RHINO: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (With FREE Bonus Novel OFFSIDE!) (60 page)

“
You are mine.”

“
Do you mean that?”

“
You tell me after this.”

I’m inside her without even trying. It’s just a case of pushing her legs apart, placing my cock at the edge of her pussy hole and slowly letting myself slip inside her.

It is more magnificent than any of the other times we have fucked, maybe because three weeks have passed since we last did it, maybe because I know I love her enough to never want to leave her side, maybe because she’s back with me finally and maybe, just possibly, because she feels all that too and I can see it as clear as a setting sun.

Her moans in my ear send shivers down my spine. The way her body lurches towards me makes my balls ache with desire. I want her. I want her so much I’d tear holes in the fabric of time and space to make it work. I’d cross oceans for the chance of a glimpse at her, wreck worlds if it only meant I’d get a kiss. She gives herself to me. One arm inert, a lung still punctured, her left hand side battle scarred and swollen, she gives herself to me completely.

I see it in those beautiful eyes, the red patches that tint her skin where passion can no longer holds itself inside, in the trembles at the edges of her lips when she turns them up to smile and the way her voice cracks when she says it to me,

“
I love you. I love everything about you, Jasper. Fuck. Don’t you ever leave me.”

And I won’t. I know I won’t and she knows it too, and we both do as our bodies work as one tumbling together, fucking each other with gritted determination, with proof of our wanton desire of where we want ourselves to be forever and where we promise we’ll take each other.

I’m thick and deep and swollen and sensitive all over, and sweat drips along my spine and over my shoulders and into the linen as we roll as much as we can around the restrictions our situation has placed upon us, and when we know we are nearing it and everything else we want to do to each other all at once doesn’t matter anymore because the moment itself supercedes it, we fall together, pressed against one another and come so hard screaming into each other’s ears we know we’ll let nothing ever let us part.

I want to fuck her brains from her head, screw her skin off her body, bury myself so deep inside her being it will take hours of painstaking surgery to separate us once again. Nothing comes near it.

Fuck everything else that isn’t even close, this is mind, body and spirit all in one go and nothing on this earth is going to make me give it up. I’ll fuck her mouth at some point, wet her anus with spat out saliva and slide my dick so deep she thinks she’s having a stroke, we’ll argue and make up across seven continents and we will progenate until we’re satisfied the world is filled up enough with our kin, but right now, this is all that matters and this, her body and mine as one, is the best sensation I’ve ever felt in the hugeness of the crazy fucking world.

“
My, fucking, God.”

“
Right?”

“
That. Right there. Oh fuck, Jasper.”

“
That what you bothered to wake up for?”

“
Fuck me.”

“
I thought-.”

“
Whatever you did then.”

“
Uhuh?”

“
Just. Do. It. Again.”

So I do. I do it again, and again, and again, and again until I have nothing left to give. We move from the bed, to the shower, to the sofa, to the second bedroom, to the kitchen and back to the first bedroom, eventually both fully naked, ultimately fucking so gently the movement is almost imperceptible.

Our heads spinning, our bodies dripping with lust, our fingers trembling so much we have trouble holding them still, we seal our future together, knowing how fickle the present can be and how important it is to make the world our own.

Sixteen.

Penny

This is a must win match.

I suppose all of our matches up to this one have been must win too, but this one, if there was ever one that had a chance to define the future of this football club, based on what has come before it this season, it’s this.

Win and we go top of our division with an automatic chance of qualification to the playoffs. Lose and we could lose everything. We drop away from the lead, we risk stumbling even further and the club spiralling into administration or, eventually, complete and utter obscurity. This isn’t going to be easy, but we’re on one of the hottest winning streaks of the league right now and everything looks like it’s tilting in our favor.

Things have changed since the accident. Jasper has been a permanent feature in the side, Topher has been sold and replaced by our backup quarterback, Dillhunt, who happens to be playing out of his skin, Dad has softened and taken more of a back-seat in terms of his never-too-subtle micro management style on all things Tigers related, and I’ve finally recovered. It’s taken a month, and I’m not completely back to full health, but I’m at ninety-nine percent and pushing on.

I’m sat out in our technical area watching our team take to the field.

It’s great being down here amongst the action, because I feel like it’s where I’ve always belonged. Football runs through my veins as much as rugby does Jasper’s and even though I’ve never been a player, I’ve never wanted to be too far away from the sport. With Topher gone, I feel much more at ease down here amongst the players. As soon as we had an offer, Dad didn’t think twice. The Bengals had their quarterback take a heavy hit at the end of last month, and with an ageing replacement and a play off place at stake they made some enquiries.

Tiger’s fans were up in arms about the sale, especially at such a crucial point in our season, but with Dillhunt playing so well it hasn’t taken long for opinion to change. Dad saw Topher as the catalyst for all the bad shit that happened to me and didn’t want him around any longer.

Since his sale, and since Jasper has been back to playing regularly, we haven’t lost. Dillhunt’s been a journeyman quarterback for years, way past what should be his prime, but he’s got a right arm like a cannon and Jasper, Jackson and him have all been linking up like a golden fucking triangle. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.

All that bullshit with Jasper’s former club, the contract being torn up and the plane tickets? I went to town on Dad for that. I still haven’t forgiven him either. There was no need to test Jasper like that. I can see it from his perspective, but I still don’t get it. Jasper’s got a horrible reputation as a womanizer, a drunk, a bad boy trouble maker, but with me, he’s as sweet as a peach.

Maybe he just needed a good woman to get him under control, but whatever it is, he’s definitely not the cheating type. Jasper is determined and he knows exactly what he wants, and thankfully, even though I struggle to believe it myself, from the first day he set foot in this country, that thing has been me.

None of us know what he’ll do at the end of the season. There have been rumors flying around about a big name transfer and we’ve actually had informal enquiries since our fortunes have turned around, but if Jasper stays in America, there is no way he’s going to be playing for anyone else but Moxlin. If we get into the playoffs, and with the money from Topher’s sale, we can afford to keep him for one more year, more if we do well again next year.

The decision, really, is Jasper’s. He’s on a long term contract at Corsham, from which he can be bought out of if need be, but there is every chance he might want to return to his country after achieving what he’s set out to achieve here, and return, more importantly to his sport, which will always be his very first love.

We’ll see. There is a long way to go in the season yet, and it all starts here. We need to win this game first. If we do, we could go all the way.

If you’d asked me of the chances of that before the season began I would have answered the question in two ways, realistically, no chance in hell, idealistically, every chance in hell and what’s more, bring it on. Every win makes that wish ever more possible. Winning the superbowl would be an act of unparalleled sporting genius, but as I say, we’ve got a long way to go.

The first quarter is an even mix of smart attacking play by two teams that on paper are leagues apart but on the field look matched almost equally at every turn. The Miners pip it 10-7 with a field goal kicked after a controversial call. It doesn’t matter. Jasper is upbeat, Dillhunt is throwing well and even Lopez is having a decent game. They look strong, well organized and come to this game with an unbeaten run so far, but we’ve got a secret weapon in Jasper, who will never give up no matter how far behind or how unlikely the odds.

I’m wedged in between the offensive unit like a mascot, crushed between heavily padded up footballers on a bench never big enough to fit everyone in and there is nowhere else on earth I’d prefer to be right now.

I don’t know what it’s like in England, at rugby matches, but if we have to go I’m going to miss this. Dad’s already adjusting himself to the possibility. He’s actually already given me the go ahead. Jasper and I had a kind of formal dinner at my parents house last weekend - something I thought would never happen - and Dad even gave him a hug when we left. Jasper didn’t know what to do.

I think my accident has somehow given him a wake up call to the possibility that time moves on, things change, and the present never sticks around for as long as you want it to.

I’m no longer that wide eyed little girl that nearly peed her pants with excitement the first time she came here, I’m an adult and capable of making my own decisions. Capable of flying the nest should I need to.

I think it’s taken Dad a long time to assimilate that, both with me and Moxlin Tigers. I’m glad he’s taken a back seat, passed over the technical coordination to his offensive and defensive directors, given them much more of an input into the style of play, and the in-game decisions that could make our break our season.

I never wanted to say it to him, because football is his life, but there are times when you just have to change and go with the flow. The Tigers were changing around him and Dad couldn’t accept why what used to work wasn’t working anymore. I’m just glad he realized before too late.

“
You see how high that tackle was, nearly pulled my helmet clean off.”

Jasper’s pulling at the front of his helmet to adjust it. Pushing at the shoulder pads, pulling up socks and adjusting his jockstrap. Even though he wears the bare minimum allowed by regulation he’s still never got used to wearing it.

“
Just don’t let him get that close next time.”

“
Don’t worry, Honey, that was a one off.”

“
I’d kiss it better if I could get to it.”

Jasper smiles at me through his grill.

“
Knock it off you two, we’ve got a game to win.”

Helmets are banged together, mantras are chanted, hands are collected in the middle of groups in a kind of ritual than looks every bit neanderthal, but sends shivers down my spine and makes my skin all goose-pimply. I was always proud watching Topher play, proud in general of a team I consider family, each one a distinct personality in a group as a whole, but seeing Jasper out there doing what he does so well, elevates this experience to a whole new level.

Watching people doing something difficult and making it look artistic is an incredible skill. Jasper lends a beauty to this often brutal sport, that makes him look like he’s dancing out there on the grass, spinning and pirouetting around opposition players like a ballet professional or sweeping majestically through the air to pluck a ball out of nowhere like a falcon gathering prey.

It’s a thing of beauty to see, and it doesn’t take long before Jasper have the home crowd on their feet once again, a magic piece of individual brilliance that seems to come out of nowhere and leaves him always two feet ahead of any opposition player as he carves his way through the pack, never once looking likely to get caught, to walk cheekily the last two yards into the end zone, place the ball casually at his feet and bow to the four sides of the erupting stadium.

When he comes back to the bench, I’m already on my feet to allow him to gather me up more easily. This time I’m the one that pulls fiercely at his helmet, and the crowd is still clapping while I give Jasper a passionate kiss, which immediately makes it up onto the big screen around us.

“
More.”

I push myself away from him. “One kiss for every touchdown, that was the rule.”

“
What does he get if we win?”

Dillhunt wraps his arm around Jasper’s neck, hooking him into a congratulatory embrace.

“
Something you never get from your wife.”

“
I might if you keep catching like that.”

“
We all might if you keep throwing like that. Even Mosley.”

“
Hey!”

They steal a touchdown back in the dying seconds of the second quarter and we go into the break tied. A couple of decisions go against us, but we’re not playing as well as we should be, which I know we’ll have to change in the second half if we want to put this game beyond doubt.