Free Loved by the Linebacker by Lyssa Layne Page A

Camila is a thousand times more after our kiss.
I keep running my tongue over my lips, trying to taste her fruity lipstick. The
ginger and floral perfume she always wears already had me in a frenzy at
dinner, but after finally getting my lips on her, I’m rock hard. It’s been a
month since I’ve gotten off and tonight is probably going to end up like every
other time I’m with Camila—blue balls.
    The song ends but thoughts of Camila don’t go
away. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, knowing she’s
probably naked with a certain pitching coach right about now. The thought
pisses me off and I am fighting the urge to turn this SUV around so I can stop
them. Instead, I grab my phone, sending her a text that will hopefully ruin any
desire she has to sleep with Gregg Turner.
    Turning up the radio, I try to block out thoughts
of Camila and Gregg. Luckily, it’s only an hour and a half drive to my mom’s
which goes pretty quickly. When I reach the city limits, I turn down the
volume, an eerie feeling washing over me. This town is a mix of good and bad
memories. Winning state championships, signing with Notre Dame University, only
to turn it down because of my mother’s demons. Blake was pissed at me, but he
didn’t experience our mother’s alcoholism the way I did.
    After our father left us, Blake had been the male
figure for both my mom and me. Blake handled all of the house maintenance, made
sure the bills were paid on time, purchased all the groceries, checked my homework,
practiced football with me every night in our backyard, everything to keep our
house and family functioning. My mom depended on him more than either of them
realized and when he left, her true colors came out. As a sophomore in high
school, I was left to pick up the pieces of our mother yet again. Before I turn
on to the long road that leads to our dilapidated Victorian-style house that
our mother refuses to sale, I check my phone and grin when I see I have a text
from Camila. 
    Too bad it was only a one-time thing…but you’re
not too bad yourself.
    Shaking my head and chuckling, I start the quarter
of a mile drive. She says it was just a one-time deal, but she knows it’s so
much more than that. Tonight, I got much more than I expected from her which is
a start. I know I have to take things slow if I want more from her. My
throbbing cock reminds me of how much I do and I groan, rubbing it with my free
hand, hoping it shrinks before I get to my mother’s.
    Reaching our driveway, all thoughts of everything
and everyone are pushed away. It’s almost midnight and every light in the house
is on while the front door is wide open. I throw the SUV into park and bolt
inside, the engine still running. Fearing the worst, I yell for my mom at the
top of my lungs.
    “Ma! MA! Are you okay? Ma!” This house has no
security and Ma refuses to let me pay for any upkeep or security system. She
wants it exactly the way it was when our asshole father left. In her delusional
mind, she thinks he’s coming back one day.
    I race from room to room, stumbling over piles of
junk scattered throughout the house. Beer bottles clutter the floors, a sure
sign that Ma’s fallen off the wagon. My only hope is that she’s been a lone
drinker, staying at home to get shitfaced and not going to the bar, bringing
home random men who could do who knows what to her. I clench my fist at that
image and shove a stack of magazines off the hall desk, walking into her
bedroom, the only place I haven’t checked yet.
    I let out a long breath when I see my mother passed
out on the bed. Taking a seat beside her, I place my hand on her back and relax
slightly knowing that she’s breathing. She’s a tiny woman to begin with, how
the hell she gave birth to Blake and me I have no idea, but right now, she
looks so fragile. Her skin is pasty, the smell of beer hangs in the air, and I
can see every bone along her vertebrae through the thin shirt she’s wearing.
    Her fingers