Tackled: A Sports Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  She moans, her hand stroking my balls, and I'm pushed to the limit. I warn her before I come, asking her if she's sure, and she groans her approval. When I come, it's torrential. I let go, groaning loudly as I fill her mouth.

  I stoke myself more quickly, picturing Cassie between my legs as she swallows every drop. The image pushes me over the edge, and I come so hard that I cry out, one hand on the shower wall as I come onto the tile.

  Fuck. That's been building up. Two weeks of not getting laid and I'm going out of my mind. That has to be what it is. It's not Cassie in particular — it's that I'm fucking horny as hell.

  And jerking off just now did absolutely nothing to relieve that. The second my mind goes back to the image of Cassie between my legs, of the way she looked with her mouth full of my cock, I feel my dick stir again.

  Hell, this is going to be the longest summer ever.

  11

  Cassie

  "What is that?"

  Sable's voice comes out of nowhere from behind me and I jump, shutting the laptop closed so quickly that I wonder if I broke it.

  "What is what?" I ask, my voice innocent. My heart is racing and I feel guiltier than sin, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong. It's like having your parent walk in on you and catch you watching porn or something. "God you're stealthy."

  Sable laughs and flops down on the loveseat across from me, lying on her back with her legs dangling over the end of the piece of furniture. "I'm not exactly sneaking around here like a ninja. You were really engrossed in what you were doing."

  "I was doing work," I say.

  Sable laughs. "I saw." Then, she adds, "Since when did your work involve looking at a website with an article called 'Football for Total Morons'?"

  I groan. So she did see the website I was totally trying to hide. "It's for work."

  Sable raises an eyebrow. "So they make the tutors learn about the sports the guys they're tutoring play?"

  I shrug. "Maybe."

  "Maybe? You're such a liar. You're learning about football because of Colton King."

  "I am most certainly not," I protest, but my words are flimsy. "I’m doing thesis research.”

  "Sure you are. You’re suddenly super into masculine identity in sports.”

  “Shut up. I was studying masculine identity already. The football part just…fell into my lap.”

  “Bullshit. You're learning about football because you have the hots for Colton King and you want to impress him."

  I pick up a throw pillow and toss it across the room at her. It bounces off her head, and she laughs as she throws it onto the floor.

  "You totally want Colton King," she teases relentlessly. "You want his peeeee-nis."

  "I do not want Colton King's penis," I say loudly, my voice bouncing off the walls in the apartment. "I was looking at the football stuff out of curiosity."

  The doorbell rings, and I jump up, glad to get out of the hot seat. Sable is easily distracted and she'll forget about football and Colton King's penis. I hope.

  "Is that pizza?" she asks.

  "Did you order online?"

  "Yeah, I already added the tip," she says. "Bring me my food, servant."

  I pretend to squint at her face as I head for the door. "Is that a wrinkle in your forehead?" I ask.

  Her hand goes to her head. "You play dirty. Is there really a wrinkle there?"

  I shrug. "Better go check in the mirror."

  "You're a bitch," she says, standing up. "And I know that this is just a ploy to distract me. You think you're that subtle? Well, you're not. Bring me my pizza, and you're not off the hook. You're going to tell me what you're learning about football, and we're going to discuss how much you want Colton’s penis."

  I exhale loudly, my hand on the doorknob, calling out to Sable's retreating figure. "How many times do I have to tell you that I do not want Colton King's penis?"

  I pull the door open.

  Only to find Colton King standing in the doorway holding a bouquet and looking bemused.

  You have got to be kidding me.

  I stand there silently, torn between being utterly embarrassed and humiliated and being totally pissed off. This is the second time that Colton has walked in on me confessing something sexual to Sable.

  What are the damn odds of that happening twice?

  Colton clears his throat, breaking the silence. "You don't want my penis?" he asks.

  I narrow my eyes. "Oh, shut up." I huff as I turn away from him. I pick up my laptop from the sofa. I'm going to just retreat into my room now and away from the humiliation of talking about Colton's penis in front of Colton. Sable can come out here and talk to him.

  "Well, this is awkward," he says.

  "This is not awkward at all," I lie, my voice tight. "In fact, it's totally fine. You overheard a conversation you shouldn't have heard, but that's right. I don't want your penis. Not a single —"

  Colton interrupts. "Inch?" he asks.

  "Exactly," I say. "Not a single inch."

  "I hope you don't want just a single inch of it," he says. "I'd much rather give you all nine."

  "All nine penises?" I blurt out.

  "All nine inches," he says. He looks so fucking ... cocky standing there holding a bouquet and smiling at me crookedly, all smug and satisfied with himself.

  I arch my eyebrow as if I'm unimpressed, when really I'm warm between the legs at the thought of Colton and his nine-inch cock. "All guys brag about how big they are," I say. "They're never as big as they think they are."

  I act like I'm some kind of expert in penises, except I'm not. I'm really not. I've seen a grand total of one penis in my entire life, and that was freshman year as an undergrad.

  The one and only penis I've seen was my freshman year college boyfriend.

  That is super depressing when I think about it, actually.

  "You've seen it, Cassie. I'd love to remind you that I'm definitely as big as I say I am," Colton says, one hand moving to the button on his jeans. "In fact, I can drop these right here and let you conduct a thorough inspection ... until you're satisfied."

  When he speaks the words, my mind goes straight to what he said before: I'll give you the best orgasm of your life. And arousal courses through me, settling between my legs. He's giving me more than just a green light. He's practically begging me to touch it.

  He could be a one-night stand, the perfect way to finally lose my virginity. I could have sex with no messy emotions involved, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am sex, with a guy who's gorgeous and obviously has plenty of experience.

  He clearly knows his way around women. I bet he could give me the best orgasm of my life.

  I mentally chastise myself for the series of thoughts that blow through my head, one right after the other, my libido's attempts at rationalizing something that would surely be a complete disaster. I would be throwing away my stipend and risking censure from my department for an inappropriate student-teacher relationship.

  That is a no-win.

  Get your libido under control, Cassie.

  "I can see that you're considering my offer," Colton says.

  His voice jerks me out of my thoughts. "I'm not considering it in any way, shape, or form," I lie. "In fact, it's the last thing in the world I ever want to think about again."

  Colton steps close to me, and I jump back instinctively until my lower back presses against the sofa and there's nowhere left to move. "So you admit you've thought about it?"

  "You're so full of yourself to think I've been sitting around fantasizing about your dick, Colton King," I say, remembering how I was bent over my bed, my vibrator lodged deeply in my pussy, imagining that it was Colton fucking me from behind. I hope he can't tell that I'm lying through my fucking teeth.

  Apparently he can.

  "I think you're lying, Cassie Rae," he says, his voice so low that I can barely hear him.

  "I'm not ly—" I start, then I stop.

  I stop because he tilts the bouquet and I finally see w
hat he's holding. "What. The. Fuck. Is. That?"

  I ask the question, my words punctuated with irritated breaths. I can see exactly what it is, but I ask anyway, because I want to hear the words come out of his mouth.

  "It's a bouquet," he says, pausing for a beat. "A bouquet of cocks."

  "A bouquet of cocks," I repeat flatly.

  "Yeah," he says, grinning. "You seemed to be offended by the flowers, and I figured, what else do chicks like besides flowers? Cock."

  "I think you might be the most reprehensible – " I start, but Sable opens the door and comes bounding out of the bathroom, her face covered in a mud mask.

  "Where's my pizza? You're a lying liar who lies, Cassie," she yells. "There is no wrinkle on my forehead. But just in case, I —"

  She stops short when she sees Colton and I standing there. My instinct is to move away from him, except I have nowhere to go because my back is already against the sofa. So now I'm standing there, too close to Colton for comfort, and Colton doesn't even make an attempt to put space between us and pretend to be appropriate in any way.

  "We were just talking about you," Sable tells Colton, completely nonchalant. As if it's every day she chats with football players while wearing a mud mask on her face.

  "I heard," Colton says, looking at me and winking. He fucking winks. I scoot to the side, extricating myself from close proximity to him. "Cassie doesn't want my penis."

  Sable snorts. "That's not true at all."

  "Sable!" I shriek. "Not helpful."

  "What?" she asks innocently. "How is it not helpful that I'm standing here trying to get you laid? This sexy football player wants to show you his massive penis."

  "Thanks," Colton says to Sable. "How'd you know it's massive?"

  Sable shrugs. "General knowledge," she says.

  "General knowledge?" Colton asks. "Shit. I didn't think I'd hooked up with that many girls."

  Sable laughs. "Dude, you have a reputation for being a bit of a slut."

  "I don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult," Colton says. "Is there pizza somewhere? You said there was pizza."

  "It's an insult," I interrupt. "And there's no pizza. There's nothing. Colton is just leaving."

  The doorbell rings again and Sable bounces to the doorway. "Gah, it's about time, man," she chastises the pizza guy. "I'm fucking starving. Pizza is here!"

  "Sweet, can I grab a bite?" Colton asks as soon as she sets the box on the coffee table. He walks around the end of the sofa and sits down to help himself.

  As if he's a regular friend coming over to hang out.

  "It was a compliment," Sable says. "From one slut to another."

  They're talking as if I'm not even here, and for a minute, I feel a pang of jealousy at the easy banter between the two of them.

  Colton laughs and looks over his shoulder at me. "Pizza?"

  "No, I'm not having pizza," I say. "And shouldn't you be going? Don't you have studying to do?"

  "Oh yeah, that's why I came here," Colton says, his mouth half-full of pizza.

  "You came here with a bouquet of cocks to ask me to help you study?" I ask. "Your thoughtfulness is amazing."

  "You brought a dick bouquet?" Sable asks, laughing with her mouth full. She leans over from the loveseat, craning her neck to see the bouquet now lying on the table.

  "Yeah, I did," Colton says, grinning like he's fucking proud of himself. "They're lollipops."

  I roll my eyes as Sable orders me to hold up the bouquet. "Let me see," she demands.

  "They're lollipop penises," I snap. "It's pretty self-explanatory."

  Sable laughs and holds up her hand. "Awesome."

  Colton high-fives her. "I know. It's like a bag of dicks, except it's… you know..."

  "More romantic?" Sable snorts.

  "Exactly," Colton says, tearing off another huge bite of pizza. How is he not choking on that? It's like he's a damn animal.

  Romantic, my ass. He's the most juvenile man I've ever met.

  "You were just saying you didn't want to see Colton's penis, and he brought you a whole bunch of penises," Sable recounts as she collapses against the loveseat giggling.

  "I even told her she could see the real thing," Colton adds.

  "You should take him up on that," Sable advises. "Most of the time, slutty guys know how to work it."

  "Trust me." Colton looks directly at me. "I know exactly how to work it."

  My cheeks warm under his gaze, the look in his eyes telling me exactly how much he wants me. That is probably my imagination, I tell myself. He's obviously much more comfortable with my roommate than he is with me.

  And that's fine with me.

  "You should take Cass out," suggests Sable, oblivious to my discomfort. She smiles when I glare at her. "Like on a date. Or, you know, keep her in on a date."

  "I —" Colton starts, but I interrupt.

  "There is no 'going out on a date'," I say huffily. "There's a rule against fraternization. Not that it would matter, because I wouldn't be going out on a date with Colton anyway."

  "Be persistent," Sable coaches Colton.

  "Do not be persistent," I say.

  Sable keeps going. "Persistence is always rewarded when it comes to Cass."

  "Are you advising my student to keep stalking me?" I ask. "Persistence is not ever going to be rewarded in this case."

  "I'll wear her down," Colton promises. He grabs another slice of pizza. "This is a pretty nice place. It's a lot less messy than my house."

  "That's because your place is filled with naked girls and spilled beer," I remind him. As much as Colton seems hell-bent on getting a rise out of me with his innuendos and inappropriate behavior, I haven't forgotten that first day I met him.

  The day I saw his cock.

  He's not lying about how big it is, that's for sure.

  He might not be lying about how well he works it, either.

  I put the thought out of my head and grab a slice of pizza from the coffee table. Just because Colton and Sable seem to think that a discussion of my potential deflowering is totally appropriate casual conversation is no reason to starve.

  12

  Cassie

  I click through the millionth page of results for adult toy products online. I'm searching for inappropriate gifts. This should be a lot more fun than it is, but after ten pages of bachelorette party items, it got super boring.

  Colton sent me a bouquet of penis lollipops, so obviously I can't let that go with absolutely no response.

  "Are you searching for sex toys?" Sable asks. She walks in from the kitchen carrying a bag of chips and a bowl of homemade salsa. She peers at my laptop screen, her face over my shoulder. "Because there's this brand of vibrator that's amazing. It's kind of pricey, but –"

  "I'm not searching for sex toys for me," I interrupt.

  "Ohhh," she says. "So you're going to take my advice and get laid by the football player? I'm so proud of you. Jumping into sex toys right away, though? Maybe you want to take it a little slower. You know, because of the whole virgin thing."

  She stage-whispers virgin like it’s a secret.

  "I'm not screwing Colton," I say. "I told you that."

  "Who are you screwing, then?" Sable asks. She sets the bowl of salsa between us and throws herself back heavily on the couch, tearing into the bag of chips. This girl never stops eating, but you'd never know it. She never gains an ounce. There's just no justice in this world.

  "I'm not screwing anyone," I say. "Colton brought those stupid penis lollipops over here because he thinks I'm going to be shocked by his juvenile humor. So I'm looking for an appropriate counter-gift."

  "Ooh, I like this! A game of one-ups-manship between two people who clearly just want to bone each other but can’t say it in a mature, adult way so they say it through gag gifts."

  "It's absolutely nothing like that," I say. "It stops here. I just need to find something to get him back."

  "You should get him a blow-up doll," Sable sugg
ests.

  "I'm not bringing a blow up doll to his house."

  "Send it to him," Sable says.

  "No blow-up doll. Too pricey."

  "A pocket pussy," Sable says. She flips the channel on the TV and casually pops a tortilla chip into her mouth like she just said something about the weather and not pussy.

  "Should I even ask what that is?"

  "Search it online," Sable says. "It's perfect. He got you dicks, you get him a pussy. I mean, it's obvious both of you really want to give each other the real thing, but if you insist on this back-and-forth instead of verbalizing your wants, then by all means continue."

  "I do not want to give him the real thing," I protest. I'm not sure if I'm lying more for her benefit or for my own. I look at the search results. "Oh my God."

  "You found them," Sable notes, distracted by reality TV. "Did we miss an episode of this or something? Did this bitch get brought back on the show?"

  "I don't know," I say absently, far more fixated on the listing of rubber pussies on my laptop. They're horrifying, but cheaper than a blow-up doll, which makes them perfect. "They're… kind of gross."

  "Why?" Sable asks. "They're just a jerk-off thing. Like a vibrator. Funny and more useful than your dick bouquet. If I were Colton, I'd have gotten you a bouquet of vibrators so you could chill the fuck out. Oh my God. This girl is crying on a date. That's just embarrassing."

  I throw a decorative pillow at Sable.

  Would Colton actually use the pocket pussy? An image of him sliding it onto his hard cock flashes into my head and I have to force it away. Why the hell am I thinking about Colton jerking off?

  I shift uncomfortably on the sofa because of the tingle that shoots through me at the thought. Do not think about Colton jerking off. It's a funny gag gift. That's all it is. Getting him back for those stupid dick lollipops.

  * * *

  I'm running late, taking the steps to the academic center two at a time. The assistant coach wants a "status update" on Colton. I guess he wants to personally make sure Colton is progressing with tutoring.