Tackled: A Sports Romance Read online

"Come for me, Cassie," he says. "Because I'm about to come in you."

  The thought of him exploding in my mouth – the thought of tasting him on my tongue – sends me hurtling over the edge, and my orgasm overtakes me with all of the intensity of a freight train.

  He groans loudly, calling my name, before he thrusts his cock down my throat, so deeply that I start to gag. Cum – salty-sweet and tasting like him – floods my mouth. I swallow desperately, my eyes watering as another wave of cum fills my mouth before he pulls out, spilling the rest onto my chest.

  "Shit, Cassie are you okay?" he asks quickly. "I – hell, I didn't mean to choke you. I can't believe I lost control like that."

  I'm more than okay. I like it when you lose control.

  After he takes me into the shower, tenderly cleaning every inch of me, we lie in bed lazily, only half-pretending to study.

  "Do you really want to be a professor?" Colton asks.

  "Are you asking like, eew, do you really want that kind of a job?"

  "Well, I mean, can you imagine having a whole bunch of students like me?"

  "Cocky and arrogant?"

  "Ridiculously good-looking," he corrects me, rolling over with his leg between mine. "And great in bed."

  "I mean, I wouldn't say great," I say. "Adequate, maybe."

  "Oh yeah?" He puts his palms against mine as he pins my hands above my head. He presses his cock between my legs.

  "After careful consideration, I'm willing to upgrade you to more than adequate."

  "I'd prefer mind-blowing, toe-curling, fucking fantastic, never-going-to-be-the-same-again sex."

  "God, I'd prefer that, too," I say. "Do you know where I can find some?"

  He pushes his cock against my entrance. "Not sure," he teases. "Maybe you should explore your options."

  "I don't think I've fully explored this option," I say, arching my hips to meet him.

  33

  Colton

  "You need to focus on studying for your finals," she says, rolling over onto her stomach on the bed.

  "How am I supposed to focus when you're lying there naked with that gorgeous ass on display?"

  Cassie arches her eyebrow, propping her chin on her elbow as she looks at me. "Because you've had this gorgeous ass already. Several times. You should be worn out."

  "Actually, I haven't had that ass yet at all," I correct her, pleased when a flush rises to her cheeks. "And I'm an athlete. I have stamina."

  She laughs. "Yes, I'm aware."

  She pulls out one of my history books and opens it up. "How did Russia defeat Napoleon's army in 1812?"

  Her hair falls down over her forehead, and she pushes it back, then twists it into a messy knot on top of her head, the way she always does, and sticks a pen in it.

  Fuck, I love watching her do that.

  She catches me looking at her. "What?" she blurts. "Do I have something on my face?"

  "No. I just… you're just really pretty, that's all. Not your ass or your body – I mean, those are too. But just… the way you do things sometimes."

  She blushes, then clears her throat and looks away before bringing herself up to a sitting position, her legs tucked underneath her. "Since you're obviously not going to study, why don't you teach me about football?" she suggests, changing the subject.

  "Lay down and I will."

  Cassie raises an eyebrow. "That wasn't a euphemism. I didn't mean fuck me," she says. "I meant actually teach me about football."

  "That's exactly what I'm going to do," I insist. "Learning is better when it’s a hands-on experience. You should know that, teacher."

  "Tutor." She slides down, her head on the pillow, stretching out beside me like a cat, one arm above her with a hand behind her head. "Is this how you always teach football?"

  "Never had to teach anyone before," I admit. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of a big deal. The only women that hang around me are women who know about football."

  Cassie snorts. "Your ego is certainly a big deal."

  "And this is why it's easy hanging out with you," I say. "Even if you're uptight."

  "I am not uptight," she protests. "Anymore."

  "You're much less uptight than you were."

  "Why is it easy being around me, exactly?"

  "Because you know nothing about football. So you knew nothing about me."

  She laughs. "You find that easier to be around than your little groupies and football fans?"

  "Yeah," I say. "No expectations."

  I'm not sure she gets what it's like to be a player at my level, and that's not cockiness talking, that's just a fact. There is more expectation and pressure than I know what to do with sometimes. And being in the public eye means everyone wants a piece of you. It's hard not to feel like every little piece of you is for sale.

  And it's only going to get worse.

  This year, everything that I've worked for comes to a head.

  "You don't even talk that much about football," she says. "I thought it was because you thought I was an idiot when it came to sports."

  "Only when it comes to football. But now I'm going to educate you," I smile as I trace my finger across the top of her breasts and down the side of her stomach to her pelvis, then up the other side. "This is a football field."

  She pulls the corner of her lower lip between her teeth. "Football field," she says. "Got it."

  "The most important part is the end zone," I say.

  "I'm not sure where that is," she says, her voice innocent.

  I draw a horizontal line with my finger across her lips. "There are two, one at each end of the field. One here, and the other…"

  I trail my finger down the middle of her stomach and between her legs. I pause with my finger on her clit, then slide it down lower, pressing against her entrance. "Right here."

  "Mmm-hmm. I'm getting more interested in football by the second."

  "What do you think the goal of the game is?" I ask, keeping my finger right where it is.

  "To get into the end zone," she whispers.

  "That's always been my goal," I admit, sliding my finger into her already slick pussy. "Getting the ball into the end zone is how you score points."

  "Uh-huh," she murmurs as I stroke her slowly inside. "Points."

  "But it's not as easy as that," I say, pulling my finger from her pussy. She whimpers when I trace my wet finger across her clit and over the top of her mound. "If it were easy, it wouldn't be any fun."

  "Of course not."

  "Both teams try to block each other from scoring," I say, sliding my finger down again. She squeezes her legs together, preventing my hand from moving. "Exactly. You're a quick learner."

  "What do you do?" she whispers, her thighs pressed firmly together.

  "I try to get my sexy as hell tutor to spread her legs," I say, pushing her thighs apart.

  Cassie giggles. "I meant on the field."

  I growl. "I try to get right here," I say, sliding down and touching my tongue to her wetness. Her taste is sweet and light and familiar and new every time. I want to bury my face between her legs forever.

  She pulls at my head. "I thought you were teaching me football."

  "I am," I say. "Don’t question my methods."

  She whimpers again. "Your methods are unorthodox."

  "They're effective." I explore her with my tongue, lapping her until her breaths become short.

  "How do you get a touchdown?" she asks, whimpering at the end of the question.

  "I can't tell you that." I slide up her body until we're face to face. My rigid cock presses between her legs. "I'll have to show you."

  "That sounds promising," she says, arching her back up and sliding her hands to the back of my neck. My lips press against hers and my tongue finds hers hungrily.

  I slide into her, her pussy's slickness making it easy. "This would be a touchdown."

  She grasps my ass cheeks, and rocks her hips against mine. "Remind me why I thought football was boring?"