Baller: A Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

I moaned in anticipation. My hands were shameless, running over every muscled inch of him that I could reach. I gasped when his thick head pushed past my lips. I cried out a little, feeling him push himself into me, inch by inch.

He shushed me gently in my ear as he continued feeding his thick, long piece into me. I panted, feeling myself stretch to accommodate him. He was so big. It felt so good. He felt amazing. I closed my eyes feeling him bottom out. He was completely sunk inside me, every hot, hard inch. His strong arms hoisted me into the air, and he positioned us against the lockers so he could use them as support to thrust into me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gently. I nodded and kissed him. I appreciated his concern but now was not the time for talking. His tongue ravaged the inside of my mouth while his dick began to thrust inside of me. The friction was heavenly. He fit so tight, I didn’t want him to stop.

I matched his strokes, meeting him thrust for thrust.  His hands squeezed my thighs and pulled them apart further so he could thrust deeper. His body pinned me to the lockers, forcing me to stay still and take his punishment. I was nearly delirious from the sensation. I knew we had to be quiet so we didn’t arouse suspicion, but it was getting harder and harder to.

I felt greedy, wanting more than just his naked chest pressing into me. I wanted to be naked, feeling his hard body against my soft skin. I wanted to feel his hands on my breasts, tweaking my nipples. I wanted him to own me.

Letting my hand reach between our bodies, I rubbed my clitoris, sending myself right over the edge. I cried out as I came. I couldn’t hold it anymore. Dante sped up, thrusting harder, slamming into me with every push.

“I’m going to come. Where do you want it?” he asked me. I didn’t have to think twice. I knew exactly where I wanted it.

“Come inside. I’m on the pill,” I said breathlessly. He gave a few more powerful thrusts before I felt him shoot his cum inside of me. It was done. There was no going back from this now. We had irrevocably altered the nature of our relationship. The deep satisfaction I felt was mixed with rising trepidation. This… mistake? It wasn’t a mistake; it was completely intentional. There had been many times when I could have said no and pushed against him instead of towards him, but I hadn’t. I could have denied him at the last minute before he entered me, but I didn’t.

I didn’t want to. I knew what I was getting myself into, or at least I knew it was something that I had the power to handle. We were both adults who had made the decision to act on our urges, that didn’t mean we couldn’t still work together. I was still a reporter, and he was still Dante Rock. The interview we had had, before we got sidetracked, was not an article yet. I still had him.

I still had the upper hand.

He kissed me deeply before letting me sink to the ground. He chuckled as he looked at me, running his thumb over my cheek.

“What’s so funny?” I asked. I didn’t tend to really wear a lot of makeup for work, but I was sure my face was at the very least flushed. He hadn’t touched my hair thankfully, so I couldn’t imagine what had him that tickled.

“You’ve been waiting to do that since you met me,” he said, smugly.

Was it true? A little bit, but I was not about to let him know just how true. His looks and his charm were his weapons, and I couldn’t let him feel like he could work me with them. No wonder he talked such a big game. The man could back it up. It wasn’t even his flirting that had gotten me. It was when he dropped all the pretense, sat there as Dante, the guy from the small town in Ohio and told me something real about him. Told me something that was painful from his past.

It was his willingness to open up to me. I don’t know whether he had intended to…that much. He did sound like he might have gotten carried away with himself a bit at some point, but that didn’t matter. It was him talking, the part of him that I felt he didn’t tend to share with that many people.

Having sex with him was an obvious admission that I was attracted to him. It was an undeniable admission. It had happened once, but it didn’t have to happen again. I wasn't a bitch in heat; I could control myself. He consequently would have to control himself, too. There was no way he was running this show. I had to stay on top of him.

“Think again, hotshot,” I said to him. I could feel the evidence that he had been inside me slowly push its way out and slide between my thighs. I had to go clean up. There was no way I could just walk around with his cum leaking out of me. “Your ass belongs to me.”

“I think you got it the other way around,” he said. His hand ran down my back and cupped my ass. I pulled my skirt down over my thighs and smoothed it down.

“This does not change anything,” I told him.

“I was just balls deep inside of you; I think it changes a few things.”

“Not a chance, hotshot,” I said. “Who’s the one with the power to make or break your career based on what is on this recorder?” I asked him. I grabbed the recorder and checked again to make sure that I had actually turned it off.

“Was that there the whole time? Was it on?”

“No, it wasn’t on,” I said, annoyed.

“Are you sure? You must have gotten some of it on there. At least the part when I told you to touch my cock, and you did,” he said. He took a step closer to me, raising a hand to touch my face. “My favorite part was when you asked me how I wanted you,” he said. His voice had dropped, and he looked me dead in the eye, recounting the sex we had just had. He wasn’t wrong. There was likely a few minutes of the two of us having sex recorded on the device.

“You’re gonna get home and listen back to it. You’re gonna want to start writing, but then you’ll get to the end and you’ll remember
this
. You’ll remember me deep inside you. You’ll remember the way my cock felt on your tongue and you won't be able to do anything but touch yourself and wish it was me. Again.”

He kissed me, and it took all the strength his little speech hadn’t taken out of me to push him away. I turned my head and pushed back on his chest so he wouldn’t get too close and make me lose my nerve.

“I don’t usually double dip, but I might make an exception with you,” he said.

Double dip
. Gross.

“That wasn’t for me, it was for you.”

“I owe you a thank you. Or you owe me. Either way, you can drop down, put my cock in your mouth, and finish what you started.”

Why was he so
crass
? Did he talk to every woman he met like this? I sighed, thinking that he probably did. Even worse, it must work because he was doing it to me. Worse than even that, it was working now. I felt myself getting wet. Pretty soon his cum wouldn’t be the only thing making the insides of my thighs wet.

“I was just thinking about all the ass you won't be getting for the rest of the season. I felt sorry for you. You must get around a lot. I know it’ll be hard to keep it in your pants,” I said.

He laughed. That was the wrong reaction. I didn’t expect him to laugh when I basically called him a whore.

“I wasn’t fucking
myself
. I heard every little sound you made. I felt your hands all over me like you couldn’t get enough. Who’s really going to suffer? You. Because the only thing you can think about is fucking me again, or me, who has you to keep me occupied all season long?”

“This isn’t happening again.”

“It isn’t happening again until it happens again,” he said smugly.

“You keep waiting for that day to come, hotshot,” I told him.

I grabbed my bag and left the room.

Dante

Dante: one. Quinn: zero.

The girl thought she was hot shit, but who was laughing now? Me.
That
was who.

She was mine now. I had her.

What could she do? What could she say now? Nothing.

Too bad the locker room didn’t have cameras. We picked the one place in the whole facility that doesn’t have cameras to finally have sex, but that didn’t matter. That was okay. All that matters is that it happened.

It happened and it felt fucking
fantastic
.

That smart mouth tasted amazing. She wasn’t so sassy when she had my cock inside her. Nope. She just turned to mush. She just writhed and moaned and called out my name. I liked her better like that. Maybe she just needed to get dicked down one time to stop being so uptight and bitchy. Her mouth wasn’t just good for talking. It was good for sucking, too. I had wanted her to get back down on those knees and give me the full experience, what she was really working with. I wanted to feel it hit the back of her throat and fuck her face. She didn’t, but that didn’t matter. She would. The little preview had been just enough to let me fill in the blanks myself. I would save that mental image away for later when I wanted to fuck but couldn’t because she wouldn’t let me.

I wanted to
taste
that pussy. It had felt… it was something else. I was in so deep, raw. On one hand, I maybe shouldn’t have fucked her bareback, but on the other, I had a feeling that she wasn’t the crazy kind. The way she talked to me, I knew she wanted me, but there was no way of knowing how much. She was mean, but not bitchy mean, bossy mean. Sexy mean. Her sugar walls squeezed down on me so tight it was like a fucking fist, strangling the shit out of me.

I still had her panties in my locker, too. They were white, a thong which was one of those lacy see-through numbers that girls liked to wear. That meant that she wasn’t wearing any right now. I had to thank her formally. I felt great. I felt amazing. I had been sharp and quick on the court. Her pussy was like magic. We would have to fuck every time I needed to play.

She tried to talk tough afterward, but there wasn’t a lot she could say when I had just bust my nut inside her. It had been exactly like I thought it would be. No, it had been better than I thought it would be. She was so wet and hot. The only thing that would have made it better would be if I could have peeled that whole outfit off of her. I didn’t get my hands on her tits the way I wanted. The way her pussy squeezed the hell out of me, I wanted to eat her out. That would shut her up.

If she has anything slick to say to me, I just need to remind her whose game we were playing now. She thought she had something on me? I had something on her, too. This was way worse for her than it was for me. If it ever came out, you know, by accident, or on purpose, that we were fucking, it would be her who would get in trouble. Not me.

It would be her professionalism that was in question. Not mine. I would be the victim. Not her. All I had to do was tell someone that we were banging, and she might even get taken off the story. Then someone frumpier, not as sexy, or a dude could cover it instead.

It would be sad to see her go, but at least she’d be off my fucking back.

I wondered about her. She was just
another
chick.
Literally
. So many of the relationships I had had with women were ones that started and ended like the one I had had with this girl. We would meet, we would bang, and then we would never see each other again. I thought about the way it had happened. She was resisting, but that was probably just because she didn’t want me to think she was a slut. Girls were funny like that.

In the end, something I did must have convinced her. I wasn’t sure about that one, to be honest. There was the chance that she would come easily and quickly, as she had, but there was also the chance that she was going to make me work a bit harder and wait much longer.

That
interview
though.

That was… that was something else. The girl was like a pit bull or something; she just kept attacking. I don’t know how the hell she got it out of me. All the shit about my mom and my dad and Gabbie… all that was not supposed to come out just then, but I almost had no choice. I had to tell her what had happened so she understood and didn’t keep holding against me that thing that she was holding against me.

I had never told that to a woman I was sleeping with. We usually never got that far in the conversation to discuss that. A lot of them were likely also not that interested in hearing about me and the events that had happened in my childhood.

I liked that thing she had said to me…that it was a
safe space
. Even if you asked me, I couldn’t tell you when, but at some point, sitting there with Quinn, it had stopped feeling like an interview and had just started feeling like therapy. I had tried that shit in the past; my mom had begged me to go, so I had, but I could never get on board with it.

How was I supposed to open up like that to a stranger? It was that safe space thing that Quinn had said. Being around her felt safe…and being in the locker room felt safe, too. That whole shrink's office thing, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know Quinn that well, but she didn’t have that douchey, I-know-everything look on her face when I was talking to her. I didn’t feel like she was analyzing and judging everything I was saying so she could diagnose me with some sort of disorder.

She was just
listening
. She just let me talk about it, so it was like this knot in my throat that I couldn’t swallow anymore.  She looked at me and listened like she fucking cared. Sure, she was there to write a story at the end of the day, but I didn’t just feel like a story to her. I felt like me.

It wasn’t that big of a secret that my mom had been abused by my dad, not in my life anyway. Some of my teammates knew because I had told them, but it was never something that people brought up in interviews to me because that wasn’t something I just blabbed about to everyone who put a mic in my face.

My father, that piece of shit, hadn’t come forward and tried to sell the story either, which was honestly something I expected him to at least threaten to do. The statute of limitations was over, and there was no way he could be prosecuted for it, but then again, he was a monster. He was capable of anything.

I felt on top of the world during the game. It must have been something to do with Quinn’s pussy. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, but I was just dominating. I sunk every shot that I took. I made good passes; I sunk the free throw I was rewarded when I was fouled. I wasn’t even mad when it had happened. It had been a hard foul, like the last. The guy had shoved me when I was airborne and I had come down. I wasn’t even pissed; I just called him a motherfucker and went about on my way. The fans had been keeping control of their urges, which was good, too. I hadn’t had to do anything against the rules all game long.

Coach hadn’t fired me, or beaten my ass or anything. I told him about the story that Quinn was going to write and he was gravy. Just like that.

The last whistle blew just after the ball sunk smoothly into the hoop. My team swarmed. We had gotten the win…eight-six to forty-seven. Pretty damn good if I did say so myself. There was one person I wanted congratulations from the most.

I walked up to her.

“Good game, hotshot,” she said, smiling. I smiled back. Her smile was beautiful. Her teeth were straight and nice. She looked like a fan who was happy their team had just won.

“The trick is
warming up
thoroughly. I had this great,
great
session in the locker room with this hot chick who left before we could
really
get hot.”

“Hm. I don’t know about
that
. It was a good game, but you aren’t paid to play
bad
games.”

“Some guys have these pregame rituals. I think I need one, too.”

“You don’t have a lucky pair of
boxers
you wear?”

“Hm, I’m thinking about just totally going commando when there is a game because you will be there and I know what that means.”

“Do you want to concentrate on what it actually is that we have to do together?”

“Drop it, Quinn. You don’t have to try and keep hiding from me. You can’t. I’ve been inside of you, and I know what you sound like when the cock inside of you is rubbing so good that you can’t form whole words anymore.”

She paused then, and she swallowed slowly. I could see it in her face. It was not embarrassment over what we had done. It was desire. She wanted me again. She wanted me, and I was ready to give it to her. Fuck, if there hadn’t been so many people around us just then, she could have just raised her skirt right there and we could have gone again. She wasn’t wearing any panties. I knew that because I fucking had them.

“I would suggest not playing games with me. I won’t play nice with people who don’t deserve it.”

“I won’t either,” I said easily.

“This is not a game.”

“Yes it is, Quinn.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. If she had done it to push her tits up and distract me, then it had worked.

“You are going to lose.”

“I’ve got more game than you, TMZ,” I told her. I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. I felt her whole body go stiff. A couple of people had had to see it. Her face turned red in the cheeks. It was on. Me and Quinn. We had just had the tip-off and she was already down one. She had had the upper hand before, but I had come in with the equalizer and now she was fighting for supremacy once more. She wasn’t going to get it.