Текст книги "Sacked"
Автор книги: Jen Frederick
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
26 Ellie
Week 8: Warriors 6-0
“You look exhausted,” Riley observes as I drop onto the sofa by her. She’s studying some kind of ethics and law, based on the paperwork strewn about. “Is it all the sex you’re getting? Because I swear if I was getting it as much as you do, I’d have trouble walking.”
“I wish.” Although truthfully some days I am sore. It’s been five weeks of non-stop sex whenever Knox can find a spare minute from football and classes. The team is still undefeated and there are only five weeks left in the regular season with a conference title game in December.
Knox had suggested we visit his brother over the bye week—the week that the team has no game, but I had softball practice. Knox took my rejection with ease and we spent that entire weekend in his apartment, trying out as many positions as he could dream up. I did not like the one where my head was lower than my hips but all others were a go.
He has the stamina of Secretariat, not to mention that he’s hung like a horse, too. Apparently my sex has muscles in it that can get bruised and worn out. Complaining about this to Knox results in more oral. He loves giving head. It’s kind of amazing. Sometimes he acts like he enjoys going down on me more than anything else, which can’t possibly be—
“Earth to Ellie. Come in, Ellie. The little people who don’t have sex are pretending not to be jealous of your nonstop action, but your horny face isn’t helping.” Riley waves a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry.” I try to look repentant. “It’s the game theory class. I barely understand it myself.”
“Which makes it difficult to help Jack,” Riley finishes.
I swing around in surprise. “You know?”
She grimaces. “I’ve suspected for a while, but since you didn’t want to say anything, I didn’t bring it up.”
Panicked, I grab her wrist. “You can’t say anything, Riley. If it got out…Jack’s eligibility would be gone. He might get kicked off the team, lose his scholarship.” I swallow. “I could get kicked out, too. If you saw him in class, Riles.” I scrub both hands down the sides of my face. “It’d break your heart.”
Riley turns her hand over and grips mine. “I’m not saying anything. Why’d he take it anyway? Isn’t it supposed to be hard? Every time I mention it to someone they get this haunted look in their eye. It’s like the class causes PTSD.”
I lean my head back against the rolled edge of the sofa. “It’s the name. Politics and Games? People sign up thinking that it’s this fun class that will give them something semi-coherent to talk about at networking parties when we graduate. Instead, it’s this soul-sucking combination of applied mathematics and theoretical behavioral studies. Jack took it because his stupid liaison told him it was math heavy, but it’s not. It’s not about numbers and equations at all, or at least not in a way that he understands it.”
“What are you doing? How much trouble could you get into?”
“I’m changing some of his answers. Not all of them, but he plans to write a paper about the Super Bowl, and the decision that the coach had to make at the end of it whether to run or pass during a short yardage play. I wanted to make sure that his worksheet answers match up with the paper he’ll turn in at the end of the year.”
“How are you substituting your paper for Jack’s?” She nibbles on the side of her thumb. How ironic that she’s studying ethics and I’m detailing the way I’m cheating for Jack.
“I suggested the topic to him. He’ll write it and I’ll proof it.”
“So, you aren’t really cheating.”
“I am.” I hang my head. “He’s got all the concepts down, but he doesn’t articulate them well. So I rewrite sentences or sometimes whole paragraphs…or whole pages.”
“Oh.” She wrinkles her nose. It’s the perfect summary of my terrible situation.
“What do your ethics books say about this?” I try to make a joke of it but it comes out bitter. I regret immediately but Riley doesn’t take offense.
“How long have you done it?”
“When haven’t I? My parents are not the warmest people. Dad has very high expectations of Jack. In eighth grade, Jack came home with two Ds on his report card. One in English and one in history. Dad lit into him. Called him every name in the book. Said he was so dumb that it’d be a shock if he could even get a job pumping gas at the local convenience store. I couldn’t sleep that night. Jack’s face, the terrible expression on his face, like he was worthless, kept me up. I couldn’t let him be a target for Dad again, not if I could do something about it.” My face is wet from tears I didn’t even realize I shed. I dash them away. “My mom found out and suggested—” more like demanded, “—I keep it up.”
“So you’ve covered for him for years.”
I nod.
“I suppose he never got tested because of your father?”
I nod again.
Riley whistles. “Wow. I guess my ethics class would say to look to the harm. Is it affecting the curve of the class? Probably not. Is his getting a passing grade diminishing opportunities for someone else? No, he’s not taking away any academic scholarships. The only person who could be hurt would be…” She pauses, not wanting to say the obvious so I finish for her.
“Jack. Jack’s the one who gets hurt by my doing his work for him. But the entire team would get harmed if it got out.” The hard lump that lives in my stomach travels up to my throat. Hoarsely, I continue, “Not only does the cheating endanger his right to play, but the entire season could be affected. The Warriors could be excluded from bowl contention.”
“This sucks,” Riley sympathizes.
I spend two seconds internally debating the rest of it, but figure if I can talk to anyone, it’s Riley.
“Riley, I’ve been writing this mock grant for the learning center, remember?”
She bobs her head. “You’re writing a proposal for your grade?”
“Yes, that’s the one. So I’ve been doing all this research, and did you know that colleges have to offer accommodations for people who have learning disabilities?”
“I suppose that would make sense.” Her eyes grow wide as she gets exactly where I’m going with this.
“I want to tell Jack, Riley. At Western—or heck at any school—if he’s determined to have any kind of disability, they have to make special arrangements. It’s the law! He could do an oral exam, instead of a written one. Instead of a paper, he does a presentation. We haven’t done anything wrong…yet. I’ve changed some worksheet answers, but nothing’s graded. He gets one grade based on a final paper.”
“But you’re afraid,” she guesses.
I nod slowly. Each time I’ve approached it with Jack he’s shut me down. I don’t want the only member of my family to turn his back on me, but like Riley said. The only person who I’m hurting right now is Jack. “I am scared. He’s the iron at my back. He’s supported me and cared for me. I don’t want to lose his love or respect. And I don’t know what Knox would say either.”
“Oh, honey.” She places an arm around my shoulders. “This is tough. If you keep quiet, you’re hurting Jack. If you tell, you’re hurting him. Any way you slice it, someone is going to be unhappy, including you.”
But that’s no reason to stay silent.
••• Week 9: Warriors 7-0
“You look stressed, baby,” Knox declares over dinner. I tug my sweater down. The late October weather is chilly. “You worried about meeting my brother?”
That’s absolutely the last thing on my mind. Knox’s brother, Ty, is coming to visit him this weekend for the game and he’s staying over for a Halloween costume party that night. Really, I think it’s a test to see whether I can tell the two apart in person. I’m certain I’ll pass, although part of me wants to pretend, for a moment, that I’m confused. So Knox won’t bring it up again. But I won’t because that’s probably over-the-top mean.
"“No,” I answer tersely. I wanted to talk to Jack tonight but he said he had a study group for his stats class. I felt immediately relieved and then guilty for feeling relieved. It’s a vicious circle of awful. The sooner I confront the issue, the better for all of us.
“The game?” he presses.
“Should I be?” I counter.
He shakes his head and leans forward. “Nah, we’ll crush them.”
“They’re the number four team in the country.”
Knox’s unshakeable confidence would probably be irritating if he didn’t back it up every Saturday.
“What is the Warriors’ ranking?” He cups his ear.
“Number one.”
He winks. “That’s right.” A mischievous look crosses his face as he leans forward. “Why don’t we go back to my room and I’ll give you a nice rub down to help get rid of all that stress.”
“The last rub down lasted all of five minutes before you had me plastered against the wall.” I brush a hand over the back of my sweater—the tight red one that Knox likes so much. “I think I still have drywall in my shirt from that.”
His eyes gleam. “I like standing up. Good leverage.”
I should explain how it’s also nice to have a soft mattress at your back, but as long as I have Knox here, I might as well ask him a question that’s burned at the back of my mind all day.
“Knox, if something happened on the team. Like a guy got caught cheating or he got arrested for drunk driving, what would happen?”
“He’d be kicked off,” Knox replies immediately.
“No questions. No second chances?”
“No. Coach Lowe doesn’t tolerate that kind of stuff. If there’s a distraction, the distraction gets eliminated.”
God.
“What about if he had problems making grades?”
Knox leans forward and his face takes on a concerned expression. “You got something to tell me, Ellie?”
“No. I’m just, um, thinking about topics for a creative writing class on team unity.”
The side of his mouth curls up in slight disbelief.
“Really,” I insist.
I don’t think he believes me, but he doesn’t press. “A guy with academic problems would probably get suspended until he could get his grades up.”
“What would happen with the team?”
“It’s hard to say.” Knox drums his fingers lightly against the table top as he studies me. I try to look as innocent as possible. “It could mess with the team dynamic. If it was a player on my list, Coach Lowe would be pissed at me because I’m supposed to be on top of that. If there’s anything I should know about Jack…”
Inwardly I wince. I don’t want to lie to him, but I need to tell Jack first. He deserves that from me.
“If I had something I could tell you, I would,” I end up saying.
Knox cocks his head and then reaches across the table to grab my hand. “Okay. I trust you.”
Talk about a knife to the heart. There’s almost nothing he could have said that would make me feel worse. I struggle to put a smile on my face. Briskly, I change the subject. “How are your classes going?”
“Good. It’s interesting, because I thought I’d get completely bored this year, knowing I wasn’t planning on graduating. Instead, the classes got more entertaining.”
“Are you rethinking your plan to declare early?” Knox had told me a week ago that Coach Lowe agreed that he should enter the draft after his junior year. The hype around his play is very high right now and there’s always the risk of playing another year of college ball. Knox can always go back and finish his last year of college. He might not ever have another chance at being drafted in the top ten, which is where he is currently projected.
“No. I want to play with the best and the best play at the next level,” he says simply. “It’s good that Coach supports me. If he didn’t, I guess I wouldn’t get to go early. Scouts rely on his assessment. He’s told them I’m mature enough to go early and that I can handle the extra responsibilities.”
The Warriors have sent several players to the NFL ever since Coach Lowe took over the program, so it’s not surprising that pro scouts rely on his word.
“I can’t believe his endorsement matters so much.” I wonder what Coach Lowe would say if he knew that Knox allowed me to shield Jack’s progress from him. Nothing good. I scowl into my basket of untouched food.
“It’s not just Coach. These scouts investigate everything about you, down to how many times you go see a trainer during the week, what you write on social media, which is why I don’t have any accounts, how many protein supplements you take. I heard that they even rate your girlfriends.”
I gawk at him as he nods in rueful agreement. “I know. It’s wrong. It’s part of their confidence calculation. If you have a hot girlfriend that means you’ve got the swagger you need to play pro ball.” He winks at me. “Don’t worry. You’re a ten.”
I can’t even muster up a smile at his compliment. “I guess when you’re looking at spending seventeen million plus, you want to make sure you’re getting your money’s worth.”
“That’s right. I’m not worried about it. I don’t have any character issues or skeletons in my closet. It’s all good.”
He holds his arms out wide in careless, happy abandon. I’m going to end up hurting everyone I care about.
27 Knox
Something is up with Ellie. I suspect it’s her brother and that he’s struggling with classes. But Coach gets everyone’s transcripts at midterms, so Campbell must still be eligible or he’d be on the bench. I’ll have to talk to Jack tomorrow, which will likely piss Ellie off, but it’s got to be done. I shouldn’t have let her take on that burden anyway. Coach put that on me, and I should have kept up with it like I did the other players.
But there’s no point in getting into it with her tonight. She’s pretending not to be upset, and given that she’s trying hard to put up a happy front, I don’t press her.
I do know one way to cheer her up for real though. “You want to stay over tonight?”
“I don’t know.” She bites her lower lip, the juicy one I like to suck on while I’m dragging my dick in slow motion in and out of her tight body.
“I’ll do all the work.” I wink at her, and when she rewards me with a slight smile, I figure I’m headed in the right direction.
She leans into me as we walk out of the rib joint; not a very Ellie thing to do. She likes to walk on her own two feet. On the one hand I’m thrilled she’s leaning on me. On the other? I’m a little worried. But I’ll take good care of her tonight. Matty’s in my apartment when we get back. “Oh, hey, thought you were eating?” He rises to great us.
“We were, but we’re back.” I jerk my head toward the door. Time to go, Matty Iverson.
“Hi, Matty.” Ellie gives him a weak finger wave but doesn’t move from the doorway until I give her a push.
“Bring anything for me?” he says hopefully.
Above Ellie’s head, I glare. Get out or the next time I see you, I’ll shove that bag of Doritos down your throat and you’ll be shitting Mylar for a week.
Matty’s self-preservation instincts kick in and he hops up. “Gotta go. Have a honey coming over tonight. Any recommendations on what I should wear, Ellie?”
He smooths his hand over his unruly black hair.
Ellie stares at him.
Awkwardly, he drops his hand. “Okay, I’m going now.”
What’s wrong? He mouths as he passes by.
I give a half shrug. I don’t know.
“Good luck,” he mutters under his breath as he closes the door.
“Tired, baby?” I ask when we’re alone. She lets me tug off her jacket and somehow remembers to toe off her own boots before collapsing on the sofa.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”
Right. You look about as fine as a beach after a hurricane.
“How about a shower? You’re shivering.”
She shrugs again. I could have said, Let’s eat babies; they’re full of protein, and she would respond with a nonchalant lift of her shoulders.
I tug her into the bathroom. It’s plain—white tub, white tiles, small cabinet with a sink. I suck at cleaning, but fortunately for us, the Playground houses get cleaned once a week. It’s a perk of living here. I’m not even sure who does it. Supposedly it’s part of the rent, room, and board that we’re allotted, since this is technically student housing, but only athletes get to live here, primarily the starters on the football team.
I ripped the shower curtain down a long time ago because I got tired of rubbing up against that plastic piece of shit. I throw a towel on the floor, which soaks up most of the excess water, and call it a day. Tonight I flip the knobs on and wait for the old heaters to kick in and send the hot water up three floors. In the meantime, I start undressing Ellie.
It’s not as fun when she’s standing still as a ghost. Most of the time we’re undressing each other like it’s one big race to see who can rip the other person’s clothes off faster. Sometimes it does result in an actual rip. But I’d sacrifice any number of buttons or shirts or clothes if she would stop acting and looking like a wax museum figure.
My body and my head aren’t on the same page. When I get Ellie down to her undies, I start thinking about comforting her in other ways. My dick tells me he can make her feel better, and since I’m not sure, maybe I should test it out. For science. It doesn’t get better when I pull her panties down her long lean legs and unhook her bra strap.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, but the exploding pain doesn’t make my erection lessen even a little. Still, I ignore it because that seems like the right thing to do. My dick apparently hates doing the right thing and stubbornly points at her.
“Knox.” Ellie places her slender fingers on my forearm as I lift her into the tub.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I don’t want to be alone.” She looks down and crosses one bare foot over the other.
“Oh, sweetheart, you aren’t.” It takes me no time to strip off my clothes. I hop into the shower and nudge her under the heated stream of water. I squeeze some shampoo into my hand and then go to work on her hair. She leans into me, resting her forehead on my chest while I massage the soap into her skull. She moans, a soft, pleasurable sound that races down my spine and settles somewhere in the vicinity of my dick.
Her hands come up and press against the sides of my waist. I swallow a groan but my dick bobs happily between us. Who knew that part of my body was erogenous? I try to ignore how turned on I’m getting as she kneads my sides.
It gets impossible when she runs her fingers down my obliques.
“This might be the sexiest part of your body,” she mumbles against my chest.
“Might be?” I slather shampoo down her back, mapping her with my hands. I feel the bony edges of her shoulder blades, the strength in her rib cage. Lower sit the gentle curves of her ass and the hidden crease between them.
“I’m a fan of your happy trail.” Her hand dips between us. “And where the trail ends.”
I don’t respond immediately because I’m busy savoring the feel of her hand on my dick. I pump helplessly against her palm. Her tongue darts out to lick the water off my pec. I flex it for her and she giggles.
“You’re making it hard for me to stand upright, baby.”
“Hmm?” She licks me again. And then again.
“Shit, baby, that feels so good.” With a growl, I delve between her legs. I run my fingers along the outer edges of her sex, squeezing and rubbing as I go. Her body strains against my hand.
I know what she wants because I want the same thing. I want my dick inside of her, driving into her hard. But I’ve also learned that the longer we hold out, the longer we tease each other, the better the feeling.
Like I told her a long time ago on Hammer’s back porch, I’m a pro at delayed gratification.
She’s gotten to know me. That night in the bathroom, she watched me with fevered intent. It was so hard not to grab her, throw her against the cabinets, and fuck her right there. She learned something that night and she’s applying all her knowledge right now. She slides her palm up and down. I jerk out of her grasp because I’m too close to blowing my lid.
“Not yet,” I order.
I drop to my knees and push her legs open even wider until she’s completely exposed to my gaze. Her clit practically screams for me to suck her. I flick it with my tongue and feel my chest swell with pride when she cries out my name.
“Knox, please.”
I cover her with my mouth, sucking in that sweet pearl, lashing it with my tongue until her fingernails dig into my skull. This is our first time in the shower, and it’ll be memorable. All of our first times will get burned into her brain, like she’s burned into my heart.
I spread her legs wide apart and pin her to the tiles of the shower wall. As promised, I’ll do all of the work. Although this isn’t work. This is…hell, it’s more than play or fun. I feast on her because I can’t get enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of her.
There isn’t a moment of the day that I don’t want my face buried between her legs or to be balls deep in her pussy. I want my name to be the last words on her lips when she falls asleep and the first thought in her mind when she wakes.
Right now, she’s chanting my name and whatever caused her to feel upset earlier doesn’t bother her now. Her head presses against the wall and her back arches as she grinds against my mouth and face.
The blood in my dick pounds like a beast clawing its way out. I can’t wait another minute. I surge to my feet and line up my cock at her entrance. Her heat scorches me and I’m not even inside her yet. She wraps her arms and legs around me as I surge forward.
We share a groan when I’m fully seated. She starts squeezing immediately with those goddamn muscles of hers.
I gasp. “Give me a minute, baby. I need to catch my breath.”
Her body quakes against mine as she laughs. “I thought you were this big strong athlete with loads of stamina and discipline.”
“I practice football, not sexual Olympics,” I retort. She squeezes me again.
This girl. I shake my head. She’s challenged me from the moment I laid eyes on her.
“I guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.” I swing her around, cupping her ass tightly in my hands and carefully step out of the tub. “Squeeze me again and we’re both going down.”
She yelps and clings tighter to me. The situation gets worse because her slippery tits rub against my chest, and her hot little cunt slides up and down my shaft as I hobble my way to the bedroom and onto the bed.
I throw her down and climb on top of her. Caging her between my arms, I bend down and nip her lip. “You’re asking for it. Hope you don’t have too much going on tomorrow because you’ll feel really sore.”
“Bring it.” Her lips curl into an almost feral grin, but underneath I still see the hurt from earlier. Part of her wants me to fuck away her pain and another part of her wants to be held and soothed. I can give her both.
I claim her mouth at the same time I thrust inside of her. Her channel is wet and ready, and I slide in with no resistance. She’s still tight as fuck and I have to pause for a minute before withdrawing.
We find a rhythm, slower than normal, as if we both want to get lost in this physical world where it’s only her and me and all the pleasure we can wring from each other.
I rear back, almost coming out of her completely, and then drive forward with bruising force. Her body welcomes me. Her legs fall open, her arms wrap around my neck, her mouth eats away at mine. I bury my nose in the sweat-dampened skin of her neck so that every breath I take fills my lungs with her.
Ellie bucks against me, telling me with her body that she wants more. Christ, the knot of pleasure that’s built in me since I first started taking her clothes off is close to bursting.
Please come, baby. Please come, I plead silently.
“I’m so close,” I grind out.
“Me, too.” Her legs tighten around my hips. “I’m close, too.”
I feel it. Her body’s a taut string ready to go off. I reach between us and find her engorged clit. She gasps at my first touch and tries to scoot away.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I tell her roughly. I pinch and roll that small spot of flesh between my fingers. She gives a keening cry as the climax grips her and then reaches up to bite my shoulder.
Stars go off in front of my eyes and I fracture. I reach under her legs, practically folding her in half, and hold her there while I pound into her like a frantic animal.
“Knox. Knox.” Her nails dig into my biceps as the orgasm I’ve held off for so long shoots out of me. I buck and pump wildly as she milks me with her tight pussy. I come for a century and then collapse next to her, chest heaving like I’ve chased a wide receiver from his ten yard line to the end zone.
Even though we’re totally spent, we can’t stop touching each other. I methodically rub her from shoulder to wrist. She runs her toes against my calf. We place kisses on the bare flesh we can reach without moving too far.
“Bathroom sex. Was that on your list?” she jokes after catching her breath. She’s not quite back to her old self, but it’s closer. I breathe a mental sigh of relief.
“What’s not on my list?” I say lightly.
She props herself up, and my eyes fall to her still rosy tits. A few bruises form on the tops where I may have sucked a little too long and hard. I don’t feel even remotely sorry about it. I shove one hand underneath my head and try not to look too pleased.
“Do you have an actual list?”
“Not written down,” I admit. “But I have a mental one. Shower sex was up there. The locker room definitely.”
“Where else?”
“Bus ride, plane ride, road head. Maybe on the back of a motorcycle. Your ass would look real nice bent over a bike seat.”
She tweaks my nipple. “You don’t even have a bike.”
“Not yet, but who knows.”
She scoffs. “Your NFL contract would prevent you from buying one. Isn’t there some dangerous activities ban?”
“So, I buy one, and it sits in the garage with the Bugatti and Aston Martin—and I bend you over all of those.”
“How about I do the bending?” she teases.
“I thought we were talking about my fantasies.” I roll her over before she can pinch me again because holy crap that hurt. Nipples get really sensitive when all your blood has risen to the skin. I plan to use that new knowledge to my advantage. Bracing myself over her, I bend down and nip at her mouth, and then her neck.
“When does Ty get here?” she asks.
“He’s coming straight from the airport to the game. We’ll meet him afterward. You sure you want to make dinner? Because we can go out.”
“No, I want to.” She makes a face. “I guess I want to impress him and show him how sweet and domesticated I am.”
We both laugh at that. She’s not sweet and she’s not super domesticated. She’s tart, a little mouthy, and just right for me.
“He’ll love you.”
“Really? How do you know?” Her finger writes a five repeatedly on my chest. I tell myself it’s because she’s as obsessed with me as I am with her.
“Because I do.”
She continues her finger tracing silently. I bite back my frustration. It doesn’t feel real good to have my declaration hanging out there. Maybe she didn’t get it. I rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth until I feel like I can say the words.
“I said I love you.”
It comes out as almost an accusation.
Her breath catches and she turns her face to hide it against the side of my skin. I hear something, or more accurately, feel a mumbling against my chest. When she raises her face to mine, it’s wet with tears.
With a trembling voice, her own words tumble forth. “Oh, Knox, I love you, too. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve you.”
The real anguish in her voice kills me. I clutch her closer to me. I wish I could squeeze her uneasiness out into the open where I could bash it with my fists. But emotions don’t work like objects.
All I can do is be there for her.
