by Lauren Wood
He suddenly bolted straight up, grabbed me by the back of the hair and made me release the contents from my mouth. His entire column of flesh was glistening. I was a little afraid but secretly excited by what was going to happen next.
“Take a seat on the table.” His words had conviction and I followed his direction to the letter.
“Evan, I have nothing to complain about, but I’m ready to be taken. Don’t make me wait any longer.” I was tempted to grab him by the base and drag him into a place where no man had been before.
“I want you to feel everything. Immerse yourself in the sensations. Be aware of your surroundings. I want you to know I would never purposely hurt you. There is no hurry.” His kindness was appreciated, but not necessary in my sexually charged frame of mind.
“I need you.” Three words never meant more than when they were coming out of my mouth at that moment.
He pressed the pliant knob against the slick lips of my tongue fucked hole. He gave one hard thrust making the plum-sized intrusion disappear. I looked at him with my two hands on his chest to hinder his progress. It was a jarring impact. My breath was short.
He didn’t try to force the issue. In fact, he waited with a smile on his face for me to determine when it was the right time to forge ahead.
“I’m not sure how I want this. Slow and steady wins the race, but maybe it would be better by taking off the band-aid quickly. I’m conflicted and I’m not sure what to… DOOOO.” He took the decision out of my hands by taking away my innocence in one long and continuous thrust.
I had my hands around his neck and my teeth were buried in his shoulder. My eyes watered, but the pain subsided quickly to be replaced by pleasure. There was no resistance and he had made short work of my virginity. I was shaking. He started the telltale movements back and forth along my shuddering walls.
“Oh my god… this is amazing.” My juicy center surrounded him with warmth and comfort. The image burning in my mind of his naked body bulging with muscles was fuelling my libido into a different gear.
“There’s something I want you to know. I have been hiding from my feelings for too long. I let my crippling loss of losing my wife keep me from finding love again.” I had no interest in getting away and the fiction of his slow strokes was like he was rubbing two sticks together between my legs.
He came all the way out and slapped my clit with the head of his cock. It was a jolt to my system and he made me gasp out loud by slipping back into the saddle. He shoved the entire thing all the way back in. This time the gasp coming from my lips was pleasure instead of discomfort. I understood what I was missing and I couldn’t imagine denying myself this kind of pleasure.
“Evan… you are so deep inside of me. I love what you do to me. I hope you know this craving you have created is never going to go away.” I locked my ankles around his waist and fell back onto the table. I stretched my arms out and knocked the salt and pepper shakers onto the floor.
His momentum picked up in speed and the velocity in which he was fucking me was an enlightening moment. His thumb made contact with my clit and my entire body responded by grabbing onto the invasion between my legs. I screamed with no remorse and no regrets.
The sound of our bodies smacking together was like the universe was applauding our union. I could almost envision a crowd of people rooting for us all the way to the finish line. The direction was clear. I was a hair trigger from going off again and he suddenly vacated his spot.
He lifted me abruptly to my feet and spun me around with my hands firmly planted on the table. He bent his knees and proceeded to impale me on his masculinity. I had my hand back around his neck and he was pulling on my earlobe with his teeth. I could feel the wetness of my excitement trailing in a line down my left leg.
“Damn, I have no idea what compelled you to give me your virginity. I hope I can do justice to the experience. Wisdom and age help to make it less like fumbling in the dark.” I could feel it rumbling to life and I squeezed to tighten the screws on his impending orgasm.
His one hand was around my chest holding me close to him and he was grunting an affirmative answer to what I was doing to drain his balls dry. We both came on the heels of each other. We moaned simultaneously and echoed the release of those sexual endorphins into the air.
He fell onto a chair out of breath with me on top of him placing my head back against his chest. No words were necessary and our bodies did most of the talking for us. It wasn’t long before we found our second wind and went upstairs to continue the marathon of sex.
He finally told me the reason why he looked upset. His wife’s family was threatening legal action against him for custody of Daniel. The man in the car outside the gates of his home was a private investigation team. I took it upon myself to visit the family and was able to use my psychological training to find a compromise.
We celebrated Christmas with Daniel and he was understandably confused when we shared the news. I told him I wasn’t going to take the place of his mother. There was no reason why we couldn’t have a relationship. It was going to be a hard road, but I was equipped with the tools to break down his walls.
It was agreed the grandparents would have him for Christmas dinner. Evan wasn’t very happy, but he understood how his reservations were counterproductive.
They were barely down the driveway when I turned and found him naked with a bow around his cock. I chased him up the stairs to a future of fulfillment and undying love in each other’s eyes
THE END
HAVING THE QUARTERBACK’S BABY
Prologue
Chase Richards had it all: money, fame, a big house, fast cars, and women standing in line to have sex with him. But most of all, he had a promising career as an NFL quarterback, that is until his world comes crashing down the night he gets drunk and slams his Porsche into a tree.
Chase was lucky to be alive. He escaped death, but his right arm – the arm he threw all those touchdowns with – was broken is six places.
Like Humpty Dumpty, the doctors could put Chase back together again, but his arm – and his life -- would never be the same.
Mollie Carter had loved Chase Richards from the moment they high school. He was the budding football star and she was the head of the yearbook committee. They couldn’t have been more different. Maybe that’s what made their attraction so strong. No one would have imagined they would ever part; least of all Mollie.
Then, Chase is drafted into the NFL and everything changed. Mollie never saw Chase again after he went off to training camp. He broke up with her over the phone a few months later.
Now, two years later, Mollie learns that Chase has been in a horrible wreck and is barely clinging to life. As she looks down at the beautiful little boy sleeping in her arms, she wonders if she will ever see Chase again.
Then Mollie hears that Chase is coming home, a broken man with no money or prospects.
What will Chase do when he learns that he has a son by the only girl he’s ever loved?
And will Mollie be willing to help Chase put the pieces of his broken life back together again after he broke her heart all those months ago?
Chapter 1
Chase Richards
I sat in the chair next to the window in my tiny private room at the Atlanta Memorial Rehabilitation Center watching ESPN on the TV that hung high on the wall facing the bed.
I had the volume down because loud noises still give me headaches. I wasn’t paying attention anyway. I was just wondering if they’d say anything about me getting released from rehab today.
Even after all these months of being out of the public eye, the narcissist in me still longs to hear my name and see my picture on TV or in the tabloids or on the web.
Sadly, the most-view photo of my entire life in the spotlight is the one of the paramedics pulling me from the wreckage of my car. It’s hard for me to look at without crying. The sights and smells and sounds of that night crash into my brain like angry waves against the shore. My
eyes fill with tears as phantom pains rip through my body. No, I won’t look at the picture. Not eve again.
I just had to face the truth: I’m not newsworthy anymore, not since the accident. Actually, it wasn’t an accident. It was me having too much to drink and getting behind the wheel of my Porsche and ramming it into a tree. That was no accident. That was just me fucking up. Again.
Or course, I didn’t do it on purpose, but to call it an accident would be a gross representation of the facts. It wasn’t an accident. It was just me being me, period.
I’m just grateful that nobody got in my way and that nobody else got hurt. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’d caused harm to someone else because I got drunk and drove ninety miles an hour down a neighborhood street.
When ESPN went to coverage of a soccer match in Brazil, I clicked the TV off and tossed the remote on the rumpled bed a few feet away.
I leaned my head back against the chair and rubbed the tears my eyes as I finally reconciled myself with the fact that my old life was over. I’d never play football again. I’d never suit up and run onto the field as the adoring fans yelled my name and screamed for me to lead the team to victory once again. I’d pissed it all away; and now I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself as I waited on the doctor to release me.
A year I couldn’t take a step outside without reporters and cameras waiting for me. Everybody wanted to take my photograph and hear what I had to say about the Falcons’ upcoming season.
Now, nobody gives a crap what I have to say. I mean, why should they? I’m yesterday’s news. I’m a has-been who never was. I’m out of the game for life. I’m a nobody now; and nobody gives a shit about me or my life. My career is over before it barely got started. And I have no one to blame but myself. I’m a fucking egotistical idiot, plain and simple. Too bad it took nearly losing my life to make me understand that.
This was going to be my year, dammit. When the Falcons drafted me nearly two years ago, I knew I’d have to second string it for a while because their current quarterback was still performing well. But he tore and ACL in the off-season, so this was to be my year! MY YEAR!!
I was less than a month away from quarterbacking my first NFL game against the Raiders when I drove my Porsche into that tree.
I was Chase Richards, goddammit.
I had it all: money, fame, a fat NFL contract, and women coming at me left and right. I could have my pick of them: cheerleaders, groupies, models, actresses, and little hometown girls looking to fuck an NFL quarterback so they could brag to their friends.
All I had to do was snap my fingers and the girls would jump into my bed and give it up. But every time I’d wake up from an all-nighter with some girl that I hardly knew lying next to me, I would think about Mollie, the only girl I’ve ever really loved.
And the only girl who ever truly loved me.
Chapter 2
Mollie Carter
I will never forget the first time Chase Richards actually spoke to me.
We were in the tenth grade at Centerville High. I was the brainy girl who headed up the yearbook committee and Chase was the star quarterback that every boy wanted to be like and every girl wanted to be with. You could say we were a mismatched pair from the start.
The boy who normally took the pictures of the sports teams for the yearbook was out with mono that week, so it fell on me to take the camera and go out on the football field to snap individual and group pictures of the football team and coaches.
I guess I was a pretty girl out on the outside, but a total nerd on the inside (I haven’t changed much). I wouldn’t settle for anything less than straight A’s and perfect test scores.
I was also a skinny redhead with more boobs than I needed and freckled skin that wouldn’t tan no matter what. I was Irish on my mom’s side and she always said the pasty Irish DNA runs deep.
I remember setting the camera up on the tripod and waiting impatiently as the coaches wrangled the players into two lines, with the tallest and broadest players in the back, the smaller ones in the front.
And there was Chase Richards, front row center, even though he was tall enough to be in the back row. I understood the logic: Chase was the star quarterback of the Centerville Trojans. He belonged front row center and that’s where he stood, grinning at the camera like the Cheshire Cat.
Chase’s star was on the rise. College recruiters from Alabama, Auburn, and Tennessee were already sniffing around, trying to lure him to their top 10 universities with winning football teams and fat alumni wallets.
Chase could stand anywhere he wanted and go to school anywhere he wanted. Even though he was barely sixteen, Chase had the world by the tail and everybody, including Chase, knew it.
Which made it really shocking when he came over to me after the photo shoot with his helmet in his hand and a big smile on his face.
Of course, I had been aware of Chase Richards for years, but had never even spoken to him. You couldn’t miss him because he stood out from the crowd because he didn’t look like a tenth grader. He looked older, more mature.
Chase was six feet tall and had broad shoulders, even without the football pads. I’d seen him at the pool once without his shirt. Talk about muscles. And unlike me, he seemed to always have a tan, even in the winter time. Oh, be still my heart!
His hair was long and dirty blonde. He had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen and a smile that made me weak in the knees. He kind of reminded me of Brad Pitt, only better, if you can imagine that. Or maybe I was just partial.
Chase was always surrounded by cheerleaders, all of which would give him what every horny boy wanted any time he wanted it.
I was not like them. I wasn’t a prude, but I was no slut, either. Yes, I was a virgin and I totally intended to save myself for marriage.
I stuck to my intentions… right up to the point that Chase took my virginity in a sleeping bag in the back of his daddy’s old pickup truck just a few months later.
Oh well, I tried…
“Hey, nice job,” he said, coming to stand next to me with his helmet cupped under his right arm. I was packing the camera gear into a bag that was sitting on the sideline bleachers and not really paying attention. When I turned at the sound of his voice I saw the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen smiling back at me.
“Uh, thanks,” I managed to say. I tried to return the smile, but honestly, I was so shocked that he was talking to me that I could barely remember my name. I just swallowed hard and went back to packing up the gear.
“Hey, so, are you coming to the game tonight?” he asked. There was an air of hope in his voice. He clutched the helmet to his chest and drummed his fingers against it. He kicked at the grass with the toe of his muddy cleat. “I mean, of course you are, you’re always there, taking pictures.”
I frowned at him for a second, then the smile I’d been too nervous to offer came to my lips. I was the one who took pictures during the home games because the aforementioned staff photographer with mono, a chubby boy named Arnold, was too out of shape to run up and down the sidelines.
I gave him a look of disbelief and said, “You’ve seen me taking pictures from the sidelines?”
He held up a dirty finger, then set the helmet on the ground. With his hands at his face, he mocked taking pictures and stumbling around, doing a pretty accurate impression of me running along the sidelines trying to get good action shots for the yearbook.
He stopped after a minute and bent over with his hands on his knees, pretending to be out of breath. We smiled at each other and I could almost feel the electricity dancing on my skin, like being outside before a thunderstorm.
He poked my arm with a stiff finger and said, “Of course I’ve seen you. You run almost as fast as some of our running backs. I keep telling the coach he should put you on the team.”
I heard myself laugh. God, I sounded like a little kid. I put my hands behind me and bounced on the balls of my feet. I tried to think of something clever to say. I tr
ied to remember how to flirt. Heck, who was I kidding. I’d never flirted a day in my life. I was doing good not to wet myself!
Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, I said, “Well, I need to get this camera gear back to the yearbook office. Mrs. Wiggins will kill me if it gets broken.”
“So you’ll be at the game tonight?” he asked again.
“I will be there,” I said, hefting the heavy camera bag over my shoulder. I found myself grinning at him now. “I assume you’ll be at the game, too?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. When he smiled his entire face lit up. I suddenly felt dizzy, like his eyes had shot their arrows into my heart. He stuck out a hand and wiggled his fingers at me. “By the way, I’m Chase.”
I put my hand in his and felt his fingers close around it. A tingle went up my arm and spread throughout my body. It was the first time the word “horny” had ever entered my mind.
“I’m Mollie,” I said after clearing my throat.
“I know.” He gave my hand a squeeze and leaned in toward me until the scent of him filled my nostrils. He smelled of grass and sweat and dirt. It was a wonderful scent.
He said, “Hey, maybe we can hook up after the game. A bunch of us are going to a party at Mandy Smith’s house to celebrate our win.”
I looked at him sideways. “How do you know you’re going to win?”
He leaned in closer until our noses were an inch apart. His breath was hot on my cheek. His breath smelled of Gatorade and wintergreen.
With a wry smile he said, “Because I want us to win. And I always get what I want.” He gave me a wink. “So, see you tonight?”
I don’t remember answering, but I surely must have said yes or nodded my head because he said “Cool!” and gave me the smile again.
He scooped up his helmet and waved back at me as he jogged away.