Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (27 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

AVA

Two weeks later

“What?” I ask irritably as I notice what must be Darcey’s twentieth smug look in my direction across the breakfast counter.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, mock-innocently. “I was just wondering how you’re enjoying no longer being a virgin.”

I freeze, my spoon halfway to my mouth. “What do you mean?”

Darcey shakes her head. “Oh my
God
, you are
not
going to pretend not to know what I’m talking about. I refuse to stand for this.”

I just stare at her — not because I don’t know what she means, but because I really have no idea what to say about it.

“You and Riley have been going at it like little bunny rabbits,” Darcey says, gesticulating wildly with the knife she’s been using to butter her toast. “Every time I turn around, there’s Riley! On the couch! In the hall! Using the bathroom! Just how much sex are you two
having
, anyway?”

I swallow heavily.

The truth is, a lot. A
hell
of a lot. I don’t know whether it’s just that I’m trying to make up for lost time, or because we just don’t know how things will pan out once our Murray-mandated breakup date comes up. Either way… it’s a hell of a lot of sex. It’s like we’re trying to cram a lifetime of sex into the month we have left before the special senate election. After that….

I push the thought out of my mind. I’ve been trying to take Riley’s advice, and not think about it until it happens.

“C’mon,” Darcey says, wielding the butter knife as if it’s some kind of torture device she’s going to use to interrogate me. “Spill it. When you first met him you couldn’t stand him. You were going to back out of this whole nonsense. Now suddenly he’s here all the time. The
only
reason I can think of is that you two are doing it on the regular now.”

I sigh. Clearly, Darcey is not going to let go of this.

“All right, fine, yeah,” I say. “We’re… we’re doing it.”

I feel a blush spreading over my cheeks. Clearly, actually
having
sex hasn’t done a thing to cure me of my prudishness when it comes to
talking
about it.

“
Ha!
” Darcey shouts, triumphant. “I
knew
it wasn’t just a one-time thing. Anyone could see it in the way you guys looked at each other. You wanted him
bad
.”

I glance at her, sheepish. “Was it that obvious?”

“Yup,” she tells me blithely. “But don’t worry — I mean, that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the whole world is
supposed
to think you’re fucking. No one knows you’re not really meant to be together except, what — Murray, your dad, and me? To them, you’ll just look like the world’s best actress.”

I nod, but the sliver of paranoia has already been planted. “But I’m
not
a good actress,” I moan, putting my head down on the counter. “Do you think they suspect?”

“Who, Murray and your dad?” Darcey says, before blowing air out of her mouth in a
pfftttt
sound. “How much time is your dad actually spending at home at the moment? He’s gone campaign mad now that he’s actually announced he’s a candidate. And does Murray actually pay attention to anything other than his iPad?”

I nod, but my misgivings are still sitting in my stomach like a rock.

“Look at it this way,” Darcey says. “Now you don’t even have to lie. Next time you tell someone you’re fucking Riley Knox, you’ll
actually
be fucking Riley Knox!”

“I guess,” I say. And she’s right, in a way that makes me kind of feel slightly sick to my stomach — I really hate the whole lying aspect of this thing. At least then, however, it had only been to people I didn’t know, and paps who’ll spin a story out of anything. But now… I’m lying to my father. The one person who means more to me than anyone else on earth.

It’s enough to make my head spin — the lie I
had
been telling is no longer a lie. But in making that the truth, I have to tell a whole
new
lie. It’s like the whole world has been inverted.

“Tell me the sex is worth it, though.” Darcey’s eyes are shining as she leans forward over the counter.

I draw in a deep breath, but I can’t stop the goofy grin that spills out over my face.

“I
knew
it!” Darcey crows before I can get a word out. “But I mean — everyone knows Riley Knox is the best lay on campus. It’s not like it’s unknown. I once heard a story from Tara Sanders —”

“All right, Darcey, yeah, I get it,” I say, feeling a little irritable at the reminder of Riley’s ways. That’s the other thing that’s been playing on my mind. Sure, Riley is into me… for the moment. But who knows how long that’ll last? Maybe he’ll be sick of me by the time we have to ‘break up’ anyway. Maybe he’s only doing this because he knows I can’t tie him down — not really. No matter how much he may resent the fact he’s not part of the same world as me or Darcey or even Bryce fucking Lennox, it’s not like it’s the fact he can’t be my boyfriend that makes him mad.

“Are you PMSing?” Darcey asks me, sipping her coffee. “Your mood’s bouncing around like a yo-yo right now.”

I sigh. “I know. And I’m sorry. It’s just that… things are complicated right now.”

“With Riley?”

I nod. “Yeah. I guess. I just… I mean, I
know
we don’t have a future together, and I
know
that even if my father would ever let me date a guy like Riley that he’s not exactly the dating type, and….”

“Is he still hooking up with other girls?” Darcey raises an eyebrow. “Want me to pay someone to kick his ass?”

I laugh despite myself. “No, it’s cool. I know he’s not. At least… that’s what he says. But how long can that last? I mean, it’s like you said — he does have a certain reputation.”

Darcey cocks her head. “Well, look. I don’t know Riley all that well personally, but I know a lot of people who do. And the one thing they all say about him is that he’s honest. He never lies to get a girl into bed, and he never promises anything he doesn’t intend to deliver. So if he says he’s not sleeping with other girls right now, I’d be inclined to believe him.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” I agree. “He definitely
is
honest.”

That’s one thing I
can
be sure of about Riley. He doesn’t lie. It’s that core of honesty that’s one of the things I like most about him. He doesn’t play games, and he’s always upfront. Growing up around people who seemed to enjoy playing head games just for the hell of it, it’s amazingly refreshing to be around Riley. I never have to search for any hidden meaning in his words.

Darcy is looking at me with narrowed eyes.

“Ava,” she says quietly, after a moment of watching me. “You’re not…
falling
for him, are you?”

“No!” I say quickly, and maybe a little too loudly. “I’m
not
falling for him. We’re just having sex. That’s all.”

“Uh-
huh
,” Darcey says, taking a bite of toast. “Ava, you do realize I’ve
met
you, right? I do know that for you, there’s no such thing as ‘just having sex’. You waited twenty-two years to lose your virginity. I don’t really feel like you’ve just decided to start whoring it up now for no reason.”

“Can you stop talking like you know me better than I know me?” I ask, realizing I sound irritable and bitchy but unable to stop myself. Maybe I really do have PMS. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I’m sorry. It’s just that — I mean, even if I
wanted
for something to happen with Riley, it just wouldn’t work out. He is who he is, and I am who I am. You know my dad would never approve.”

Darcey shrugs, taking a bite of her toast. “Your dad is
way
overprotective of you,” she pronounces. “And
you
are a grown-ass woman who can date who she likes.”

“Oh, come on, Darcey,” I say. “You of all people should understand this — you know I can’t really just run around dating whoever I like.”

“I guess,” she admits. “But you gotta remember, my parents love to think of themselves as liberals — they’d be just thrilled if I dragged home a guy from outside our social circle. It’d give them a chance to talk about how very
open-minded
they are, and how they encourage me to mingle with people from all walks of life. You remember how thrilled they were when I was dating that guy, Jeremy, the one who used to busk outside Central Station. They wanted him to come on vacation with us. I think they liked him more than they liked me.” She takes another bite of toast, then says pointedly, “Anyway, a second ago you were saying it was just sex. Now you’re talking about dating. Which is it?”

“I don’t know,” I finally admit, feeling defeated. “I want it to be just sex.” I glance up at her, licking my lips. “It’s… it’s
really
good. But… I don’t know. Riley’s… different from how I expected him to be, and how I thought he was when we first met.”

“Different how?”

I wish I could explain it to her. The more time I spend with Riley, the more I realize he’s more than just a dumb football player who’ll fuck anything that moves and has no talent beyond running and holding a ball.

And he makes me feel… free.

Nothing in his life has ever held him back from doing exactly what he wants to do. I come from so much
more
than he does – in terms of money and privilege, anyway – but I just feel so trapped by everything, when really it should be the other way around.

But when I’m with Riley, all that drops away, and I feel like I can be anything and anyone.

It’s not just the sex. Although the sex is really,
really
good.

I don’t know how, but Riley seems to know just how to touch me, just what to say to me to make me go from nothing to all fired up in about a quarter of a second. He can just run his fingers lightly down my back, and I’m already feeling myself getting wet enough to soak through my panties. The times when we’re not having sex, I’m thinking about when we’ll next be having sex. I can’t concentrate in any of my classes. I’m not looking forward to getting any of my assignments back. They’ve mostly been written at the last minute, because I was spending the time I
should
have been writing them having sex with Riley.

I’ve never felt this way before. It’s like my body has been unlocked, like I’m more
aware
of it than I ever have been before.

And I never want it to end.

The only problem is, I know it has to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

RILEY

“What was that all about?” I ask as we lie stretched out on Ava’s bed, looking at the sunrise through her bedroom window. We’ve been up all night — first at an art gallery opening that Murray organized for us to attend together, and then having sex like there’s no tomorrow. Which we both know is coming up very soon.

Ava looks across at me, frowning.

“What was what about? The… sex?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No — that art gallery stuff. What the hell was all of that? I didn’t get it. At all.”

Ava smiles, the pale pink light from the sunrise making her features soft.

“Well, it seems to have made quite an impression on you, which I guess is the goal of all art,” she says. “If it has elicited a response, then it’s done its work.”

“No, no — don’t get all fancy words on me,” I tell her, leaning across to playfully pull at a strand of her dark hair. “You
can’t
tell me that an unmade bed is
art
. Otherwise my bedroom’s a fucking masterpiece.”

Ava laughs again. “You’re hardly the first person to say that,” she points out. “But you didn’t do it, did you? The whole point of it was that it was her bed after a painful relationship breakup, when she was depressed and couldn’t get up. It was supposed to show things we never really talk about, force people to confront horrible things in life.”

I frown, looking out the window. “Okay, but like… that’s not really
art
,” I say. “It’s not like, a painting of some flowers or something, is it? It wasn’t like it was nice to look at. I once didn’t get out of bed for a day after we lost a game to Harvard — I just got drunk and then I had a hangover so I just stayed where I was.”

“I suppose it depends on how you define art,” Ava says.

“You know a lot about this for a chemistry nerd.”

Ava just shrugs. “I have to go to a lot of gallery openings. It helps if I can sound halfway intelligent about some of it.” She turns to me, and then punches me lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, clearly it did
something
right, seeing as apparently you’ve been thinking about it the whole time we were screwing.”

“I wasn’t!” I protest. “Not while we were actually screwing, anyway. I was just sitting here afterward, thinking about it. Believe me when I say I wasn’t thinking about anything other than how fucking good you feel.”

It’s true. When I’m with Ava, I can’t think about anything else. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. The taste of her, the smell of her. The noises she makes when she comes. All of it drives me absolutely crazy.

“Well, anyway,” she says after a moment. “I thought it went well. No one ever thought they’d see you at an art gallery. I suppose you’re truly reformed now.”

Her words have the effect of dumping a bucket of cold water over me. A second earlier, I’d been enjoying the lazy warmth of the bed, the pink of the slowly rising sun. Now all I can think about is how fake this all is — how this is all a project cooked up by Ava’s father and Murray and Coach Jackson. We’re just caught up in the middle of it. And all too soon it’ll be over.

“Don’t say things like that,” I growl, taking a handful of her hair and pulling it gently. “Don’t bring that shit up when we’re in bed together. I never want to hear about that unless I have to.”

Ava blinks at me, looking a little surprised. “But… that’s the whole point,” she says. “We need to not forget what this is all about. It’s about your future.”

I sneer a little. “Yeah, my future — and your dad’s political career,” I say. “Let’s not forget about that either.”

“Yes,” she says, shrugging, as if that should be obvious. “That too. But if my dad doesn’t win the election, it’s hardly the end of the world. He can try again later, and if not, then he’s not exactly going to be going around with a begging bowl. But I know how much football means to you. I don’t want to see you lose your chance to play because of… something dumb.”

Ava looks down, not meeting my eyes. She doesn’t have to tell me what she thinks this
something dumb
is. She means
something dumb
like getting caught having sex with her, when it’s been made perfectly clear to both of us that this should be a strictly business arrangement.

“Maybe that’s one of the things I like about you,” I say quickly, before I have a chance to think. “When I’m with you, I feel like I’m not only all about football. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at, and the only thing about me that anyone’s ever cared about. Do you think I’d be going to Blaketon if I couldn’t play? Do you think I’d pull so much pussy if I didn’t?”

Ava flinches uncomfortably when I talk about the pussy, but it’s not like she’s unaware of my history.

“That’s not true,” she says, trying to pick her words carefully.

I snort. “Yeah, Blaketon’s really got a rep for opening its doors to anyone and everyone. Face it, if I weren’t here on a sports scholarship, I’d be nowhere and nothing. Just like I was when I was a kid. I like it when I’m with you, though, because you talk to me like that’s not the only thing that’s good about me. Even if it’s just explaining shitty modern art.”

“It’s not shitty!” Ava protests. “You just don’t get it!”

I shrug. “You’re right, I don’t. But at least you
tried
to explain it.”

Ava doesn’t answer me, looking away. Outside, the sun has now fully risen, sitting above the horizon like a big red ball.

“There’s more to you than football, Riley,” she says softly. “I don’t care if other people don’t see it. You’re so busy putting on a player act and being all macho, but —”

“Hey, the macho player thing
isn’t
an act,” I interrupt her.

A smile twitches the corners of her lips. “Okay, sure,” she says. “I guess it isn’t, in a lot of ways. But what I like about you is you just
do
things. You don’t let anybody tell you you can’t, or that you’re not good enough. You just decide you want something, and you go for it. I wish I were more like that.”

We look at each other for a long moment.

We both know it — we’re getting into dangerous territory here. I’ve never been this preoccupied with a girl before — I’ve certainly never spent more than a month having sex, or thinking about having sex, with the same one. It’s been casual hookups the whole way, and I’ve never slept with the same girl twice in a row. There’s always been at least two in between.

If this is all new for Ava, it’s new for me too. I don’t know how she’s doing it, but it’s like she’s cast some kind of spell over me. Or at least over my cock.

Fuck.

This is all getting too complicated for me. I’m a simple man, with simple tastes. Before all of this mess, I had a very simple life plan: play ball. Get money. Get pussy. Die happy, screwing hot Swedish twins on a giant stack of one hundred dollar bills.

See? Simple.

Ava and how I feel about her, and all this other complicated stuff, never figured into it.

I don’t want to think about it anymore. Ava’s naked in front of me. I can’t waste time
thinking
.

It’s like she says: if I want something, I go for it.

I lean over and kiss her, pushing my tongue forcefully between her lips and into her mouth. I’d thought she might object to our conversation being cut off, but she kisses me back just as hard, her hand coming up around the back of my head to pull me closer.

My fingers slide in between her legs as we kiss. She’s still wet and sensitive from the last time we fucked, and she writhes up, moaning, as I slip my fingers inside her. Her thighs part and I slip in a second finger, then a third, fucking her with them, pressing against that spot inside her that I know makes her go wild.

I knew she’d be like this — Ava has so much pent-up energy and emotions inside her that the second I pulled the lid off them just a little bit, they came exploding out. Now, when we fuck, she gives herself over to it entirely, letting me touch her anywhere, and always eager for more.

God, she turns me on.

There’s something about knowing I’m the first one who she’s let do this stuff to her that makes me hard as hell, too. I love experienced girls — girls who know what they like and who aren’t afraid to go after it or tell me just what they need. But watching Ava discover all of this for the first time has been like a drug. Every time we try something new she gets this look on her face — like she’s shocked she can like it so much. That anything can feel this good.

And it seems to have had a run-on effect on to me. Being with Ava has made me realize just how jaded I was getting about sex. When it’s so easy to get, it starts to become boring, in some ways. You go through the motions because it’s what’s expected of you. You make the girl come, you blow your load, you wipe yourself off and say your goodbyes. Sometimes I’ve had sex with girls just because I’ve had nothing better to do, rather than because I was in the mood for it.

Being with Ava has been like… I don’t know, rediscovering how good sex can be.

It sounds fucking dumb, but that’s how I feel.

I’ve loved claiming her. And I want to claim her in
every
way.

Breaking off our kiss, I put my hands on her hips and flip her over so she’s lying on her front. She glances over her shoulder at me, questioning, before her eyes drop down to where my cock is already hard between my thighs. She bites her bottom lip, cheeks coloring.

God, I’ll never get sick of the sight of her laid out in front of me like this. She’s supporting herself on her elbows, her curvy little ass raised toward me, her big blue eyes looking at me over the slope of her shoulder.

I move my hand down the back of her thigh, before pushing my fingers back into her wet pussy. Her eyes slide shut and she moans, moving back along my fingers as I push them inside her. Once they’re coated in her juices, however, I slide them out again, dragging them up from her cunt and pressing them gently against her asshole.

Ava’s eyes fly open again, and she looks at me in surprise. She doesn’t object, however, and I watch her face for any sign that she wants me to stop as I press into that tight hole. She licks her lips, shuddering a little as I push my fingers in up to the knuckle, but she says nothing.

“Does that feel good?” I ask her after a moment, moving my fingers inside her. Her body clutches around me, and she moans gently.

“Y-Yes,” she stutters, as if she’s surprised.

I crook my fingers a little, tilting them down and stroking her inside, watching her as she gasps and twitches.

“I want all of you, Ava,” I growl as she sways against me, her thighs jerking as I press a third finger against her hole, before sliding it inside. She cries out, her voice thready and desperate as I move my cock forward, brushing it from root to tip over her soaking pussy lips.

I tease her, pushing the head against her entrance, but not penetrating.

“Do you like it?” I ask her as I rub the fat head of my cock against her swollen pussy. I feel a gush of warmth as her body spills wetness down over me.

“Oh, God, yes,” she moans. I keep working my fingers in her asshole as my cock teases her pussy. “Please Riley, oh
fuck
….”

I don’t have the self-control to hold back any longer. I have to be inside her — now.

I move my hips forward, sheathing myself in one strong movement.

Ava cries out again, shuddering, her fingers curling in the pillow she’s leaning on.

“Oh my God,” she moans when I make my first long thrust, fucking her slowly and evenly, pulling almost all the way out before shoving back in again.

“Tell me you love this,” I groan as I fuck her, my pelvis slapping against her ass with every thrust, making it vibrate around the fingers I have inside her. Ava writhes, wiggling her ass, as if she’s trying to take me even deeper. She moans, low and feral, almost animalistic.

“
Tell me
,” I repeat when she doesn’t say anything, quickening my thrusts, fucking her harder.

“I love it,” she finally gasps out. “God, I love it.”

I reach down around her, steadying her with my forearm, and find her clit with the fingers on my other hand.

Ava squeals, lifting her knees up off the bed when I touch her, forcing herself back onto my cock and fingers. Her pussy clamps tight around my dick, hot and slick and wet, and threatens to pull me over the edge before I’ve completely finished with her. My cock is embedded deep in her pussy while my fingers work her ass, taking everything from her, drawing pleasure from her body while she squeals and shudders like she’s lost control of her body.

My balls slap hard against her pussy while she squeezes me to within an inch of my life. I groan, wanting to give her everything I have.

“Oh God, Riley, Riley,
Riley….
” She repeats my name like it’s a mantra, spurring me to go harder and faster.

Her pussy is milking my cock, her ass clamped tightly around my fingers. I’m filling her up in every hole, taking everything she has to give me.