Tackled: A Sports Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  I'm totally nervous about meeting with the assistant coach. He's slightly frightening, and if he doesn't think Colton is progressing, I'm probably fired. Which would suck big-time.

  And if he found out I sent my student a pocket pussy? I can't even begin to imagine.

  My phone vibrates in my bag. I scramble for it as I walk down the corridor toward the athletic center. This place is a freaking maze. I can't remember where Coach Walker’s office is.

  I slide my finger across the phone screen as I crane my neck to get a look around the corner.

  Hilarious gift, Teach. I used it last night.

  It's followed up with a second text:

  Ask me what I thought about

  I push the button on the side of the phone and shove it back in my bag, heat rising to my face. What Colton thought about while he jerked off into my gift is literally the last thing on earth I need to be thinking about right now when I'm supposed to meet with his coach to impress him with how well Colton is doing in his classes.

  "You." Coach Walker is rounding the corner. "Tutor. Status update. You need to walk and talk with me."

  He doesn't wait for a response, taking long strides down the hallway, forcing me to pick up my pace. He unlocks his office door and circles around his massive desk, rummaging through drawers. "Let's have it," he orders, his face buried in the bottom drawer of his desk. "Status. Colton King."

  "Right," I say, forcing an air of authority into my tone that I definitely do not feel right now. I feel more like a child in the principal's office being chastised for an infraction. "Colton King. He's attending tutoring sessions."

  And showing up at my house.

  "He's actually doing the work during sessions?" the coach asks. "He can be… difficult to handle. He's been focused, not inappropriate?"

  "What? Inappropriate?" I ask. I think my voice just jumped an octave.

  "Yes," the coach says, pulling out a folder and putting it in the middle of his desk. "Inappropriate. Getting you sidetracked during the sessions, anything like that. These players have been warned about inappropriate behavior. They're there to study."

  A mental picture flashes of Colton holding a bouquet of dick lollipops and I swallow hard.

  "Inappropriate?" I repeat, hoping I look like I'm trying to recollect inappropriate behavior and coming up short. "Nope. Nothing inappropriate. Perfect gentleman."

  The coach nods. "Glad to hear it."

  "He got a B on a history paper. It was just a one-page reaction paper, nothing major but it’s progress." I blurt out the words before he can ask, feeling slightly defensive and pretty nervous. I tell myself to stop babbling. "And he's been studying. Outside of sessions. He's working hard."

  I hope.

  The assistant coach nods. "Great. Good talk. Keep me posted."

  End of conversation.

  He opens a door on the far side of his office. When he looks back at me, it's like he expects me to be gone already. "The door's right behind you," he says.

  Of course.

  Outside in the hallway, I look around. Okay, I came down this hall and to the left… damn it, this place is a maze. I'm going to be lost in here and late for tutoring Colton.

  My phone vibrates in my bag and I grab it.

  No response? Not a good sport, Teach. I'm running late for our session, btw.

  I pause to text him back.

  Good, because I'm lost in the maze of hallways in your building.

  My phone vibrates again.

  Where are you?

  I stop and text him.

  In the athletic center. I was talking to your coach.

  The phone rings almost immediately. It’s Colton.

  "Why were you talking to Coach?" he asks.

  No hello, nothing. Straight to the point.

  "I guess it was your assistant coach or whatever," I say, distracted as I wander down the hall past a bunch of offices. "Coach Walker. I had to give him an update on your progress."

  "How am I progressing, Teach?" he asks. God, he can make the most innocent or mundane of things sound like they're just laced with innuendo.

  "I told you to stop calling me that." Right turn here, I think… or was it left? "I told him you were attending tutoring sessions and doing fine."

  "Nothing else?" he asks. I hear male voices in the background, loud and obnoxious. Obviously, his teammates.

  I look around the hallway, even though I already know it's empty. "Yeah." I drop my voice to a whisper. "I told him that you gave me a bouquet of dicks and offered me yours."

  Colton laughs, a deep warm sound that makes me unable to keep from smiling, despite the fact that he's totally annoying. "Nice," he says. "Where are you exactly?"

  "Standing in a hallway … in the middle of a bunch of offices," I describe to him. "I think I'm lost. Tell me how to get out of here."

  I hear the voices fade into the background and it's quiet. Colton's voice is low in the phone. "Ask me what I thought about when I used your gift."

  My breath catches in my throat. "I'm not asking you that," I whisper. "I'll find my own way out of here."

  "I'll tell you anyway. I thought about you, spread out on my bed –"

  "I'm hanging up." I warn him before he keeps going and I'm too turned on to make it through the tutoring session.

  Colton laughs. "You're no fun. I'll give you directions out."

  I exhale with relief – not at the offer to give me directions, but at the fact that he's no longer describing what he wants to do with me. "Good. Direct away."

  I follow his guidance, weaving through hallways and deeper into the athletic center. At least, I think. "Are you sending me in the right direction?" I ask. "You realize I need to get over to the tutoring rooms. And so do you. Where are you, anyway?"

  "I'm taking you out the opposite way because it's shorter," he tells me. "And I'll be there in a few."

  I sigh. "Fine. Where am I going now?"

  "There's a shortcut," he says. "Go through the next room – it's one of the training rooms but no one's probably in there right now."

  "I don't know how this is a shortcut," I say, entering the weight room. It is empty, though.

  "Cut through the locker room on the far end of the second room," he instructs me.

  I stop short. "No way. I'm not cutting through a locker room. Have you lost your mind?"

  "It's the girl's locker room," he assures me. "Women's softball and shit. If no one's training, no one will be in there anyway. It puts you right out into the hallway. You turn right and you're out near the tutoring rooms."

  "Fine."

  I push open the door, walking past a set of lockers and… right into a shower room filled with steam.

  And naked guys.

  I stop short, my brain too busy processing the sight of hot, muscular men with towels loosely wrapped around their waists or completely naked. Someone whoops as he walks past me.

  Fucking Colton King sent me to the male locker room. What a total and complete dick.

  Suddenly that dick materializes right in front of me. Naked.

  "What are you doing here?" he asks, smirking. I want to slap that smirk right off his face.

  I turn around and march right back out into the empty locker room area I just came through.

  "Don't be mad," he calls out, following me and opening a locker nearby. "I'll grab my clothes and walk you over to the tutoring room."

  "Don't be mad?" I ask, keeping my voice low so that what I assume is the entire football team doesn't hear me. "You bring me to a room full of naked guys and expect me not to be mad?"

  "I think you answered your own question there," he says, laughing. “I brought you to a room full of naked men. How are you going to be mad about that?”

  Eyes up, Cassie. Do not let him see you look at his dick.

  "Relax. It was totally a joke, Teach," he says, reaching into a locker and pulling out clothes. "And now I get to walk you over there."

  I should be leaving immediately.
I can't even imagine what people would think if I were in the men's locker room with Colton King standing here – naked — mere feet away from me. Or if Coach Walker walked in here.

  I'd probably get fired. I would definitely get fired.

  Except that Colton turns around to reach into his locker, giving me a perfect view of his ass. I can't get my eyes to focus anywhere else. I think that phrase about bouncing quarters off asses was definitely made for him.

  He turns around and slides a t-shirt over his head, still not bothering to put any pants on, of course, because he wants to leave his cock on display for as long as possible.

  "Yes, this was a hilarious joke," I say, rolling my eyes. "I guess that was a really cold shower you just took, huh?"

  Totally not true. Nothing down there is experiencing shrinkage.

  I turn around and march straight out of there and back through the door I came in. Colton bursts through the empty training room a few minutes later, following me, but I ignore him.

  "It's going to be hard to have a tutoring session if you're not talking to me," he says.

  "I guess you can study silently by yourself, then."

  I squeeze past a rack of weight plates and head for the exit, but Colton is quicker than I am and stands in front of it.

  "Really?" I exclaim. "You're blocking the door? What are you, twelve? You're such a child. Are you going to pull my hair next?"

  A smile spreads slowly across his face. "Pulling your hair is just what I had in mind, actually."

  For a second, the only thing I can think about is Colton gripping my hair, pulling my head back, and entering me from behind.

  My pussy throbs its approval. Great. Just great.

  "Get out of the way," I hiss, more irritated with myself for actually liking the idea of Colton pulling my hair than with the locker room prank.

  "Maybe I wanted you to see me naked," Colton says. "Remind you of what you're missing."

  "You're like a preening peacock," I say. "Is this the mating ritual of the college football player? Stand there naked and wait for some girl to jump on your cock?"

  He opens the door and follows me out. "It's worked every other time."

  "I'm sure it has."

  The problem is, all I can think about as I walk back to the tutoring session is jumping on Colton's cock.

  13

  Colton

  She ignores me the whole way to the student center. She might be mad, but the expression on her face when she saw me standing in front of her? That can't be disguised as anger.

  That was definite lust.

  The locker room thing was juvenile, for sure. But I can't help riling her up. It's so much fun to watch her squirm.

  I'd just rather she be naked when she does it.

  Inside the room, I toss my bag on the ground and flop down into the seat across from her. She pointedly ignores me for, like, ten minutes straight, and we sit in silence. It's like a game of chicken to see which of us caves first.

  I finally do, which is my version of an apology. "If you want to just sit there staring at me, I can undress again."

  Cassie rolls her eyes hard, then asks, "How did your English exam go?"

  Her voice is crisp and businesslike, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened between us.

  As if I didn't show up to her apartment with a cock bouquet.

  As if she didn't totally send me a pussy to jerk off with. Hello, obvious signal there.

  As if I didn't just watch her stare at my dick in the locker room.

  As if she's not sitting across from me in a sleeveless form-fitting button-down shirt that displays the top of her cleavage. And a skirt that makes her ass look fucking fantastic. I should know, because I watched it enough on the way over here.

  "Are we going to keep up this charade?" I ask.

  She avoids eye contact, pulling a notebook out of her bag. She already has a notebook on the table. "I thought you didn't use big words."

  "You were checking me out in the locker room."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," she spits back, opening her laptop. Her fingers are moving, clicking on something, but I don't think she's looking at anything.

  "I'm talking about the fact that your eyes were glued to me," I say. "If you want, I can take these pants off and remind you what you were looking at."

  "Thanks, but I had a late lunch. I'm hoping not to vomit it up today."

  "You should eat something to settle your stomach," I suggest. "I hear candy penises are good for that. The real thing is much better.”

  She narrows her eyes as she looks at me. "How did you do on your exam?"

  "Why are you avoiding answering my question?" I ask.

  "You're avoiding telling me how you did," she answers, her voice professional.

  "First, admit you were checking me out, and then I'll tell you how I did on my exam," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  She rolls her eyes. "You're delusional if you think I was checking you out." But her cheeks flush pink and she bites the corner of her lip, the thing she seems to do when she's uncomfortable. Or turned on, I think. It's her tell. She'd be a terrible poker player.

  God, I love watching her try to lie.

  "You're the world's worst liar," I say. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

  Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red.

  "I'm not lying," she insists.

  "Yes you are." I stand up and cross to the side of the table, closer to her.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm coming over here because I want a closer look," I say, my voice thick.

  "To see if I'm lying? That's ridiculous."

  "Sure, that too."

  The flush on her cheeks isn't going away.

  She stands up. I think she might be about to kick me out of here for being exceedingly inappropriate. Or kick me right in the balls.

  It's worth the risk.

  She smooths the part of her skirt that had bunched up when she was sitting down. But I liked it before she started pulling it down, the way it exposed her perfect thighs.

  Thighs I'd love to feel squeezing my head.

  "Don't do that," I say.

  Standing up has the effect of putting her inches away from me, but I don't step back from her. "Don't do what?" she asks.

  "Pull down the skirt. I like your legs. I like the skirt. I'd like it even better if it were up around your waist."

  "You can't say that," she says, except her gaze doesn't leave mine, and she doesn't move. She could move around me if she wanted to. There's enough space in here for her to simply walk away.

  If she wanted to.

  What she couldn't hide, even if she'd wanted to, was that sharp intake of breath she took before she spoke.

  "I can't say what?" I ask. I can smell her light perfume, something floral and sweet.

  My cock twitches at the scent. Fuck. My dick doesn't get hard at the smell of some girl's perfume. That's never happened before.

  Except with her.

  "You can't say... things like that," she says softly. Her voice is nearly a whisper, and she looks at me, her eyes pleading.

  "I can't say that I'd like to slide that skirt up your thighs?" I ask, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. It's still an innocent gesture, something that can be excused as friendly. I haven't crossed a line with her yet that can't be uncrossed.

  When I touch her, her eyes close lightly and her lips fall open. Fuck, she turns into my touch. This girl hasn't been touched in a long time, that much is obvious.

  "No," she whispers. "You shouldn't say that."

  "I shouldn't do a lot of things." I run my finger lightly across her cheek and down her jawline. "Like say that I'd like to pull that skirt up around your waist and sit you down in that chair and spread your legs."

  My thumb reaches her mouth. She doesn't stop me when I touch her bottom lip. "Colton," she whispers.

  "I want to spread your legs," I continue as she stands there unmoving,
her eyes lightly closed and her face upturned to me. The image of her on her knees, my fantasy the other day, flashes into my head — and I have to shut it down. "I want to pull you down to the edge of the chair and touch my tongue to your wetness — slowly at first, just to taste your sweetness. Then I want to bury my face in you, licking your clit and fucking you with my tongue until you come with my head between your legs. I want to taste you as you come on my face."

  "I..." she starts, but then she takes my thumb into her mouth, just the edge of it. Her eyes fly open as if the movement surprised even her — except that she moans.

  It's soft, barely audible, but I hear it.

  She fucking moaned.

  I pull her to me forcefully, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other on the edge of her waist, and kiss her. I kiss the hell out of this girl. I kiss her like I've never kissed a girl before, like I know I'll never kiss a girl again.

  Her tongue meets mine like it was made for me, a puzzle that fits. I should be scared as fuck at the thought of that, except I'm not. I'm too on fire to think about anything else except the fact that I'm kissing the hottest girl I've ever met. And she's kissing me back, her body melting against mine, moaning into my mouth. I pull her against my body, her hips grinding into my hardness. She grips me back, her body tightening on me as she feels my cock pressing against her.

  When I finally pull my lips away, she doesn't step back. She stays where she is, her body flush against mine. Her breath is short and her lips are swollen red, the mark I've left on her.

  "Colton, I... we..." Her voice trails off and she doesn't finish what she's going to say. We shouldn't do this. We're breaking the rules.

  I know that's what she's going to say.

  "I don't give a fuck about the rules, Cassie," I growl. "I want you."

  "Do you always get everything you want?"

  I reach for the first button on her shirt, the one that I've wanted to undo since the first time I saw her in one of these stupid, prim-and-proper shirts. And I really mean to just undo it. Like a civilized person. Except something happens when I touch it and the button just flies off, landing on the floor with a ping.