Sage

Sage

The following weeks leading up to the preseason, Trevor Michaels stays out of my way, and I stay out of his. It’s not all that hard, though the marketing team did ask that I get more content with him so I guess all good things must come to an end. I’m on the sidelines, the crowd practically deafening as all the players line up on the field.

It’s the first preseason game of the year, and you can practically feel the energy buzzing in the air. We have home field advantage, which is always a nice way to start a season off. My dad is tense, scowling at the field like it’s personally offended him while ignoring nearly everyone around him. Typical.

I already did some pregame content. Some locker-room-pump-up stuff and a few Q&A bits that marketing should have a field day editing. If I hadn’t grown up as the coach’s daughter, I probably would have been embarrassed by how much naked ass I’ve seen today alone. But guys would take the opportunity to ogle women, were the situations reversed, so yes, I got some footage of some of the nicest asses in the league. One of the top ones being Jackson Donatello, to no surprise.

The sexy bad boy cornerback has been practically salivating over me for weeks, and I’ve enjoyed every second of our flirtations. He’s so desperate at this point, I have no doubt he’d walk off the field right here and now just so that he could bend me over the bleachers and fuck me raw. To be honest, I’m getting a little over my games myself. I won’t be able to hold off with him for as long as I was initially planning, which will make for a longer period of him bugging the fuck out of me, but there are plenty of great looking players I can move on to when I’m done with him.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, his head turns in my direction, those sharp eyes practically slicing over my body through his helmet before he gives me a wink that makes my pussy throb. Yep. I won’t be lasting long at all.

Both teams line up as Trevor begins his little quarterback rambling. Obviously I know all of the correct terminology, I just don’t really give a shit, though. The ball is hiked and slides right into Trevor’s grasp where he quickly reads the field, throwing the football to Slater who is already a solid ten yards in front of his defenseman.

The throw is perfect, spiraling through the air with the speed of a bullet and precision of a thread slipping through a needle. It lands right in Slater’s outstretched hands as he takes off like a bat out of hell. He makes it about twenty yards before he’s finally tackled.

Everyone on the sidelines claps excitedly as my dad smacks his hands together in what I think is supposed to be a clap, but the aggressive way he does it looks more like a punishment to his palms. All of the guys come together in celebration, several of whom pat both Slater and Trevor on the backs before lining up again.

We are playing the Georgia Beavers, and though they didn’t do amazing last season, they weren’t the worst team in the league. You wouldn’t know it by this game, though. Before I know it, it’s already the fourth quarter, and we are up 36-7. Obviously our defense has done a great job of holding off their offense, but we didn’t get those big points on the board from just our defense.

The Crusaders have been one of the top teams in the league for years, but they were always missing that little bit extra, that something to put them over the edge and make them unstoppable. As much as it pains me to admit it, the change is obvious. They needed a superstar QB, and as much of a self-absorbed prick as he is, Trevor Michaels is in fact a superstar.

The clock runs out with the Beavers attempting a Hail Mary, though I don’t know why they even bothered considering the twenty-nine-point lead we had on them. Probably that delicate male ego trying to save at least a little face.

I capture some footage of the Crusaders celebration as I rush up to several of the more enthusiastic players who are shouting and bouncing around. A few of them told me they rehearsed some dance thing that is sure to go viral, and sure enough three defensive linemen line up in front of me and basically begin twerking, badly. I can’t help but let out a laugh as I toss my head back.

In the rush of players and family coming onto the field, I’m shoulder checked and lose my balance. I make sure to tuck the camera to my chest, hoping my body will take the brunt of the crash since I seriously don’t want to even know how much this thing costs, when a thick pair of arms smoothly catch me at the last minute. Blinking my eyes open, I look up to see the lightest blue pair of eyes I’d ever seen. I mean, I’ve seen them before, but I never realized how blue they are, like the crystal-clear waters of the Maldives.

For a moment, I’m caught in his gaze, speechless, hardly able to wrap my brain around the reason why I can’t look away beside the obvious reason that he’s a beautiful man. The pretty boy vibe really isn’t my thing, but I think Trevor could be everyone’s exception, at least once. And he was mine already, and despite my blatant lies, he was fucking good too.

Trevor hasn’t looked away from me either, like he physically can’t. Something must shake him out of this weird hazy bubble we inadvertently found ourselves in though, because in the next minute, he is practically shoving me to my feet. He looks down at me with a disgusted scowl, his helmet abandoned at his feet as he quickly bends down to pick it up.

“Watch where you’re fucking going.”

And just like that, any physical appreciation I had for the man dissipates into thin air.

Motherfucker.

I feel a set of hands cupping my hips from behind before a soft warm breath tickles the back of my neck.

“Did you see that touchdown I made just for you?” Jackson says in a low voice, his lips just barely brushing against the nape of my neck as he speaks.

My sour mood lifts just a bit as I turn to face him, making sure to step out of his reach just a touch.

Always keep them wanting more.

“I saw you made a touchdown. Didn’t know it was for anything more than your paycheck, though,” I say with a tilt of my head.

He chuckles quietly as he runs his tongue along his lower lip.

“Fuck you’re such a ball buster. You ever gonna give me a break, girl?”

“Why would I do that? Everyone knows that if a man wanted to, he would.”

Jackson shakes his head but smiles.

“Yeah? Well tell me what I gotta do to convince you to let me take ya out sometime.”

I let out a faux sigh of disappointment.

“If you have to ask, I guess you don’t have what it takes.”

Turning on my heel, I walk away without a backward glance. I hear him laugh again and shout out something to me, but I don’t acknowledge it. Partially because he seems to love this cat-and-mouse game almost more than me. The other part though is that Trevor seriously put me in a shit mood, and when I finally ride the dick I’ve been flirting with for the last three weeks or so, I don’t want to be in a sour mood because of Trevor fucking Michaels.