Page 1 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
1
Slade
Ten minutes lefton the clock.
The game was ours. Even with that amount of time left on the clock, there was no chance our opponents were going to come back against our thirty point lead. We almost didn’t need to even keep playing. With the lead we had, they should have just called the game, handed us the win, and sent us on our way.
I had an after-party to get to.
I watched the seconds slowly tick away while our defensive line held them back, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to turn the ball back over to us. Then, I would take the field again and inevitably lead the team to score yet another humiliating touchdown against these guys.
Being this good was badass, but, dammit, sometimes I wondered if I wasn’ttoogood. No one in college football could touch me. Except the girls, of course. The girls could touch me all they wanted.
I took the field again with just enough time to throw another touchdown. I put in a few more easy plays to get us in scoring range and eat up a little more time on the clock. Then, with under a minute left, it was our last play. We snapped the ball, and I took a few quick steps back, watching as their defense seemed to move in tired slow motion. Poor amateurs. We’d taken all the fight out of them.
When the pigskin left my fingers, everyone inside the stadium paused and held their breaths. All eyes were on the ball, knowing this was the last play and the final touchdown of the game. We’d already won, but it was still a beautiful throw. The place erupted when the wide receiver caught it. I’d helped the team put yet another win under our belts. All that was left for us to do was kick in the extra point, and we could finally call it a night. Time to send our opponents back home humiliated, and we could get to the after party victorious.
After the locker room revelry, after the high-fives and photo-ops, we chased off the media and hit the showers. They were always there, wanting to know what I thought about the win and how it felt to be playing my last season as a college quarterback. What were my plans for next year? Was I going pro?
Yes, I was going pro. What the hell did they think I was working my ass to the bone for? I was the college football star at a Southern university that lived for football. I wasn’t planning to let all this talent go to waste by heading to some entry level piece of shit job this early on. My sports management degree was there to fall back on once I retired. No matter what, I’d be in the game. Why? Because I wasn’t just college football, and I wasn’t just the next big thing to hit the NFL. What these fools didn’t understand was that Slade “Slaughter” Clarkwasfootball. They’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else with my level of commitment in anywhere across the country in the sport. And trust me, those were not my words, but they’d said it long enough for me to finally believe it, accept it, live up to it, and own it.
As for how it felt to win, I’d always say that I was blessed to be playing with the most talented athletes and the best team in the SEC. That was the thing. A little humility went a long way in the media, because no one likes an arrogant, overconfident athlete even if he can back it up, especially the sports reporters.
After the showers, it was time to make the grand exit and head on out. I exited the stadium with my entourage of team mates. Evan Marshall, my best friend and the team’s wide receiver was to my right. Tre Williams and Mo Grant, my running backs, were on either side of us. Bringing up the rear were Chris James and Clive Allen, the team’s cornerback and tight end, along with Chad Worthington, who played the center and tackle positions depending on who was on the field for the game. Damn, we were a fine-looking bunch wherever we went.
We made our way back to the frat house to celebrate our win. It was tradition to roll up to the house to find our school’s banner hanging across the front of the frat house, and my frat buddies outside already turning it up. Three or four of them were running around shirtless with our school colors sprayed on them, and clown wigs in the team colors as well, just in case anyone had a hard time finding the party.
I took the old wooden steps leading up to the wraparound porch, and stood between the white marble columns to do my usual bullhorn callout. That was the sound-off to confirm that we, their football stars and heroes, were in the building and the party was officially kicking off. By this time, there was no longer the need to smile and play nice for the camera. Yeah, that meant I could be a cocky son of a bitch for the rest of the night. For this weekly tradition, I was here for two reasons, besides the fact that I lived here. First, I was going to get drunk. Second, I was going to get laid. Preferably in that order. This was my final year at college and fuck, I was going to make every second count.
We dispersed as we entered the house, each of us off to find our own personal party for the evening. A hot little blonde greeted me inside with a red cup she’d already filled for me. Blondie was a few inches shorter than me, with seductive blue eyes, curves that told a story of their own, and legs that went on for miles and miles. She wore a tight black halter top that barely hid her perfect perky tits, and jean shorts that barely covered her ass. Yes, she was officially Slaughter-approved. I let her drape her arm across my shoulders and directed her into the large open front room where everyone seemed to be hanging out.
One thing I did that was ritual was I scanned the room for Cassidy. She was one of our cheerleaders, and a neighbor of mine from since childhood. She was also best friends with my brother and resident geek of the family, Shawn. So far, she’d managed to miss every after party since she started at college a year after me. My guess was she was avoiding me, because she also happened to be the one girl on campus I supposedly couldn’t have. Why she didn’t want the honor of me tapping that ass was beyond my understanding. And she was a damn cheerleader. These chicks were supposed to be our number one supporters, for fuck’s sake. At some point over the summer, I made it my mission to tuck her into my bed at least once before senior year was up. That gave me seven months and three weeks to accomplish that task. Plenty of time.
I finished off my beer and handed Blondie the empty cup. “Be a doll and get me another one.”
“Okay, Slaughter!” she bubbled, scampering off like a good little frat house groupie.
I caught a glance of Miranda, a cheerleader who also happened to be Cassidy’s college roommate. She looked as out-of-place as ever on the other side of the room. She was one of those freaky cute chicks, with her pink hair and eyebrow ring. I was almost certain she had other piercings underneath those black clothes and variations of ripped pantyhose she liked to wear around campus. We acknowledged each other with a head nod and left it at that. Miranda got a pass on being so strange because she was a cheerleader and best friends with Cassidy, but damn, she could have tried every once in a while. She didn’t have to fit in, but she didn’t have to stick out so much either. Anyway, she was alone, which meant Cassidy hadn’t shown.
Like, I said, plenty of time.
Blondie brought me another beer, and she had a friend with her this time, a cute little brunette about her size. The brunette had green eyes and a smile that hinted at all the dirty things she wanted me to do to her tonight. I took a second to check her out from head to toe. She wore a white pleated mini-skirt that was so short it practically met her legs at the top of her thighs. I was sure if I tilted my head to one side, I’d catch what color panties she was wearing—if she wore any tonight at all. The thin, hot pink tank top that hung off her already-hard bra-less nipples was a nice plus. These girls were ready to go, and the fact that they were both already smiling and touching me made my cock stir in my jeans.
“You girls look like you’re ready for a real good time.” I suggested.
“We totally are,” the brunette breathed out with a rasp in her voice that she was already close to coming. She flashed her emerald eyes at me and then to Blondie. I could tell she was looking forward to the next couple of hours when she answered.
“Sweet. Follow me,” I told them, leading them upstairs.
“I’ve never been up to the guys’ rooms,” Blondie mentioned.
“Mmmhmm. I bet we’re going to where the real party is,” the brunette told her.
“Bonus points for you, sweet thing,” I agreed. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Once in my room, I closed the door and locked it behind me. I didn’t want any of the drunk asses downstairs stumbling in looking for a place to crash and interrupting what was about to go down. I didn’t even know their names, and I didn’t really care. They were just groupies, and groupies were a dime a dozen around here.
When I turned around, the brunette grabbed me by my t-shirt and pressed her tight little body into me. I backed her up to the bed, and surprise, surprise, the tag team began. Blondie climbed in behind me and started pulling my shirt off, while Brunette grabbed my belt and unbuckled it. Little Miss Dark and Sexy was not shy. She opened my jeans and pulled them down, exposing my skin-fitting stretchy boxers, pulled taut around my hardening cock.
