Free Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Teagan Kade Page B

wait and see, won’t we?”
    I point between us. “We haven’t… have we?”
    She laughs out loud. “Fuck no. I’ve heard the rumors. I don’t want a warehouse for a vagina anytime soon.”
    “You look familiar.”
    “What’s that?” Tia calls, bounding up the path ahead, one of her buns undone, her mocha hair spilling down to her shoulders on one side.
    “Nothing,” I shout.
    Lacey jumps in front of me. “I’m small, but I can be mean when I want to. Fuck with my girl there and I don’t care how big your dick is, it’s coming off.”
    My manhood’s copping an awful lot of threats lately. I salute her. “Aye, aye, captain.”
    “Good,” she says, firm, but I see the smile lingering there.
    *
    I shake the lump under the quilt. “Wakey, wakey.”
    “Go away,” comes a squeaky voice.
    I’m about to pull the covers off when I realize it might not be the best idea. She might sleep in the nude for all I know. My cock stiffens thinking about it.
    I lift the covers back enough to see a beautiful, tangled mess of hair and soft, bee-stung lips peeking out of it below. “Few too many cocktails at the Mos Eisley Cantina last night?”
    Tia yawns. “What’s the time, Mr. Wolf?”
    I look to the bedside clock. “Four-thirty.”
    “In the afternoon?” she says, hopeful.
    “Morning. Time for training.”
    “You can take your training and—”
    Right on cue the alarm clock goes off. She sits bolt upright, her night shirt hanging off her shoulder and the top of a breast visible, pale and perfect. I want to fill my hand with it, hold onto it while I dive between her legs, but no. Never going to happen.
    She slaps at the clock, finally collecting it. It topples onto the floor and cuts off.
    She puts two hands up to her head. “Why does it feel like I’ve been sleeping in a cement mixer all night?”
    She sees her top is down, pulling it up and blushing. “Shit. Sorry.”
    “Don’t be.”
    I hand her a glass of orange juice and two aspirin. “For the cement mixer.”
    She takes them, fingers like silk. “Thanks.”
    I stand, not that I want to leave. “See you in five?”
    “If I can find my feet.”
    *
    I’m used to shaking off hangovers in the pool. The water’s good for that, for physical and mental health, though I’m typically thinking about my last lay instead of my next.
    I deliberately get Tia to swim ahead of me, focusing on the way the globes of her ass press and roll, her smooth legs and tiny feet kicking. With that sight in front of me I could swim the Pacific Ocean and back.
    The only problem is trying to get out of the water when you’ve got an iron bar bent in your swimsuit.
    I wrap a towel around myself, standing sideways and tucking my cock down as much as I can. I’d have better luck tying it in a knot. Tia sits on a diving block catching her breath, hands on her hips.
    I take a seat on the block opposite.
    Outside, the sun’s lifting in the windows, backlighting the mist rising from the surface of the pool, every wall and pane of glass golden.
    I lean over my knees, pressing the towel down between them to hide my monster boner. Talk about drag. “How’s your head?”
    She pulls off her cap and googles, hair spilling out. She shakes through it with one hand, diamond droplets falling to the floor. “Better, thanks.”
    “Nothing like a bit of physical exertion early in the morning.”
    She rolls her eyes. “So Lacey tells me.”
    Fucking Lacey. “ What exactly did she tell you?”
    “She says you like company— a lot of company. I mean, I don’t blame you. You’re an attractive guy.”
    Compliment noted. “I am, am I?”
    I know I should tell her she’s attractive in return. Hell, I’ll call from the rooftops she’s the hottest girl I know, but I think of Coach and keep my mouth shut. I thought the bastard tortured me in the pool, but this is a new, creative kind of cruelty.
    She licks her lips. “You’re in great shape, clearly,” she says, gesturing to my arms.