Tackled: A Sports Romance (15 page)

"Before football season?"

"Before everything," he says. "This year is going to get crazy. Once the season starts, it'll take on a life of its own."

I don't know what it's like,
I realize.
I don't know at all.

I think it's his way of warning me.

"
T
here's
a swimming hole down here." The next morning, I pull her by the hand down a mostly-overgrown trail that winds down the side of the hill.

"Is this your thing?" she asks, her voice light. "You bring girls up here — '
Ooh, look at the lights over the city. Oh, hey, there's a swimming hole down here'?
"

"I haven't brought anyone up here," I say, smacking her on the ass. "This place is all mine. Just like your ass."

"Are we going to get eaten by bears?"

"Aw, that's an adorable question."

"Snakes, then?" she asks. "I really don't like snakes."

"You picked the wrong state to go to school in if you don't like snakes," I say.

Cassie clutches at my arm. "Seriously. Are there snakes in the water?"

"Maybe."

She slaps me hard. "That's not funny."

"I'll protect you, little lady," I drawl in my best imitation of a cowboy in an old western. I pull her into me and place her hand against my cock. "That's the only one you have to worry about."

"Oh, so just a little garden snake, then."

"That's not what you called it last night."

She pulls away laughing, and I chase her down the trail until we reach the swimming hole, complete with an overhanging tree branch and a rope dangling from it that looks like it hasn't been used in years.

"Cool," she says, lifting up her t-shirt and tossing it on the ground without a second's hesitation. "No one knows about this place?"

Her panties drop to the ground and she steps out of them, turning around to look at me, grinning broadly with her hands on her hips. She turns her face up to the sky, the early morning sunlight bathing her in a warm glow, and closes her eyes.

And I just stand there watching her, not getting undressed, because I can't stop looking at her.

She opens her eyes. "Why do you still have clothes on?"

I shrug. "Just enjoying the view."

She doesn't even blush. She grins. "Have you gone swimming in here?"

"Yep. It's deep."

She peers into the water and then steps back, running and jumping in before I even have my shorts off. When she comes up, she shrieks loudly. "Fuck, it's colder than I thought it would be."

I cannonball into the water, deluging her, and she tries to splash me for soaking her, but I grab her and pull her against me before she can do it anymore. She's laughing. This is about as far from the uptight Cassie who walked into that first tutoring session with me as it can get.

She floats on her back in the water, her toes sticking up just barely. "This is like your own little private piece of paradise."

I look at her, her hair splayed out in the water. Hell, I'm starting to think it is.

"This water is fucking freezing," she says. "Want to warm me up?"

We make it to the top of the trail, still dripping wet from the water. Cassie wears a bra and sandals and has a towel wrapped around her waist, but not out of a sense of modesty, she clarifies for me. "It's self-protective. If we see a bear, you'll be stuck running naked through the woods with your junk hanging out. I'll at least have this towel."

"It's a good thing you're hot," I say.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, city-slicker."

"I can't believe you walked back through the woods naked," she says, turning toward me when we reach the top of the hill. She looks down. "With a boner."

"I just got the boner now," I say, reaching for her towel. It falls to the ground. I pull her against my hardness, sliding her bra off before she can react.

"I'm surprised it took you so long," she says. "Considering we've been awake for at least thirty minutes."

"I'm surprised I was able to hold off this long," I tell her. "I was trying to be considerate."

"Because you deflowered me?" she asks, her hand moving straight to my cock.

"Look at me, trying to be a gentleman."

"I'd rather you not," she says, guiding the tip of my cock between her legs and touching it to her entrance.

"Cassie," I growl. She's wet, and it's not from the water. She's slick and warm, already eager for me. She arches her back against the side of the truck, slides her hands around my neck. "I'm trying to go easy on you."

"And I'm telling you not to." She puts her lips on mine, her teeth pinching my lower lip between them.

"Hell, Cassie," I say, my voice low in my throat. I yank her wet hair back, pulling her face up to mine and covering her mouth. I don't want to kiss this girl. I want to fucking devour her.

I slide my hand underneath her thigh, pulling one leg up around my waist and pushing her back roughly against the side of the truck. "Is this what you want?" I ask in a hush. I'm holding back, still afraid I'm going to hurt her, still afraid she's tender and tight and that she can't handle me.

"Yes," she pleads, the agony of her lust more than evident in her tone as she grips me, pulling me toward her.

That's all I need to hear. I enter her, slowly at first because no matter how
not easy
she tells me to go, she's still so fucking tight. Her warm wet pussy squeezes my cock like a vise, pulling me deeper and deeper into her until I'm all the way inside her, filling her up to the hilt with my cock.

I fuck her like that, one hand behind her knee, and the other gripping her hair so that her head is tilted back and she looks into my eyes. Her lips part, forming my name as she pants it softly.

"This is what you want, Cassie?" I ask her, punctuating my question with short thrusts deep inside her. She's so slick now, so wet, that I don't worry about hurting her anymore. I fuck her harder with each thrust.

"Yes, yes," she moans. She meets every thrust with her hips, her hands gripping my ass cheeks and pulling me against her like she can't get enough. "More."

She says it again and again,
more, more, more
, this barely coherent chant as she begs me to fuck her harder and harder until I'm balls deep in her.

"Tell me how much you like my cock in your tight little pussy," I say, my voice strained. She's so warm, so tight, so wet that she feels like heaven.

"Oh my God," she moans. "You feel so good."

"Say it, Cassie," I demand, yanking her hair harder.

"I love your hard cock." Her eyelids are heavy as she looks up at me, her words punctuated with little whimpers. "Fucking my tight –"

I thrust inside her again.

"Say it."

I thrust again, my cock so hard that it feels like it's going to burst. She's swollen around me, her muscles already squeezing me as she gets closer to orgasm. Her hands drag along my back, her fingernails digging into my skin.

"Say it," I groan. "I'm going to fill this tight little pussy full of cum. That's what you want, isn't it? To feel my cum dripping down your thighs?"

"Yes," she moans. "Yes."

"Say it."

"Fuck my tight –"

I thrust inside her. My balls clench, barely able to contain it.

"Virgin."

I thrust again, and her muscles clamp down on me hard before she even screams her orgasm.

"Pussy," she cries out, followed by a feral moan in my ear as she comes. Her muscles tense around me as I thrust deeply inside her once, twice, a third time as I fill her up.

My heart thumps loudly in my chest, and she looks at me, her hair sweaty from exertion, her cheeks flushed red, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Fuck me, if I ever get tired of seeing that expression on her face.

"You're dripping out of me," she whispers.

"Are you trying to get fucked again, saying stuff like that?" I ask. "Tell me you like it."

She moans. "I like it," she says. "And yeah, I'm trying to get fucked again."

I
'm lying
on my bed in my room when I hear Sable yell. "Spill it! Cassie!"

I don't have time to respond before she bursts through my bedroom door, throwing it open and looking at me expectantly. "Knocking would be nice," I say. "What if –"

"What if you and Colton were getting it on in here, right?" she asks, grinning broadly as she walks over and flops down on my bed. "If you were doing the deed, I'd be scarred for life. But I didn't hear any
uhhhh-uhhhh-uhhhh
."

I slap her hard on the arm. "That is
not
what I sound like."

"Stop getting distracted. Did you do it or not?"

"I'm not kissing and telling!"

Sable looks at me like I have three heads. "I tell
you
about
my
sexual misadventures."

"Yeah, because you never learned appropriate boundaries as a child and you think that talking in great detail about your sexual conquests is totally normal."

"My sexual conquests," Sable says. "I like the way that sounds."

"Speaking of which, how's Tank?" I ask.

Sable sighs and leans back with her head against the wall. "Jonathan is…good."

"Jonathan?" I ask, laughing.

"That's his name. His actual name, not his nickname."

"Since when did you start learning the names of the guys you bang?" I ask. That sounds like a bitchy thing to say, but it's not. Sable prefers to refer to the guys she dates by a moniker other than their names – The Artist, or The Drummer, or The Jackhammer. "I've never heard you call anyone by his name."

Sable shrugs. "I like his name."

I sit up straight in bed. "You like him."

Sable rolls her eyes. "I do not," she says. "I like
banging
him."

I narrow my eyes as I point my finger at her. "No, no, no, this is not the I-like-sex Sable I know and love. This Sable is all weird."

"Oh, shut up," she groans, her cheeks pink.

"You're blushing again."

"So what? I think Jonathan is cute and I like hooking up with him."

"You
liiike
him," I tease, dragging out the word.

"Shut up, Virgin."

"Not anymore."

"Hah. I knew it!" She bolts upright in the bed, turning to face me and crisscrossing her legs. "You have my undivided attention. Tell me absolutely everything in exacting detail."

"We did it," I say. "That's it. I'm not a virgin anymore."

Sable screws up her face. "Oh. I see. Well, don't worry about it. You know, it's not necessarily fireworks and magic the first time anyway."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's okay if it was disappointing," she assures me. "I mean, it's a lot of pressure, twenty-three years of waiting for the big moment. So it's naturally going to be hard for it to live up to the expectation."

"It wasn't disappointing," I tell her. "It was…
really
good."

"Why did you make it sound like it was disappointing?"

"I didn't!" I protest. "I just said that I lost it and that's it."

"Where did he take you?" Sable asks. "Did he make me proud?"

"Make
you
proud?" I ask.

"He was worried about the whole deflowering thing."

"What??" I squeal. "He talked to you about it?"

"Not exactly," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "He wanted a little advice. It was so sweet."

"He needed advice on how to do it?" My voice goes up approximately three octaves. It's one thing for Sable and I to deconstruct our sex lives or lack thereof, but another thing entirely for Colton to talk to her about how to deflower me.

Sable cocks her head to the side. "No, he was clear on the mechanics," she goes on. "I mean, at least I hope he was."

"Yes," I mumble, my teeth gritted. "We were
both
clear on the mechanics, thanks. What exactly did he say to you about it?"

"He wanted to make the experience…
special," she explains. "Romantic."

"So you told him what to do?" I ask. I feel a sudden pang of disappointment that he asked Sable for advice. Here I was, thinking that he had come up with the back-of-the-truck thing all on his own.

"Of course I didn't tell him what to do," she says. "I just told him you weren't a flowers and dinner kind of girl and he should think outside the box."

"That's all you told him?" I ask. "And who says I'm not a flowers and dinner kind of girl?"

"Come on," Sable whines. "Don't deny me this. How did he do it?"

"Missionary style."

"Hilarious. I don't want to know the position. Did he think outside the box or not?"

I exhale heavily. "He brought me out into the country," I tell her. "In his truck. That sounds a lot lamer than it was."

"So you did it in the back of his pickup truck?" Sable asks, wrinkling her nose like she smells something bad. "When I suggested he think outside the box, I kind of meant a suite at the Four Seasons or something."

"Ok, I'm not telling you anything else."

"No! Keep going! I'll zip my lips. Promise." She makes a fake buttoning gesture and gives me a patiently waiting look.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not telling you any more," I say. "It was outside under the stars and it was very nice and he did well. It was outside of the box. And it was romantic."

Sable grins broadly. "Good. I'm glad neither of you got poison ivy on your junk."

"You're such a bitch."

"Did I wish poison ivy on you or did I
literally
just say I was glad that neither of you came home with junk-rashes?"

"So Jonathan is your boyfriend, now, right?"

"That's a low blow, bringing relationship labels into this conversation," she says. "We're having fantastic sex and that's that."

"Sure you are."

"Look at you. One time having sex and now you're an expert on no-strings relationships."

"Not one time," I confess, my face warming at the thought of Colton taking me up against the side of his truck.

"You hussy!"

"Was that pride I heard in your tone?"

"My little baby is growing up," Sable sings, wiping a mock tear from her eye. "Colton's not going to know what hit him."

S
able was right
.

It's like a switch got flipped the night Colton and I had sex. I mean, I don't know how I've gone twenty-three years without sex. I thought I had a good idea of what it entailed – it's not like I'm a prude. I had sex toys and my fingers and, really, they worked just fine.

Now, I'm learning "just fine" is nothing compared to Colton King's cock.

Virgin girl goes cock-crazy once she gets a taste. Virgin girl gets debauched and becomes a very bad girl.
It's an eye-roll-inducing cliché. Except here I am, practically begging for Colton's dick constantly. I'm a walking ball of need and want and desire, perpetually aroused, wanting Colton to bend me over and take me anywhere, anytime. It's like I'm making up for lost time, trying to cram years of pent-up frustration into one summer of sex.

I've become one of those girls who get a little bit of cock and lose their damn minds.

Except with Colton… it's not a little bit of cock. It's a hell of a lot.

He seems to have a sixth sense, seems to know exactly how to touch me – the right place, the right intensity, the right position – to send me hurtling over the edge so quickly.

And Colton has been only too happy to oblige my crazy sex drive.

In fact, he obliges over and over again.

In my room in the apartment – on the bed, on the desk, on the floor, against the wall. On the sofa, the kitchen counter, on the floor just inside the doorway of my place. In the tutoring room. In the truck at the lake. In his room while I pretend to be helping him study, but I think his roommates know exactly what's going on.

I'm on a sex-induced high, and I don't want to come down from it. The problem is, I have the nagging feeling that it's just a matter of time until it all comes crashing to the ground.