Deep End: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (16 page)

“Shit,” says Dave, a frown growing across his face. “Chucky fucking sucks.
Probably too m
uch pressure.
He’s swimming even
worse than normal.”

“I thought you said he was a rebel? I thought he’d like pressure.”

“I gues
s he just
wants
to be a rebel.”

“What’s the matter?” says
Beaumont
. “Looks like he’s in second place.”

I shake my head, trying not to let
Beaumont
see my expression of amazement. He’s obviously not even aware of which team is ours, since he’s looking at a different swimmer altogether.

Dave just ignores
Beaumont’s
comment.

By the time
Chucky’s
done,
the team is almost half a pool length behind. Chucky climbs out of the pool, looking totally spent.

The next swimmer
isn’t
doing much better,
but
he manages to shorten the gap a little bit.

“Maybe they still have a chance,” I say.

Dave doesn’t
say anything.

The third swimmer, though, isn’t much faster than Chucky, and the time that the second swimmer made up is gone, and the team is farther behind than ever.

By the time Anchor’s on deck,
every other team’s forth member
is already in the water.

It doesn’t look like there’s any way An
chor’s going to make it
. After all, he’s far, far behind.

From my perspective, it looks like all the other teams are pra
ctically at the finish, at the
end of the pool already. Of course, I’m forgetting that they have to do a couple more laps. I’ve completely lost track of how many laps they have to do.

Dave, though,
looks
like he’s counting laps on his fingers.

I don’t dare ask Dave right now, since he seems like he might snap if someone breaks his concentration. I’ve always seen Dave as just a complete idiot, an arrogant prick but w
ithout the muscle and brains to
back it up like Anchor can. But now, I see him suddenly as a really good friend. He
obviously
really cares if Anchor
wins
. Although,
then
again, he is on the same swim team, and
maybe
he just wants his team to win.

Beaumont
doesn’t seem
to
be able to concentrate, and I can understand the feeling. If I don’t ha
ve a seriously vested
personal
interest
in Anchor, I doubt I’d be interested in following these swimmers at all.

Anchor dives
incredibly
far into the water, hitting it with
little resistance
, very little splash.

His long arms are swinging like wind turbines, and his body seems to be sliding forward through the water without any effort. He’s
cruising
alone, obviously going faster than the others.

He’s already overtaken one.

Now another.

“Holy shit,” exclaims Dave, jerking his body back in excitement, knocking his
crutches
to the floor as he does so. But he’s too excited to pick them up. “I’ve never seen even Anchor swim like this.

“He’s going fast, then, is he?” says the clueless
Beaumont
. He should really stick
to
what he knows best, although to his credit, this is pretty much what he does.

Suddenly, Anchor has overtaken everyone but one swimmer, who’s about a foot in front of him.

They’re both rushing towards the end of the pool, and this is the last lap in the whole race.

With furious kicking, water going absolutely everywhere, Anchor suddenly pulls ahead.

He’s won.

“Holy shit, he won!” screams Dave, jumping up,
and nearly toppling over
again.

“He won!” I scream, jumping up myself, and giving Dave a big hug.

I catch
Beaumont’s
eye, and he gives me a curio
u
s look, that says, “Why do you care so much, Allison? Is something else going on?”

But I’m not about to tell
Beaumont
what Anchor and I have been up to.

I get out of the pool. I feel kind of numb for some reason, as if the shock of winning hasn’t hit me yet. This was one race that I actually didn’t think I’d win. I don’t know what I was thinking pulling
Chucky
in after I knocked Spellman out.

Someone hands me a towel, and a few people are clapping me on the back, but overall, the atmo
sphere is subdued and quiet
. My ow
n team hasn’t rallied around
me
or anything
like that. In fact, they’re all standing far away, not
looking me in the eye
.
Obviously
, they’re worried about what coach is going to do. After all, it’s unheard of to race against your own coach’s orders.

I don’t know how I convinced the
officials
to let me race. But it’s done now.

Glancing around, I don’t see coach anywhere. My only thought is to get the hell out of here before coach gets to me and really kicks me off the team.

If he can’t talk to me, he can’t really kick me off the team, right? I mean, sure, he already told me I was off the team, but that was in
t
he
heat of the moment, when he was furious. Maybe it won’t stick. Maybe if I give him a couple days, he’ll change his mind, especially considering
this improbable
victory I just pulled off.

I’m already through the locker room. I
haven’t
even
bothered
to change into my
regular clothes, or even pull
my pants on over my swim briefs
.

“Anchor!” screams someone, a high pitch voice that sounds familiar, but the heat of the race is making e
verything seem a little foreign
and
unfamiliar
.

It’s Allison, and she’s
running
towards me.

She gives me a huge hug. It seems like she’s abou
t
to
kiss me, but she turns around nervously and looks behind her.

She
takes me by the hand, and pulls
me away, towards the door.

“Let’s get out of
here
,” she says.

We don’t
talk as we rush back to her dorm room. She seems a little frantic, and I can’t read her yet. Is she mad about me punching out Spellman, and pulling that shit with the last race?

A minute later, she answers my question herself. And it’s not what I was expecting.

“That was so hot the way you raced anyway, the way you defied authority,” she says, almost breathless, giving me a huge kiss, her tongue coming all the wa
y into my mouth. She tastes swee
t, and her mouth is warm and wet. Her body is comforting, with her breasts squished up against my naked wet chest.

“I thought you’d be m
ad about that,” I say.

She shakes her head and kisses me again, her hand
unexpectedly
working its w
ay down my swim briefs
, and grabbing my cock, which is already swelling up, coming completely erect in a second.

I’m still out of breath from the race, and my heart feels like it’s pounding. I was expecting to kick back and relax after the race, like I normally do, but a new type of excitement overtakes me, and it’s all because of Allison and her hot body, her body that wants mine.

She wants me, like nothing else in the world, and nothing else has ever seemed hotter to me.

“The sheets are going to get wet,” I say.

“I don’t care,” she says, pushing me down onto the bed.

I
kick my swim briefs
off. Her sheets are already soaked from my body.

She falls down on top of me, pulling her shirt off over her head in one swift motion.

She’s we
aring a plain
white bra, but no pair of
breasts
has ever looked sexier, or hotter to me, or more inviting.

I try to grab them lightly, to massage them, but she’s pushing her body right against mine, and I don’t even have a chance to reach them.

She’s reaching down, her hand in a fist around my cock. But she only jerks it for a moment, before she’s shoving it, quite
indelicately
, inside herself.

“Oh yeah,” she says, letting out a moan, as she starts to ride me in a fury. Finally, her body is far enough away from mine, as she arches her back, enjoying the
sensation
, that I can massage her breasts. This just makes her moan harder.

It feels perfect inside her. She feels tight, wet, warm, and delicious.

“
This is just what I needed afte
r
a hard race,” I say.

“I hope you’re not too tired, you don’t seem to be that enthusiastic,”
she says. I’m pretty sure she’s
just messing
with
me, or wants to see what I’ll say.

“I like
the way you’ve completely come
out of
your shell
,” I say, as she rides me, thrusting her hips forward and grinding down
against
me.

“It’s more than that. I’ve cast it aside and burnt it to the ground,” she says.

“I like the way you talk,” I say.

“You sure you’re
not too tired?”

“I’ve never been tired in my life,” I say.

To prove my point, I grab her around the
sides, pull
ing her down close to me.

Now I shift my weight, suddenly
reversing
our positions, so that she’s underneath me and I’m on top, pushing my wet body down against hers. I love the way her breasts feel against my chest, like
delicious
sexy cush
ions for
fucking.

I ride her hard, thrusting like I’ve never thrust before. It’s just like a continuation of my race,
only this time it’s a fucking race rather than a swim race.

She arches her back. She’s not going to last long—I can tell. She’s not going to hold it in much longer.

She lets out a tremendous noise as she comes,
her
stomach rising as her back curves, her hips shaking wildly. She bites me on the shoulder, not too gently.

I duck my head down and take t
he erect pointed nipple of her
right breast in my mouth, sucking on it. I suck gently at first, then hard, and now I bite it ever so gently. She lets out another moan.

“I’m going to come, too,” I say, beginning to buck my hips in a series of hard and rapid thrusts.

Soon I can’t contain it any more. I’m about t
o come. I can’t even start to thi
nk about
anything
else, in
order to delay coming. I’m way past the line. I’m way over the edge, and now it’s unleashing itself, pumping and pumping, my cock spasming inside her.

Shit, I think, did I put on a condom?

Then I re
member—I did put on a condom.
Somehow I did it when we were just starting, right before Allison pushed me on
t
o the bed. What luck, I think to myself. What a fucking relief.

I’m deep inside her, and she’s still moaning. I push my hips
forward,
hard, pushing the tip of my cock just a little farther inside her, as I continue coming. It seems to never end, and neither does the pleasure.

I finally pull o
ut of her, giving an unintentional
little moan as I do so. It just feels so… I don’t know how to describe it.

I look down at my cock, and sure enough there’s a condom on it, stretched tight at the sides. The
end of the condom looks like
a water
balloon
, completely stuffed to the brim. S
hit, I hope
this thing doesn’t
burst
. I roll it off and tie it up before putting it in the
trashcan
.

We
s
nuggle
up against each
other,
her head nestled in the crook of my neck. Looking down, I admire her body once again, this time from a slightly calmer
standpoint
. Why is our sex so frantic? It was the s
ame way in the locker r
oom, although at least then we had a
t
ime constraint. I guess we’re just so eager to feel each other we can’t help but racing towards the goal each time.