Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (35 page)

She’s so tight and wet and hot, and she holds my cock like a glove — like we were made to fit each other. When she squeezes her tight walls around me I hear myself growl out a low, feral sound; in response, she wraps her legs around me, locking her ankles at the small of my back.

“Oh God, Riley, please,” she moans. “More. Give me
more.
”

I’m already giving her everything I have, but somehow, I find it in myself to give her even more, fucking her faster, clawing at her back to lift her hips to meet mine with every thrust. The squeeze of her muscles around my shaft is making me wild, turning me into a wild animal more than a man. The only thing I can think about is fucking her with every last ounce of my strength, and not stopping until we’re both too exhausted to move.

“Oh God, I’m coming,” she cries out as I shove into her, burying myself to the root with every thrust.

She arches back, her mouth open in a silent cry, her muscles shuddering around me, squeezing me to within an inch of my life. I already know I’m not going to be able to hold out any longer, and I pour myself into her, growling as I come, my fingers pressing into her hips.

Ava’s next scream is anything but silent as she claws at my shoulders, writhing beneath me, hips bucking.

I empty myself within her in pulses, filling her up, my cock still hard inside her even as we both start to come down, coated in sweat, breath heavy.

Ava looks up at me with wild eyes, her damp hair plastered to her forehead, clothes crushed and ruined.

“God I’ve missed that,” I say as I slowly slide out of her, collapsing on my back on the bed beside her. “Holy hell.”

For a while, we just lie together, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling.

“We need to get started on what you’re going to say at your hearing,” she says, still a little breathless.

I groan. It’s the last thing I want to think about right now, but I know she’s right.

“How long do I have to ask for one?” I ask.

“The letter said seven days.”

I lean over and kiss her again, hot and deep. My fingers drift between her legs again, and I feel myself dripping out of her, coating her thighs, mixing with her own wetness. It sends a spark straight through me, directly into my cock. I’m already starting to get hard again.

“Then we still have plenty of time,” I say.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

AVA

One week later

I’m a total bundle of nerves. I feel burned out, which is not really surprising given I’ve been living on coffee and delivery pizza for the last few days while I’ve been helping Riley prepare for his hearing, as well as trying to keep up to date on my own classes and assignments.

Omar, Reid, Darcey and even Brett have been helping too, standing as members of the panel who’ll be asking Riley questions about why he thinks he should keep his scholarship, and the events of the night of the party. We’ve collected supporting statements from his teammates, Coach Thompson, who’s mainly responsible for Riley’s training, and his professors, who’ve been mainly impressed with Riley’s efforts to get his grades up after he spent some time on academic probation last year. Riley was kind of sulky and annoyed about the panel practice sessions, but as time went on I think he started to see the point in them. Certainly, I can be almost sure he’s not going to lose his head and say something aggressive or just storm out if they ask him pointed questions, which was a distinct possibility before.

The main problem, however, is that Bryce fucking Lennox has been totally immovable on his version of events for what went down at the party. He’s still insisting that Riley punched him unprovoked. He’s still saying he was never driving his car, which is complete bullshit, but either people didn’t see it, or they were too drunk or high to even know
what
was going on. All of Bryce’s little hangers-on are sticking by him, saying Riley just came up and punched him, and that Bryce was never driving. I can’t imagine any of them breaking ranks. Bryce has got too much power over them — or else, he’s got a ton of dirt on them, and they know they’re screwed if they say anything.

That’s really going to be the biggest stumbling block. If the panel accepts Riley’s story, they’re pretty much saying they think Bryce is lying. And considering Bryce’s family has gone on a charm offensive to the media, I’m not sure they will. The media has got itself wound into such a tight ball of righteous fury over this that
something’s
got to give.

I just hope it isn’t Riley.

I haven’t heard from my father since I last spoke to him either. I know him well enough by now to know that when he’s mulling things over, it’s best to leave him to his own devices. If I call him, he’ll see it as badgering — as me trying to get an answer out of him before he’s ready to give me one. When he’s ready to talk, he will, but right now, I just have to try to put it out of my mind. There’s not a lot I can do until then.

Riley is lying next to me on my bed, sleeping. I think I wore him out last night — well, as much as it’s possible to do that. But yeah, I feel like every cliché about the virgin who finally does it and then turns into a total nymphomaniac is totally true in my case. I can’t get enough of feeling Riley inside me, or his mouth between my legs. I can’t get enough of taking his cock in my mouth and feeling the hot spurt of his come over my tongue as I slowly suck him. And I feel like he’s deserved a reward for all his hard work on preparing for the hearing. I mean,
I
do too. So we’ve been giving each other some pretty spectacular rewards, even if I do say so myself.

The hearing is tomorrow. In the spirit of not over-studying, I’ve planned for us to have today off — we’ll go out for lunch. Or maybe we’ll just order in again, though my body is crying out for some real nutrition. Whenever I think about being too far away from the bed, however….

Riley stirs in his sleep, before blinking his eyes slowly open.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say as he wakes.

He stretches, somehow managing to fill up almost the whole of my double bed as he does so. I mean… he’s pretty big though. And muscular. Holy hell, he’s hot. And he’s mine.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Not too late. Around ten?” I say, settling my head on his chest without bothering to look at the clock.

“Not even lunch.”

“Not yet.”

He reaches over, putting his fingers under my chin to tilt my head up so he can kiss me.

The kiss starts off slow and lazy, but it soon gets more heated — and before I know it, I can feel his cock hardening against my thigh, and the thrill of electricity as my pussy grows wetter.

I don’t know how long his cell phone has been vibrating on my desk before we notice it, but when we do, we break apart quickly.

“You better get that,” I say. “It might be important.”

Riley groans, but he nods, reaching over and grabbing it.

“Yeah?” he says when he answers, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. His expression changes quickly, however, once the person on the other end starts speaking. “Mom?”

I blink.
Riley’s mom?
I’m sure he said he didn’t know where she was, and that they hadn’t spoken in a while. I’m full of questions as Riley sits up a little straighter in the bed, scratching his hand through his hair.

“No, Mom — it’s okay,” he says, licking his lips. “I know what they’ve been saying. But look — uh, you know, it’s kind of hard for me to explain over the phone. Can we meet somewhere for lunch or something?”

I can hear her voice on the phone as she agrees, telling him she’s worried about him, but agreeing to catch the train to meet him.

“Okay, Mom. I love you.” Riley hangs up, before his eyes dart over to me. “That was, uh, my mom,” he says, a little sheepishly.

“Yeah, I figured,” I say. I’m a little surprised, but I smile at him, trying to let him know I’m not angry. “Didn’t you say you hadn’t heard from her in a while?”

“I hadn’t. She… she turned up at my house the day that… well, the day we had that fight. I guess it shook me up a little. I was acting like a total ass. I wasn’t really expecting to see her, and….” He trails off, and for a moment he looks so lost that all I want to do is reach over and hug him. As it is, I restrain myself and simply lean over to place a hand on his arm.

“I get it,” I say. “You could’ve just told me, though. If you’d just
said
that, I would’ve understood.”

Riley shakes his head. “Well yeah, it seems obvious once you
say
it. But at the time I felt really messed up over it. And then you were being so weird, and I lost my temper. Can you blame me?”

I throw my hands up. “I’m not going to get into
another
fight about this, Riley,” I say. “Let’s just say we both suck at communicating our feelings, and leave it at that.”

“Hey, just because I don’t like to communicate how I feel with words doesn’t mean I suck at it,” Riley says. “I think I’m pretty good at communicating how I feel.”

His fingers are creeping up my leg as he speaks.

I lean forward to kiss him again as his fingers slide between my legs. I shudder as he begins stroking my clit.

There’s nothing I want more than to just push him back on the bed and not get out of it again for the rest of the day, but I’m painfully aware that he said he was going to meet his mom for lunch.

“Uh, Riley,” I say, reluctantly breaking off the kiss. “You need to go have a shower. You have to go meet your mom.”

Riley groans. I can see the bedsheets tenting around his erection. I feel a spike of heat to my core, and I have to look away.

“Just ten minutes?” he asks.

I’m tempted, but I have to be firm. “I know what your ‘ten minutes’ looks like, Riley. No way. Go get your ass into the shower or you’re going to be late to meet your mom.”

Riley sighs theatrically, but he heaves himself up and wanders across my bedroom, kicking the clothes we threw on the floor last night out of the way as he goes. After a moment, I hear the water of the shower running.

I stretch, leaning back on the bed. I’m feeling deliciously sore from last night — I don’t know how many times we did it, but I think we must’ve set a new record or something. I feel
awesome
.

“Hey, Ava.” Riley’s voice is a little muffled by the shower.

“What?” I ask, swinging my legs out of bed and crossing the room to stand in the doorway.

“Do you want to come?”

I lean against the doorframe. Riley has his back to me, the water running in rivulets down his muscles and over his perfect round ass.

What was he saying about being great at communicating his feelings?
I think to myself, but really, I’m too dazed and surprised to make fun of him.

“Come with you to have lunch with your mom?”

“Yeah.”

Of course I do
, is the answer that immediately leaps to mind, but I try to hold back a little. I don’t want to look over-eager and scare him off. Or make him think I’ve been holding out for this. Okay, maybe I’m in no position to say
anything
to Riley about communication.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” Riley mutters, half turning to look at me. Clearly, he’s taken my failure to answer him immediately as hesitancy — like I don’t want to go.

“No, no, I want to,” I say quickly. “In fact, I’d
love
to. You don’t think she’ll mind? I mean, she must want to spend time with you after so long.”

Riley shakes his head. “Nah. She’d love to meet you.” He flashes a grin at me. “And I have to introduce her to my woman at some stage.”

“Your — your
what?
”

Riley doesn’t answer me — he just stands open-mouthed under the showerhead for a moment, filling his mouth with water before turning and spitting it at me, like he’s five years old or something.

“You better get your ass into this shower, or we’re going to be late,” he says.

I shake my head, but I can’t help but smile.

Then I open the shower door, and join him inside.

I’m surprised by how small Riley’s mom is when we meet on the steps of the train station — Riley envelopes her almost completely when he wraps her in his arms for a hug. I mean, Riley’s about as wide as a door, but still, it doesn’t seem possible that someone so petite could have given birth to someone as huge as him.

When they break apart, the look on Riley’s face is… well, there’s literally no other word to describe it but radiant. His smile is adorably boyish.

“Mom, I want you to meet someone,” he says. “This is Ava.”

I hold out my hand. “Hi, Mrs. Knox. It’s so great to meet you.”

Mrs. Knox lets out a thrilled little gasp when she sees me, her hand over her heart. “Well, aren’t you the prettiest thing,” she says. “Even prettier than in the photos I’ve been seeing in all the magazines.”

For a moment, I hesitate, but the twinkle in Riley’s mom’s eye is mischievous — she’s joking around with me. All the same, I feel myself blushing bright red. Of course, I should have known she’d have read these things, but it’s awfully strange to remember that people you’ve never even met before have already read all about you, and think they know the intimate details of your life.

“Mom, knock it off,” Riley complains. “You can’t believe anything you read in those pieces of shit.”

“Riley, language,” Mrs. Knox scolds him. “And do you honestly think I don’t know that? I’m not
that
stupid.”

“I didn’t say that, Mom,” Riley says, looking about as chastened as I’ve ever seen him — which is to say, at all, ever. Usually he just barrels on, regardless of who he’s offended. It’s kind of strange, seeing this side of him — the side that can obviously be bowed in the face of maternal displeasure.

“Well, I look forward to the two of you telling me what
is
true, then,” Mrs. Knox says, slipping her arm through Riley’s. “I have so much catching up to do.”

I smile. “I can try, Mrs. Knox,” I say, though I don’t know how much of the truth I should really reveal — when I think about it, I realize how truly insane the last several weeks have been. The fake dating, the secret
real
dating, the party, my decision to tell my father and
still
not knowing what he’ll say about it….

There’s just too much. It would probably just be simpler to tell Mrs. Knox that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and leave it at that.

“Please, call me Marcia.” Riley’s mom smiles, and then slips her other arm through mine. “I know a nice diner, if it’s still there — not too expensive. We can get something there if the two of you are hungry. And knowing my son the way I do, I’m sure he is.”

“Oh, I can get lun —” I start to say.

Marcia cuts me off with a curt shake of her head. “No, dear,” she says. “I have a lot to make up to Riley, and besides, I’m his mother. Please — I can treat my son and his girlfriend to lunch. It would be my pleasure.”

I have to resist the sudden urge to suck in a deep breath at the word
girlfriend
. It seems so weird to hear it said out loud. I shoot Riley a look over his mother’s head, and find him looking back at me. I can see the same emotion on his face.