Interview with the Bad Boy

by Rylee Swann

  The blow never comes. The big guy stumbles, his head snapping to the side. Cole appears then, standing behind him, hands curled into fists, teeth bared. The man staggers, clearly dazed from a blow to the side of his head.

  Cole shoots a look at me, all fire and rage, but something else too. Something I can’t name. It both excites and scares me. “Becca,” he says, his voice low. “Get behind me.”

  I must have hesitated; everything feels so surreal.

  “Now!” he barks out, and this time, I obey, kind of. Instead of moving behind him, I stand by his side.

  “Cole, let’s go,” I say and grab his arm. My voice isn’t convincing though. It’s weak and scared.

  I still feel trapped, stuck in a nightmare. It won’t stop here, I know it. Cole can beat this guy until he’s hamburger, and it won’t stop the players and even the fans from coming after me. If Rob sent that message to Troy, he’s probably sent it to a number of players. He’s made sure that everyone thinks I’m the one who has destroyed the team and their winning streak.

  I wonder if Rob sent those pictures to Cole too? If he taunted him with lies.

  “Cole,” I say again, less mousey this time. “Let’s go.”

  He’s too far gone, I can tell right away. His eyes are glassy and red-rimmed, and he’s shaking all over. “Turn around, asshole,” he growls at the guy still holding his head.

  Troy turns, rage shimmering all around him.

  There’s going to be a fight. An ugly one.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Cole

  “Is your little slut worth it?” Troy snarls, standing at his full height and a new wave of rage punches me in the gut. Then I remember my coach’s words from this morning…

  “Cole, everyone knows you’re an amazing athlete. Everyone knows you’re strong, fast on your feet, and have the arm of a cannon. Everyone knows that you’re an asshole. A drinker. A hothead looking for a fight. Everyone knows you’re a man whore and they know to keep their girlfriend or wife away from you.”

  Those words had come at me at nearly two o’clock this morning, when I’d rolled out of bed after Becca left and drove to Coach’s house to let him know what had happened. I didn’t want him blindsided by the news.

  “Thanks, Coach,” I said, my head hung low, the sarcasm barely attached to the words. “Good to know what you really think of me.” I hadn’t even been angry. Just beaten. Just waiting for him to kick me out. For my dream to be over.

  “But…” he pauses until I lift my head and look him in the eye, “what hardly anyone knows is how hard you work. How you’re willing to give up the running yards so your teammates will get the credit. They don’t see how your offensive line will lay down their life to protect you, not just to win, but because they respect you. And you respect them, and you show them, you tell them that every day. I hear you. They hear you. You’re a leader, Cole, but you wrap that part of you inside a pile of steaming shit and pretend you don’t give a damn.”

  Nothing had surprised me more than those words, and I’d been mortified to feel damn tears come to my eyes.

  “Cole, look at me, son. Nobody knows how smart you are because you keep insisting, for some damn reason, that you’re stupid. You fail or barely pass classes because you set yourself up to fail. But you’re damn smart, especially in the ways that matter. You read people. You see inside people. And if you ever allow that part of you to peek over the walls you’ve build around you, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with. Not just as a football player, but as a human.”

  I’d cried for real then. Great, heaving sobs that had wracked my entire body. Not once in my life had anyone called me smart. Not a single time that I could remember. A leader? A force? And he meant it. Coach Brays meant it with every cell in his body, that much was clear. And I didn’t want to disappoint him.

  “Surprise people, Cole,” Coach said, his big hand coming down on my shoulder, giving me a hard squeeze. “Show them that you aren’t just who they think you are. Show them that there’s more to you than meets the eye. More than you’ve allowed them to see.”

  We’d talked some more, and I told him about the past drug use, but about how I’d stopped. How I’d been tempted but hadn’t injected.

  “That’s the future, Cole. We can’t do anything about the past, but we’ll go to the clinic early in the morning, get you tested right away and build your defense to the NCAA and the media. This is about you, and it’s also about your team. You’ll meet with the public relations team, the AD. Hell, you’ll probably end up meeting with the president of the damn university. Show them this side of you.” He poked me in the chest. “The real you, sans walls. They’ll decide if you’re worth the effort of getting behind. And if you show them the real Cole James, I know they’ll find that you are worth it.”

  Coach then let me crash at his place, where I’d stared at the ceiling until dawn. His wife had fed me a huge breakfast this morning and then we’d gone to the clinic for a piss test I knew I would pass.

  Because of Becca.

  The rest of the day had been a blur of meetings. I’d met with the public relations department to craft my statements, and the director of athletics at the college had sat me down and gave me hell. He didn’t want to know about the past, he wanted to know about the now. The now and the future, the man I wanted to be, not the man I’d been.

  Surprise people, Cole.

  Now, outside of this bar, I look at my teammate. My friend. One of the big ass men who protects me in the pocket. And instead of punching him like I want to, I stick out my hand. Troy looks at me in surprise, wariness clear on his face.

  “I’m handling everything,” I tell him, my hand still suspended in the air between us. “This is all on me. Only on me. Took a drug test this morning and it will show I’m clean.” I look him in the eye. “Seriously clean. No fake piss. No bullshit. I’ll do an interview with the media and settle everyone down in the press. I promise.” I narrow my eyes at him. Not out of anger, but because I’m damn serious about what comes next. “And when this is over, you’re off them too. We’ll do it smart, back you off. But you will stop them, got me? You don’t need them. You’ve got NFL all over you. Do it right.”

  Troy blinks, and beside me, Becca’s fingers tighten on my arm. I’ve shocked the shit out of both of them, and smile.

  I’m listening, Coach. I’m listening. Trying. I’ll try even harder tomorrow and the next day, then the day after that.

  Finally, Troy’s palm meets mine, and we shake. I nod and give him a stern look. “Now, apologize to my girl. None of this is her fault. She was used too.”

  The three-hundred-and-ten-pound lineman grows immediately red. And he also grows clearly confused. “Used? How was she used?”

  I explain how her ex possibly drugged her and then got into her computer and accessed her private, personal journal. Troy gives me a look and pulls out his phone to show me texts from an anonymous number along with a picture of Becca naked in her bed, asleep.

  Growling deep in my chest, I ask Troy if he knows Rob Huntsman, and he lifts a shoulder. “Man hounds the locker room, always looking for a story, some pussy. Powder. We’ve partied some. No big deal.” He looks down at his phone, connecting the dots. “Fuck. This is him? You sure, man?”

  “Very sure. So, you’re friends?”

  “Hell, no, man. He just hangs. Parties. Guy’s too pretty, too rich for me.”

  “Then how’d he get your number?”

  Troy lifts his broad shoulder again. “Bunch of the guys got similar texts. You seriously think it’s that prick, Rob?”

  I look down at Becca and she nods. “Yeah. I absolutely think it’s him.”

  Troy’s jaw tightens. “You’re sleeping with his ex-girlfriend and this is his retribution?”

  I nod. “Yeah. And we don’t know what he did or didn’t do to Becca when she was passed out.”

  His jaw grows tighter. “That’s fucked up.”

  Becca stiffens, her hands planting on
her hips. “You were going to hit me, so how are you different?”

  The big lineman and I both stare at her. My little Becca is growing some balls. And they look good on her. As long as she removes them in the bedroom, I’m okay with that.

  Troy shoots me a look, holding up both hands. “Nah, man. I was just pissed and wanted to scare you. I don’t hit girls.” Becca doesn’t look convinced, so he adds. “Sorry.”

  I sling an arm over Becca’s shoulders. “Let’s go home. I don’t know about you, but I’m toast.” I nod at Troy, who takes off for his car.

  She leans her head against me and exhales a long breath. “Your home or mine?”

  “Mine, if that’s okay. I have to be up early in the morning. I have some additional shit to deal with.”

  “Bad shit?”

  I lift a shoulder and kiss her hair. It’s nothing she needs to worry about right now. “Nah, nothing I can’t handle.” I dig my keys from my pocket. “I’ll follow you.”

  It’s a relief to pull into my little house again. A relief to have Becca here with me. It still looks like shit — I’m going to have to do something about that — but I’m glad to be here. Glad to have my girl back in my bed.

  “I want you to interview me,” I tell her as we brush our teeth side my side in the bathroom. I like it. It’s a couple thing, and we’re definitely a couple now.

  She spits, then laughs, a sweet, musical sound. “Me? Interview the bad boy? For what? No way can I work for the paper anymore.”

  “Former bad boy,” I correct her, and she fucking pouts. Pouts. Lower lip plunged all the way out, making me want to suck on it, pull it between my teeth. “Um, is that a problem?”

  She looks up at me through her lashes and rinses before putting her brush away. “Not completely former, right?”

  My dick twitches as she steps closer, and I put my brush away too, then lift my hand into her hair, make a fist and pull her head back hard. She moans, causing my dick to twitch again. “You like my bad side?” I ask and take a breast in my other hand, squeezing and pulling at the nipple through one of my t-shirts she’d changed into a few moments ago.

  Her pupils dilate. “Yes. Very much.”

  I bend my head and wash my tongue up her carotid artery to her jawline, then over to her ear. “How bad do you want me to be, baby?” I squeeze her breast harder, kneading the soft flesh in my palm, sinking my teeth into the lobe. “Do you want the agony of pleasure? The freedom of pain? The bliss of surrendering your decisions, your body, to me in the bedroom?”

  “Yes. I want it all.” She’s breathing so hard, the words are hoarse. “Cole, please show me everything.”

  “Take my t-shirt off,” I command and step back, letting my hands fall to my sides, although my fingers itch to touch her skin.

  Her breath hitches, but she immediately obeys my order, grasping the hem of my t-shirt and pulling it up her body, exposing her panties, stomach, ribs, breasts. They rise higher onto her chest as she pulls the shirt over her head, the nipples puckered tight, ready for my mouth.

  When the shirt is on the floor, I say, “Panties.”

  She licks her lips, and so fucking slowly that I nearly grind my teeth into stubs, she works the lacy material down her thighs before kicking them away.

  So damn beautiful, every inch of her perfect skin is on display, her breasts in competition with the delicious reflection of her ass in the mirror.

  “Face the mirror,” I command, and she does what I say. I move to stand behind her, and she shivers as I trail my fingers up her arms, letting them rest lightly on her shoulders. “Place your right foot on the counter.”

  There’s only the briefest moment of hesitation before she does as I say. I can see her pussy now, dewy pink and opening like a flower as I nudge her legs farther apart. I watch my hands move down to cover her breasts, tugging at the hardened buds. I listen to her breathing grow heavier, feel her lower back press against my erection.

  Tracing my hand even lower, I meet her eyes in the mirror, but only for a second. Her gaze lowers to watch my hand as it moves down between her legs. She moans as I separate her folds and my finger circles her clit. Her hips begin to pulse, grinding into my palm, then she cries out as I change the angle and thrust two fingers deep inside her.

  While she watches my hand, I watch her face. Watch her mouth fall open as a mask of ecstasy crosses over her lovely features.

  “Do you see how sexy you are?” I ask her, and her eyes jump to meet mine. She licks her lips, crying out again as I twist my fingers inside her, finding the spot that drives her wild. “Do you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Do you see your sweet juices dripping off my hand? See how wet you are for me?”

  Her cheeks grow pink, but she nods. “Yes.”

  “Do you feel your muscles tighten? Do you feel how close you are to coming?”

  She closes her eyes, wailing as I thrust harder, deeper into her, circling my thumb over her clit. “I’m going to come,” she pants before making a keening sound. “Please make me come.”

  I do. Curling my fingers, I pound into her, forcing her to the edge. When she flies, her muscles grip me, clamp down, and she screams my name as she shatters in front of me.

  It’s incredible to watch.

  Without a word, I lift her up and carry her to my bed. I’m not done with her yet.

  She’s still panting, pushing her hair back from her face as I head to my closet for some toys. I want to play, give her new experiences, make her remember that it’s me between her legs.

  When I’m back, my cock twitches as she watches me approach, curiosity and a hint of fear flickering across her expression as she sees what’s in my hands.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight, Becca. You’ll lose count of how many times I make you come.”

  Goosebumps rise on her arms and legs, and she stops breathing as I toss the strange looking contraption on the bed.

  “Breathe, Becca.”

  She does, but the pulse in her neck doesn’t slow. She exhales, her eyes transfixed on my lips, then my hands as I reach for the leather and metal cuff beside her.

  “This is a thigh cuff. I’m going to bind you open to me. If you want me to stop, or let you lose, just tell me, and I will. Understand?”

  She nods and watches with intense interest as I wrap one of the large cuffs around her right, upper thigh, then pull her right arm down and enclose it in the smaller cuff. Bending her leg, I wrap the medium sized cuff around her ankle. Then I perform the same steps on the other side before stepping back to admire my handy work. My little Becca is effectively spread open and at my mercy.

  She squirms, blushing hard under my watchful eye, her body fully splayed and vulnerable.

  Reaching beside her, I pick up another toy.

  She blinks hard. “W-what are those?”

  I grin and twirl them around my finger. “Nipple clamps.”

  She gasps, and I gather she’s heard of them, her gaze wary as she looks at the teeth. These aren’t the sharp metal ones, but she’ll feel them plenty. And if I do it right, and I absolutely plan to do it right, she’ll thank me later. Maybe beg for more.

  “Are you afraid?” I ask, watching her closely as she shakes her head, then nods, then shakes her head again. My grin grows wider. “That’s helpful.”

  She laughs, a light little sound that still sounds shaky. “Is this a punishment?”

  I reach out and take a nipple between my fingers and squeeze. “Is that a punishment?”

  She writhes beneath my touch. “No, not at all.”

  I lean down and take a nipple between my lips, then bite down, rolling it between my teeth before sucking it hard into my mouth. “Is that a punishment?” I ask, licking the sensitive undersides of her breast.

  She moans, her hands clasping and unclasping in her restraints. “No.”

  “Then this isn’t a punishment. This is…” Her eyes open in surprise as I plunge two fingers inside her. “This is plea
sure at its most extreme.” Then I pound her to the fastest orgasm she’s ever experienced.

  She cries out, unravels, her hands reaching for me but thwarted by the cuffs. I move my fingers faster, twisting them inside her, watching her face as she climaxes for me again.

  “Cole…” Her chest is heaving, sweat causing her hair to stick to her face.

  “One more, baby,” I say and push her to the edge again. One more, for now.

  After living a life with very little control, here, I feel like the most powerful man in the universe. I’m a conductor of this sensual performance, and I listen to the music of her cries, the sounds of my fingers inside and against her skin, even my own heavy breathing.

  “Please…”

  I give her what she wants. What she needs. And she flies, her internal muscles nearly breaking my fingers.

  She’s still crying, shaking as I begin to feast on her. She’s hot and wet as my tongue follows my fingers into her center, lapping up her sweet nectar. She bucks, twists, and I move my hands to her hips to hold her down.

  Her smell, raw musk and sensual, surrounds me. Her taste, salty and sweet, invades my tongue.

  I’m so fucking hard, my cock aches for what my fingers and tongue have enjoyed. The moment she comes again, screaming and crying, I thrust into her. Over and over, coming very close to losing all willpower.

  I slow down, force myself to move in and out, slowly, deeply. I pick up the nipple clamps, watch her watch me. Her chest begins to heave harder, the spike of fear clear in her eyes.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Becca?”

  She meets my gaze and nods. “You do the same to me.”

  Still moving slowly in and out of her, I lean down and take a nipple in my mouth, laving it with my tongue before tending to the other. I watch her face as I open one clamp and carefully place it on her left nipple.

  The response is immediate, the wince of pain, her cry as it bites into her flesh. She arches into the pain, breathing hard as I thrust in, grinding my pubic bone on her clit. When she opens her eyes again, I clamp the other, taking it hostage between the teeth of the device. She’s still crying out when I grasp her hips and slam into her hard. Again. And again.