We were in total agreement.
I kissed her full lips and autopilot took over from there.
* * *
In no time, I had her white panties on the concrete floor and her thighs wrapped around my ears.
What could I say?
We had insane chemistry. The kind that makes two people feel like opposite ends of a magnet. I no doubt played the role of negative polarity. But as we pulled ever closer, I could feel her positive spin realigning my soul.
And all that didn’t even get to how delicious she tasted.
Like a gourmet dessert served at a Michelin-starred restaurant. But with twice the taste and half the calories. I’d dine at this restaurant every night if she would give me a standing reservation.
She groaned deep, wordless sounds full of need and desire.
I plunged my tongue into her core. The tightness that in a few minutes would do its best to milk me dry.
I couldn’t wait.
My cock felt as heavy as a gold bar. And her pussy was even more precious. Her juices flooded into my mouth. I lapped them up and was greedy for more.
Her body arched as she tugged my hair so hard she practically ripped it out. It might’ve been painful but I couldn’t feel it. My entire body buzzed with heat, with the need to possess her.
The small TV on the counter droned on at the edge of my consciousness. It didn’t matter. It was background noise. The whole world was background noise with my head between her thighs.
I pulled back an inch and blew softly on her wet pussy lips. I looked up and caught her unfocused eyes.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “Gonna come for you. Gonna come so hard.”
I nodded in silent agreement. I knew she would, but hearing her say it made my dick throb so badly it hurt.
I dove back in with all the enthusiasm of a starving dog invited over for a steak dinner. I licked up her wet groove and sucked her clit into my mouth, circling it with my tongue.
She yelled out.
I slipped a finger into her and stroked the ridges above with that come here finger. The come now finger.
She got the message. Her body shook and the muscles inside locked down on my tickling finger.
“Oh God. Yes! Yes!”
I kept going and pushed her over the edge.
Her wetness gushed into my mouth and on my chin. Her orgasm nearly made me come myself. Her legs locked around my head and squeezed so tight I could barely breathe.
I didn’t want to breathe if I couldn’t have her pussy filling my lungs.
She whispered something I couldn’t hear with my ears muffled by her thighs.
I gave her a few minutes to ride the wave down and loosen her leg lock. I pushed back and grinned, watching her eyes roll around deliriously looking at nothing in particular.
She whispered again, and her words jolted me.
“Condom. Get one. Now.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Especially if her wish was for me to bury my cock inside her.
I produced a condom out of thin air. What could I say? In my experience, it was one magic trick I knew from heart. I tore open the plastic and sheathed my rod in record time. I lowered myself on top of her and reveled in the feel of her hard nipples poking into my chest.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I said. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed.”
She smiled in a lazy, out-of-it way.
“You don’t have to talk your way into my panties. It’s too late for that.”
“I’m not. I’m talking my way into your pussy,” I said with a grin.
“Stop talking. Start fucking.”
I gripped my shaft and brought the head of my battering ram up to her silky gate. Everything inside me yearned to plunge forward and tear apart her last defenses.
Something tickled the edge of my consciousness. Something grating. I tried to push it away but the effort made it stick all the harder.
The TV. Someone on the television blaring some bullshit.
I made the infinitely huge mistake of glancing over and seeing her ex-fiancé, Robert, on the local sports news channel. His face wouldn’t shut up. At least his left eye was still a mottled yellow mess from the crack I’d administered.
“Leonardo Cruz,” he said, “is a stain on the honor of world soccer. His dangerous and unpredictable behavior can no longer be tolerated.”
He touched his cheek gently right on top of the bruise he so richly deserved.
“Look at me. I ran into the miscreant and wanted to congratulate him on his performance in the qualifying match, and he attacked me. He’s out of control.”
A little box of video appeared in the upper left-hand corner of the screen.
“I have the proof,” he said. “Watch this if you don’t believe me.”
The video in the upper left-hand corner played. It showed Robert entering our suite, and an instant later I was throwing a right hook that sent him to la-la land. Apparently, it had been edited to leave out the part where he called my date, and his ex-fiancé, a used car slut.
That dirtbag piece of shit. I should’ve stomped on his head, not his camera.
“I know he has skills,” Robert continued, “but his rash behavior has finally outweighed what he brings to the field. Besides, at twenty-eight, he’s got one foot already over the hill. It won’t be long before he slides head first down toward oblivion.”
Stomped his head? I should’ve ripped his guts out of his belly.
Alex tried to pull me back to her, but I was stuck now. Stuck on this asshole that should’ve meant nothing to me. And he wouldn’t have if he wasn’t on TV dragging my name through the mud.
“What I don’t understand,” Robert said, “is why the international soccer community puts up with such a menace. Look at Bastian Kramer, for example. He’s a legend. And look at how he’s taken personal responsibility for his life and turned things around.”
Bastian Kramer?
The same dickbag that stole the World Cup from Spanish hands four years ago. The same dickbag that took my knee out in the process.
Fuck him. And the Bavarian goat he rode in on.
“Bastian Kramer used to be on the fast road to flame-out just like Leonardo Cruz, but he turned it all around. Now he has a family and he’s a fine, upstanding example for the world soccer community.”
A picture filled the upper left-hand window. One of Bastian Kramer with one arm around his wife and a baby girl in the other arm.
“He’s a father and a role model for every kid that has dreams of kicking a ball for their country. He’s the new face of international soccer. The days of our criminal tolerance must end.”
My picture replaced Bastian’s grinning herd. Of course, it was a mug shot. I’d had a few over the years.
“This coward who beat me for no reason, Leonardo Cruz, is a menace. One that casts a terrible shadow over our good standing.”
He frowned and shook his head, like it was the hardest thing he ever had to say.
Fucking liar.
“The Sport News Network is waiting for a return call from President of the Royal Football Federation, Pablo Garcia, for a response as to why he insists on allowing an embarrassment to be the face of Spanish soccer.”
I was a heartbeat away from dashing over and smashing my fist through his face, or at least through the picture of his face on the screen.
“This is Robert Graves, your on-the-ground source for the latest in soccer news. We’ll kick it again soon.”
The segment cut away to a commercial about diapers. A father crawled around the living room floor next to a babbling baby.
Then, it hit me. Half a heartbeat in time before the television met its mortal end.
I had the answer!
“That’s it!” I said.
The answer to the bullshit that punks like Robert Graves piled onto my world. I turned back to Alex and flinched as the fury in her eyes landed squarely on me and me alone.
“What
?”
Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to say.
“What? What? Did you just say what as if you weren’t between my legs with your cock parting my thighs?”
She shoved me back and snatched her bra and panties off the floor. She slid the bra on while shaking her head.
“Call me crazy, but I was under the impression we were having an intimate moment. The kind of thing you don’t pull away from so you can watch my asshole ex grab for ratings.”
“He was right,” I said, still in a daze that I had it all figured out. That it was so easy.
That I wanted it anyway.
Her jaw dropped. She hopped around on one leg trying to slip into her panties.
“Wait! What are you doing?” I asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Wait, Alex! Keep your clothes off!”
She looked at me like I was insane, and started to wiggle into her tight pants. “Have you lost your mind?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I figured it out. All of it.”
“Really?” She rolled her eyes. “Do tell. I can’t wait to hear.”
I smiled, so relieved to have the solution within grasp.
“We need to have a baby.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alexis
I had my pants around my calves when his last response bowled me over like a hurricane wind. I stumbled and fell back onto the couch.
“You’ve lost your mind,” I said.
“I’ve never been saner,” Leo replied.
Maybe he wasn’t crazy, but it didn’t help his case that he was delivering the message stark naked with a stiff cock bouncing around.
He gestured at the TV. “Everyone loves Bastian Kramer, and he’s fucked up as much as I have. Probably more. But they don’t care. He had a baby and all is forgiven.”
I covered my face, hoping the nightmare would go away. Hoping I’d awake to find myself rewound like a bad movie back to the minute before Robert Graves killed the mood.
And a baby with Leo?
Crazy. Stupid crazy.
A tiny voice at the deepest levels of my psyche spoke.
Why not?
Why not! My life plan had always included kids. Three to be exact. But I didn’t have a Mr. Right in my life at the moment.
Did I?
Was Leo destined to be the father of my children? No, couldn’t be. The last thing in the world he was meant for was being a parent. Could anyone imagine The Lion of Spain changing a poopy diaper while a baby wailed in frustration?
Ha! Not in ten million years.
Never.
Going.
To.
Happen.
I parted my hands and peeked out. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”
He didn’t have to answer. Of course he didn’t. He probably thought the sum total of parenting meant Kick the Ball Saturdays, Ice Cream Date Sundays, and a parent-teacher conference every other year.
“Yeah, I think I have a pretty good idea. What do you say?”
He had no clue. And I couldn’t deal with the confusion.
I finished up with my pants and yanked down my sweater.
“I have to go,” I said as I grabbed my purse.
What was I thinking? Why did I let him talk me into these situations?
Leo stepped in front of me. His cock slapped into my leg.
I looked at it and then up at him. “Really? Really?”
I tried to circle around, out of the way of his swinging dick. His gorgeous, thick pleasure wand. His delicious meat.
A gnawing in my belly tried to remind me that I’d never had so much protein in one meal, and that I hadn’t eaten any protein in ages.
The fact that I wanted nothing more than to drop to my knees and take his girth into my mouth pissed me off.
I dodged to the side and he jumped over to block my exit.
“I’m serious. We’d make a kickass baby!”
“You think that’s a good reason to have a baby? Because it would be kickass?”
He was certifiable. Clueless. I couldn’t have a baby with him even if I wanted to.
Did I just say that?
Confused from the orgasm. That was all.
He looked at me with a need that nearly demolished my resolve.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. Hey, you’d get to have the baby of The Lion of Spain. Plenty of ladies would kill for that honor.”
My eyes snapped shut and I pinched the flaring pain in the bridge of my nose.
“I can’t believe you said that. Will the egotistical prick formerly known as my fake date move aside so I can get on with my life?”
“Shit! That came out wrong. I’m sorry.”
Leo stepped aside.
First smart thing he’d done in a while. I felt like a cobra ready to strike. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get a fang full of venom.
He opened the door and stood aside as I barreled by. I was hoping to get away clean but no, he couldn’t let it rest.
“Listen,” he shouted, “consider it. It would be great. Who’s more fun than us together? We could give a kid the best life in the world.”
I stumbled and nearly bit it. I regained my balance and kept on trucking. I had to get far away from him as fast as humanely possible.
How could he throw out an idea like that so cavalierly? Like it was no more important than what ethnic food he might order for delivery tomorrow night.
It was maddening.
He was maddening.
Before Robert turned out to be a lying snake, I had my life planned out to perfection. The first kid at twenty-three. The second at twenty-six and the last at twenty-nine. I loved the number three, obviously. Plus, being done at twenty-nine still let me hit thirty back in shape.
But now that whole schedule was screwed.
I was already twenty-four!
And had no baby, no husband. No real prospect for a long-term relationship whatsoever.
Leo?
Please. I may have been as gullible as the next broad in his expansive harem, but I wasn’t a total idiot. Guys like Leo didn’t settle down. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t. It wasn’t in their blood. They were physically incapable of sustaining passion and commitment to one woman.
You almost couldn’t blame them. That’s the way they were made.
You almost couldn’t blame them except, that is, when they weren’t banging your bridesmaid on your wedding day. I totally blamed that one!
But Leo?
In a crazy way, he probably really believed it could work. That it would be awesome for us.
But he didn’t know. He had no idea. Parenting wasn’t a day at the spa. You didn’t make an appointment and then choose the best treatments and later go home to bask in relaxation.
It was 24/7, 365 days a year. I was ready. I was a year past schedule even.
But would he ever be ready?
* * *
I didn’t get more than two minutes of sleep the last two nights. And that two minutes was a brief stretch of time when my mind numbly searched for answers that weren’t forthcoming. It didn’t help that my mobile went off every few hours with a text from Leo.
I stared at the ceiling and couldn’t find the answer there. Sleep was coming so I got out of bed before the alarm went off.
This was crazy.
I was crazy.
A baby together?
I’d never be sane again if I didn’t talk to Leo. After the longest shower in the history of wasting water to clarify thinking, I decided to go to the stadium to find him at morning practice.
I emerged from the underground tunnel and walked over to the sideline section of seats designated for the womenfolk. The doting dames that did as they were told.
Screw that.
I wanted answers, and a good night’s sleep.
Before getting halfway there, I saw that this was no ordinary practice.
Oh yeah, the national team was do
ing an event for children from low-income families. A chance for the kids to meet their favorite players.
I whipped out my phone and texted Ed.
Alex> Ed. Alex. Where are you?
Ed> Coffee shop. Why?
Alex> Grab your gear and get to the Nou, now!
Ed> Why?
Alex> Because this is the perfect opportunity to scrub some of the rust off Leo’s tarnished image.
Ed> Be there in less than five.
Alex> Start rolling as soon as you arrive. We’ll sort out the edit later.
Ed> Will do.
All the players were on the field, a few interacting with a child or two. But it couldn’t have been clearer who the overwhelming favorite was.
Leonardo Cruz.
I watched for several minutes while he dribbled a ball around the field with a gaggle of tottering children racing behind. Their cackling glee echoed through the stadium.
The interaction was so natural. It got me thinking.
We were missing some great footage. And also, Leo was such a surprise.
“Hey, Alex,” Ed jogged up behind me, his camera already slung over his shoulder. The red flashing light blinked on and he started capturing the event.
“Morning, Ed. You getting this?”
“Yep.”
Leo sprinted and broke away from the pack of pursuers.
“You’ll never catch me,” Leo yelled. “I’m the gingerbread man!”
The kids roared with laughter and kept after him.
Ed rolled footage while the endless game of chase zig-zagged around the field. It was seriously too cute for words.
Leo pretended to trip in an exaggerated, silly way and tumbled to the ground. The kids swarmed him and jumped on forming a large, wiggling pile.
Leo picked up an attacker in each hand and rolled them out onto the grass with a gentle touch. He struggled to his knees and crawled around.
One of the more adventurous boys climbed up on his back and rode him like a horse. The courageous cowboy waved his hand wildly, laughing as much as shrieking.
“I am the champion! I’ve beaten The Lion of Spain!”
All the other kids wailed their approval.
Leo lumbered off, carrying the little boy on his back. Stragglers from the pile clung to his legs as they slid forward. He headed to a soccer ball and grabbed it.
Balls: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (A Cruz Boys Novel Book 1) Page 10