“You’re all mine now,” he said. “Your tight little cunt is all mine. I want to hear you moan as you come on my thick cock.”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Please don’t stop.”
He grunted as I bucked back against him, harder and desperate. Sweat dripped down my skin, and I knew I was close. He slapped my ass and slammed into me, placing one hand around my throat but not squeezing as he fucked me.
I could feel the orgasm beginning in my toes. It spread all through my body as he completely dominated me, fucking me roughly and unrelentingly. I came hard, his cock deep inside me, thrusting in and out. My whole body went into spasms as the pleasure rocked through me, taking me away from myself.
I nearly blacked out from the pleasure. As I came, I said his name over and over, moaning his name.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m going to fill this pussy up. I want you to feel me still inside you tomorrow.”
He came inside me then, his hot cum filling me. I moaned, loving the feeling of taking him, loving that he was filling me up.
Slowly, we finished and collapsed onto the floor together. I put my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.
We stayed there silently for a few minutes. The only sound was our breath, and that was all I needed.
His strong arms around me, his skin against mine. Maybe things were still bad, but this moment was right.
30
Owen
It felt strange to be suited up but not starting.
I practiced the rest of that week behind Kennings. It was strange at first, but we quickly fell into a rhythm. Fortunately, Kennings was a decent guy, and he wasn’t a total dick about it.
There were serious egos in the NFL. The kind of guy who would work his ass off in a single sport to become the best is also the kind of guy to be a total asshole about starting positions. Kennings, though, he was the rare decent guy.
Liking him made it harder to be gunning for him, but not that much harder. I was going to earn back my starting spot no matter what, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop me.
Tony didn’t contact me again that week, and Raylon just acted like nothing had happened. At least, Raylon didn’t say a word about it. I didn’t hold anything against the guy, because I knew how things worked with the mob, though I did wonder what they had against him.
Didn’t matter. Sunday rolled around, and I was listed as Kenning’s backup to nobody’s surprise. I had expected it. Hell, I knew it was happening, but I still didn’t like it.
I stood on the sidelines in my gear and glanced at Taylor as kickoff happened. We were getting the ball first, and for the first time in my career since going to college, I was going from starter to backup.
Which meant I wasn’t on the field for that first drive. Coach didn’t work me in at all, just let Kennings do his thing.
And he did okay. Nothing special, but he was hitting the line hard and working his ass off. That was all anybody could ask of him. That drive stalled out around midfield, so the offense punted.
I got my first touch ten minutes later, after a weak three-and-out from the Bengals. It was an insane handoff from shotgun, and I barely picked up three yards. I was off the field again, and Kennings was worked back in.
The first half went like that. I was given a touch or two, and I actually caught a pass for a first down on one drive, but otherwise Kennings got the biggest workload.
I hated standing there and watching. It was bad enough when I was hurt the week before, but knowing that I could be out there making a difference was driving me insane. Kennings was playing fine, not great, but he was getting some yards on every carry. He didn’t look as good as he had the week before, fumble aside.
Still, we scored on a quick slant toward the end of the half. Kennings did some good work to get the team to that point, and although he didn’t bring it home, it was clear that he had helped out that drive a lot.
I hated standing aside. I kept giving glances to Taylor, and she just kept nodding at me. I was keeping loose and trying to make the best of every touch, but I just couldn’t get into a rhythm. I didn’t have the time to read the defense.
Just before halftime, the Bengals scored to tie the game on a huge bomb down the sideline. We went into the locker room, and Coach was clearly pretty pissed.
His usual speech was all about how we needed to work harder and get better. I wasn’t really listening, though. I was too busy running through each of my touches in my mind, trying to figure out where I could improve and where I had gone wrong.
“Hey.”
I looked up. Taylor smiled at me.
“Hey.”
“You look good out there.”
“When I get the ball, at least.”
“He’s working you in. That’s good.”
“Is it? I’ve had maybe ten carries at most.”
“That’s a lot. Kennings could be carrying the whole game.”
I frowned. “That’s true.”
“You can’t get anything going, but it’s not your fault. Kennings can’t either.”
“He looks decent.”
“I told you before: He can’t hold a candle to you.” She sat down on the bench next to me as the guys started to filter out of the locker room.
“I should go.”
“Listen, Owen. No matter what happens, you have me.”
I cocked my head at her. “I know,” I said, grinning.
She laughed. I grabbed her and kissed her and then stood. She was blushing red and looking around.
“Relax. Nobody saw.”
“You have to be careful.”
“Fuck being careful.” I turned to leave. “See you out there.”
I met up with my teammates and we ran back out onto the field together.
I felt decent as I hit the turf and did my quick warm-up. The Bengals got the ball to start the half, so I could keep myself loose on the sidelines.
They managed to snag a field goal. I watched as Kennings went out there and was stuffed back twice, leading to a three-and-out.
It was a close game. The teams went back and forth, and I barely got any touches in the third quarter. Kennings was playing even worse, totally unable to find any traction, while the Bengal’s running back was beginning to break out some big moves. Luckily, their quarterback was playing terribly, so we remained closed.
The third quarter ended with the game tied, ten to ten. The fourth quarter started, and I got the nod from Coach.
It was a basic run up the gut. Our QB was under center. He took the snap and I dove forward, pushing my way through the mass of brutal men. I broke a tackle, smashing through the guy’s arms, and suddenly ahead of me I saw open field.
I ran my fucking ass off. I wasn’t thinking; I was only reacting. As I got maybe twenty yards ahead, I saw the safety coming up from my left. He managed to dive out and just barely clip my feet. I stumbled and stepped out of bounds.
But the crowd was going fucking insane. It was at least a thirty- or forty-yard run, and now we were well within striking distance. Coach called me off and switched Kennings in, since I was winded from that play, but I could tell the momentum had shifted.
Kennings got the ball twice but went nowhere. On the third down, they put me back out on the field. Our QB got into trouble and dumped it off to me. I made two guys miss and dove forward for the first down, putting us in the red zone.
Coach left me in after that. We managed to score another touchdown on a passing play. I had set that touchdown up, though, and I didn’t come out for the remainder of the game.
I didn’t get a chance to score, but I did break out a second big run after a string of small pushes. We went on to win that game by two touchdowns, the entire momentum of the game having shifted in our favor.
The locker room was ecstatic. People were cheering and celebrating, and nobody seemed to have believed that we were going to win. Everyone kept congratulating me, including the coaching staff, and I felt so damn good.
That was what I lived for. Performing to my highest ability and earning my spot on the team was the greatest feeling I could imagine. There was nothing better than busting out onto that field, bursting through strong men trying to take me down, proving that I was stronger and faster.
But in the middle of all that celebrating was Kennings. He had a smile on his face, but it was strained. I could tell he was angry with himself and probably with me for what had happened.
I could understand what he was felling. That had been his shot. That game had been his opportunity, and he had missed it. He would probably never get another big starting gig like that again, because he had blown it. As things started to settle down and guys started to filter out, I went over to Kennings and sat down on the bench next to him.
“Good game,” I said.
“Yours was better.”
“I got the luckier runs. You kept us in the game.”
“Maybe, but I couldn’t win it for us.”
I sighed, staring at the wall of lockers. “It’s just random chance,” I said. “Random shit happens. I was lucky and got a big run. The momentum shifted, and Coach kept me in. That’s all.”
“Yeah. That’s all.” He grunted. “That was my shot.”
“I know.”
“I’m still gunning for that spot.” He grinned at me.
“Good. I hope so.”
We lapsed into silence for a second, and suddenly I had an incredibly strong urge that I couldn’t stop. I knew it was probably stupid, but I had to say something.