Spiked

“It could be career ending. The rest of college, the NFL. If it doesn’t heal perfectly, it’s just…over. Everything. Everything I’ve worked for.”

We sat in the darkened car for a moment, Jacob staring through the windshield, me staring at him, neither of us wanting to speak just yet. Finally Jacob took a long, drawn breath, and grabbed for the car door. I followed him out and toward the townhouse. The small yard was professionally landscaped and lit, though the inside of the house looked dark.

“Whose place?” I asked when Jacob pulled keys out of his pocket and inserted them in the door.

“One of the football alumni. He uses it for home games,” Jacob said. “I had to listen to an earful from him on my decision to stay in the game before he’d give me the keys.”

“Oh,” I said as he pushed the door open.

“Yeah,” Jacob said flatly. I stepped inside and he closed the door behind me and flipped on a light.

The place was roomy and modern, with craftsman touches— like reclaimed wood doors and an enormous farmhouse sink in the massive kitchen. The two of us walked around for a moment, exploring silently; when Jacob reached the living room, he sat down hard on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees. His size made the defeat emanating from his body language look even more overwhelming.

“So…why did you come get me?” I asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

Jacob shook his head and smiled a little. “Everyone else is a fan, Sasha. And I don’t want to be around fans right now.”

I laughed lightly and nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Come here,” Jacob said.

I felt my stomach twist, a strange combination of bitterness and arousal streaking through me at his order. When I didn’t stand, he lifted an eyebrow at me.

“You didn’t call or come by. You just disappeared,” I said.

Jacob considered this. “I know. But it’s the season, and Adams is just breathing down my fucking neck.”

“That’s not a very good excuse,” I said.

Jacob looked like he wanted to argue— like he intended to argue, but then he relented. “Alright, yeah.”

“Ok,” I said. There was a part of me that wanted to push him, wanted to go into more detail about how he’d hurt me, wanted to make him apologize outright— but right now, Jacob Everett looked a little broken. Breaking him more wasn’t something I wanted to do. I wanted to help. As often as I’d found Jacob’s arrogance annoying, I wanted to see him stand tall, to remember that he wasn’t just some injured football player. He was the Harton hero.

I stood up and walked to his end of the couch, then stood in front of him. He looked up at me, and when I stood still, I saw his eyes wander down my body. The act visibly relaxed the muscles in his shoulders, and I smiled, then reached down to pull my shirt over my head.

“Sasha…” Jacob said, pressing his lips together hungrily.

I smiled, then unhooked my bra and shimmied out of it. Jacob reached for me, and I stepped onto his lap, straddling him. I could feel his cock hardening beneath me, and it made me feel dizzy with power and desire.

“Take your clothes off, Sasha,” Jacob said, voice calmer than his cock implied.

“All of them?” I asked sweetly.

“All of them.”

I smiled, stood, and obliged, taking as long as I could bear to slide each piece of clothing off my body, relishing the way that Jacob stared. He made a sort of nod with his head— “turn around”— and I did a full circle as he admired me.

“There’s only one problem,” Jacob said. “I’ve got to be careful with this injury. No strain on the shoulder at all. So I’ve more or less only got one hand at the moment.”

“Should we not—“

“I want you to pull my cock out, Sasha. Then I’m going to tell you how to suck it— have you ever done that before?”

I smiled, feeling hot and giggly with excitement. “Never.”

Jacob looked especially pleased by this. I stepped up to him and he let his eyes flick down to his pants, where his erection was now threatening the fabric that hid it. I nervously reached down, unzipped it, and guided his cock out.

“Go ahead and unbutton them too,” Jacob said, and placed his good hand on the back of my head gently, massaging my hair as I unbuttoned him, allowing his cock to rest against his stomach.

“Take me in your hands,” Jacob said huskily; I obeyed, rapping my small fingers around it. Somehow, his cock was bigger than I remembered— though then again, I’d never looked at it so close last time. It was impossible not to stare, not to study it.

“Nervous?” Jacob asked, and my eyes flittered to his.