Page 37 of Who’s Playing You (In The Nick of Time #1)

NICK SOBA

I was in literal hell.

I hadn’t seen Scottie since Sunday night. We’d ended up working on improving my drawing skills, but I’d persuaded her that I deserved rewards when I mastered certain challenging techniques.

What can I say? I’m highly motivated by positive reinforcement and I’m also a quick study, so of course I nailed every challenge she laid out in front of me.

My rewards had started with a deep kiss, her stroking my very hard and ready cock through my pants that then resulted in a heavy make out session. My biggest reward was when I stripped Scottie naked and went down on her again. It was my new favorite thing in the world.

Her sweet and musky taste was like nothing I could ever have imagined in all my years of studying human sexuality and going to sex clubs with Nic where I’d watched, studied and directed, while he partook - in everything.

I was one-million-percent addicted and hooked on her sweet nectar.

She’d offered to give me a blow job, which I had no doubts would have been epic, but by the time I finished eating her out - thoroughly - I was so amped up. It was a two-pump situation at that point.

Even though I didn’t have a paint brush handy this time, my new favorite thing had become painting her pussy, mound and abdomen in my cum. Laying complete claim to her in the most intimate way one could.

While she was still coming from the last orgasm I gave her, I literally pumped my hard cock thrice and I was coming all over her. My fingers continued to pump in and out of her to extend her orgasm, while I had pumped my dick with my left hand.

Thank God I was ambidextrous.

As the last spurts of my cum landed on her pussy lips, my fingers were still pumping into her, albeit slower so I could keep dragging out her orgasm for as long as possible. But while pumping into her, I gathered some of my cum from her lips and pushed it inside her.

Just like the first time.

It was the hottest thing I’d seen in my life. My cum covering all of her pretty pink and glistening pussy, and then watching it disappear into her greedy little cunt. That’s where it belonged anyway.

Deep inside her.

In a sick way, the thought of getting her pregnant before I had sex with her thrilled me. But at the same time, I was so anxious to let my main man have his fun and slide in deep into her channel, thrusting in and out, only to release all of my cum inside of her.

He was meant to be the leading man in fertilizing her eggs, so I’d hate to deprive him of that honor.

But every time I watched my cum disappear into between her cunt’s lips and into her soft and hot channel, it did something to me.

And so every stroke of my finger through my cum that I spread across the skin of her stomach, I was imagining what her stomach would look like swollen with our babies.

That all said, I wasn’t rushing or pressuring her for our first time, but rather I was allowing her to get comfortable and for our bodies to get to know one another while we had some serious fun.

I hadn’t even let her suck me off yet, but I just couldn’t help myself: I was so greedy for her and I didn’t want to miss a single opportunity to taste her sweetness.

For the majority of my adolescence and all of my young adult life, I’d spent it controlling my sexual urges. Controlling my own pleasure and releases, or deprivation thereof. That level of self-control was also what made me the best football player, because no one had the discipline that I had.

Sure, I was pretty wound-up as a result. But the juice is worth the squeeze, figuratively speaking, because I now had all of Scottie and we’d share all of our firsts together.

For almost ten years, I had controlled every one of my orgasms. I had withheld what could have been countless moments of pleasure from myself, waiting to be with this woman. And now that I had her, I was like a kid in a candy store - loving to get to experience it all with her.

Everything we did was a first.

I loved how we continued to get to know each other and connect on the deepest levels possible. Every kiss, every little moan, every orgasm. All of our firsts were only the start of millions more to come.

And so you can’t blame a guy for wanting to savor these moments. I wasn’t in a hurry, yet at the same time, I wanted it all at once. Soon enough though, soon enough we’d have it all.

The thoughts and visions of her pregnant with our babies had kept me up at night since Sunday.

I’d now twice gotten away with trying to impregnate her and I’d most definitely continue this high-risk game.

As long as she allowed me to keep cleaning her up afterwards, cleaning up my mess which I was quite insistent on doing, I should be in the clear.

With any luck, this time next month we could be getting some good news. And that timeframe worked out perfectly because she’d be having the baby in late spring, just after I brought my team to the Super Bowl, and before training camps for next season would start up again.

I was loving how the timing of everything was falling right into place.

What I wasn’t loving was the fact that I hadn’t seen her all fucking week! After I cleaned her up, and then we cleaned up all of her art supplies which I insisted she leave at my house, I’d cooked her dinner again.

You can bet your sweet ass that I fed her every fork-full again. I had to make sure my baby and, if I was lucky, the creation of our new baby, were well fed after all.

She’d insisted on going home again that night, she said she had an early morning and needed to call her mechanic.

That brought me back to the whole car situation, one which I told her I’d take care of for her.

She insisted she could handle it, but I wasn’t having any of it.

I told her she had far more important things to worry about and I’d see to it myself.

She reluctantly relented, and it was obvious that she had never had anyone taking care of her. So her initial reaction was always to refuse the help that was offered, because she was used to not being able to trust or rely on it.

All that was changing though.

She had chewed her lip before she agreed and handed me the keys to Bessie. I in return handed her the keys to her new Escalade, which she obviously wasn’t expecting. Her eyes grew wide and she tried to tell me she couldn’t possibly.

I told her either she took the car or I’d be taking off work to drive her everywhere she needed to go. And I’d do so happily, fuck the fines and consequences.

When she realized that I was dead serious, she relented and climbed into the SUV after I gave her a kiss to remember.

This was fucking days and days ago. Too many hours had passed. I was starting to resent being a professional football player right now because of the time it took away from me being with Scottie. I reminded myself that I loved football and that it was certainly a big part of the master plan.

I put my helmet on as I waited to step onto the field for what would be our last exhibition game before the first official game of the season, which was next week against the Warriors.

Even though I wouldn’t directly face Papas on the field, it would be the first time I’d see him since I headed to New York this spring.

And I knew that my best friend was going to insist on meeting up and would have a laundry list of questions.

The inevitable worry about his interrogation would have to wait because right now I had to focus on the game I was about to play. The game against the Warriors and this one that was mere minutes away from starting would be won by me and The Rage.

I could feel it.

I was going to make it happen.

I guess my little “pep talks” with a few team members along with the rest of my work ethic and antics, or call it whatever the hell you will, had heads rolling.

Because all of a sudden, everyone’s sour attitudes had faded.

All of a sudden my teammates were showing up and actually putting in the fucking effort that I knew they were capable of.

And what was happening as a result of me ending the circle jerk loser’s mentality that had plagued The Rage for years? We were fucking gelling.

The whole fucking team was finally working as a unit.

Who would have thunk it? Apparently no one but me.

I think even the big brains up in the big fancy offices were surprised at the change that was taking place on the field in the last two or three weeks.

Yet, they didn’t hesitate in patting themselves on the back and taking the credit for it.

They had only dreamt of the impact that I might make on the team, but in reality they never expected a fraction of the success I’d demand from this team.

Sure as shit, they were patting each other on the back, playing that this was their master plan all along.

But they weren’t anything but a bunch of empty suits.

Those idiots had nothing to do with any of it, and every person who was on that field with us, or even in the vicinity, knew that it had absolutely 100% everything to do with me . Because I demanded perfection.

You lead my example, and I continued to do that. I didn’t become The Diva just because I loved the spotlight. I became The Diva because I was perfection personified, and I expected every one and every thing around me to be fucking perfect as well. And that was why I was The Diva.

The Rage finally got the memo.

But it didn’t mean that they liked me, in fact, most of the team probably still hated my guts. That was irrelevant though.

With that, I waited to take the field. I stood at the mouth of the tunnel, the first man in the tunnel - always.

I high-fived or fist bumped or clapped every single one of my teammates on the back as they passed me and ran onto the field to a roaring applause.

Once they were all out there, I calmly jogged onto the field and joined my team where they waited for me at center field.