Free Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Eve Maddox Page A

I’m being honest, I have to say I've never met any girl like her before. Hell, she's the only girl under forty I've met in the past two years whose first reaction to me isn’t to slither out of her panties and offer me a blow job.
    All she’s done is give me attitude and be a royal pain in the ass.
    And I’m finding it a total turn on.
    Maybe it’s the wrongness of it — the fact I’ve been told by Coach Jackson that I’m not to actually put my hands anywhere on her just tempts me even more. And her father is Orson Westwood, Mr. Stick Up His Ass himself, from a family of renowned Sticks Up Their Asses, just makes it even better. I can only imagine the expression on his face if he ever found out I’d been giving it to his precious daughter. The one who apparently I’m good enough to pretend to date to help along his political career, but not good enough to actually date.
    I don’t even know why it bothers me. I’ve had more trust fund babes cruising through college on their daddies’ dime in my bed than I can count. 
    I don’t need one more. I definitely don’t need it to be Ava Westwood. She’s a stuck-up snob who probably sees me the same way her father does: some poor-boy dupe she’ll use and then discard.
    Well, joke’s on them. I only have to look like I’ve reformed enough to make Coach Jackson happy, and to fool everyone into thinking my party days are over. But no one said anything about actually sticking to it. I can still do what I want, I just have to keep it on the downlow.
    There’s just one problem.
    I’m not in the mood.
    What the fuck.
    Not once, since puberty onward, have I not been in the mood to get my dick wet.
    But now, I just don’t feel like it.
    “Bryce is having a party tonight.” Reid interrupts my train of thought. At least he’s quit interrogating me about Ava. “You should come. I hear there’s going to be some extra fine talent there, if you know what I mean.” He winks, as if I might not have picked up on his innuendo.
    I’m about to shoot back a sarcastic response, when I stop myself. Why am I being such a shitass? Reid can be kind of irritating at times, but he’s a bro, and he’s also here on a scholarship, just like me. We don’t talk about it much, but it’s good to know there’s another person here who wasn’t born into money. Reid’s family weren’t walking around with holes in the ass of their pants like mine was, but he still knows what it’s like.
    And maybe he’s right — a party is just what I need to clear my head.
    And other things as well. Maybe that’s the problem: I haven’t gotten laid in almost a week and a half. That’s enough to make any man go crazy. Yeah, so I haven’t felt like it, but that’s no reason not to.
    “Sure,” I say. “Why the hell not?”
    Reid grins, holding his hand up for a high five.
    “Awesome!” he says, bounding up from the couch. “I gotta shower, then we can go. Or maybe I should forget the shower? I read something online that says chicks dig a man’s natural pheromones. It makes them wet before they even know what’s going on.”
    “There is no woman on earth who is going to be turned on by the smell of your ball sweat, Reid,” I tell him. “Go shower. Jesus.”
    Reid only laughs, before heading upstairs to wash himself.
     
                                                                                                        
     
     
    The party’s already in full swing when we arrive.
    Bryce lives in one of the frat houses on campus, a massive red brick building with white pillars out front. Despite the fact it’s a cold night, there’s already any number of half-naked girls sitting around on the porch, beers in their hands, laughing and shouting with the footballers and other guys Bryce has invited over.
    I grin.
    This is better — this is what I live for. Pussy and booze, and both in large