Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance Read online

  With both doors of the studio bolted shut, I hurried down the steps and made a left on the sidewalk. But as I slipped on my headphones and started fumbling around with the music player on my phone, I heard the faint cry of my name. I slid my headphones around my neck and glimpsed behind me.

  Ace jogged across the street. He pulled at the openings of his green-and-white team windbreaker, his keys jingling in his pockets as he caught up to me. I turned around slowly, sliding my phone back into my purse.

  “I thought it was you.”

  “Hey...you.” Needing something to do with my hands, I pulled off my scrunchie and retied my perfectly fine ponytail. Dammit, why were my fingers so sweaty? “What are you doing in West Bronx?”

  “My cousin, Vinny, called me out here to help out with a couple of boxes and some furniture. He's moving up to Norwood. And you?”

  “I'm renting out that dance studio on the first floor of that building over there.” I pointed to the dingy brown-bricked building behind him. “I teach a few kids from the neighborhood – it's more of a club than a class – I think I learn more from them than they do from me, really.”

  “You always liked to keep yourself busy.” Ace grinned, rubbing under his fuzzy chin thoughtfully. “But seriously, that's really cool.”

  “Thanks.” I reached for my headphones, turning away from him. “Anyway, it was good running into you, yet again. Bye, now.”

  “Wait, Brooklyn – hold up,” said Ace softly, taking a step towards me. “Can we talk? It'll just be for a minute.”

  “I –” I hesitated, looking around me nervously. “Okay. We'll talk in my car.”

  Ace followed me to my car. Before Mr. or Mrs. Rashid could see me, I ducked into the driver's seat. When the passenger door clicked shut, I pulled out of my spot discreetly. I drove us to a secluded alley 2 blocks down, riding in poignant silence.

  “So.” I set my car on park and unstrapped my seatbelt. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “What happened to you, Brooklyn?”

  “Excuse me?” I touched my collarbone, bridling at his words. “What –”

  “I've never seen you take shit from anyone,” Ace replied matter-of-factly. “Now, you're all jumpy and self-conscious. You're constantly scoping out your surroundings to make sure no one's tailing you –”

  “Look, I don't know what you're –”

  “That's no way to live,” Ace continued, leaning over to rest his elbows on his lap. His frustration was manifested in his amplifying, forceful tone. “You know you deserve better than that. Why would you –”

  “You can't just...”

  “Oh, no. No, no, no.” I wagged my finger furiously, a blush of anger sweeping across my cheeks. I was on the verge of steaming out of my ears. “You don't get to suddenly show up and start telling me what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Or did you forget that you were the one that moved halfway across the country and disappear– not one phone call, email, nothing –”

  “Brooklyn, I get it. You're right,” said Ace gently, bowing his head. “I'm sorry. That was out of line.”

  “R-right.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. “You bet your ass that was out of line.”

  “If it's any consolation, I'm sorry I never called. I thought it was best –”

  “Never mind. It's over and done with. I've moved on, as I'm sure you have.”

  “Okay.” He didn't push it any further. We stewed in another bout of awkward silence until he broke it. “I just wanna know. Are you happy?”

  “I'm – I'm satisfied, yes.”

  “That's not what I asked.”

  “Well, o-kay, nosy.” The corners of my mouth twitched. “Xavier's a little...rough around the edges, but he's got daddy issues. And, I mean, he can be really sweet when he wants to be.”

  “Forgive me if I'm out of line again, but it sounds more to me like you're trying to convince yourself. Isn't that a red flag? When you have to actively think of why you're with who you're with?”

  “And what do you know?” I snapped, pulling at the skin on my elbows. “You're one to talk – doesn't seem like you're in any position to be handing out love advice yourself. Pretty sure those 2 lovely ladies from the party would back me up on this one.”

  “Fair enough,” Ace conceded, his nostrils flaring as if he was trying to hold in a chuckle.

  “But if you must know, Xavier is the embodiment of everything my parents have ever wanted. Young, handsome, obscenely rich, with a quasi-celebrity status. Oh, and did I mention, obscenely rich.”

  “Sounds like your parents should be dating him instead.”

  “I know, right?” I laughed. It was more of a snort, really, but it was oddly exhilarating.

  “I've missed that.” Ace spoke slowly, almost as if he was waiting to see how far I'd let him keep going. “I've missed you, Brooklyn. I may not have called, and I realize how that could have been a dick move. This may sound like a crock of shit, but I really did love you. Care about you. Always have.”

  A tingle shot up from my stomach to the tips of my fingers. There now sat a small crinkle or 2 next to his eyes, which had been visibly hardened with age and rough experiences. But as he gazed back at me, I could see the same soulful sincerity I'd fallen in love with when I was 16.

  “And we may not have seen each other in 11 years, but I can assure you not a day goes by that I don't see your face anyway.”

  “Ace, I – I don't know what –”

  “That's fine.” Ace shifted in his seat, adjusting and readjusting himself uneasily. “But Brooklyn, there's something you need to know –”

  I wasn't sure what I was thinking – in all honesty, I don't think I was. Right that moment, all my responsibilities, commitments, and every secret affliction I harbored evaporated. I just wanted to quench this unabating longing that had awoken inside of me. I just wanted to feel good...

  Ace moaned softly as I mashed my lips against his. He reacted immediately, his hand sliding behind my head as he kissed me back. I forced my tongue into his mouth and swirled my tongue around his. The taste of his lips and the familiar scent of his minty deodorant finally tamed the aching fissure he'd instilled inside of me when he left. It was like he'd returned a piece of the puzzle I'd never even known was missing.

  The bristles of his beard felt softer than they looked, grazing against my chin and the space above my upper lip. Without saying a word, I climbed on top of him and yanked the lever underneath him, pushing his seat down in full-recline. The tip of his stiff cock prodded at my thigh, suffocating in the tent of his jeans.

  As he reached under my tank top and unclasped my bra, I unzipped his pants and unearthed his cock. I wrapped my hands around his warm, thick member and stroked him, feeling every pulsing vein in my hand. While he caressed my breasts and tweaked my nipples between his fingers, I ogled at his saluting length.

  It was a shade lighter than the rest of his body, untouched by the sun. The sight of it was almost mesmerizing. What I wouldn't give to feel this length easing its way through my tender lips, filling me up until I'd lost my will to think.

  I leaned forward and lifted myself from his lap. His thick, rough fingers hooked into the waistline of my leggings. He slowly peeled them down my trembling thighs as he planted a trail of soft kisses from my ear to my collarbone. Our husky, shivering breaths mingled with the sounds of squeaking leather.

  He pushed aside my panties, finding the long-neglected pearl quivering above my cunt...

  Chapter Eleven: Brooklyn

  2016

  “Aww, yeah. Fuck, that's good.”

  The perspiration that had accumulated on my hairline began to drip down my face, one bead at a time. My jaw was sore and the chords on my neck were starting to sting, but I persisted. My grip tightened around the girth of the throbbing, pink-tipped dick, pumping the length in and out of my mouth.

  “I don't know what's gotten into you, but if this is your way of apologizing, you should piss me off more...
”

  I gazed up at Xavier. A few tears squeezed out from the corners of my pink eyes, but I wasn't entirely sure if they were from the strain of my sore mouth. He leaned against the exquisite carved mahogany of his front door, petting the back of my head absentmindedly. His handsome, clean-shaven face took turns slacking and rumpling in pleasure.

  I closed my eyes, massaging his sack as my lips and tongue manipulated him in my mouth. But no matter how hard I willed myself to concentrate, I could almost feel Ace's strong grip around my waist, holding me close to him. And though my mouth and hands never stopped moving, my thoughts soon derailed.

  My toes curled. Ace's tongue flicking in and out of my folds as I rode his face...The feel of his thick, fat cock squeezing past the drenched lips of my yearning cunt...The knee-weakening spasms that took over me as the tip of his cock tickled that vulnerable spot deep inside me...

  Jolted by a sobering pang of guilt, my eyes sprang back open. I suddenly felt sick. Sick with shame and self-loathing. What the hell was wrong with me? Not only had I fucked up supremely and betrayed Xavier, I was fantasizing about the guy with my boyfriend's dick down my throat.

  “Yeah, baby, I'm – I'm getting close. You ready to feel my hot load down your – ah, ow, ow, fuck!”

  Xavier reeled backwards, a girlish yelp erupting from his mouth.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed, plucking out the strands of his pubes caught between my front teeth. “I'm so sorry. Are you –”

  “Goddamn it! I was so close, too – can't you do anything right?”

  “It was an accident. I said I was...” I straightened up, my shoulders stiffening.

  “So, are you gonna finish me off, or?”

  I reached for his waist, returning him to his previous position. Xavier cocked his head back, his face falling. He jerked away from me, but I'd already seen it, clear as day. That reddish-pink splotch of a hickey and what looked to be the moldings of a bite mark on his left butt cheek.

  “What's that?”

  “It's nothing,” said Xavier quickly, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “Must be some bug bite from when I went out camping with the guys.”

  “You mean when you went to Sequoia 4 months ago?” I pushed myself to my feet, staring hard at him. “Might wanna get that checked out, then. That thing must be infected if it's been ailing you for so long.”

  “Whatever. Screw this. You've killed the mood,” Xavier groused, flouncing away from me. “I'm gonna jack off in the shower. Come join me when you decide you want to stop being a a bitch.”

  When I heard the bang of the slamming bathroom door, I was more stupefied by his sheer nerve than I was with what I'd just unwittingly walked into. It was like I'd surpassed all possible levels of anger and was now just curious as to what else I'd been so blind to all this time. As the shower hissed and smoke floated out from under the bathroom door, I walked over to Xavier's phone, perched on the edge of the coffee table.

  The thin, lightweight phone felt so foreign in my hands. I swiped right, shaking my head as I unlocked his phone. The arrogance of his password-less phone was just more salt to the wound.

  For the next 5 minutes or so, I scrolled through the graphic messages flooding his account from different women. I swiped past more images of Xavier's dick and random titties and asses than I could count. Another treasure trove came in the form of the 5 or so hook-up and dating apps he actively used on his phone. The list went on and on, each undeniable date stamp hitting me like an extra punch in the gut.

  Chapter Twelve: Ace

  2016

  I tipped back my flask. The warm, oaky liquor swashed down my throat. When I lowered my flask, my ears were buzzing and the ground was swaying underneath me. I held my head upright determinedly, blinking until it stopped moving and the buzzing toned down a notch.

  I ran a tongue over my lips, cherishing every drop. This was the first drink I'd had in 4 and a half days, and boy, that felt good. I screwed the cap of my flask back on and slipped it inside the coat of my black suit, saving the rest for later. God knows I'm gonna need it.

  A newly-waxed Bentley Continental in white rolled up to the curb. Whitaker popped out of the passenger seat, looking like a giant fire hydrant in his red suit. Heaving a deep breath, I straightened my black tie and walked over to the car.

  “Hey, Warner, you gotta thank your cousin, Vinny, for us for hooking us up with this sweet ass ride.” Whitaker grinned at me as he opened the rear door. “Why don't you text me his address – I'd love to send the man a couple of steaks.”

  “Will do.”

  “Yo, what's good, Warner? You ready to go?”

  Hardwick and Baldwin nodded at me from the back of the car.

  “Where's Armstrong?”

  “He called, told us to to leave without him. He's hitching a ride with Cortez instead,” said Whitaker. “Anyway, wanna ride shotgun? Least I could do, man, if you're still hosting that after party –”

  “Naw, you go ahead. I'll ride in the back with these geezers.”

  I hopped into the backseat, slammed the door, and strapped myself in. As the car started moving, my head slumped back on the headrest. I leaned my head against the wall, the vibrations from the speaker bass thumping against my face.

  “Alright, Mr. Wilcox, we're all set,” said Whitaker eagerly from the front seat. He rubbed his hands together. “You can go straight to Bill Graham Civic.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  I kept my face a blank slate, but I was seething at the peppy excitement in Whitaker's voice. Motherfucker was glowing. The Bay Area has always ranked top 5 in my favorite places to party, but for the first time, I dreaded the trip the whole flight here. We were on our way to the 5th Annual NFL Honors. It was set to be hosted by Conan O'Brien, and though the dude was pretty funny, it wasn't nearly enough to offset this bitter resentment I was drowning in.

  I guess the annoying spring in Whitaker's step today was understandable. Rumor has it that he's got the AP MVP award locked down this year. Did the fact that I'd been pining for the award since its inception and had come infuriatingly close in 2013 have anything to do with all this pent-up bitterness inside of me? Probably.

  “Ay, yo, man, check out the racks on those 2.”

  Hardwick grinned, pointing out the 2 women in bright bikinis ambling down the boardwalk. All 4 of us, sans the driver, leaned forward in our seats and stretched out our necks, squinting out the windshield. Our eyes homed in on the small triangles of fabric skimpily covering their round, perky ass cheeks. We turned down our lips and nodded appreciatively, watching as they dimpled and jiggled with every step they took.

  “Man, Bay girls are some fine ass – holy shit, look out!”

  The time lapse was surreal. It was like watching a slideshow unfold behind every blink of my eye. The only thing I remember seeing was a grayish-white flatbed truck getting bigger and bigger in the windshield. What came next was the deafening screech of heavy wheels against the gritty asphalt. Then, nothing.

  Everything faded to black.

  Part 2

  Chapter One: Ace

  2016

  “And we're back. If you're just joining us now, we're live at the MetLife Stadium where the Jets are at 2 touchdowns, and 2 possessions, and the Browns at 15-play drive, touchdown-drive, and a 3-and-out. I don't know about you, Kenny, but this feels like a crucial drive, though we've got a little over 10 to go in the second quarter...”

  As I staggered over to the scrimmage line, I was starting to regret the 7 shots of vodka I downed at the BoobTube casting party last night. I dragged my cleats past the blurs of green-and-white jerseys and found the one with the bold “22” printed across his back. I posted up behind him, hunching over in position.

  It must have been over 100 degrees out today. The scorching rays of the sun blazed down my back. My shoulder pads were soaked through with sweat and my mouth guard sticking to my dry teeth. Inside my helmet, my greasy hair was matted to my forehead. Any occasional breeze blowing pas
t me only tacked on to the nausea. Man, this couldn't be good.

  “J-E-T-S, Jets! Jets! Jets! J-E-T-S, Jets! Jets! Jets!”

  I winced, my ear ringing from the deafening hollers to my right. From the corners of my drooping eyelids, I could see the thousands of colorful blobs on the bleachers. What I wouldn't give to just close my eyes for just one minute...

  “Warner! Warner! The hell's the matter with you? Get your head in the game!”

  My eyes snapped back open.

  “...the Jets have won games in a row with many crediting Warner to their success. Now, as we all know, Warner's no stranger to the media off the field, but if he gets down to brass tacks, the kid's got real talent –”

  “Wait, now, hold on there. You may have spoken too soon – oh, boy, looks like Warner's gonna be sick – and thar he blows!”

  I felt it coming. I threw off my helmet and spewed what felt like a liter of my entrails all over the grass. I gazed down at my vomit, fiery acid seizing my throat. Some of it got on the tips of my cleats. It looked like coffee ground sludge. The hell was that? I hadn't eaten anything in over 14 hours.

  All of a sudden, whatever energy I had left started bleeding out fast. I swayed back and forth to the tune of the crowd's gasps and cries. When my knees finally gave out, I keeled over and fell face-first to the ground, jerking my body just in time to avoid the fetid pool.

  I rolled across the grass, my arms and chest twitching uncontrollably. The cries of concern turned to a symphony of boos and jeers. But I was too fucked up to give a shit.

  “For fuck's sake, Warner! Whitaker, get out there!”

  3 medics hoisted me off the ground and onto a stretcher. 2 janitors in gray uniforms sprinted over to clean up the mess. As the medics strapped me in, my eyes struggled to stay open. Bullets of sweat coursed down my face and neck, but I was shivering, my teeth chattering so loudly it was all I could hear. I tried to sit up, but all I could do was flail a limp arm.