Ballbuster (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 1)

by Lane Hart

  “Wait, the first to get in your panties? Are you planning on letting any other teammates in your panties?” I ask her with a frown, hating that thought right away. I’m not finished trying to get in her panties, so I sure as fuck don’t want anyone else finding their way inside there either. Although, in a few hours, the contract addendum has to be signed and turned in, and all bets are off. There’s no way I can get my fill of her over the next few hours, even if she agreed and we wouldn’t be driving down the road for the majority of it.

  “No one, especially you, is getting in my panties,” she declares, pointing her index finger at me again like she wants to poke me with it, causing a smug smile to stretch across my face.

  “You sure seemed to like how I poked your panties,” I tell her. “In fact, if Jon hadn’t interrupted, I think you would’ve gotten off with all your clothes still on.”

  “You are so full of yourself, aren’t you?” she scoffs, looking away, but not before I see the blazing red color spreading across her cheeks.

  “I don’t think you would mind being full of me,” I reply. “And I mean, you did run me over, so easing the ache in my cock is really the least you could do.”

  As soon as the stupid words leave my mouth, I know I’ve gone too far. Roxanne squares her shoulders before she turns back to me again, her face a calm, cool mask as she saunters over. I know I’m in trouble before she touches me but I can’t seem to make myself move.

  Roxanne goes up on her toes to brush her lips over my ear while her palms sneak their way up underneath my shirt. A shameless shudder runs through me when she strokes her fingernails over the contours of my abdomen, outlining each and every muscle.

  “How would you want me to ease the ache?” she asks, letting the tip of her tongue swipe over my earlobe. I barely refrain from trembling with need as my cock re-inflates to capacity in my nylon shorts. If I was ready to explode before, I’m nearly bursting now. Roxanne’s so close to me that she’s bound to have noticed the pressure against her stomach before she continues teasing me with her sultry voice.

  “What if I wanted to get on my knees and use my mouth? Would you let me swirl my wet tongue up and down your dick to ease the ache?”

  Goddamn her words are hot. Several drops of pre-cum coat the head of my shaft as soon as she said the word dick with a heavy emphasis on the k. Even when she’s not speaking to me, her warm, watermelon breath is ghosting over my ear, sexy as fuck. I want to touch her again; but if I let go of the crutches, I’ll topple over, so I resist and let her keep teasing me.

  “I could suck you really good too, Kohen,” she says, demonstrating on my earlobe and causing me to groan a curse. The weight of my body sags even harder on the crutches. Her fingernails drag down my abs and then tease just inside the elastic waistband of my shorts. “I wouldn’t stop until I took every long, thick inch of your cock.”

  Roxanne slowly rakes her fingernails up and down the length of my shaft through the thin nylon, causing all of my stomach muscles to tense violently. My cock jerks in warning right before I embarrass the fuck out of myself, coming with the force of a rocket blasting off in my shorts. The intensity of the orgasm nearly sends me and the crutches crashing to the floor before the waves of pleasure eventually ebb.

  Fuck.

  I haven’t been laid in weeks since my brother’s been staying with me during his summer break. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

  “Now if you tell anyone what we did, I’ll tell them that you came quicker than a virgin without a single stroke of my fist,” Roxanne whispers into my ear before she steps away, smiling at me in triumph.

  “You play dirty,” I tell her while trying to gather what’s left of my composure. “But don’t think you’ve won. In fact, this game is just getting started.”

  Chapter Six

  Roxy

  Did I bust my head on the windshield earlier today when I hit Kohen?

  While I wait in the hallway of the training center for the infuriating man to clean himself up, I run my fingers over my forehead and scalp, checking for knots before tying my long hair back in a ponytail. Clearly, I must have a concussion or some type of brain damage. That’s the only explanation for why in the world I let him kiss me. Although kiss seems too innocent of a word to describe what just went down between us. Kohen thoroughly tongue fucked me, and I not only let him, but I encouraged it! Then the jerk had to go and, well, act like a big jerk by saying I owed him sex for injuring him. Fuck that. I got my revenge and have now vowed to never again even think of straying from Roxy Rule Number One again – Thou shall not screw around with teammates. Even if a teammate happens to be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Or kissed. Or touched. Wow, was his stomach ripped and his cock massive…

  Enough, Roxy! Get your shit together before you end up being named the floozy of football.

  When Kohen finally hobbles out of the training room and starts down the hall, he’s sporting a goofy ass grin that would be ridiculous on anyone else, but he’s so damn pretty that it only makes him more endearing. It’s also unnerving, like he’s plotting on how to get me back for causing a mess in his shorts. I have a feeling Kohen is just as competitive as I am, and that’s bad news for me.

  “Ready?” he asks when he’s a foot away.

  “Did I mention I’m driving your car?” I ask.

  He shrugs with indifference. “I’m so relaxed after that wordjob that I’m not even freaking out about you wrecking my ride.”

  “Wordjob?” I repeat.

  “Even if I’m the first grown man in history to get off on words, I’m owning that shit.”

  Here I was thinking I had shamed him into backing off; and instead he’s able to laugh at himself, making me want him even more. There’s nothing sexier than a man with a sense of humor. Except for a hot as fuck man with a sense of humor.

  “Keys?” I ask to change the subject, holding out my palm. “What will I be driving, by the way?” I’m not sure what the higher-ups will do with my old Jeep; but until the kaleidoscope windshield is fixed, there’s no way to drive it.

  Kohen’s grin broadens before we start toward the exit. “You’ll see.”

  “It’s expensive, isn’t it? And you’re gonna kill me if I put a ding in it, right?”

  He chuckles, proving he’s in a much better mood now that he came in his shorts. “You think I would be more upset about you wrecking my car than dislocating my knee that’s my moneymaker?” he asks.

  “Well, um, I guess not if you put it that way,” I answer as the guilt creeps back up on me with every clomp of the bottom of his crutches hitting the linoleum floor.

  It’s not just the team who suffers from Kohen being injured. This is his career, how he pays his bills. And while I may have only been partially responsible for hitting him, it sucks to know what’s at stake.

  The stadium is empty except for a few guards in black outfits, and the sun is still up when we walk out into the nearly empty parking lot. Someone has already moved my Jeep from the curb. Out of the few remaining choices, there’s only one possible car that could fit this gorgeous man – the sleek and sexy blue sports car.

  “The Audi R8?” I ask him, already smiling at the thought of driving such a beauty, even knowing it probably cost more than my father’s house.

  “That’s my girl,” he says proudly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys. He clicks the button to unlock the doors before offering the keyring to me. “Go easy on her and try not to run over anyone…again.”

  “It was an accident!” I tell him as I take the keys from his hand.

  “Yeah, a bizarre accident that just so happened to benefit you,” he replies while trying to get the passenger door open. I reach and lift the handle for him, and then he hops backward to try and maneuver the crutches inside.

  Pulling the door all the way open, I tell him, “Here, hold on to the door, and I’ll slide the crutches between the seats.”

  Kohen does as asked, his fore
head creased with displeasure, likely because he doesn’t seem like the type of man who’s ever needed help before and clearly doesn’t like being in this position.

  Once I wedge the crutches between the leather seats, Kohen holds up his injured left leg while bending over to slide the seat back as far as it will go, until he can sit down, gently placing his leg wrapped up in the big brace in first.

  “You good?” I ask him.

  “Yeah,” he mumbles, his handsome face pinched with pain before I shut the door to walk around and climb in behind the wheel. I heft my purse up and over behind my seat so that it’s out of the way. And, great, now I realize that I don’t have any of my clothes or toiletries. They were all in my Jeep, and I have no idea where it is. Nothing I can do about it now. Maybe there will be a few stores near the training camp campus.

  Taking a deep breath of brand new leather, I try not to worry about where my things are. And, damn, if I’m not nervous because this car is so nice and so much newer than my old ride. With all the buttons and gadgets in random places, I swear it feels like I’m trying to launch a space shuttle. I can’t even figure out where to put the damn key!

  “Put your foot on the brake,” Kohen says after fastening his seatbelt. I’m already buckled in; safety first and all that. After I do as he ordered, he reaches over and pushes the circular red “Start” button in front of me. The car purrs to life.

  “Nice,” I tell him. “What do I do with this?” I ask, holding up the keyring. He takes it and tosses it in the console between us.

  “Does this fancy thing drive itself too?”

  “No,” he chuckles. “Put it in drive, foot on the gas, and we’re good to go.”

  Oh, Lord. Please don’t let me wreck this beautiful car.

  I pull the gear stick between us back into “D” and then ease my foot down on the gas since there are no cars parked in front of us. And, damn, this is a really smooth ride.

  “I think I’m in love,” I tell Kohen as I guide us toward the stadium exit. Immediately I want to press rewind on a remote again and take the words back. For whatever reason, my cheeks warm.

  “Turn right when we get to the street,” Kohen says, thankfully ignoring my comment. “I need to grab my bag from my house, so we’ll stop there on the way.”

  “Okay,” I agree. “Just give me directions.”

  For a moment, I almost consider asking him to borrow some tees and shorts, maybe even some body wash and a toothbrush, but I think I’ve imposed on him enough as it is.

  I realize as soon as we hit the highway that we’re, unfortunately, running right into rush-hour traffic. This trip is gonna take a while. The thought of being trapped in a small space with Kohen for a long period of time makes me nervous. He obviously hates me and still thinks I hit him on purpose; but for some reason, neither of us were able to fight the weird, lustful pull between us earlier. That can’t happen again, no matter how much I may want him. We’re teammates, and I refuse to be nothing more than a conquest again.

  “Is it always like this?” I ask him when we come to a standstill on the highway.

  “Pretty much. Welcome to Wilmington during tourist season,” Kohen says, his head bowed over the cell phone in his hands.

  Sighing since there’s nothing to do but wait, I relax a little in the driver’s seat, figuring it’s gonna be awhile before we move again so I might as well get comfortable.

  Kohen chuckles to himself, and when I look over, he explains. “Apparently Lathan and Quinton made a bet with some wide receivers to see who could get to the campus first. They’ve already lost.”

  “What were the stakes?” I ask.

  “New hairdos.”

  “Wow. Big stakes,” I tease, but I know money, of course, can’t ever be exchanged.

  “Actually, it is pretty big,” Kohen says. “Tomorrow everyone in the media will come out to see how the Wildcats are looking on the first day of camp. There will be press conferences like crazy, and those two unfortunate bastards will have to do all that with fucked up heads. The photos will probably be shared a million times on social media.”

  “Okay, so that’s sort of evil,” I admit.

  “How about we place our own bet?” Kohen asks.

  “Sure,” I say without hesitation. Competitiveness runs in my blood, inherited from my stubborn father, so I’m always up for a chance to prove I can win at something.

  “All right, since you’ve got the whole ten and two grip going on with my steering wheel, I bet you can’t keep both of your hands on the wheel from now until we get to my house.”

  “Is this a trick?” I ask skeptically. “I mean, what if I need to shift into reverse?”

  “No shifting required since we’re only going forward, an inch at a time. You won’t need reverse; and if for some reason you do, I’ll do it for you.”

  I glance over at his face that’s too pretty to be real, trying to judge whether or not he’s up to something. His neutral expression shows nothing.

  “What are the stakes?” I ask.

  “The winner picks the loser’s outfit for the first pre-season away game. Loser has to wear the designated outfit to the airport, on the plane and until we get to the hotel.”

  That doesn’t sound so bad. I can already picture putting Kohen in a few ridiculous costumes.

  “Okay, fine. I accept,” I tell him with a shrug.

  “You can remove a hand to shake on it,” he says, sticking his palm out toward me; and I accept it, knowing my dad always said no bet is final unless you shake hands.

  Returning my hand to the wheel, Kohen smirks while reaching over to turn up the radio, filling the car with the loud feminine moans at the beginning of White Zombie’s “More Human Than Human” as we crawl forward through traffic.

  “Kind of loud,” I shout to tell him over the electric guitar and angry words. “I didn’t take you as a fan of heavy metal.”

  “Growing up it annoyed my parents the most, and then it sort of grew on me,” he answers, still grinning. I’m trying to figure out what Kohen looks so smug about when he finally speaks loud enough for me to hear over the radio. “You know, it’s not really fair that I got off earlier, but you didn’t.”

  What the fuck?

  “Huh?” I ask, forcing my eyes to stay on the “Save the sea turtles” license plate of the red Beemer in front of me.

  “I mean, you look really tense. You could probably use a release too, right?”

  “What?” I ask, wondering if he’s actually referring to an orgasm. “If you think you’re gonna lay a finger on me again, you’re out of your mind,” I warn him.

  “Nope, not a finger. But if I did, you can’t do much about it right now unless you want to lose our bet.”

  “You asshole,” I tell him when I finally understand where this is going. “Don’t you dare –”

  “I think I deserve a little payback, don’t you?” he asks.

  “No!”

  “When was the last time someone made your toes curl and your legs shake?”

  “That-that is none of your business,” I tell him, the warmth in my cheeks rising. Since my hair is now pulled back, I know he can see me blushing, which makes me hate him even more. The truth is, the orgasms I’ve had for the past few months have been self-induced. Sure, I dated a few non-teammates in college, but nothing serious; and I only went out with a certain type of guy. You know, the quiet but cute bookworm types who aren’t popular. Those guys never ran their mouth about sleeping with me because they were smart enough to know it wouldn’t happen again if they did.

  Taking advantage of my moment of distraction, Kohen leans over the console and sticks his phone in between the gap of my thighs.

  “What the –” My words die out when I realize the device is vibrating. Constantly. Right up against the center seam of my jeans. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as I debate using my hands to shove the phone down Kohen’s throat, which would mean losing the bet or letting it stay where it is.

&
nbsp; Losing is not an option.

  There has to be some way to get rid of the phone without my hands. Lifting my hips with my foot steadily on the brake, I try to wiggle away from the vibrating device, but that only ends up with the edge of the phone tilting, increasing the pressure on my most sensitive flesh. And I hate to admit that it feels good.

  “Move your fucking phone, or I’m gonna wreck your car,” I threaten Kohen.

  “It would probably be worth it,” he replies, followed by a chuckle when I squirm again in my seat. “I wish I had a camera to record this, but it’s…otherwise occupied at the moment.”

  “You’re a pervy bastard,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady. There’s already a noticeable tremble in my voice with those few words as my body starts to heat up despite the air conditioning blowing from the vents. My heart is not only racing around in my chest, but it obviously thinks it’s at the raceway trying to qualify for Daytona.

  “You’ll consider me a pervy bastard as a compliment in about, oh, ninety seconds or so. Besides, you seemed tense, probably wound up tight from all that maneating you do.”

  “Fuck you,” I tell him, the two words little more than breathless exhales. My vision starts blurring around the edges, the red Beemer and rest of traffic hazy as the phones vibrations causes the pulse between my legs to throb erratically against the seam of my jeans. My nipples are tingling almost painfully.

  “Deny it all you want, but you need this. You may not know me or even like me, but no one kisses the way you did with me earlier unless you’re expecting the two of us to end up naked and sweaty with a headboard banging against the wall.”

  A gasp escapes my parted lips, and my head falls back against the leather seat hearing his naughty but true words. As insane as it is, I’ve wanted Kohen since I first saw him lying on the ground. And back at the stadium, if the trainer hadn’t interrupted us, I’m not sure how things would’ve ended. I know how I wanted it to end – just as he said, with the two of us naked, sweaty and me sitting on his brick size dick. The muscles in my lower belly tense at the memory. I know I’m close to a release unless I move the stupid phone, but I refuse to give in and take my hands off the wheel. Besides, I’m too far gone.