Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance (9 page)

I know my heart needs to be protected, but in his eyes, I see something. There's
my
Tyler, the boy that I thought I had something for years ago and he's here with me right now, and in that look I know I'll always be safe. To hell with it, I won’t hold back, and he slips that last inch into me, growling with pleasure. “So perfect."

There's no more words as he begins pounding me, my legs spread and wrapped around him on the couch as he takes me, driving me into the cushions, our hips slapping sharply together and sending explosions of pleasure through my body. I'm gasping, my fingers digging into his t-shirt, my body clenching around him, and I want more. Oh God . . . I want him more and more . . .

My orgasm crashes upon me, like glass shattering, and I'm crying out, fingernails digging into his back, and I pull him down into another soul searing kiss, needing him as he trembles and moans into my mouth, his cock swelling before he comes, driving me into the cushion one last time.

W
e both fell
into a deep and peaceful sleep, and I wake up the next morning at seven thirty. It's not too early, my body is well rested, and I've still got plenty of time until practice today since Coach wants us to start moving the end of our practice days a little later. He’s is really into the whole 'bio clock' thing, and wants our peak performance times to coincide with game time. As our preseason game this Saturday is an evening game, it means evening practice.

I have two hours still until I need to report in for morning video sessions, and looking at April sprawled out on my bed, only half covered by the bed sheet which is twisted around her shoulders and upper body only, I know exactly what I want to do.

Quietly, I get on the bed at her feet. She's still gloriously naked, and I carefully pick up April's right foot, and start massaging the sole with my thumbs, but not so light as to tickle her.

She stirs slowly on the bed, humming contentedly to herself as I continue my massage, squeezing each toe before letting it go, a technique I learned from a sports massage therapist I saw for a while while at Western. I lift her feet to my lips, and suck her toe into my mouth.

"Mmm, what are you doing?" April half mumbles, smiling. Her breath quickens as I continue my caresses. "Tyler . . . "

"Shh . . . this is all for you," I whisper, lowering her foot and kissing my way up the inside of her leg. She keeps her eyes closed, but her knees part, and I get to see her pussy up close in the morning light. It's perfect, soft and smooth, her tender flower opening already and glistening. I reach out with my tongue and trace the petals, losing myself in the flavor and essence that coats my tongue. She's tangy, spicy . . . perfect.

I keep licking, my mind whirling with our connection, a spark that I'd never felt before. It felt like . . . like coming home.

But now, I have another delicacy in front of me as I lick and suck, and I focus on that instead of the memories of last night. She reaches down, running her hands through my hair while I keep licking, dipping my tongue deep inside her before finding the hard jewel at the top, and nibble on her clit. My lips bring her hips off the bed, and she's crying out softly, groaning and grinding up into my face, calling my name in a shaky, quivering voice.

"Ty . . . Tyler," she gasps, her breath catching as she's on the edge of coming. I lick faster, and bring a finger up to stroke at her while I lick, sliding inside her just as she reaches her peak. With a strangled cry, she comes, soaking my face in her juices and wailing breathlessly before sagging into the mattress, spent.

I crawl up next to April, kissing her skin tenderly until I'm looking into her dark, nearly black eyes, and I stroke her hair. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Is that what I can expect if I stay over?" April asks, a still shocked expression on her face.

"You sleep naked like, and that might be exactly what happens," I tease lightly, then lean in. April kisses me, first with a bit of hesitation and then with open tenderness, and reaches down to my hip, trying to find my cock. "Uh-uh. Not before practice, and besides, I told you . . . that was all for you."

"You're going to spoil me," April replies, kissing me again. "At least let me make breakfast, then? If not, I'm going to feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"Deal," I reply. "Past two days, I've been eating reheated takeout and breakfast cereal, and lunch has been . . . not exactly balanced athlete's food."

"Well, I can at least make you some eggs to go with that cereal," April says, stroking my cheek. "Thank you. For our date, for last night, for this morning . . . for everything."

"You make it sound like this is going to be a one time thing," I say, trying to be nonchalant. "You planning on dumping me after only two dates?"

April shakes her head and smiles. "No. Just . . . never mind. Let me go make some breakfast. Did you actually buy any food, or am I just going to see condiments and takeout containers?"

"Yeah, of course," I reply, kind of embarrassed. I have actually been to a grocery store, but I doubt what April finds in the fridge and kitchen is going to improve her outlook on my culinary skills. "At least . . . a little bit."

* * *

"
A
ll right guys
, tomorrow is our second preseason game," Coach Blanchard says, looking around the assembled conference room. There are thirty-four guys in the room, and at least a dozen of the guys around me know that they're going to be cut or put on the ten practice team slots within the next two weeks.

"We're playing Ottawa, which is a good thing, since it gives us a first look at who we're playing in week three of the regular season. So keep your eyes open tomorrow. There's bound to be some new things they'll be trying out on defense, even if they keep it pretty basic like we will."

The lights dim, and Coach walks us through the one hour of video. I've watched this same video at least a dozen times over the past week, either in meetings or in my apartment, and I can actually predict the next play that's being shown before Coach announces it.

I tune out him as he shifts to special teams, which is a bigger part of Canadian football than the American game, and my mind drifts to April. She's on my mind constantly now, but instead of it being a distraction, I've found it a good thing the past few days. Seeing her around the stadium, or when she and I have "work meetings," I've started to find a sort of inner peace that I haven't felt in a long time.

Being with her is kind of like being with a long lost friend. We've had lunch together every day since the first night, and while she hasn't stayed at my apartment since that first time, I can see it in her eyes, she wants to.

I didn't get a lot of playing time our first preseason game last week, Coach wants to keep me under wraps and have me be fully comfortable before he unleashes me on the other teams. Still, in three series with the first string offense, I threw for a touchdown and had nearly a hundred yards of passing . . . not too bad a start. This time though, I'm expecting to play most of the first half and maybe even into the third quarter, and to be honest, I'm excited.

The video session wraps up, and I leave the meeting room along with the rest of the offense. I see April in the hallway and wave, and she smiles, something that she's doing more and more often now. She's grown so much in only ten days, and I'm constantly taken off guard at how just how attracted to her I am.

"Hey," I greet her, stopping while the other guys go by. DeAndre gives me a little smirk, he's seen me and April around the area, I'm sure a lot of the guys have, but he's cool with it. He's a pro, and he sees that its not interfering with me on the field so far. "How was your morning?"

"I dropped off your laundry," April says with a little smile. I haven't found time to do my own laundry yet, so I asked April if she could recommend me a drop-off laundry service. Instead she just took my first big bag of clothes to the cleaner herself this morning. "The cleaner says he'll have them tonight, I can pick them up on the way home, bring it all to you in time for the game."

I laugh and lean in, whispering in her ear. "You know, you could always bring them by my place tonight."

April blushes and shakes her head. "I can't."

"Why?" I ask, leaning in closer. "It's been days."

"Yeah, but still . . . people are talking," she whispers back. "I don't want to get in trouble. Besides, someone told me that women weaken legs."

I laugh. "Okay. But Sunday afternoon, let's have a date, I don't care who talks about what. I had an idea, something I saw the other day on the way to the stadium."

"What?"

"Say yes, and I'll tell you."

April looks up into my eyes, and there's a light in there, an emotion that flares that I've seen a few other times before. "Yes. You know I can't say no to you."

"Yes you can," I reply softly, making sure it's just the two of us who can hear it. "You always can say no."

"Well . . . maybe I just don't want to say no," she says back, her eyes gleaming as she looks up at me. "With you I feel . . . better."

“Well a deal’s a deal. Sunday I wanted to go kayaking."

"Sounds like fun. What time?"

"Eleven? I like sleeping in the night after a game. Or maybe . . . brunch at ten, then kayaking?"

April smiles and nods. "Ten. I'll meet you at your place."

We turn and go down the hallway, toward the entrance to the field where we'll eat our lunches together. April packs her own lunch, and I've started to do the same, even if it is just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"You know, some day, I'd like to see your place," I say as we sit down in the stands. "It feels weird. I have no idea where you live."

"It's nothing to brag about," April replies with a shrug. "I rent a cheap studio flat in a older building in Cabbagetown. It's near the University, but not too close. I used to have a flat mate, but she moved to Hamilton on a new job. Thankfully, the rent's not too bad, and my other costs are low. If you really want, we can go by sometime. There's a movie theater nearby, a few bars, and some other stuff."

"I'd like that — when you're ready,” I say, chewing on the first of my two sandwiches. "Are you getting any flack that you and I are seeing each other?"

April shakes her head and spears her salad with her fork. "No, but I think Francine Walker's a bit jealous. She's the head cheerleader."

"I met her at a photo shoot the team had me do. Something for charity. She's cute, but not my type."

"What
is
your type, Tyler?"

I smirk and look at her. "I've always had a thing for brunettes."

"So if I should show up for our date with my hair dyed platinum blond?" April asks, and I laugh.

"Then platinum blonde’s my favorite."

“And if I go hot pink?”

“Don't push it.”

* * *

P
ractice is easy
, simple walkthroughs without any helmets or pads at all. Some of the guys have already been in training camp for a month now, and we're getting into the needs of professional athletes in-season, which means trying to prevent banging up our bodies as much as possible.

The punt team is out on the field, running through their blocking assignments when Lance Pollard, our starting left guard and one of the second year Canadians on the team, comes up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Congrats, man."

"Congrats on what?" I ask, confused. Lance is big, about six foot four and two hundred and seventy pounds, smaller than an American lineman, but perfect for the faster, more spaced out Canadian game where speed is important and being over three hundred pounds can be a challenge for even the strongest of players. "The throws today?"

"Nah, for breaking in Fumbles," Pollard says with a grin. "We always wondered who was gonna get to fuck her first."

I don’t even respond, and before I know it, my left hand seems like it’s moving on its own. It smacks Lance across the nose, and I actually tackle him, he's so caught off guard. Getting on top, I'm pounding him in the face, stunning him before he can push me off, and we roll, him to his hands and knees, me to my feet.

“Asshole!” I scream, kicking him in the ass when I get to my feet.

Hands grab at me, pulling me back and away, and Coach is there, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. "Settle down, settle down!"

I calm somewhat, and see that Lance is still down, holding his nose and shaking his head side to side, groaning.

Coach shakes his head and points to the locker room. "Go chill out, Tyler. I'll see you in my office after practice. DeAndre, go with him. Vince, run the offense!"

As I make my way through the stadium with DeAndre, he stops me just after we turn into the tunnel. "Tyler, some advice?"

I nod, taking a deep breath. There's no hardness in his voice, just concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Besides, I'm still a rook, right?"

"Eh, you won't find the hazing bullshit on the Fighters that you'll find in the League, but yeah, you're still a rook," he chuckles, and we keep walking. "Pollard wasn't trying to piss you off."