Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (12 page)

Charles knows enough Shakespeare to understand the poem, although he may not know exactly which of the plays I’m pulling the lines from. Still, that’s my idea of fun. Is that pathetic? I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman, and the closest I can get to intimacy over email is a paragraph of sexy Shakespeare lines.

He doesn’t reply. Of course he doesn’t reply. He sent me a rude, dirty message, and I replied with a poem testing him on his Shakespeare. I’m the uptight, frigid girl he thought I was when he first walked into the sauna and saw me sat there fully dressed.

Fuck it.

I get undressed. Completely and utterly naked. I place an arm over my breasts covering both nipples and try to take a sexy photo like I see models and celebrities doing on Instagram. It doesn’t work. I look awkward and uncomfortable; completely the opposite of sexy and relaxed.

I throw my phone down on the bed and groan in frustration. I know I can be sexy. Charles definitely finds me hot when we’re fucking. That’s because I’m myself; I’m not trying to look like other women’s idea of sexy. My eyes glance over to my desk and I have an idea.

I brought a load of sticky labels back with me from the newspaper office because I need them to help me go through the first draft of my article. Now I have a better use for them. I grab the stickies and place one over each nipple. I then grab a highlighter and, while looking in the mirror, write ‘stickies can be useful’ on my chest.

Ten seconds later, a selfie is working its way electronically to Charles’ phone. Let’s see him ignore that one.

I
understand Shakespeare now
. I understand Shakespeare well enough to know when I’ve received a dirty message, and I definitely just received a dirty message. A message that’s going to cost me a fortune.

The second I read it, I know I have to see Becky, and that means giving Gemma back to her mother. Dana is going to make me pay for that, but I have a feeling it will be worth every penny.

It doesn’t exactly make me look like father of the year, though. I’ve been arguing with Dana to spend more time with Gemma, and according to her, the more time Gemma spends with me, the more money I have to give Dana. I’m not even going to pretend that makes sense. I’ve made some progress with Dana and it looks like Gemma will be mine for three days a week instead of two. Victory. Then I read Becky’s message.

“Sorry Dana, I have to go. I can’t look after Gemma tonight.”

Most expensive two sentences I’ve ever uttered.

I drive to campus as quickly as I can. I don’t care if we end up doing it in the office, or even in a cupboard, I have to have her now. The campus is practically deserted, and I climb the stairs two steps at the time until I’m on the top floor and slightly out of breath. There is a light on inside the office, but when I burst through the door I find it empty.

Shit.

I pull out my phone and quickly type out a message.

What is your address?

I hit send, but get the dreaded ‘message not sent,’ response on my phone. There’s also a picture message waiting for me, but I can’t download it.

“This fucking network,” I curse to myself. When I first arrived in the States, I signed up for a major cellular network without giving it a second thought. Apparently it’s common knowledge on campus that the network I chose doesn’t work well here. I need to get on another network, but my lack of planning and general laziness is really kicking me in the arse right now.

I quickly sit down at one of the desks and wake the computer from sleep. All of the computers work on the same network, so I just need my username and password to get online. Simple. Except I’ve forgotten my username and password.

The username was something like ‘clewington.’ Or was it ‘clewington’ with a number after it? It doesn’t matter, because I don’t have the faintest clue what my password is. It’s some mishmash of small letters, capital letters, numbers, and symbols, which I’m supposed to change to something more memorable. I haven’t. Or if I did, I’ve forgotten it.

“Fuck,” I yell, slamming my fist down on the table for added effect.

“Problem?” a voice says behind me.

I spin around in my chair to see an older man, presumably a professor. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Just having a few problems remembering my password.”

The man smiles knowingly. “I know that feeling. That’s why I made my password ‘password1234!.’ People in IT keep nagging at me to change it, but if I use one of those silly passwords with all the random numbers and letters then I’ll never remember it. May I?”

The man reaches over to the keyboard and types his login details onto the screen. “There you go. Just promise me you won’t use it to look up porn. Or if you do, make sure it’s not teacher-student stuff. Not even tenure will save me from that scandal.”

“Thanks,” I reply. “No porn.”
A little light erotica if I read Becky’s email again, but no porn.

“Log off when you’re done,” the man says, before leaving the room and heading into a small office down the hall. I recognize the name on the door. Professor Fenwick. He’s Becky’s boss on the newspaper, and possibly her mentor as well. I know the two of them are close. He’s also the guy Peter threatened to go to when he nearly caught Becky and I in the act. He’s clearly old-school; if the elbow patches don’t give it away, then the sloppy password certainly does. Still, I’m grateful, because I desperately need to get a message to Becky as soon as possible.

I find the email containing Becky’s dirty little poem, and reply asking for her address. She replies quickly with her address, and asks if I like the photo.

What do you think? ;-) I’m on my way.

I still can’t see the photo on my phone, but it seems safe to assume that I’ll like it when the damn thing finally downloads.

On the way out of the office, I bump into my second-favorite reporter. “Hello Peter,” I say cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening?”

“Get out of my way,” Peter snarls.

I’m impressed at his bravery, but then I remember Professor Fenwick is just a few yards away with the door open. I guess it’s easy to be brave when you know you can’t have your teeth kicked in. Not now anyway.

I can see why Becky hates him, but to be honest I can’t find it in myself to feel that strongly about him either way. He’s pathetic and weak. Unless he makes life difficult for Becky, he’s barely worth pissing on if he’s on fire.

I’m nearly at the entrance to the stairway when I hear Professor Fenwick step out of his office and call out my name. Apparently even fifty-year-old professors with elbow patches know who I am.

“Would you mind stepping into my office briefly, Charles?” he asks.

“I really need to be somewhere right now,” I reply. I’m all for showing professors the respect they deserve, but he’s not my professor and I’m not all that inclined to delay sex on his behalf.

“It’s about Rebecca.”

Okay, those are the magic words. I follow the professor into his office and close the door behind me.

“What about Becky?”

“I’m worried about her. She’s been acting a little distracted lately.”

“I’ve kept her busy.”

“Yes, quite. I know the two of you are close, but I’m hoping you could give her some space. This is an important time for her, and she needs to be at the top of her game.”

“I’ll cut back on the study sessions,” I reply. “I took up a lot of her time while I adjusted to life here, but I can study by myself now.”

“Excellent, excellent,” he says softly. I can tell he’s not satisfied with the answer. What does he want me to say? That I’ll stop seeing Becky completely? “And what about the extracurricular stuff?”

Oh, yes, apparently he does. “No offense, professor, but outside of work and school, that kind of stuff isn’t really any of your business.”

“Fair enough. That doesn’t mean I can’t have an opinion on it.”

“I’m happy to listen to your opinion, I just don’t have to go along with it.”

“I agree completely. All I will say is that she has been through a lot with people like yourself. Footballers, that is. She only just got back to her normal self when you came along.”

“I’ve heard about her ex. I’m not like that.”

“Footballers don’t typically date girls like Rebecca.”

“That’s because they’re idiots. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.” He thinks I’m an idiot as well; I can see it in his eyes. “Anything else?”

He shakes his head. “No that is all.”

As I walk out of his office, I don’t know whether to be angry or grateful. He’s well overstepped his bounds as a professor, regardless of what his relationship is with Becky. However, I quite like the idea she has someone looking out for her here. I can protect her physically, but people like Peter can do a great deal of damage without me even knowing.

My little talk with the professor isn’t a complete waste of time. I’m only half way down the stairs when I realize I’ve left my phone back in the newspaper office. I run back up the stairs and grab my phone, before running back down to my car. All that sprinting in training is coming in use, because without it I’d be too tired to do anything by the time I got to Becky’s.

Who am I kidding? Where she’s concerned, I’ll always find the energy.

T
he main entrance
to the building is propped open, making a mockery of the security system which probably doesn’t even work. I head up to her apartment and bang on the door, almost putting my fist through the thin wood. The second she lets me, I’m either buying her a nice apartment, or moving her into my place. I know which I’d prefer.

Becky lets me inside and immediately starts apologizing for how small her apartment is. “We can go to your place if you like. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’ve lived in small apartments before,” I reply. “I wasn’t always rich. When I first signed for my rugby club at the age of sixteen, they only paid me at the trainee rate for the first year. I shared a dive with another one of the trainees. It makes this place look like a palace.”

“I doubt that. This place is suffocatingly small, the air conditioning doesn’t work in the summer, and the heat doesn’t work in the winter.”

“Couldn’t you live somewhere nicer and share the rent with a roommate?” Becky doesn’t have the nicest place, but she does live by herself. Not many students can say that.

“Believe it or not, this is actually cheaper than sharing. The college arranged this for me as part of my scholarship.”

“Then you should be proud of this place. You worked your ass off and got great grades. That work ethic is going to get you a brilliant job, and a much nicer apartment. Remember, this is just a stopgap.”

“I guess it has all the essentials. Running water, a kitchen….”

“A bedroom?”

“Yes,” Becky says, biting her lip to suppress a smile. “It has a bedroom.”

“Then I suggest you show me.”

The apartment is small, but Becky takes her sweet time guiding me to the bedroom. My dick is straining painfully in my pants, threatening to burst through if I don’t get undressed soon.

I can tell she’s uncomfortable showing me her small room, but if she thinks I care about anything other than the bed, she’s very much mistaken. Her bedroom walls are predominantly covered with bookcases, which actually have books in them, instead of pictures and keepsakes like most women I’ve dated.

“It’s not the sexiest
boudoir
in the world,” Becky admits.

“It is to me,” I reply. Becky raises her eyebrows doubtfully. “I’m telling the truth. This bedroom is quintessentially you, and therefore I find it sexy.”

I lean down and kiss her lips tenderly. My hands open the buttons on her blouse while Becky unzips her skirt and lets it drop to the floor.

“That’s different.” I’d been about to get Becky out of her underwear, but the light pink bra had stopped me in my tracks.

“You like it?” she asks nervously.

“Definitely.” I’ve never seen Becky in sexy, matching underwear before. Now, to be fair, that’s often because I peel it off and throw it to the floor without looking at it, but she also doesn’t bother with lingerie much.

“I bought it at the mall.”

I nod, eyes still transfixed on her firm breasts, pushed up by the bra and looking good enough to eat. Then I remember. “You had something in your hands that time I bumped into you in the mall. You hid it behind your back.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to see it.”

“Nice to know you were making plans before we even slept together. I knew you wanted me.”

“Oh shut up, and fuck me.”

I lift her up and throw her effortlessly down on the bed. She lies on the bed looking as sexy as any woman has ever looked. My cock twitches to remind me that it needs to be freed from its cage. I quickly peel off my shirt and drop my pants, taking my boxers down with them.

After sheathing my cock, I climb onto the bed and crawl between Becky’s legs. I can already smell her eagerness, and the slightly darker color of pink on her panties shows that she’s as wet for me as ever.

My cock pulses aggressively against the bed, but I reach out slowly and run my fingers over the wet patch on her panties. She sighs, and sinks down against my hand, trying to encourage any part of my body to be inside hers.

I slip a finger under the damp cotton, and feel her tense as my finger glides inside her. I desperately need to fuck her, but right now she’s completely under my control and I love it. I literally have her in the palm of my hand. Another finger slides inside and she starts moaning in time with my movement. I could do this all day, but those sounds are music to my ears, and I can’t resist.

My fingers are slick with her wetness; she’s so ready for me my cock is screaming at me, pleading with me to get inside her. I push my fingers deeper inside her as I lean forward and kiss her breasts, taking her nipples between my teeth and biting gently.

Her gasp is more than I can handle. I pull my fingers out, and yank her panties down and off her legs.

“Fuck me,” she groans.

My wet fingers guide my cock to her entrance before I plunge myself deep inside her. I have no intention of taking things slowly. I grab her legs and push her knees up to her shoulders. I’m so deep inside her, I’m touching parts of her that have never been explored by man or machine.

Her pussy muscles contract around my cock, pulling me further and further inside each time I pound her.

“Harder,” she whimpers. “I want all of you.”

Not all women can handle the full length, but I’m not about to argue with her. I thrust myself completely inside her, making sure my balls slam hard against her ass.

“Oh fuck,” she screams. “More. More.”