“Dad, it’s not quitting if no one will sign you. I’m not going to play for some crap team in the middle of South America. No team worth its shit wants me anymore.”
I turn up the volume on the television and continue to watch Family Guy. This conversation is over.
It’s been two years since the accident and for the most part, I’m fully recovered. But my soccer days are over. I’m strong, but I’ve lost my speed and while my leg has been put back together, one wrong fall, one bad kick to the leg and I’m a goner. Most likely that leg would never work again.
“I did not raise you to be a quitter. I raised you to fight!”
Quickly I stand and face him. “You didn’t raise me at all. Mom gets to take that credit, not you.”
“Oh, now you’re a tough boy, with tough words. I don’t get to claim you as mine because I was busy making you rich? Is that right?”
My dad came back to visit me once every few years when I was little and I loved him fiercely, crying for days every time he’d leave, knowing it would be at least another year before I saw him again. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized I wasn’t important enough for him to stick around. His life has always been soccer and women, in that order. What I want or who I want to be has never mattered to him. “Dad, I will always be your son, but don’t use money as the reason why you were never there. You were too busy with all your various women to want much to do with the mother and son you left in America.”
He snickers, his mouth curling up in a bitter smile, a mocking laugh escaping his throat. “Son, do not claim to be so different from me.”
“We share blood, we once shared a love of soccer, but the similarities end there.”
“I do not think so. Do not be so ignorant to assume I do not know what you were doing with that woman in your car.”
My heart begins to race in panic and sweat beads on my forehead. He cannot know what Megan was doing in my car that night. If my dad wants to think I was having some cheap one-night stand, fine. As long as he never finds out the truth, I don’t give a fuck what he believes. I’ll take that secret to the grave.
Taking a deep breath, I’m not sure how much I want to share with Addison. “Our relationship is complicated. His life is soccer, and he wanted that to be my life as well. After the accident, I accepted my fate. He . . . didn’t.”
“Do you look like him?”
I nod. It’s the one thing I’ve never been able to escape. I can do my best not to follow in his footsteps, but every morning when I look in the mirror I’m reminded I am my father’s son.
“You know, for a big time soccer player, you were a kind of a chubby kid.”
I was a fat kid, no question about it, and I can’t believe she just pointed it out. Not sure what to do with her or that comment. I do the first thing that comes to my mind—tackle her onto the couch, pinning her beneath me and tickling her sides.
“You making fun of me, Green Eyes?” She’s laughing uncontrollably as I hover above her and my hands roam along her sides, pinching as I go. She’s so tiny; my entire form covers her completely. Her head is thrown back as she laughs and her throat is open and exposed. My nose comes down and runs along the line of a vein that is visible under her skin. Her scent invades me, the silkiness of her skin overwhelms me and I want to claim her, press my lips to hers and mark her as mine. I shouldn’t have put us in such an intimate position, but now that we’re here, I don’t know how to back away.
She stills at my gentle caress and her eyes level to mine.
“He probably has a body like yours too,” she mumbles.
I’m in dangerous territory. Hovering above her, those eyes searching mine and silently pleading with me.
Her hands slide up onto either side of my face, and her thumbs run across my bottom lip. My heart thumps in a frantic and erratic pounding inside my chest as her eyes silently beg me to move this further.
“Please,” she whispers.
I am rock hard and that small word makes my arms shake as I try to keep them in place. Her hands skim down my face, my neck, shortly stopping at the rapidly beating pulse in my throat and finally rests on my chest.
“Please. I don’t want to go home alone tonight. I only want you.”
“Addison,” I whisper on an exhale.
“Shh.” She leans forward and places her lips on mine. “Please,” she says, her warm breath coating my lips.
I move onto my elbows just barely above her and stay as still as I possibly can while she explores me. Allowing her to take from me whatever she needs and it isn’t much. Her mouth never opens and her eyes remain closed as she continues to nibble at my lips, moving to my cheeks and up towards my eyes. She kisses each of my closed lids as I hold steady, barely breathing for fear that if I do, I’m going ruin any trust that has built up between us.
“Damian,” she whispers.
Drunk or not, I don’t have enough self-control for this. “Addison, this is not a good idea.”
“I need this Damian.”
She kisses me. Not a peck, not a lip on lip kiss, but her tongue breaks through mine, her arms circle my neck, her body presses flush up against me, and her legs circle my hips.
That’s all it takes.
Any thought that this is a terrible idea dies on my tongue, any feeling beyond her in my arms, our lips moving heatedly against each other, my hands running through her smooth dark hair, is the only touch my mind is registering.
Sweeping her off the couch, I carry her to my room and settle her on the bed, her body beneath me as I move back and forth on top of her “Addison,” I whisper into her mouth. “You taste like candy and wine. You taste like heaven.”
She grabs at my shirt, and I lift it over my head. She groans as her hands run along my chest and down my arms. “Naked. Damian. Naked.”
“Yes. Naked.”
We are fumbling, clumsy fingers undoing buttons, tearing off pieces here and there. Stopping to kiss, to taste, to suck. Her warm tongue trailing along my jaw and down my throat, and I can’t get to her bare skin fast enough.
When she’s finally naked, her body presented to me in all its amazing glory, I take a long minute to hungrily gaze over every curve, every freckle, every detail of her creamy white skin before I pull one of her taut nipples between my lips. Circling it with my tongue and gently sucking until it peaks and I hear her moaning and panting in desire.
Reaching for the fly of my jeans, I flip open the buttons and with one hand clumsily push them down my hips.
My cock springs free and the rock hard flesh begins to rub against her leg. Her nails are clawing up my back, and she begins to grind into the underside of my cock, moaning.
I can’t see straight. “Feels so fucking good.”
Flexing my hips into her, I help her rub herself, feeling her wetness coat my shaft. It’s hot and slick and making me dizzy. All I’d have to do is lower my body a few inches, and I could slide deep inside. Stopping myself from doing just that has my body shaking and the small amount of sense I have left makes me change positions.
Tracing her opening with my finger and feeling her wet core, I slip a finger into her slick folds. “Ahh, you’re drenched.”
“So . . . good,” she moans as my fingers work her.
I want to taste every inch of her, not miss a spot on her small delicate body. Moving myself lower, I trail my tongue along the curve of her waist, the swell of her hip, in towards the soft mound of her thigh. Placing my face between her legs, I hear her take in a deep breath and sigh out a yes as I begin to suck her wet heat directly into my mouth. Her hands grip my head and hold me to her as she works herself against my tongue, her deep moans intensifying and her body coiling tight under my grip. I’m lost between her legs and going to come all over my bed if I don’t get control of this situation.