Tackled (Alpha Ballers #1) (21 page)

We didn’t waste much time after that, and as soon as Drake had gotten the condom on, he was bending me over and pressing his cock into me. It felt so good to have him inside me again. We should have done this every night. And during the day if possible.

Drake kissed all over my neck and shoulders from the back. I reluctantly let him out of my pussy as he turned me around and sat me back down, letting him kiss my boobs again while we fucked.

It felt amazing, and soon I was cumming again, moaning out my pleasure. Drake rumbled through his own orgasm soon after me, and we sat like that in bed, running our hands over the other’s bodies as we came down from our orgasm.

We didn’t speak much, just grunts and moans as we basked in each other’s company.
 

Drake cradled me in his arms, and I leaned back against him, forgetting where I ended and he began. It felt so wonderful to have him hold me, to have him cover me up and keep me from the rest of the world. This room had taken on another life as our shelter away from everything else outside, and I cherished each moment that Drake and I spent together in it.

I found myself snoozing against his hard muscles, only barely waking up as I felt his hands on my pussy and breasts again. I smiled and moaned as his fingers went back into my quickly-approaching sore pussy, but the slight pain I felt at first quickly gave way to the pleasure I felt from having a part of Drake, any part of Drake, back inside my body. He used his other hand on my breasts, bringing me to a calm and serene orgasm a few minutes later, his lips on my neck, teasing me the whole while.

A girl could definitely get used to this.

In the middle of the night I woke up and reached over to Drake, feeling him hard again. I couldn’t help myself, taking his cock into my mouth and sucking him off as best I could. Drake woke up with me above him, teasing him and licking his shaft.
 

He smiled and I went back to it, taking all his cum in my mouth and loving every drop of it before we fell asleep again.

I woke up the next morning and Drake was gone already. As much as I wanted him to stick around for morning sex, which had a unique flavor and fun all its own, I knew this was for the best.

I lay in bed a little longer than I should before getting up, running my hands up and down my body, imagining them to be Drake’s hands, touching me, rubbing me down, pulling moans out of me as he made me cum again in waves.

Finally, though, I had to get up. Today was the third preseason game, and the best chance for Drake to secure a spot for himself on this year’s Patriots 53 man roster. It was a big day for him, possibly the biggest of his career, and by extension, mine.

I took a little longer getting ready than usual, still running through the amazing sex Drake and I had had a few hours earlier. I wondered, not just once, whether he would ever be able to stay the whole night.

Then it hit me - what if he didn’t want to? What if this was the best way for him to get what he wanted, i.e., lot of sex whenever we could meet, without anything else complicated attached?

I tried not to think about it, but the thought found its way around the various corners of my mind all the while as I showered and got dressed.

As I did my makeup in the mirror I stared myself down. “Let it go, Lily,” I managed to squeak out, not as confidently as it should have been. That was for another time, I’d get to the bottom of it eventually.

Today was about covering the 3
^rd
preseason game and watching Drake make his case to be on the roster. I knew he could do it; the only worry I had was whether he knew it.

The game was here in Foxboro, so there was no need to travel, which was nice. I didn’t see Drake in more than glimpses - game days were always a flurry of activity for the players - they had to get in the right headspace to play, and teams went to great lengths to make sure they were insulated from the rest of the world.

So the media was definitely not allowed to get near the players on the day of the game. We would have our time in the locker room afterward, and that would have to be enough. All I could do was text Drake my well wishes and that I was rooting for him. His reply was short, thanking me and saying he was busy.

It felt weird texting him like that - so far we had confined ourselves entirely to procedural and logistical stuff - it felt way more intimate to be texting support. Had we entered a new phase of whatever this was?

I mean, I liked the sound of that…but why did I get the feeling I was just setting myself up for frustration and eventual total heart break? I felt like despite how close we had become over these last couple weeks, we weren’t actually talking to each other, just around each other.

And then, of course, complicating things like it always had a way of doing, was the sex. Oh wow, the sex. It was otherworldly good, the kind of sex that could make your toes curl in your shoes and your heart race even hours later, when you were standing in the media line to get into a preseason football game.

Which…is exactly what happened to me. I was standing in line, milling about with the other journalists, exchanging small talk about various on the bubble players, when the memory of Drake sinking his thick hard cock into me came rushing back, and I definitely looked around for the nearest bathroom where I could be alone for a few minutes to take care of myself, but in the end I managed to rally and keep my wits about me for at least a little while longer.

All I knew was, if this game went well for Drake, I would be summoning him to my room afterward, and this time I might tie him to the bed just to keep him there all night. Coaches and other players be damned, if he sealed the deal today…we would celebrate.

The tough question that was racing through my mind when Drake’s touch wasn’t taking over was, could Drake really do it? Could he overcome all the odds stacked against him and actually make the team?

He had to play well, that was the case. But really, more than that, he had to demonstrate to the coaches that he and Lance Parker could work together effectively, could create that kind of connection that Lance and Mike Sampson seemed to share. It wasn’t like the two were long lost brothers or had played together since they were kids, so it was at least plausible that Drake could come in and show the same kind of electric route funning and steady hands.

Ugh, thinking about Drake’s hands were both all I wanted to do and what I needed to do professionally, but we definitely had two different purposes going at once.

Finally, the doors opened and the media were allowed to get into their spots. The Globe had asked for and received special permission for this game - we were out on the field just to one side of the home team benches. It was a really rare thing, and during the season this was only for members of TV networks, but the Globe was here for the 3
^rd
preseason game.

Which meant I was just off the field, watching everything. It was…amazing, a dream come true. I snapped as many pictures as I could, sending them all to my father. He replied after each one, shocked at how clear and beautiful everything was. I was in awe at the sheer spectacle of it all. I had attended so many high school college, and even one pro game a year since I was a kid with my father, but I had never been so close to the field as I was right now.

It was spellbinding. As the stadium started to fill up with expectant fans, I could feel an electricity in the air. Sure, this was a preseason game, it didn’t count for the standings, but people came all the same, and brought their families too, just to see their favorite team and recklessly speculate about which players would make the team and which would be out on the street.

Of course, then everyone would repeat that reckless speculation about how their team would do this season. Tonight would lead to a lot of hasty bets made, both in Las Vegas and with shady bookies around the world.

It was the cycle of sports. One of the many cycles of sports.

I was just starting to settle in, and finally put away my phone, after promising my father by text that I would take more photos when play actually began, but for right now I had to get ready to go and do, you know, my job and all, when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

Oh shit. Right.

Of course, the sideline was primarily for TV reporters, with their cameras and their on-field and on-sidelines interviews. Which, of course, meant ESPN would be here.

Which meant Annie Ross would be here.

“Lily Pearson!” Annie’s shrill voice rang out from behind me, and I stopped reaching into my bag to pull out my notebook. “You made it!”

My knuckles whitened as I gripped them together tight, willing myself to relax and put a smile on my face before I turned to face Annie Ross, an assistant dabbing makeup on her face, no doubt getting her camera-ready for one of her many on-air hits before, during, and after the game.

The Globe didn’t really do live coverage of events beyond the occasional live blogging, so I had no need to be all made up that way. Still, it might be nice once in a while to have someone else doing your makeup for a change.

Ugh. Don’t be jealous, Lily, don’t be jealous. Annie Ross is not worth it. TV is not better than print. Readers still count, damnit!

“Annie. Hi.” I made a big show of frowning. “Oh, we can talk some other time if you’re busy.” Or never, that would work too.

She laughed. “Oh this?” she said, waving the assistant away. “This is just part of the job, you know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” I said, as sarcastically as I could muster. I started to turn away, but Annie stepped toward me.

“How’s Drake?”

That was a loaded question, but I could answer the regular part on the surface just fine. “He knows this is a big game, he’s gotta put it all out there if he wants to make a good case for why he should be on the roster in a couple weeks.”

Annie nodded. “I’ve been reading all your work on him, it’s been very good.”

Her compliments just rang so hollow to me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped closer to her and spoke, my voice low. “Cut the crap, Annie, I know what you did.”

“Why, Lily Pearson, what do you mean? What did I do?”

“The lie you spread about me and Bill Thompson.”
 

“That wasn’t me, honey! Why would I do that?”

“You tell me, Annie, you’ve had it out for me for years now, and I’ve never been able to figure out why!”

Annie’s smile was beatific, like she was a super villain gleefully explaining her evil plan to James Bond as he was about to be killed by one of the villain’s dastardly henchmen or wily and deadly contraptions. Like sharks with laser beams. “Of course you know why I’ve had it out for you, you little bitch. You know why I started that rumor about you!”

“What? Tell me! I’m asking you, Annie, why?”

“Because, you’ve always been better than me!” Annie roared, making the people around us look up for the first time. “I should never have been outshined by someone like you! Not me! I’m Annie Ross, and I’m better than that! I’m on ESPN!”

I stood up straight and took out my notebook from my bag, making a big show of writing something down. “Glad I had this on me, Annie,” I smiled as I turned the notebook around and showed it to her. It read ‘Annie Ross worked for ESPN.’

“Nice try, but you got the tense wrong. Didn’t they teach you any grammar at Cal?”

“Oh they did. And they also taught me a lot about public speaking.”

Annie’s face clouded as she tried to figure out what I meant. “I don’t understand.”

I pointed to Annie’s lapel. “Your mic was on, Annie. ESPN’s got a really high quality recording of you admitting to starting a slanderous rumor about me. They probably won’t be too thrilled with it.”

I had the foresight to pull out my phone right then as Annie’s face went whiter than I would have thought possible. “And I have a recording just in case.” I tapped a couple times on the screen and took a picture of her.

“Smile!”

And then it was time for the game to start.

CHAPTER 24 - DRAKE

The locker room before a football game alternates between quiet and loud. These days most guys have their headphones on so they can listen to whatever music they like to in order to get in the groove, find their happy place, the place where they can most effectively go out and pound other guys into the ground, dominate them, and make them rue the day they ever picked up a football and strapped on some pads.

Every so often, though, It was time for a pep talk, and football pep talks can be awe-inspiring and life-affirming, but not so much with the New England Patriots. They aren’t much for showing off like that. Their take is that if you put right amount of work and effort into meetings, studying the playbook, working out in the gym, and then again on the practice field, the actual game itself is just an extension of that. Just a way of putting it all together, integrating everything you’ve been building up to for the week.

It’s kinda refreshing to have so few big huge cheerleading efforts by different guys or coaches. It really was just everyone in their own headspace, sometimes looking at each other and nodding slightly, giving each other a fist pound or two as you passed by a guy’s locker.

Very few words were spoken. They weren’t needed. Everyone was there to do their part to help the team get to where it needed to be. That win. That W on the win column. Of course, this was a preseason game. No championships would be won or lost today, or even gotten closer to or farther away from.

But it was a critical game for the team, and for a whole lot of guys in that room. Each of these lockers in here had a strip on it that said someone’s name. It was very, very easy for someone to slip in and slide that strip out of the locker, so it once again belonged to no one, ready for the next guy to claim it, either for good or temporarily.

I sat in front of one of those lockers, looking up at the strip with “ROLLINS, WR 81” on it. No one had ever asked why I chose number 81, and I would never tell anyone the real answer was because I liked square numbers, and I liked the number 9, so 9x9 = 9^2 = 81 was a natural choice I’d never had reason to change.