Balls: The Complete Players Collection (Sports Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  He takes the opportunity to shift us until I’m flat on my back, his hard body pinning me to the bed, his cock tapping against my clit. I’ve never wanted to be underwear free so much in my life.

  I take hold of his boxers and run them down his thighs, his fat cock bobbing free.

  He drags his lips over my neck. Everything he does is effortless, pure mastery.

  I reach down, my fingers brushing his member. It starts a series of thoughts that jump up onto billboards in my crowded head.

  You’re about sleep with him.

  You’re going to have sex.

  He’s going to be inside you…

  That is going to be inside you.

  I start to shake when his hand comes down my chest, spanned out flat on my belly.

  “You okay?” he asks, head lifting. I see the sincerity in his eyes.

  I nod, too tangled in desire to speak.

  The hand on my belly slides down between my thighs. I draw in a sharp intake of breath, my spine kicking off the mattress at his touch.

  It’s happening. Oh god, it’s happening.

  A surge of pleasure pushes me close to climax. Not yet, I plead with myself. Not yet.

  He kisses me as his fingers play in my wetness. It’s different, this kiss, firm and possessive—hard.

  His free hand comes to the side of my panties, literally tearing them from my body with a cottony snap.

  The kiss becomes messy—hot and frantic.

  He wants me.

  I want him.

  Somehow he manages to sheath himself before his hand begins to stroke my inner thigh.

  I groan hard and deep as his fingers skim my clit. His voice is low. “You can be as loud as you like.”

  I barely recognize the strange vocalizations coming out of my mouth as my own.

  He sucks on the soft skin of my neck, his fingers shifting from my clit to the slick wetness below, sliding into my sex.

  So close.

  My whole body is heavy with need. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold out.

  He goes deeper. A second finger joins the first inside me while his thumb strokes my clit.

  My pussy clenches. It feels amazing, the pleasure building rapidly, spiraling and spindling throughout me.

  Breathe, I remember, sucking in air through my teeth, my eyelids pressed together. When I open my eyes, I’m staring in his, and there’s desperation there, a desperation that screams ‘I want to be inside you.’

  I take hold of the side of his face and nod, let him know it’s okay.

  He takes my hip and shifts until his tip is straining against me.

  It’s happening.

  I move my hips to take more of him, digging my nails into his sides, silently begging him to take me.

  And he does.

  He thrusts forward, sliding deep into the smooth pocket of my sex. It stretches to take him, at first too large but my body slowly grows to accommodate him the more he strokes inside me.

  He goes slow at first, his eyes never leaving mine, completely in the moment, completely connected.

  He goes deeper and I groan low. I don’t want him to stop, stretched out as I am, every inch of my pussy filled to capacity by his cock.

  I reach up and tug at his hair. “Please,” I beg.

  It’s far more intimate than I imagined—the way our bodies press and release, the way he holds and kisses me.

  I start to rock my hips to match his thrusting, groaning and mewing aloud, anything to let him know how good he’s making me feel right now.

  I know I’m close, but I use all my willpower to hold off a little longer as his thrusting grows more frenzied, more intense.

  Deeper.

  Deeper still.

  Never-ending.

  He takes hold of my wrists and brings them together over my head. My breasts flatten as he kisses me, his lips so hard on mine it hurts. He moans there, caught in our pleasure.

  I want to come so bad.

  I want to feel him come, the welcome convulsion of his cock inside me.

  His breathing grows impossibly heavy, his eyes closing. Every muscle in his body tenses.

  I close my own eyes and concentrate on the sensation.

  It’s my undoing.

  The following orgasm unravels me from the inside, my toes curling and fingers spanning wide as I’m ravaged by powerful contractions. They grip and release Asher’s cock, pulsing until he too can take no more.

  His lips fall against my neck as he groans in release, cock twitching inside me.

  Time is lost. The world is gone. It is simply us, now.

  We stay like this for an eternity, pressed together.

  It’s only when my breathing returns to normal that my brain can finally process what my body’s just been through.

  Suddenly, it’s real.

  His kisses me one more time, sliding away.

  I feel the loss of him.

  He sits on the edge of the bed, shaking his head.

  “What is it?” I ask, voice thick with concern.

  He looks back smiling. “You,” he says. “You’re fucking incredible.”

  I kneel up on the bed, pull away a strand of hair stuck to my cheek. “It was okay?”

  He laughs. “That’s like saying the Sistine Chapel is okay.”

  He reaches back and cups my face. “Your eyes. Jesus.”

  I glance away nervously. “Apparently the color’s pretty rare.” I grab at my hair. “Especially when you combine it with this. They call it ‘Alexandria’s Genesis’ or something. They say people with violet eyes don’t burn or tan, but I can tell you that’s a lie.”

  His thumb pulls my lower lip down, sweeping across it. “Rare or not. You’re mine, all mine, and I’m going to treat you like the god-damn princess you deserve to be.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ASHER

  Mid-semester grades are in. I’d like to think I had some small part to play in Willow completely acing her exams, but she did most of the heavy lifting herself. As for me, I managed to pull in my highest GPA so far. That too is thanks to Willow. Who knew the best study method was spending all day in bed? But it’s more than that. I can drop the pretense when I’m with her. It’s freed up my head… and other things.

  Sex with Willow is everything I wished for and more. It’s the dream, that perfect, symbiotic connection you don’t get from a casual fuck. And god knows I’ve had enough of those—simple physical in and out, a short high followed by a big low. But that’s not what happens when I’m with Willow. I’d die happy if I could stay inside her all day, waiting until my cock was hard over and over to make her come again.

  She’s got her laptop set up on my bed, reading through her transcript. I take a finger and run it down her bare back. I run it past the twin dimples at the base of her spine and between her two creamy buttocks. She doesn’t protest when the renegade finger runs lower. She’s wet already.

  “Are you having fun there?” she questions, eyes on the screen.

  I press my finger inside her. “As a matter of fact, I am—far more fun than I had destroying my exams, though it looks like you didn’t do so bad yourself. We should celebrate.”

  Her buttocks clench together when I skim my thumb over her clit. “I know what your idea of celebration is, mister.”

  Reluctantly, I remove my hand from the hot space between her legs. “You weren’t complaining last night… or this morning.”

  “This is true. You do have a certain way with…”

  “My hands, my tongue? Because they’re always at your disposal, twenty-four seven. My services are just a text away.” I reach forward and close the lid of her laptop, pulling her up and into my lap.

  She hooks her hands around my neck, staring into my eyes. “That was rude.”

  “Being cordial isn’t one of my strong suits.”

  She shifts, grinding down against me. “You’re hard.”

  “You’re wet.”

  She smiles back.
“What do you suggest we do about it?”

  She laughs. “As much as I’d love to, I can’t. I’ve got an urgent meeting I’m going to be late for if I don’t get dressed and out of here right now.”

  I pull back. “Urgent? What could be more pressing than this?”

  She looks down between us. Her breasts are so fucking perfect, nipples hot pink against porcelain skin. “A meeting with Karen.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  She looks to the window, her hair alight. “We’ll see, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.” She taps me in the middle of my chest. “Why don’t you go and celebrate with the team? You haven’t exactly been spending a lot of time with them lately, and that was quite a win. I mean, you are team captain.”

  I shift my cock up against her. “I’ve had important matters to attend to.”

  Willow swings herself off me, sweeping the floor of the bedroom for her clothing. “I’m well aware, but honestly, go out. Have a good time. I’ll be here when you come home.”

  “If you want me to hang out with the boys, I can’t guarantee I’ll be sober when I get back.”

  She paces over, reaching down and taking hold of my member. “As long as you can get Big Red up, you won’t have anything to worry about, will you? Besides, I’m only with you because of your impossibly large penis anyhow.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think that’s a compliment.”

  She winks, pulling on her panties. “Take it or leave it, but when you get home you better be naked and ready, because I’m going to work that stick or yours until you can’t see straight.”

  *

  With the promise of sex to come, I pool together the team at the Quagmire. The bar’s pumping when I arrive. Two girls dart through the crowd naked, clutching their breasts and pubic areas.

  I find Leon at the bar. “I see everyone’s letting their hair down.”

  He points up to the roof. “Full moon, man. It brings out the crazies.” He leans close. “And I intend to fuck crazy ’til sunrise. Know what I’m saying?” He grabs his crotch. “It’s been a fucking week, man. If my balls were any bluer I’d be the fucking cookie monster.”

  I nod, signaling the bartender for a drink. “You can’t pick up without me.”

  He nods. “You’re Asher fucking Slade, bro, the ultimate wingman. With you, I’m the Cubs when it comes to picking up pussy.”

  “A hundred and eight years without a win?” I tease.

  He punches me in the shoulder. “Fucker. No, I’m talking miraculous, the messiah of love-making.” He turns around, surveying the crowd. “And I’m definitely putting you to work tonight. Hell, maybe we’ll find you a nice piece of ass to split in two.”

  A CC & Dry sits in front of me. I pick it up and down half. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood.”

  Leon looks sideways at me. He sniffs. “Holy shit.”

  I pick up my bottle again, hold it poised before my lips. “What?”

  He’s shaking his head. “I can smell it all over you.”

  “What’s that? Success?”

  “Pussy,” he says. “You reek of pussy. The same pussy. It’s Willow, isn’t it?”

  I’m going to need a lot more of these if this is how tonight’s going down. “Okay. Sure. I’m seeing her. What’s wrong with that?”

  “The great Asher Slade, king of cunnilingus, master of mooch, is a taken man. What next? Minnesota takes out the World Series? Kanye for President?”

  I raise my finger. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  Leon leans back. “I just cannot believe it. Of all the girls…”

  “Hey. She’s got more depth in her pinkie finger than all these bimbos combined.”

  “Depth?” Leon laughs. “Yes, I’m sure you’re getting real deep with her.”

  He eyes me when I don’t immediately reply. “You have fucked her, haven’t you?”

  Normally, I can let semi-drunk Leon rattle on without issue, but he’s irritating me tonight. I don’t know why the hell I’m even telling him all this. “We’ve slept together, yes.” I take another swig.

  Leon reaches behind himself and slams down another shot. Given the empty glasses collecting on the bar, he must be six or seven down at least.

  He grabs his crotch again. “I’ve got to go fight a fire, but we’re not done here.”

  I put my hands up. “Whatever you say, Goose.”

  He smiles, punching me in the chest. “That’s the fucking spirit.”

  I watch him go. He’s walking at an angle, almost smashing into a table on his way to the bathroom.

  Lenny, our shortstop, takes Leon’s place beside me. “It’s good to see you, Cap.”

  “You see me at training all the time.”

  He glances over to a collection of Alpha Phi sisters dancing in the corner. “You know what I mean.”

  “Right. Say, what’s with Leon? It’s a little early for him to be this wasted already, isn’t it?”

  Lenny shrugs. “Must be the community service thing.”

  “The what?”

  Lenny seems surprised. “You didn’t know? He glassed this guy in here a week or two ago, an out-of-towner. Poor prick has to go do community service like you did at that kids’ home, with that redhead, what’s her name?”

  “Willow?” I offer.

  “Yeah, that’s the one. It’s the same shit you had to do, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  This is news. Willow mentioned nothing about it. Why did she even agree? Maybe she didn’t have a choice, and why’s Leon getting off so easy?

  Things start to click. Perhaps this is what Willow’s meeting with Karen is about. She might be trying to get out of it. Still, I’m slightly annoyed she didn’t tell me about it. I could have spoken to Leon, made sure he knew not to play games.

  Lenny continues to talk, mostly about ball and women, but I drift away into my own thoughts, drinking more out of habit than want. Three more CC & Drys and a bourbon later, I head off to the bathroom.

  I’m wondering where the hell Leon has got to when I find him in the first stall, cutting coke on the lid of the toilet seat.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I start.

  He turns around, sniffing, razor blade in his hand. “Don’t worry, man. It’s my own product.”

  He goes to keep cutting, but I reach in and pull him out.

  “What the fuck?” he protests.

  I start walking him to the door. “It’s for your own good. Do you know what would happen if someone caught you with that shit?”

  He pulls himself out of my grip. “What the fuck? Who even are you? The fucking fun police now you’ve shacked up with Miss Perfect?”

  One of the lights is flickering above. It’s irritating in the extreme. A tap drip-drips in the basin beside me, the music muffled.

  I point to the door. “Go, before you say something stupid.”

  He laughs, stepping forward to front me. “You want to know something?”

  “Leave,” I warn.

  He’s a good foot shorter than me, his eyes at my neck. “You’re little girlfriend? This girl that’s got your balls in her hand? I was her first.”

  Everything stops. “What?”

  He laughs again. “I popped her cherry, bro.” He puts a finger into his mouth and pops out his cheek. “Fucked her real good back in high school.”

  Anger starts to swell inside me. “You’re lying.”

  He smiles, pleased with himself. “She cried, you know, blubbered like a fucking baby when I put my dick in, bleeding everywhere and shit. It was fucking embarrassing.”

  I shove him so hard he hits the wall on the far side of the bathroom. He’s so wasted he barely feels it, peeling himself off and coming forward again. He’s not done.

  “Once I ran her through, she became the biggest slut in school. Within months she’d blown and fucked her way through the entire eleventh grade. I mean, fuck me, talk about stepping it up.

  “Shut your fu
cking mouth.”

  “That night I was talking about,” he continues, stepping closer. “At the party? Before her little freefall she rounded up a group of us, took us downstairs into the basement and—”

  I swing. My fist collects the side of his face.

  He doesn’t see it coming, spinning off to smash into a stall door. He turns, his mouth cast into a sneer, his eyes bloody and wild. “You’ve fucked up now, man.”

  He’s still holding the razor blade.

  Fuck.

  He starts to approach. “You fucking hit me? All I’m doing is giving up a heads up here, a bit of truth, and you hit me? What kind of brother are you?”

  I’m so stiff I could snap in two. I jab my finger at him. “I’m not your brother.”

  He spits at my feet. “Fight for your fucking whore then.”

  That does it.

  I rush forward and collect him around the waist. We smash into the wall, the blade falling from his hand and clattering across the tiles.

  He gets a solid right in, a shimmer of pain running down my jaw, but he’s drunker than I am.

  I punch him in the face, hard enough for his nose to crumple under my hand.

  Blood gushes out, black in the light. I hook right, left, pummeling him, feel the sickly impact of his teeth against my knuckles.

  He laughs through it, spitting out blood and coughing as his head snaps back and forth under the onslaught. “She was so fucking tight, man.”

  I hit him—one, two—square on, my fist slipping off the side of his face and cracking the tiles beside him.

  With a sudden burst of energy, he propels forwards, collecting me and driving the both of us towards the other side of the room.

  I grunt with pain as my back smashes into one of the sinks, a shower of porcelain shattering to the floor, water spraying to the ceiling.

  We both slip, struggling and reaching for one another, but finding purchase proves hard in all this water.

  All I’m seeing is red—pure hatred. I want to end him. I don’t care what we’ve been through, what we’ve shared. He crossed the line.

  I wince as something cuts the air in front of my chest. I look down to see my shirt coming apart in the middle.

  The motherfucker cut me. He laughs, blade in hand again. I take his wrist and bash it against the wall, and bash it again until the blade looses itself.