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

by Teagan Kade

  For once, the tabloids were bang on.

  This wasn’t just any typical member.

  It was a trouser snake, alright.

  It was a god damn freak of nature.

  I scooted forward and let my fingers run over the velvety skin of Scott’s shaft all the way down to his hefty balls. I cupped them, could feel them rolling in my hand.

  “They’re heavy,” I said.

  “They’re eager,” he replied.

  I let one hand free and ran it down between my legs to quell the fire there, pressed two fingers against my clit, rubbing it into submission.

  I was surprised how wet I was, how slippery and slick the entire area had become in a matter of moments.

  Eager, I told myself.

  I lowered my head and kissed the top of Scott’s cock, a pearly drop of desire against my lips as I took him into my mouth.

  He groaned, reaching down and drawing me away.

  “What is it?” I asked breathlessly. “You don’t want me to?”

  “Oh, I want you to,” he laughed back.

  I gave a yelp when he collapsed onto the bed beside me, the weight of his hard body almost lifting the frame from the floorboards.

  I didn’t know what was going on until he caught one of my ankles and dragged me over his body, positioning himself between my thighs.

  The feeling of his skin on mine, being so close and together, undid me in ways I never knew existed. I was unravelling.

  And I was loving it.

  Until then my idea of sexual adventure had been a quickie in the shower, maybe masturbating under the covers when I was sixteen to Joe Jonas.

  A sixty-nine? Such a thing had never entered into my mind, yet here I was, Scott Bausch inches away from my aching pussy.

  I reached forward and took hold of his cock, immediately going to work with conviction knowing, this time, the favor would be returned.

  I wasn’t disappointed.

  Scott took hold of my ass and separated my cheeks, thumbs pressed deep into my inner thighs. He didn’t so much lick my pussy as attack it, burying his entire face between my legs, his mouth covering my clit and his nose pressed against the tight twist of skin above.

  It was naughty, so perverse, I moaned against his length, purring as I sucked and laved at him with everything I had. But his cock was endless. Even using a hand to feed it into my mouth, it just went on and on and on.

  Not that he cared.

  He moaned his approval into my slick folds, his tongue spearing deep into my hole and dragging upwards against the corrugated roof of my pussy. He was fearless, working at every nook and hidden space before reapplying himself back to my clit until my legs were levering against his shoulders trying to take more of him in, to suffocate him with my sex.

  I sucked with renewed vigor, lying flat and taking his cock long and deep into my mouth. I was pleased when it twitched and jerked in response.

  I could barely make sense of anything it was all happening so fast, so completely out of control.

  My head was floating somewhere above my body, caught there in a nimbus of pleasure each time Scott’s masterful tongue pressed against me, searched or probed deeper. He never left my clit. Whether it was his tongue, his lips, or simply the pad of a finger, he kept up a constant and unending rhythm against it that was fast shooting me towards release.

  I groaned aloud and took a moment to breathe, the slick length of his cock still in my hand, still so hard and ready.

  There was pain still, in my sides and legs, from practice, but it all dissipated, forced into second place over the sexual fervor that had since overcome me.

  I shifted position and dropped my head over his cock from above, taking him deeper than ever before until I felt him enter my throat.

  For the first time he stopped, pulling away from that heated spot between my legs enough to groan and grunt aloud, to thrust upwards between my lips.

  I let him, but I was grateful when he returned to the task at hand, this time adding a finger, plunging it deep into my body somewhere between his nose and cheekbone, finger-fucking my hole while he drew my clit into his mouth, the underside of his tongue applying new pressure.

  I started to shake and lose concentration, my thoughts drifting further away and replaced with a desperate need to come, a compulsion so strong it allowed little else in.

  But when his free thumb moved into position against my anus, pressing softly against that most private of areas, the biggest taboo, I could do nothing but freeze and wait for the climax to take me.

  Of course, he didn’t allow it, throwing me off him like I was a loose blanket and taking me by the hip, flipping me over to my stomach and telling me simply to “Wait there.”

  It was too much as I lay there prone, my face against the quilt, as Scott’s weight shifted off the bed. I listened. A drawer opening. Foil being torn. And then he was on me, his firm body settling on top of me, one hand pressed against the side of my head and the thick ball of his cock in place at my wetness.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

  I couldn’t even speak the urgency was so great, scared if I opened my mouth a string of syllables would follow so nonsensical he’d never see me as sane again.

  It was invitation enough. His cock slid with intent and purpose deep into the hot sheath of my sex, so deep I worried for a moment if it would run right through me, split me from tip to tail, but it settled there instead, a wonderful sense of fulfillment following.

  My body relaxed with him inside me, his reassuring lips against my ear. “You’re tight.”

  “But wet,” I retorted.

  He gave a short laugh and drew back, thrusting forward harder and deeper, his marble chest against the pillowy globes of my ass, his entire body trying to hammer me through the bed with each movement.

  From here on, he was relentless, fucking and pounding into me like a man possessed.

  I was forced to keep my mouth open, trying to inhale and exhale simultaneously but seemingly having forgotten how to breathe with this brute on top of me, covering me like a slab of fiery masculinity, his cock inside me and his lips folding over my earlobe.

  He took a handful of my hair, his fingers twisting and lifting my head upwards. I looked forwards panting with fresh desperation, sweaty and overcome, his for the taking.

  “Fuck,” he breathed against the side of my face, grounding out inside my wetness, settling himself there deep inside my sex. “Fuck,” he repeated.

  His fingers left my hair and wrapped around my throat, the lightest of pressure applied there as I was taken from behind, fucked hard between the mattress and unrelenting buttress of his body, a battering ram bringing me closer and closer to completion with every powerful thrust.

  I could hear the way we came together, the wet, muted slap of our bodies each time I’m driven into the bed. I could smell him, and us, the raw animal energy we were giving off and it was wonderful, so sexual and deliciously primal I almost unraveled right there and then.

  But I held off, pulling my core tight and fanning my hands out across the bed. His fingers tightened against my throat, the speed and intensity of his thrusting increasing until we were both bucking and grunting like something far from human, something inherently bestial.

  He fucked me so hard the sound started to echo off the walls, new pain flaring against my backside and ribs, but once more I pushed it aside and joined in with him, my breathing so frantic I was close to hyperventilation, vision spotty and narrow.

  “I’m going to… going to…” but I couldn’t seem to get the words out, to finally breech the surface.

  My world started to darken around the edges and I couldn’t pull in air, panic weaving with the pleasure until a simple command sent me over the edge.

  “Come,” he said against the soft shell of my ear.

  “Come,” he repeated.

  I let out a deep roar, a guttural scream that seemed to split time and space in two.

  T
he orgasm rolled through my body so fast and with so much energy I lost control of everything. My body flapped there, shaking and convulsing and lost to the climax, a new wetness following between my legs and with that fresh shame mixing with the taboo and the alien and everything taking me higher and higher until I wasn’t sure I was even alive any more.

  It went on and on, the fucking continuing and somewhere, dimly in the background, Scott’s voice joining my own as his grip on my throat released and he collapsed on the top of me, cock pumping wildly, my body milking him of every last drop.

  I’m not sure I know what happened in those seconds, those minutes, but I learned my sexual encounters in the past had been nothing compared to that — a mere appetizer to the main course.

  Slowly, my senses came back to me even if the pins and needles threatened to continue.

  Scott rolled off me onto his back and I flipped over to lay against his chest, enjoying the way his heart beat against my cheek.

  I realized I was more than wet between my legs. I reached back to find the sheets soaked.

  “Ah,” I said, “I think I might have wet the bed?”

  He simply smiled and kissed the top of my head. “After that, I don’t care if you flooded the entire apartment.”

  “I’ve never… you know.”

  “Squirted?” he laughed. “It’s perfectly natural, though rare.”

  “And you really don’t care?”

  He turned sideways so we were face to face. “Baby, I think it’s just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SCOTT

  I was wonderfully numb when I woke. Typically, I’d wake up from a night like last night in a cloud of melancholia questioning life, my cock barely able to lift when I saw what was lying next to me. This time, it was different. I was smiling, my cock at full mast at the promise of a morning rerun.

  I reached across to Rae only to find her side of the bed beside me empty. That Fonzie-esque good guy mood is immediately replaced with doubt.

  Would she? I asked myself unsure of the response but starting to question everything that unfolded. A player, her coach — I don’t know too many times that’s been a recipe for a happily ever after.

  That was the most amazing sex of my life, hands down, and I’ve had plenty, but if I was honest with myself I knew it couldn’t happen again. Being with Rae, glorious and cock-pleasing as it was, put both of our careers in jeopardy. It was imperative we were on the same page about that.

  I rose and stretched, hunting around the floor for my boxers and moving out into the living room.

  That’s when I saw her, the beautiful, peachy orbs of her ass side-lit by the rising sun, a golden goddess in my kitchen that sure as hell wasn’t there yesterday morning.

  She wore a thong and the same tank top she was wearing last night.

  I smiled to myself and approached quietly, coming up behind her and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

  She spun, surprised, almost taking me out with the spatula she’d been using to mix the scrambled eggs around.

  “Good morning,” I started.

  She smiled back but awkwardly somehow, turning away from me like a naughty schoolgirl who was once hot for teacher and doesn’t know what to do now she’s had her fill.

  Whatever doubt and nervousness that came over us passed as quickly as it came, the smile widening naturally and her stance softening.

  She turned back to face me, tapping my chest with the spatula. “I should have cracked the eggs on this.”

  I reached around and took a handful of her firm ass. “Or this, perhaps?”

  She slapped my hand away with the spatula, lifted herself onto her toes to draw me into a morning kiss.

  Unlike the wild passion of last night, this kiss was soft and restrained, our tongues dancing rather than wrestling, her lips warm and yielding.

  She broke away and that side-light turned her eyes turquoise. She pushed me to the side and faced the eggs once more. “Go on, take a seat before something happens.”

  I extended my arms. “As you wish, m’lady.”

  I sat but couldn’t help mulling over her last words. Perhaps she felt it too, the simple principle that this arrangement wouldn’t work, at least not in the way we wanted it too, read: hot, raw sex twenty-four seven.

  Rae placed a plate of eggs in front of me that did actually smell delicious, especially after the appetite we’d worked up last night.

  “Thank you,” I said, that awkwardness descending once more over the table as we ate.

  I took a sip of OJ and tried to take stock of her mood, her thoughts, but she was as blank to me as the kitchen table. “Is everything okay?” I began.

  And there was the smile again. I half expected her to twist her hair around her finger. “More than okay, if you’re referring to last night.” She dropped her shoulder, wincing. “I might need more of that rub, though.”

  “I apologize if I got carried away.”

  She shook her head, looking down at her eggs. “No, it’s not that, and it was great, amazing, but…”

  I placed my fork down. “What is it? You can tell me. Please.”

  I could see her deciding how much to string out to me, but her eyes lifted and I knew she was speaking freely. “We can’t do that again.”

  Admittedly, I was surprised to hear it coming from her, even if my thoughts concurred with her own, but damn it if the way she was sitting there didn’t make it almost impossible to simply ignore them, mount the table and take her right there.

  “I agree,” I told her, putting my professional hat on and brushing the top of my chest the way I always do when I assume the role, a sort of nervous tick I’d developed.

  “You’ve worked really hard to get where you are — a lifetime of work, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You can’t jeopardize that for me,” she continued. “It isn’t fair to you, or me, especially given my already precarious position in the team.”

  “You have my full support, and that of the owners’, Wanda…”

  “But not the team’s,” she finished, “at least not yet, but I will. I promise you that. You can count on me, Coach.”

  With that pronoun came the end of our ‘fling.’ It was her way to signal it was over and we’d moved back to that safe, coach-player dynamic that brought us together in the first place.

  I brought my hands together and looked her dead in the eye. “Your position on the team is not in danger, Rae. After the way you handled yourself at practice…”

  She lifted up the side of her tank top, the supple side of a breast on show even if I knew she was trying to draw my attention to the patch of blue and black underneath. “But look at me. Mentally, I know I’ve got this, but physically I don’t know how many hammerings I can take.”

  I was tempted to tell her how well she handled a hammering of a different kind, but I wisely kept my mouth shut still in coach mode. “We’ll work it out, together.”

  “I have to think about how this would play out if the team knew,” she said.

  I was sure I could see how glassy her eyes were turning, how emotional this was for her.

  “You’re talking about us?” I asked. I had to tread carefully here.

  She nodded. “I’ve got one chance at this. I don’t want to be accused of getting a shot simply because I’m sleeping with the coach. It wouldn’t just ruin my career; it would undermine every woman who tried following in my footsteps.”

  God, she spoke sense, but deep down I didn’t want to hear it. Would I give up the game for her, for one more night? I don’t know what was more troubling: The idea I was asking myself the question or that I was actually considering it. I had worked my ass off. I’d worked hard and played hard, we all had, but I put in the hours, the literal sweat and blood to make a career. I was in the twilight of said career, sure, but I didn’t want to go out as a player-turned-coach who couldn’t cut it when the tables were turned. No fucking way.

>   “You said you enjoyed it.” I didn’t know why I was starting with this, why the words were even coming from my mouth.

  I saw her gulp. “The sex? Of course.” Her eyes went to the ceiling. “Like I said, it was incredible, but a relationship has to be about more than sex, doesn’t it?”

  That stung, but I didn’t let it show. “You don’t think we shared something more?”

  A pause, her eyes searching the room. “Perhaps, but does it really matter? We’re decided, aren’t we?”

  I forced myself to nod. “We are.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” I repeated, and suddenly the room was as cold as the eggs on my plate.

  *

  As decided, we made our way to the rink separately.

  I watched her from the barrier, hyperaware of her every movement. If one of the other players so much as brushed against her I was calling them out, shouting at them to take control of themselves.

  After a particularly nasty sticking to the knee, I called Jensen to the barrier. “What the fuck was that?!” I bellowed, loud enough for the entire rink to hear. “This isn’t fucking Little League.”

  He looked behind himself to where Rae was trying to skate it off. “You sure about that, Coach?”

  I shoved him away from the barrier. “Get the fuck back out there and don’t let me see that shit again.”

  My pulse was racing. I was rarely unable to control my temper like this. Hell, they’d called me the Iceman before the Tooth Fairy. I knew it was Rae unravelling me, so I remind myself she’s just another player.

  Just another sack of skin and bone on the ice.

  But it sounded like a lie, because each time I looked at her I didn’t see a hockey player. No, I saw her naked, prone, my hands in her hair and my cock deep inside her. I saw her beauty and intelligence, her strength and determination — everything but the stick in her hand.

  Rae’s mood was no better. She grunted and threw her stick down in frustration, actively going out of her way to piss off the others, taking liberties where she shouldn’t. It was sloppy skating and I had to call her out on it. I didn’t for a second consider she could be angry at me until I waved her over.