect bodies and there's no way in hell I'm stripping down nude in front of all of them for a skinny-dip in the ocean.

  “I should probably go,” I say as Rhoden pushes his jeans down his hips, revealing the Roman numeral IX on his hip; it matches the number on his jersey. I swallow hard, my gaze drifting to the black sunburst tattoo on his lean, muscular pelvis. And then the pants are down and there he is, bare and rigid and thick in the middle of the beach.

  Nobody seems to care. That woman with the blue hair, she seems to be stripping down, too.

  How do I always seem to end up at parties where everyone's getting naked?

  Rhoden steps out of his jeans and then digs a condom from his pocket. How that pertains to skinny-dipping in the ocean with a bunch of random strangers, I'm not at all sure. I keep sitting there, staring at him with my mouth gaping open. Behind me, somebody cranks up the music; I think it's reggae or something.

  “You don't have to strip down if you don't want to. Wear the dress if you want. Put that lioness mask back on, Della.”

  I stare at his extended hand for a long moment and then I do something so ridiculously stupid, and reach out to take it. Rhoden's warm fingers curl around mine, pulling me to my feet and sliding slowly, sensually beneath the white fabric of my cardigan. He looks me in the eyes and peels it slowly off my shoulders, down my arms, leaving me in the floral print dress.

  I kick my flip-flops off into the sand and let him pull me down to a half-crumpled pier, nothing left but the support posts and a few random slats of wood.

  “You might want to strip your panties off,” Rhoden tells me with a grin, catching me in the middle of checking out his tight, firm ass and the tattoo on his back I didn't get to see in person before. The tree is full and leafy and alive, draping over his muscles with an artist's careful touch. Each limb is designed to follow the shapes of his back, highlight that athletic build of his. “You know, so at least you have something that's dry when you get out.”

  Without letting myself think about it, I reach up under my skirt and shove the black jersey panties down, wadding them up and tossing them back towards my shoes. When I turn back around, Rhoden's waiting for me, taking both my hands and curling his fingers around them. I can still feel the outline of the condom against his palm, but I don't much think about that either. I let go, let him drag me into the icy waters of the Pacific.

  “Holy crap,” I groan as prickles of cold weave their way under my skin. “This is practically hypothermic.” But Rhoden isn't deterred, drawing me in, yanking me hard against his warm body. Even in the liquid arctic waters, he feels solid and hot and substantial beneath my hands. “This isn't exactly what I'd call swimming,” I whisper through chattering teeth as he presses my back into one of the support posts and brings our mouths crashing together in a kiss.

  One of his hands slides along the side of my face, fingers tangling in my hair as he holds me against him, taking his time and savoring my mouth like he did at the masquerade party. It turns
me on, the way he moves, slow and confident like he's got all the time in the world. Out here, in the gentle violence of the waves, my body shaking from the cold, it feels like we should rush our way through this—whatever this is. But we don't. Rhoden kisses me like we're in a black and white movie, all deep and romantic and sure, but also like he's hiding chili peppers under his tongue.

  A hot tingling drags through me, warms me up and makes me forget all about the salty sting of the ocean. Behind the distant murmur and lap of water, the sound of the music drums out a steady, solid beat, relaxing my pounding heart to its rhythm.

  I could get used to this, I think even as I know that's a literal impossibility. And that this is wrong. Even if I don't exactly … well, like Walter, I didn't tell him no. Maybe I can't? Maybe Ariana is right and I do maybe, sort of, kind of hate him a little. He's not a bad guy, he's just so obviously not my guy that … I let myself relax into Rhoden's arms until the electricity of his body against mine washes it all away. Some part of me knows that I'm using him to run from my problems, but I can't seem to make myself stop.

  I don't want to stop.

  When Rhoden drops his hands to the soggy fabric of my dress, I let him take two heavy handfuls and drag it up and over my head, squealing at the cold splatters of water that flick across my face and shoulders.

  “This is absolutely insane,” I say, but I make no move to leave as he tosses the sopping heap of fabric onto the broken pier behind me. The only thing standing between me and complete nudity is my comfy t-shirt bra, the one that's so totally not meant for anybody to see. “Rhoden,” I start as he lifts the condom up and tucks into the left cup, like a promise.

  “Oh, you have no idea how insane I can really get,” he purrs at me, stepping back and turning towards the dark horizon, heavy with stars and a low hanging moon. When he dives into the water, I follow after him, the shrieks and laughter of the other party guests echoing in the quiet night. I'm surprised there aren't more people collecting down at the bonfire. Guess even this party has a guest list. I bet there are security guards hidden around here somewhere.

  Drawing my gaze away from the shore, I find Rhoden's golden form splitting the navy waves with an ease I can only envy. For the life of me, I still can't quite figure out his purpose in bringing me here. I do want to fuck you again.

  I lift my hand up and touch the condom tucked into my bra.

  I'm standing naked in the Pacific Ocean with a bunch of strangers who are probably high, most definitely drunk, and I just made out with the star quarterback of the NFL team my dad just sold to my fiancé.

  Does that about sum it all up?

  I almost bail right then, but I remember how I'm not wearing panties and decide to stay put for a second, hoping some of the swimmers around me will chicken out and flee the cool waters for the fire.

  They don't.

  More people strip down and leap into the ocean, kissing and screaming and laughing and tossing around a massive rainbow beach ball. The only light comes from the flickering flames onshore and the silver glow of the moon reflecting off the water's surface.

  It's one of the weirdest things I've ever been a part of—and with Hal as a sister, I've been a part of some weird stuff. That latex/leather sex party I mentioned? Nowhere near the top of that list.

  With a deep breath, I slide forward into the water with a gasp and swim over to where Rhoden's treading the waves, that cocksure grin splitting his face when he sees me. When the ball comes flying our way, he spikes it up into the air with a tight fist and sends it my way. I don't have much time to think about it, so I reach up and smack it back towards the other partygoers. Laughter bubbles up and out as I take a deep breath and turn onto my back, letting the salty waters buoy me.

  Rhoden's there in an instant, putting his hands underneath me, helping me stay afloat as I close my eyes and relax into his touch. The man's a complete stranger yet here I am, swimming nude in the ocean with him and feeling pretty damn good about it. When he sweeps me out of my back float and into his arms, I find myself grinning.

  “Let's go,” Rhoden tells me, gesturing with his head at the bend in the shore, the cluster of rocks and caves that glimmer with moonlight and white sea foam. Without waiting to see if I'll follow, he takes off and makes his way around the pier. I trail behind, my swimming nowhere near as strong as his and find him moving out of the water. With a whistle, he calls both our dogs over and then turns around to help me out, my body wracked with violent shivers. “Let me warm you up,” he whispers, pulling me up to the beach and laughing as I clamp a hand over my bare crotch. Rhoden doesn't bother, letting the gorgeous slick wetness of his muscles shine in the weak light.

  When he tugs me over to a stack of towels and blankets, I raise my eyebrows.

  “Did you plan this or something?” I ask and he shakes his head with a grin.

  “I've been to Kierstin's parties before. She always thinks of everything.” With a slight gesture of his hand, he reveals other clusters of blankets and towels, each one with a flashlight beside it. None of it shocks me. You'd be surprised how rich people spend their money; this isn't even close to the extravagance or level of planning I've seen in some of Walter's friend's parties. But I like it better. Even though it's a little weird, it's fun, different. I make a mental note to look up Kierstin's clothing line when I get home.

  Rhoden drapes a towel around my shoulders and I immediately drop it to my bare hips, hiding behind the black cotton as the puppy licks the salt from my ankles. He then proceeds to spread the checkered blanket out across the sand, sitting down and pulling me next to him.

  “I really should get going,” I say, but he's smiling at me and pressing his mouth to mine, urging me to open up and let him in, kissing me like it's a contest he's determined to win. One big warm hand slides down my side as Rhoden leans his body into mine, easing me down to my back on the blanket. I get that we're entering dangerous territory here, but it feels so good to give in and relax, let him take control and soothe my worries away with his mouth.

  Fingers dance up my spine, bringing a rush of heat that banishes my shivers. Seconds later, my bra comes off, the cold wet fabric disappearing as Rhoden cups and kneads the suddenly bare flesh, warming it up with just the right amount of force. His thumb swirls a lazy circle on my left breast, drawing my chest toward him as I arch into the pleasure.

  When my eyelids flicker open, I find him staring down at me with that dark gaze, desire and need dripping from his expression. He studies my face, lets his attention drift down the pale curvy shape of my body. I should feel self-conscious, but I don't, not even wet and cold with my hair tangled and my skin decorated with goose bumps.

  I let myself touch him, drawing my nails down his thick, muscular arms, his back, sliding them up his thighs and tracing the line of hair on his belly.

  Kisses trail down each arm, straight to my fingertips and I know this man must have a ton of practice because he doesn't make any mistakes, doesn't fumble, seems to know exactly what he's doing. I've never had that before, never been with a guy like this. There's a reason for that, I tell myself as Rhoden cups my bare heat with his hand, dips a single finger into my warmth. Men like this do not play for keeps.

  He works my body with a careful, aching slowness, working a slick wetness into existence between my thighs. When he withdraws his hand and reaches for the condom, my breath catches, my hips cradled in the sand, the cool air against my skin an intriguing contrast against the warmth of Rhoden's body.

  He rolls the condom down the thick, hard sweep of his erection and settles between my thighs, his strangely comforting scent mixing with the salty tang of the sea. This time, when he enters me, he does it slow, easing in a single inch at a time as I raise my hips to meet him. Seeing his face instead of that mask, it changes everything. My fingers cup the sides of his stubbled face as he leans down into me and lets me kiss that spot where his jaw meets his ear. It feels just as good as I thought it would, nestling my lips against his skin.


  “Someone could see us,” I whisper, suddenly terrified of being caught, but Rhoden doesn't stop until our hips meet up.

  “This is a private beach,” he purrs into my ear, cupping the soft flesh of my hip with his right hand. His fingers knead and tease the sensitive spot over my hip bone. “Nice try though. Relax, Della.” Rhoden slides out slowly as I breathe through the feeling of fullness, the stretching sensation as he buries himself inside of me again. Rhoden's definitely the biggest guy I've ever been with, but I feel like we were made for each other. He's just long enough, just wide enough to make me gasp with each thrust, stimulating every inch of me in one movement.

  Oh, and he also likes to kiss while he's having sex. I haven't had much luck with that in the past. It's usually a lot of thrusting and groping, but nothing as intimate as what Rhoden's giving me now, tracing my bottom lip with his tongue, thrusting it into me at the same time he moves his hips.

  The night sky spins by behind his head as I let my eyes slide shut, arch my spine and press my breasts into his chest. The sand cups our bodies in a soft embrace as I run my foot up Rhoden's calf and reach down to dig my nails into his ass, pull him to me.

  His face searches mine, eyes half-lidded, that full mouth gently parted when it's not pressed up tight against mine, stubble brushing up against my face. The way he looks at me, it's addicting. Clearly he wasn't lying when he said he found me attractive.

  I drop my head back and moan, savoring the juxtaposition of Rhoden's hard body against mine, my soft body giving way to his, wrapping him tight. I want to make him come, want to see his expression as he loses himself completely. Lifting my head back up, I kiss the hard line of his neck, urge my hips to match his movements, and squeeze my muscles tight.

  With a warm, hot sound against my throat, Rhoden orgasms, a shudder taking over his large form as I clamp my legs around him and hold him tight, refusing to let go until his breathing evens out. When he pulls back, I let him go, so wrapped up in the easy feeling of pleasure that I don't notice what he's doing until I feel a hot tongue against my opening.