Hard & Deep: A Football Romance

"Oh fuck," she cried out, her voice echoing through the empty restaurant.

Mr. Hayes continued to suckle and slipped two fingers into her, pumping in and out with a rhythm that matched his pulsing sucks. Over time, Tracy could feel herself starting to fall over the edge. She buried her shaking hands under her now contorted tank top and bra, massaging her already erect nipples with tight pinches and twists.

Before

she could come, Mr. Hayes pulled his mouth away from her. He knew her well enough to know when to pause for air. It was, however, only a brief interruption. Almost immediately he went back to work, this time using his tongue to rock back and forth over her aching clit. At the same time, he curled the two fingers inside of her upward and coaxed them forward, massaging Tracy’s most delicate spot.

Every pound and lick came together at just the right time, pushing Tracy into the first throes of her orgasm. She screamed out and ground her hips toward him, forcing his skilled tongue against her wet area. The racing waves of ecstasy spread out through her body, making her hands and feet tingle wildly.

When he was sure that she had finished completely, Mr. Hayes slipped his fingers out of her body and rested against her torso. He reached up, wrapped both hands around the back of her neck and pulled her head down so he could kiss her once more. Right away, Tracy’s own sweet taste melted between them.

"Come on," Mr. Hayes said after pulling away. "Let’s go home and get some rest."

Tracy knew that there was so much more work to be done, but she also knew damn well that no amount of coffee would be able to revive her from the deep sleep that she could feel coming.

She sighed, "Okay. Okay."

Mr. Hayes helped her stand up and slip her shorts back on, forgoing the panties all together. It was only a short car-ride home, and she could go commando that long. Once that was done, he took the keys out of her back pocket, lifted her up, and carried her out of the restaurant. On the way out, he locked the heavy deadbolt and stuffed the small key ring into a pocket in his slacks.

From there, it was only a few feet to his car.

No sooner than the door slammed shut did Tracy start to drift off. The plush leather beneath her, though cold on her naked thighs, was like a soft embrace that lulled away all of her stress. Every care and worry melted into the finely-stitched seat, along with whatever tenuous grasp on reality that Tracy still possessed.

She didn’t even hear Mr. Hayes slide into the driver’s seat next to her; didn’t even wince as the stabbing, white flash returned with a powerful vengeance.

Tracy felt dizzy, like the world had begun to spin faster on its axis. Everything around was a white blur that was streaked by a dizzying, swirling mix of blue and a deep, blood red. As if in her own little bubble, Tracy watched the dancing colors move around her in a perfect sphere, blocking out whatever lay on the other side.

She reached out apprehensively. Slowly, carefully, she extender her fingers toward it. She could feel an icy wind. Her hair began to whip around her head, blocking out her vision in quick flashes. All the while, she still couldn’t muster the courage to touch the sphere.

The Arctic wind blew even stronger. It forced her back a little and she wrapped her arms around the thin nightgown that covered her supple body.

"Paul?"

She never just called him Paul, but it seemed to make sense to her right then.

Though the fluttering chunks of her hair, Tracy saw a large hand break through the mist, which had by then formed into large, black clouds. On one knuckle, a tiny crescent scar caught her eye. Had he gotten hurt?

"Paul! I…"

The hand slapped down onto her arm and squeezed her so tightly that she could feel the tendons in her wrists crackling. Then, with a powerful jerk that made Tracy feel like the wind had been knocked out of her, it forced her up.

In the car, one of the many yellow street lights that dotted the street passed by overhead and illuminated the sleeping woman in a brief flash. Mr. Hayes looked into his rearview mirror and then turned his attention to Tracy. Her nightmares had been keeping both of them up at night.

"Paul," she muttered softly. The sound of her voice speaking his first name took him by surprise, but he remained silent.

Suddenly, Tracy gasped loudly and turned over in her reclined seat so that she was facing away from her concerned lover. Mr. Hayes reached a hand out and stroked her head softly as he turned his gaze back to the road.

"What is going on with you?"

The powerful hand jerked her back to her feet. In front of her stood a man who wasn’t Paul Hayes. Tracy had no idea who he was. The clouds and colors were long gone, leaving them in an open plane of icy white under a blue sky.

The man’s deep brown, almost black eyes pierced into Tracy’s thoughts. He was a short man, but wrapped in muscle. He had black, buzz-cut hair and his jaw was locked tight, working the muscles in his face.

The two of them stood there for a while, just staring, before the man sprang toward her like a lion. In seconds, he had forced her to the ground and pinned her down. Tracy’s already short night dress flipped up, exposing a pair of lacy, red panties.

Underneath her body, which began to throb wildly from the surge of adrenaline, the ground felt like one giant slab of ice. It sent a violent chill racing through her spine and made her previously soft nipples stand out immediately.

"Who are you?" she tried to yell and bucked her body against the man. "Get off of me!"