Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

  B. B. Hamel

  Contents

  Copyright

  Mailing List

  Prologue: Avery

  1. Gibson

  2. Avery

  3. Gibson

  4. Avery

  5. Gibson

  6. Avery

  7. Gibson

  8. Avery

  9. Gibson

  10. Avery

  11. Gibson

  12. Avery

  13. Gibson

  14. Avery

  15. Gibson

  16. Avery

  17. Gibson

  18. Avery

  19. Gibson

  20. Avery

  21. Gibson

  22. Avery

  23. Gibson

  24. Avery

  25. Gibson

  26. Avery

  27. Gibson

  28. Avery

  29. Gibson

  30. Avery

  31. Gibson

  32. Avery

  Thank You

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  Smash: An MMA Stepbrother Romance

  Copyright © 2016 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  IMPORTANT: Because of the bonus content at the end, Long finishes at around the 50% mark. Enjoy!

  Prologue: Avery

  It’s not like I didn’t know football.

  I’m not going to pretend like I’m one of those girls who doesn’t know a thing about football. I grew up in a big football area and I went to one of the biggest football schools in the country, Mater Dei. It’s a Catholic institution, and it’s one of the powerhouses of college football.

  I grew up around the sport. My father watched it, my uncles watched it, everyone I knew watched football. Going to the game on Friday nights in high school was practically a social requirement, even for borderline dorks like me.

  I just didn’t love football. I didn’t wake up every morning wondering about the game, wondering about the moves managers were making, wondering what the players were thinking. I didn’t live and breathe football like so many people did. It was fun to be a part of that screaming mass of intense students, don’t get me wrong, but I just didn’t really care all that much one way or the other.

  Which I guess is a long way of saying, I knew who Gibson Evans was the second he walked up to me that night.

  It was the summer between junior and senior year, and I was living in an apartment off campus with my best friend, Harper. I had an internship at a local sports medicine lab, and she was doing some admin work for the local government.

  It was our summer of fun. We had it easy. Our responsibilities were few, our rent was cheap, and all we wanted to do was hang out and have a good time.

  That was how we ended up at some random house party early in August. I had no clue Gibson was going to be there, or that the guy throwing the house party was an ex-player alumnus. All I knew was that there was cheap beer, lots of people our age, and an excuse to dance.

  I didn’t want Gibson to come up to me. I didn’t want him to smile that cocky grin, that sort of look that made you feel like he knew you, really knew you, and he liked what he knew. He had these eyes, blue as a Husky’s or something like that, just absolutely piercing. I heard one girl describe them this way: “If eyes could fuck, I would want Gibson’s eyes to get me pregnant.”

  That was pretty accurate, I had to admit.

  I’d never seen him up close before. He was tall, easily over six feet tall, and covered in muscles. Tattoos snaked their way up along his arms, and he had this swagger about him. People stared when he walked by, and it seemed like everyone was constantly watching what he was doing. The party seemed to revolve around Gibson.

  I’d never spoken a word to him before. He was just that mythical athlete, considered one of the best quarterbacks in the country, an untouchable god on campus. I never saw him out of his uniform, actually, until that night.

  Until he looked at me and smiled across the living room and then walked right over like it was no big thing.

  I didn’t freak out. Like I said, I didn’t really care all that much about football. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt nervous in a really strange way, but it wasn’t because he was an important athlete.

  It was because he was the most attractive man that had ever so much as looked at me.

  Harper stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at him as he stopped right in front of me.

  “I don’t know you,” he said, smirking at me.

  What an asshole.

  Did that normally work?

  He was looking at me like I was some strange alien invading his space. It was this cocky mix of control and arrogant confusion, like I didn’t belong or something.

  I was flustered when he first smiled, but I was annoyed as soon as he opened his mouth.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know you, either.”

  Harper let out a choked laugh, because of course I knew him. Everyone knew him.

  That only made his grin get bigger, though.

  “I’m Gibson,” he said. “I just meant that I know everyone else here, except you.”

  “I’m Avery,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same.” He stepped closer to me. “I don’t mean to be too forward. I’m just so used to seeing the same faces at these parties.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said, although I didn’t. “This is my friend Harper.”

  He barely glanced at her. “Hey,” he said, before looking right back at me.

  “Hey,” she managed to say.

  “Listen, come dance with me,”

  I laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Hear that? Sounds like the DJ just got here.”

  There was a booming bass line coming from the basement, and I noticed that a lot of people were slowly filtering toward it.

  I wasn’t drunk, but there was something so intoxicating about him. Maybe it was the way he stared at me like I was the only girl in the room, or maybe it was his reputation. Gibson Evans was a bad boy, and everyone knew it. The media played it up even, loved to talk about how he came from a rough neighborhood and was practically raised by his grandmother. Gibson’s parents were too drunk to take care of him, so he had to learn to take care of himself.

  Everyone knew that story. But it was different when that story was staring at you in the face, his ripped body inches away from yours, grinning like he owned the place.

  So of course I said yes. I followed him down into that basement and we danced in a big group of people, our bodies smashed close together. I’d never felt so wild or free before as we danced, his hands on my hips, his lips close to my ear.

  We danced like that for what felt like hours. Sweat ran down my spine, but I didn’t care and neither did he. We danced, our bodies close against each other, until he asked me that question.

  It was the question I thought about all the time later on, after everything had happened. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have gone differently if he hadn’t whispered it in my ear, made my body pulse, made my pussy dripping wet.

  And it wasn’t really a question, not exactly. The question was implied, but we both knew w
hat it really was.

  It was a command.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said, sending tingles down my spine.

  “Where?” I asked him.

  “My truck is nearby,” he answered. “I haven’t been drinking. I want to show you something.”

  “Okay.”

  That fateful answer, so simple. I wasn’t thinking about consequences, not that night. All I could think about was Gibson’s body pressed so close to mine.

  Heads turned as we left the party together. I wondered where Harper was, but I knew she’d make it home just fine.

  Gibson drove a big black truck. He helped me inside like a gentleman, though he didn’t dance like one.

  We drove away from the school, away from the town. We drove down along an old road, barely paved, and finally stopped at the edge of a field.

  “This is my favorite spot in this shitty place,” he said. “Quiet. Nobody around.”

  I had to admit that it was nice. The woods spread out around us and the field looked calm, serene. Wild flowers were just blooming all over and everything was bathed in a weak silver moonlight.

  I turned my head toward him to tell him how nice it was. That was when he kissed me.

  Gibson wasn’t the type of man to ask permission. He simply took my chin and pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him back, hungry and scared and thrilled all at once. He tasted incredible, like fresh spring water right from the stream. We kissed like that until he practically pulled me across the car.

  I ended up straddling Gibson Evans, my soaking pussy up against his hard cock. His surprisingly hard, large cock, which he wasn’t shy about pressing hard against me.

  I knew where this was going. Gibson had a reputation, after all. The truth was, straddling him in his truck was exactly what I’d wanted from the second he spoke to me. Maybe the man was an arrogant asshole, but he was absolutely gorgeous.

  He was the perfect one-night stand, the perfect fling to cap off my summer of fun. I didn’t know if there was something beyond this one night, but I couldn’t think about that. All I knew was that this night was all that mattered.

  Or at least that was what I thought at the time.

  His hands pulled off my shirt, unbuttoned my jeans, and slipped down into my panties. I moaned as his fingers worked my clit, sliding along my slick skin, pressing inside me. I began to work my hips, letting his fingers do the work, as waves of pleasure rolled through me.

  I began to fumble at his belt, so he slid the car seat back as far as it would go. I got his belt off and we worked his pants down. I began to work his long, thick cock through his boxer briefs, amazed at his size, my pussy ringing with need and desire. He kissed me hard as I worked him, and he whispered in my ear.

  “I want to feel that pussy wrapped around my cock,” he said. “Fuck, Avery, you’re driving me fucking wild.”

  I kissed him and pulled his boxer briefs down. I got back into the passenger seat and then leaned forward, taking his cock into my mouth.

  He groaned as I began to suck him. His cock was thick and long, and I could barely fit him into my mouth. I sucked his tip, jerking his shaft off, working him. He groaned as I realized how incredibly starving I was for him, how badly I needed this.

  “Take that fucking cock,” he grunted as I worked him, sucking him hard. He reached over and slipped his fingers down my panties as I sucked him, working my clit. I couldn’t help but moan with his cock halfway down my throat.

  “I love how fucking wet you are, Avery,” he said. “God damn, you’re dripping for me already. You love sucking cock that much?”

  I gasped as he pressed his fingers inside me, pulling his cock from my mouth.

  “My pants,” he said. “In the back pocket. Get my wallet.”

  I nodded, reached to the floor. I pulled his wallet out and gave it to him. He took a condom from it and ripped the condom open.

  I watched as he rolled it down his impressive length. Then he grabbed my hips and pulled me back over toward him.

  I bit my lip, completely unsure if I could even take him. But he took my hips expertly and guided his cock inside me, slipping deep into my pussy.

  I was soaking wet and he slid right in, easily. He kissed my lips as he slowly pressed himself deep inside me. I slowly worked down his length until his thick cock was buried between my legs.

  We stayed like that for a moment, bliss running through me. Gibson’s cock filled my every inch like it was made for me. It was incredible as he kissed me and slowly lifted me up, guiding my hips.

  He began to fuck me like that, working my hips, thrusting up inside me. I took his cock and moaned, barely able to think, barely able to do anything but let him fuck me.

  His thick cock filled my every inch as he slapped my ass and groaned. I began to work my hips, feeling the pleasure rocking through me. I began to work my ass, rolling along his cock, using my thighs to slam myself down onto him. I ran my fingers through his hair, taking his thick cock, working along his length.

  “I can’t get enough of this tight pussy,” he whispered in my ear. “Fuck, girl, and your ass is fucking perfect.” He slapped it and I moaned. “You like taking this cock, don’t you? You like being a dirty fucking girl, riding up and down my hard cock.”

  I let him fuck me that way, his dirty talk sending me closer to the edge. I didn’t know how long we worked together, his cock pressing inside me, our bodies close together, his lips against my ear. He fucked me and I was lost in it, in the bliss of his thick cock.

  And slowly I felt the orgasm building deep inside me. I couldn’t believe how strong it felt as it slowly swept over me, but my whole body was tense and coming as his cock slammed harder inside me, thrusting deep and rough, his hands firm on my ass.

  He fucked me hard and savage as I came, and I took that thick cock, my mind full of bliss and need. He fucked me deep and hard, and I could feel his hands tensing on my full ass as he fucked me.

  And then his whole body stiffened, his cock working inside me. I twisted my hips, rolling them, helping him come deep inside me.

  And slowly it was over; our orgasms passed. I collapsed forward onto him and he held me there like that, breathing deeply.

  “Fuck,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  I got back into the passenger seat, gasping for air, covered in sweat.

  That was the first night I met Gibson Evans. We sat in his truck talking about nothing for another half hour before he drove me back home. I gave him my number and he walked me up to my door like a gentleman.

  But he didn’t fuck like a gentleman. As he kissed me on the cheek and gave me that cocky grin, I kept thinking about his body against mine, fucking me rough and deep.

  Gibson Evans was something else. Sometimes a gentleman and sometimes a beast, Gibson made me feel something that night I had never expected.

  And a few weeks later, sitting in the bathroom of my apartment and peeing on a stick, he made me feel something else entirely.

  1

  Gibson

  Being an athlete had its perks, especially at a place like Mater Dei.

  It was a football school, the kind of place that treated its football stars like kings. Not that I needed that sort of shit, but it was a nice fucking perk.

  I got invited to a lot of parties. At first, when I first came to MD, it was a ton of fun. But I quickly found out that partying and playing at the highest levels of football just didn’t go hand in hand. I got tired of the parties, tired of the same fucking girls throwing themselves at me.

  Plus, I had a lot to live up to. The summer before my senior year, I was ranked number eight in the country, and a lot of people were saying that I could be the best if I continued to play well.

  At a place like Mater Dei, expectations ran high. If you had a lot of hype, you’d better live up to that hype, or else.

  Which was why I didn’t do much partying that summer. I spent most of my time studying film and working out, getting
into game shape earlier than usual. I was going to push myself, achieve the highest levels of athletic accomplishment, or else die trying.

  But there was one party, toward the end of the summer. Two a day practices were coming up, which meant my life was about to be a living hell of serious physical torture mixed with crushing game study. I was about to immerse myself in football again, and I wasn’t going to have a single spare second.

  And so I decided to go to one last party, although I didn’t have high expectations. It was at an alumni house, some guy I barely knew, although all the same faces were there.

  Except for her. I couldn’t help but grin when I first saw Avery Carpenter standing there, looking shy and quiet. Long, thick hair, great tits and hips, the sort of girl I just had to make moan.

  It wasn’t long before I got her on the dance floor, our bodies moving to the beat. I knew she was dripping wet by the way she looked at me. All I had to do was ask, and she was mine.

  Avery Carpenter. She was the last girl I touched before season started and my life became packed with nothing more than football. When two a days started, the memory of her incredible lips wrapped around my cock got me through some of the worst of it.

  I wanted to call her. I really did. But nothing was going to stop me from becoming the best quarterback in the country, and I didn’t have time for distractions.

  Not even distractions like Avery.

  I opened up the door to my apartment and let the cool air blast into my face. I was still sweaty from practice, but I didn’t care as I collapsed onto the couch.

  I lived in a pretty nice apartment right on the edge of campus. It was an easy walk from my place to the practice fields, and a lot of the other players lived in the building with me. Coach liked to keep us all together to try to foster a team spirit, but that just meant the guys threw raging parties whenever they had a second.

  Not me, though. I was more focused than I’d ever been in my life.

  I was also more tired. The first game of the season was coming in two weeks, and my body felt like I’d been hit by a truck and dragged for a few miles. Two a days had just ended with one of the most brutal practices ever.