Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (8 page)

“I’ve never worn an apron in my life,” Charles says.

“So why start now?”

“Because I ruined three shirts due to burning fat flying everywhere while trying to fry fish. Turns out cooking is quite hard.”

“I thought you just looked up a recipe on the internet and followed the instructions? You made it sound so easy.”

“The instructions leave so much out. Like, what does ‘bring it to a low boil’ even mean? Surely it’s either boiling or it’s not?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. Most of my cooking happens in a microwave.”

We walk through to the kitchen and I immediately realize why Charles needs the apron. There’s more food on the floor than there is in any of the pans. He has a laptop on the counter, but it is covered in grease and looks like it was left too close to a food explosion.

“This is your attempt at making fish and chips?” I ask.

“I want you to sample a proper British meal, but now I know why people don’t actually cook this at home. This is take-out food and is supposed to be prepared in industrial kitchens.”

“Is that your official excuse?”

“I think it’s a good one.”

I shrug. “I’ve heard worse. Are you still cooking?”

“No, I’m just finishing up for the day.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good. Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Take off the apron.”

I’ve never initiated sex. Not once with Brian did I ever make the first move. I can’t believe that after all this time of Charles chasing me for sex, it’s me who is initiating it. I just want to touch him. I need to reach out and feel those muscles that I always see flexing under his tight t-shirts. I want to trace his abs with my fingers. I want to look at his cock without feeling the need to instantly look away in embarrassment and shame.

I watch him peel off the apron, and my newfound confidence quickly evaporates. I’m ridiculously wet, and have been since I made the decision to come here. I ache for his touch; I don’t want to mess around anymore. I need to feel him. I need him to feel me.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me in the direction of the stairs. I’ve not been up there yet. If I cross that threshold then it’s official. A tutor doesn’t go in her student’s bedroom.

“Wait,” I mutter, “maybe we shouldn’t.”

“You’re not going to give me that lecture about it being inappropriate are you?” I look at him silently. I
should
give him that lecture. Hell, I should give
myself
that lecture, but we both know it wouldn’t do much good at this stage. “You want this. I know you want this, so let me take you upstairs and fuck you like I’ve wanted to do since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I keep my mouth firmly closed, and let him lead me up to the bedroom. His house suddenly feels impossibly big, with the bedroom seeming to get further and further away with each step. I have plenty of time to change my mind, but it’s not going to happen. I’m helpless.

This has to happen now. If it doesn’t, I’ll never be able to focus on anything else again. Studying will be impossible, and my future will consist solely of resisting the urge to come here for a booty call.

I’m hopelessly out of my depth. His bedroom is that of an adult. My experience with Brian was all quick fumbles in a dorm room after a few drinks at parties. It had been ‘student sex.’ This is the real deal. No drink, no loud music outside, no making do with a single bed. No compromising.

Charles guides me to the bed and stands directly in front of me. His eyes meet mine, but his hand begins tracing the neckline of my blouse, parting it gently, as his fingers graze the tops of my breasts.

“Take it off,” he commands, his voice soft, but smooth.

He steps back a foot, but keeps his eyes up as I slowly unbutton the blouse. Soon those eyes will be on my breasts. I feel my nipples harden just thinking about it. My breasts feel warm, but prickly with goosebumps at the same time. The heat between my legs increases with each button I open. He’s going to see me down there. He’ll touch me. He’ll feel how wet I am for him.

Finally, I wriggle out of the blouse and let it drop to the floor. He still hasn’t checked me out. Does he not want to? Why look at my eyes when I’m standing here in my bra? I want him to ogle me. I want him to stare at me like I stare at him.

“Now the skirt,” he growls. There’s frustration in his voice. He does want to look, but he’s delaying his pleasure. He’s drawing it out, and he’s going to do the same to me.

“It’s your turn.”

“No. I’ll undress when you’ve earned it. Take off the skirt.”

My fingers are sliding down the zipper before I even think to argue. My skirt quickly drops to the floor and I’m left standing there in just a bra and drenched panties. Instinctively, my arms reach out to cover my chest, but Charles grabs my wrists and gently pushes me down onto the bed.

I lie on my back, propped up on my elbows, while Charles undresses painfully slowly in front of me. His large fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, until slowly but surely, I can see the firm pecs and hard abs that greeted me that first day in the sauna.

My eyes move to his traps as he bends over to take off his pants. When he stands back up, he’s completely naked, his huge cock proudly hanging between his legs ready for its orders.

It’s too much. I close my eyes, and try to focus on thoughts that will quell the passion burning between my legs.

I’m his tutor.

But I’m not a real professor.

I could get fired.

It doesn’t matter. I need the additional time to focus on my studies and work.

I could lose my scholarship
.

That one almost does it, but not quite.
Who needs a degree when I have a man like Charles?

Nothing helps. The mattress sinks as he climbs onto the bed. He’s going to be on top of me.
Inside
me. It’s almost too much to bear.

Suddenly he’s beside me—an arm stretching under my back as he unclasps my bra and tosses it to one side. His fingers brush lightly against my cheek as he runs them down my neck and towards my chest. My nipples are rock hard in anticipation and practically jolt in shock when he finally touches them.

I wait for him to squeeze them, but instead his hands keep moving down, brushing my stomach before reaching the waistband of my panties. I freeze under his touch as I wait for him to discover just how much I need him. My panties are more wet than dry now, and soon his fingers graze over the soaking wet crotch.

“And I thought I was excited,” Charles says with a smile. He leans in to kiss my neck while his fingers grab hold of my panties and yank them down past my knees. I kick them off the rest of the way as he plants kisses on my neck and squeezes my thigh.

I’m hot all over. Every part of me wants a piece of him. His lips are the subject of an intense battle between my lips, my neck, my breasts, and my dripping pussy.

His hand keeps wandering between my thighs, covering every inch of my skin until he finally parts my legs and slides his fingers into my warm, wet folds.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, grabbing his hair with one hand and digging my fingers into the muscles of his back with the other. I’ve been ignoring the voices in my head all this time, but now they’ve shut up completely. Every part of me wants this. Every part of my body, and even my brain, wants Charles to keep his hands on me forever.

I pull his head away from my neck and we kiss. His tongue parts my lips and pushes through into my mouth, as I try to fight back, determined not to let him have everything his own way.

Who am I kidding?

His erection is already pressing into my leg, inching slowly closer to my entrance and leaving a trail of precum on my thigh.

I want to urge him on, to beg him to hurry up and fuck me, but his thick cock on my thigh has left me lost for words. All I can do is lie on the bed and let him have his way with me.

He slides a thick finger inside me, palm pressing against my clit as he rubs against the sensitive part of my core that sends a shockwave of pleasure coursing through my body.

“You’ll be thinking of this moment next time you’re trying to teach me,” he growls in my ear. “You’ll never be able to look at me the same way again. Every time you pull out those highlighters, you’ll think about the moment my cock slipped inside you and changed your life.”

He’s right. Sort of. I’ve already thought about moments like this during our study sessions. He thinks I’m working when I’m staring at his strong arms, his forceps flexing as he grips his pen. I never thought I could be so turned on watching someone study.

“Stop teasing,” I purr.

I reach down and claw at his hard ass, trying to pull him on top of me. He’s practically immovable and doesn’t budge. Instead he pulls away, his finger leaving my core, as he grabs a condom from the drawer by the bed and quickly rolls it down over his long cock.

The condom barely fits and I have a strong suspicion I know how Dana ended up pregnant. Thank God I’m on the pill.

He crawls back between my legs, the tip of his shaft quickly parting my folds before he thrusts deep inside me. My eyes open wide in shock as I get an instant reminder that Charles is a lot longer and thicker than Brian had been. There’s the tiniest bit of discomfort as he fills me, but it passes in an instant, my wetness welcoming him inside me.

He watches my reaction pass from pain to pleasure, and then leans down to kiss me on the lips while a hand reaches up to grab my breast. He pinches the nipple between thumb and forefinger, and squeezes hard in time with the deep thrusts of his cock.

I try to wrap my arms around his wide shoulders, but he grabs both my wrists and pins them down by the side of my head.

“You’re mine,” he says softly, but intently. “Remember that.”

I nod, unable to speak, and lost for words even if I could. Gasps of breath are forced from my body as each hard pounding of his hips against mine sends more spasms through my body. I’ve never done this before. This isn’t sex. Not
normal
sex. This is something else entirely. Sex is something pleasurable and a little awkward. This is animalistic. I have no control over my body. I’m getting fucked harder than I thought possible, and my body can’t get enough.

He’s not letting up. Each thrust is slightly harder, slightly deeper than the one before. Just when I think there isn’t another nerve he can’t light on fire, he finds one.

Then he tips me over the edge. Actually, he pushes me over without a parachute. There’s nothing I can do as my core sends a pulse through my body that escapes through my mouth in a loud scream. It’s not a moan. It’s a chilling scream. It’s the sort of scream that makes me thankful Charles doesn’t have neighbors sharing a wall, because they’d call the police.

I don’t even notice Charles finish. It happens while I’m shaking on the bed, unable to open my eyes, or move a muscle. He practically has to extricate my fingers from his back.

He pulls out of me, but doesn’t roll off. He stares at me, kisses me on the lips, and then stares at me again. His smile is one of smug satisfaction, but I can’t blame him. He deserves to be pleased with himself after that performance.

“This afternoon,
I’m
the tutor and
you’re
the student.”

He leans in to kiss me, but I place a finger on his lips and gently push him away. “Just to be clear, I’m not paying you $15 an hour.”

“I’m worth it,” he insists. I raise my eyebrows, which is about the most I can do to argue that point. “Okay, I guess I can work for free. This is a passion project after all.”

He leans in to kiss me, and this time I don’t stop him. Not for a long time.

S
he’s gone
. The other side of the bed is warm, but empty.

She fucked and ran. I’ve done the same thing myself a few times, but I’ve never been on the receiving end. I have to admit, it stings a little.

I know I’m going to see her again, so it’s not exactly the same as when
I
do it. I’m mainly annoyed because I woke up with a raging boner and have nowhere to stick it. Does Becky not realize morning sex is just as good as afternoon sex and evening sex? Sometimes it’s better. There’s something about fucking when you’re both still a little sleepy, covered in sticky sweat from the night before, and in desperate need of a toothbrush. Okay, so perhaps it’s not as glamorous, but it ends the same way.

My boner isn’t going anywhere, so I sling on a dressing gown and head downstairs. It’s not a pretty sight. The kitchen is the same as I left it before Becky ordered me to undress completely out of the blue. Neither of us wanted to cook after we’d worked up an appetite, so we ordered take-out. The empty containers are still strewn across the living room.

Can’t you at least have tidied up before you left, Becky?
Mental note—never say anything like that to her face.

I’m under strict instructions not to eat sugary cereal for breakfast, but no one ever said anything about leftover Chinese food. I reheat some sesame chicken and noodles while half-heartedly tidying the kitchen. When I say ‘tidying the kitchen,’ what I really mean is moving dirty pans to the sink and leaving them there. This is why I have a cleaner.

Not even dirty dishes can get rid of my boner, which is still protruding eagerly from my dressing gown. It’s not likely to disappear while I keep thinking about last night, but it’s all that’s on my mind. I still can’t quite believe it happened.

I’ve known for a while that screwing Becky was inevitable, but I’d budgeted for another week and assumed I’d be the one to make the first move. She’d come over looking a little stressed and I thought she wanted to talk, however it quickly became clear she only had one thing on her mind.

A few orgasms later, and she was a lot less stressed. We chilled out in front of the television and ended up screwing again a few hours later. We never studied or even mentioned studying. I think that was the first time we’ve just hung out like a normal couple.

I try not to read too much into her morning disappearance. We spent an entire afternoon and evening together not studying—she just needs to catch up on lost time.

The sound of the doorbell ringing loudly immediately kills my boner, because I know exactly who it is. I open the door to see my daughter on the verge of tears and smelling distinctly like she has a full nappy.

“Hello, you cute little thing,” I say to the cute little thing.

“She needs changing,” Dana says sternly.

Of course she does.
I take Gemma in my arms and make enough silly faces to hold off the tears for the time being.

“I hope you’ve gotten rid of any little tramps you had over last night,” Dana says. “You know I don’t like my daughter being around all that.”

“
Our
daughter,” I reply. “There’s no one else here, and I think you’re forgetting how our daughter was conceived in the first place.”

“How could I forget?”

Dana usually can’t wait to get out of here after dropping off Gemma, but she’s still hanging around on my doorstep like a smell worse than the one coming from Gemma’s nappy.

“Do you want anything?” I ask.

“I need more money.”

“No you don’t. You get plenty.”

“I want to hire a new babysitter, and she’s expensive.”

“Dana, you get enough money to have Taylor Swift babysit our child. You don’t need any more. The whole reason we negotiated an agreement was to provide some certainty to our lives and our daughter’s life. You can’t just go changing the terms when it suits you.”

“You’ve changed the terms,” she replies. “You were supposed to have Dana at weekends, but now you’re taking her Thursday and Friday.”

“That’s different. I can’t take her every Saturday because I have to play football.”

I fucked up big time when agreeing to terms with Dana. When she offered me custody of Gemma every weekend, I snapped it up in a heartbeat. It sounded like a great deal, but I hadn’t realized that college football was played on Saturdays. Yet another way my lack of knowledge of the sport has cost me.

“I’ll think about it,” I reply. I know Gemma is too young to understand what’s going on, but I don’t like the idea of arguing with her mother in front of her. I look down at Dana’s hand and notice she has tan lines on nearly every finger where she’s been wearing rings. She probably takes them off before these visits hoping I won’t notice how she’s spending the money I give her for looking after Gemma. I expect the handbag and all the clothes are expensive as well, but I know jack shit about fashion.

“You do that. And when you decide to pay me extra, get in touch with my lawyer.”

“Goodbye, Dana.” I shut the door in her face before she has time to reply. I know I’m going to end up giving her the extra money—just like I know Gemma won’t see any of it. Neither will any babysitter.

I take Gemma to the bathroom and manage to change her nappy without getting shit all over myself. I’m getting better at this ‘being a father’ lark. I already know what the biggest challenge will be over the coming years. Dana will spend five days a week every week badmouthing me to Gemma, and I’ll only have two days a week to prove I’m not a complete jackass. I’m determined to rise above it and not speak ill of Dana in front of Gemma. Boy, that is going to be tough.

The second we walk into the living room, Gemma sees her favorite toy and there’s nothing I can do to keep her in my arms. She half crawls, half drags herself like a possessed zombie towards the pink fluffy bear, ignoring countless other toys that cost ten times as much.

I text Becky to see if she wants to hang out, but her reply doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

I’m working all day.

Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be. She’s feeling guilty for sleeping with me, so now I’m going to get a load of grief. I go to send a reply, but another message comes through.

Sorry, I’m just really busy. I’d love to see Gemma again. Want to meet up tomorrow?

Gemma would like to see you too,
I reply.

“Gemma, are you free tomorrow afternoon?” She bangs the bear on the floor in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Think you can avoid pooing in your nappy for a few hours?” She laughs her evil laugh and bangs the bear on the floor more aggressively. That’s a ‘no.’

Gemma’s going to make me pay for this. One day, when she’s older, she’s going to remind me of this moment. I know that doesn’t make any sense—she’s too young—but somehow she will. Hopefully Becky will still be around to see it.

G
emma helps
me get closer to Becky, but she also stops me getting laid. We hang out at a park near college for a bit, but there can be no sneaking off to somewhere quiet when you have a baby in tow.

I try not to let it get to me. Becky wants to spend time together, and that’s all I need right now. Things are happening, just a little more slowly than I would like.

One thing not moving slowly is the football season. The first game sneaks up on me, and suddenly I’m eating structured meals and getting ready for the big game in the evening. Big game or not, I have the day free, and I’m bored. Becky insists she’s working, but everyone has to take a break at some point.

After wandering around campus like a lost visitor for half an hour, I finally find my way up to the offices used by the college newspaper. The college has an entire building dedicated to running college clubs and activities. I never made it to university in the UK, but I’m fairly sure they don’t have operations like this.

I peek into the office through a gap in the blinds and see that Becky is alone. She’s sat at a desk with a finger pressed against her cheek as she reads the text in a Word document in front of her. She looks so cute when she’s focused on her work. Becky even dresses the part. It might be a Saturday, and this might just be a college newspaper, but she’s wearing a trousers and blouse combination that’s suitable for any office.

My cock twitches in my pants as I imagine opening a few more buttons on that blouse and sliding a hand up between her warm thighs.

I should probably leave her alone, but where would be the fun in that?

“Good afternoon,” I say in a deep voice as I walk into the office. “I’m looking for a horny little slut who needs a good fucking. Have you seen her?”

Becky spins around in her chest so quickly she ends up going in a full circle. Her head darts around checking that the office is empty, but even after seeing the coast is clear she still looks angry.

“Christ, Charles. You can’t do that. Peter could have been moping around.”

“Don’t panic, I checked to see if you were alone.”

I walk up and kiss her on the cheek. I’m half expecting her to push me away, but she lets me kiss her, and even places a hand briefly on my chest.

“I don’t have time to hang out,” Becky says. “I’m not trying to sound like a bitch. I’m just really busy.”

“I know. I just wanted to see. You carry on working, while I just sit here and watch you.”

I pull up a chair and sit behind her right shoulder. Her screen has a Word document on the left-hand side, and what looks like research notes on the right-hand side. Whatever she’s writing about, she’s done six thousand words according to the counter in the bottom left-hand corner. This is either one hell of a long article, or she’s using the newspaper’s office to write a book.

“I don’t believe you can just sit there and keep quiet,” Becky says. “No offense, but you fidget more than your daughter.”

Now it’s my turn to instinctively make sure that no one is listening. I’ve been a little slack lately when it comes to keeping Gemma a secret, but I still want to drag it on as long as possible.

“I won’t say a word,” I promise. “You just do what you got to do.”

“Okay.” I can see she doesn’t believe me, but she turns back towards her monitor and resumes reading over her work. It’s something to do with cheerleaders. Throw a few decent pictures in there, and this might be one of the few college newspaper articles I actually read.

Her trousers cling tightly to her thighs as she crosses her legs subconsciously. I breathe in deeply through my nose and catch a faint whiff of her deodorant; subtle, but floral and sweet.

I quietly slide my chair closer to her and peer over her shoulder, trying to look down her blouse to catch a glimpse of her firm breasts. She has too many buttons done up, and I can barely see anything. But I know they’re there. Those firm breasts, nipples ready to stand to attention as soon as I touch them.

Becky crosses her arms under her breasts and pushes them up slightly. I can see the tiniest bit of skin now through a gap in the buttons and it’s enough to have my cock reach semi-erect stage. It doesn’t take much these days—not where Becky is concerned.

Becky’s naïve enough to not realize just how much power she has over me. Probably for the best—she could turn me into her slave if she knew just how much I needed her body. I lean forward to kiss her gently on the neck. She twitches under my touch but tries to shrug it off and carry on working.

Then there’s another kiss, and then another.

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” she asks, eyes still staring at the monitor.

“No, I intend to make it very, very
hard
.”

“I’m working.”

“You can work later. Look, you can pretend all you like that you want to sit here and read your article, but we both know that you want this as much as I do. I’m not going to forget what happened in a hurry.”

“Well we can’t do anything here anyway….”

“Yes, we can. It’s easy. You just sit there, while I….” I reach forward and grab her thigh, squeezing it gently before working my way up towards her sex. I can already feel the heat coming from between her legs; she can’t tell me she doesn’t want this.

“
Some
of us have responsibilities.”

“
My
responsibility is to keep you satisfied. I’d appreciate it if you let me do my job.”

My fingers gently part her legs, as I rub my palm against her essence, teasing her already wet folds. Becky grabs my hand and yanks it from between her legs. I’m about to complain when she spins around on her chair and immediately pulls down my shorts. My semi-erect cock pops out and she grabs it firmly.

For a second, I think she’s going to punish me with a bit of cock torture. Her eyes are locked on mine and she looks serious and angry. I’m about to apologize for going too far, when she starts moving her hand up and down, slowly tugging on my cock and quickly making it rock hard under her touch.

I groan deeply, as she quickly ekes a bit of precum from the tip.

She moves her chair closer, spinning around so that her back’s to the window. If anyone happens to peak through the mostly closed blinds, all they will see is a girl and a guy sat next to each other focusing intently on what a neutral would assume is a draft article.