Page 2

CARSON

So, it’s going to take me a while to stop thinking about that chick with the good arm.

Shit. Coach’s daughter.

It’s like the universe is pointing at me and having a good belly laugh.

You think Coach’s daughter is hot!

She’s so off-limits it’s not even funny.

Sucker!

Yeah, well, fuck you, Universe.

I so don’t need this shit. I’ll just forget about those brown eyes and that playful wink. I’ll forget about the way she could throw and the fact that her butt looked damn squeezable in those jeans. I’ll even forget about the way her tits bounced when she shuffled sideways to catch the ball.

And damn, she caught it every time.

She made it look easy, like she’s been playing the game her whole life.

Snatching up the last of the balls, I shove them into the net bag and scan the field for any other gear. It takes me another fifteen minutes to gather up the last of the pads, and I’m in a foul mood when Coach Perkins comes out to check on me.

“Nearly finished?” He gives me a friendly smile, but I’m not buying it. He hates me as much as Coach Jones does.

“Yeah, this is the last of it.”

He grabs the bag of footballs, and I trail him into the storage room. “Might be a good idea to show up to practice ready to go tomorrow, yeah?”

I roll my eyes behind his back and grumble, “Yeah. Got it.”

“Coach is only trying to help you.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand lands on my shoulder, and I flinch. He lets me go immediately and nods. “Okay, well, you have a good night now.”

I give him a baleful stare, and he ends up shaking his head and walking out of the room.

I trail after him and head for the showers.

He’ll have locked up and left by the time I’m out. It’ll just be me and Luis, the janitor, and maybe Franco, the laundry guy, if he hasn’t left already.

Taking my sweet time, I soap myself down, trying to figure out what I’m gonna do with my evening.

I could go back to Football Frat and study. That’s probably what Grady and Tyrell are doing. Wily will say he’s doing that, too, but guaranteed he’s in his room playing video games. Although he might head to Offside, the local sports bar.

And then there’s Zander, who is now playing happy fucking family with his girlfriend and daughter.

Shit. I can’t believe I’m living with a two-year-old.

She might be damn cute, but her shits could clear out a stadium, and when she wakes in the night crying, I want to punch my fist through the wall and tell her to shut up. It was supposed to be one night, which turned into three. So, I complained about it, then got told off by Miss Two for shouting.

Zander promised me he’d look for another solution, but it’s been over a week since our argument, and the girls are still fucking there!

Since they’ve moved in, my sex life has taken a serious hit.

I don’t feel like I can bring chicks home anymore, and while my captain is no doubt getting his fill—I heard them going for it in the bathroom the other night—I’m jacking off in my own bed and missing the honeys I should have beside me. This can’t fucking stand.

I don’t care if it makes me an asshole, but I’m going to keep complaining until Sienna and Zoey are gone.

Thumping off the shower, I stand there huffing, anger coursing through me in thick waves. I seriously need to do something to dissipate this tightness in my chest.

Fuck studying. I need to get me some.

It’ll help with more than just releasing my tension—it’ll also help me get over Miss Off-Limits. I need to get her out of my head.

Shaking it with a growl, I grab a towel and try to clamp down the image of her smile and that playful little wink she gave me.

Mr. Attitude.

I snicker, toweling myself off and fighting a grin.

That was so lame.

But she said she’d keep working to come up with a better insult, and now I kind of want to see her again.

No, you don’t, you idiot! Just put her the fuck out of your mind.

By the time I’m dressed and grabbing my keys, I’m determined to have the best night of my fucking life.

My bike races to Offside, the engine roaring beneath me, just the way I love. Parking outside the bar, I’m happy to see that it’s in full swing. Sometimes it’s a little quiet on a Wednesday night. Things heat up as the week progresses, but it seems pretty packed, and that’s just what I need.

I’ll have my choice of chicks to pick from.

Pocketing my keys, I walk straight to the bar, ordering a beer and flashing my ID at the bartender, before spinning around to check out what’s on offer.

There’s a group of girls playing pool, laughing and giggling while sipping on sodas.

Too young. Too innocent. Too wholesome.

I’m not after that shit. I need the exact opposite of what I encountered in the stadium this afternoon.

I need myself a bad girl who doesn’t mind getting down and dirty.

My eyes track to the dance floor. There’s no live band tonight, just a DJ doing his thing. His music selection is shit, and I curl my upper lip, grateful when the beer arrives. I down it quickly and order another.

The faint warnings from my coaches whistle through the back of my mind. I ignore them. I’m not dumb enough to turn up to back-to-back practices hungover. I won’t go crazy tonight. I’ll just have one more after this, and I’ll still be good to get myself home.

What I really need is some sex.

If I can’t get drunk, then I can at least get an adrenaline rush, right?

I’m just collecting my second beer from the bartender when I spot her.

She’s tall with long dark hair. She’s in a miniskirt that only just covers her ass and a tank top that’s so short, I can see the bottom of her bra.

But the best thing about her… are those hungry-looking eyes.

She stares at me from the other end of the bar, practically begging me to fuck her.

Is that an arrogant assumption? Maybe.

But damn, she’s like a fucking siren. When her lips rise on the left, I leave my post, heading toward her with my ice-cold bottle of beer.

“Hey.” I lean my elbow against the counter.

“Hey, McAvoy.”

“So we know each other.” I wink and grin, hoping my charming smile is forgivable. Shit. I don’t remember her at all.

She laughs, downing her shot and smiling at me. “You were pretty plastered last time but still managed to get it up. How drunk are you tonight?”

“Not even slightly buzzed.” I raise the beer bottle. “This is only my second.”

“Perfect. I’ve always wanted to know what you’d be like sober.” Jumping off her stool, she grabs her purse and beckons me with a tip of her head. “Let’s go, stud. Mama could use a good time.”

Well, fuck me. I didn’t even have to work for it.

Following her like an eager puppy, we head out to the parking lot and jump into her back seat.

The windows are tinted, and she doesn’t seem to mind getting it on out here, so I go with it.

She’s unzipping me before I’ve even got the door closed. Yanking my pants down, she starts working my dick like a pro, and I’m powerless to slow this thing down.

Before I know it, I’m wrapped, and she’s perched on my cock, riding me with loud moans. Her tits are bouncing while she pants and squeals like a porn star.

Grabbing her hips, I try to get into it, I swear, but it’s just not happening for me right now. She seems to be having the time of her life, riding my joystick and touching her clit. And I’m sitting here wondering if I’ll even be able to get off.

“I’m coming!” she squeaks. “Yes! Oh fuck, yes!” Slapping her free hand on the roof of the car, she rides me even harder, and I watch her expression, her glossy lips popping apart, her mouth forming that perfect O as her pussy contracts around my dick.

It feels pretty fucking good, but then she’s whipping off my lap, crawling over to the door, and sticking her ass in the air. “Do me from behind.”

Her pale skin kind of glows in the dim light, and I lightly brush my hands over her ass before rising to my knees.

As I check the condom’s still on and ease myself back inside her, I realize that I don’t know this chick’s name. I can’t remember it at all, and it makes me wonder if I even found out last time.

How lame is that?

We’re just two complete strangers fucking in a car.

That’s awesome, man! Enjoy it!

My hips start thrusting—an automatic, robotic movement that has her squeaking again—and all I can think is No wonder I don’t remember our last time.

We have zero connection. Our junk is having a high-octane rave… and I feel nothing.

Images of Nylah skip through my mind, and my stomach quivers.

Shit! Stop it! I growl at myself, willing her to get the fuck on out of there. I’m inside another woman, for fuck’s sake.

But that smile.

That wink.

Mr. Attitude.

I wonder what she’d think of me now, balls-deep in some chick I don’t even know.

So much for release and forget.

I’m fucking screwed.

“Yes, baby. Yes!” Whatever-her-name-is grabs my attention, and I try. I really do try, but this is so not happening for me tonight.

It feels fucking good, having my cock wrapped in this wet, hot pussy. I must be deranged. I’m a guy. I should be able to fucking come with minimal effort, right?

Fuck!

Grabbing her ass cheeks, I go a little harder while she mewls and wails, but in the end, I have to fake it.

Thrusting deep, I put on a groan, tugging her ass back against me for a second before getting out of there.

I’m already going soft, and this is a fucking joke.

“Did you come?” She glances over her shoulder, and I nod.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh good.” She grins, spinning back around and realigning her thong before throwing her tank top back on. Her bra is on the floor of the car, and I keep my eyes on it, not wanting to look at her face. “Well, thanks for the ride, McAvoy.”

Kissing my cheek, she climbs over me, opening the door and silently telling me to get out.

Whipping off the condom, I ball it into a tissue and climb out. My fly’s still undone, and I feel like a right whore as she locks her car and winks at me. “Until next time, stud.”

Pulling her miniskirt down, she struts back into Offside, her bra-less tits rocking. I lean against her Lexus, squeezing that wadded-up tissue and thinking, Her wink has nothing on Nylah’s.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I dip my chin and mumble a string of curses under my breath as I shuffle to my bike.

So much for release.

I feel worse than I did before I even got to Offside.

Maybe I should go home and study.

You really are at a low point if studying is looking more desirable than beer and sex.

And there goes the universe, laughing its ass off again.