Jersey

Race opened the door to his house lugging in his suitcase behind him. The last two days had been hell: post-game interviews, media crazies, upset fans, and the aches and pains in his battered body. His team had lost big and he was feeling the heat. All he wanted to do was sink into his huge ass whirlpool tub and zone out. He needed to sort through the mess and move on to the post-season. Tossing the keys on the hallway table, he glanced about his large house. The place seemed empty. Was it this week that Camille was going to be out of town? Shit, he needed her right now.

He missed her at the game. She was his lucky charm; his petite hottie. She was like a chocolate dandelion with that mass of curls on her head. Her smile was mega-watt with two quotation marks to emphasize it. Her body was a 10, making him pondered the Big Sean lyrics, how your waist anorexic and your ass so colossal. She was no model, but she was super to him. There were only two things that dominated Race’s head in a twenty-four hour period:  football and Camille.

That’s why he was kicking himself now. They had argued last week before he had left to get on the bus. He had been furious when she’d told him she was going to miss the big game, because she couldn’t get out of her obligations – a signing in Miami. She had promised to call the morning of the game, but he had been so pissed he had refused to pick up the phone. Now, he wished he had because not hearing his dandelion’s voice had done a number on him.

Sighing, he dragged his suitcase up the stairs to his bedroom. After tossing the bag to the side, he peeled out of his pullover sweater, dropping it on the floor. He entered his bathroom and immediately turned on the water in the huge tub. He could hear the jets already kick in, feel the vibrations in the marble. He left the bathroom to peel out of the rest of his clothes. Once he was free of his designer slacks, button-down and underwear, he stood before his full length mirror studying his well-honed framed.

He checked the bruises and scratches along his arm and torso where the pads had dug in to protect him. Someone had grazed a cleat to his calf leaving several now purple bruises along his dark skin. He ran a hand through his long dreadlocks. He had a feeling one lock had been yanked out from the root. It had to be during that holding call. He had felt it dislodge, causing him a slight headache in the bottom of the third.

His eyes went back to his shoulder, rubbing the pain on his left side. Camille loved his shoulders: board and muscular. He loved feeling her nails dig into them when they were at it. After every game, she would run her tiny hands over them, massaging the pain away. Damn, maybe he should call her. Shaking his head wearily, he reentered the bathroom to check the water. Nice and hot. He eased himself into the tub, allowing the jets to sooth his aching body. His head leaned onto the cushion and his eyes drifted shut.

Thoughts of her replaced the bad images of the game that had been plaguing him since the final seconds of the fourth quarter. He felt the need clamoring into his dick. Dude, there is nothing you can do right now with her out the house, he scolded himself. He wanted her nonetheless. If not for the sex, then for the comfort only she could give. Her words always encouraged him. After a loss, she would be there with that hug waiting, and he would take it and inhale that sweet smell of hers.

He could smell her now, like she was there in the room; sweet and flowery. He’d know it anywhere. Suddenly, his eyes popped opened toward the door and his breath caught. Leaning in the doorway, wearing his jersey like a mini dress and a pair of sexy black platform pumps was Camille. Her curly top more wild than usual, she looked hotter than hot. Her arms were crossed over her pert breasts studying him closely, a sensual smile on her face and fire in her bourbon brown eyes.

“What happened, Tiger?”

Her seductively raspy voice made his dick throb. It was the kind of voice that washed over a man and touched all the naughty places in just the right way. His eyes racked over her curvy body, taking in everything. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a damn thing beneath his home jersey. Despite the looseness, the material molded to her curves, accentuating the numbers on the front and the dangerous dip in her waist. Her long legs poked out from the bottom, the hem of the shirt ending just above her knees. She was a sultry sight. Pulling away from the door jamb, she strolled casually toward the tub, the click of her heels drawing his eyes to her calves. Placing her ample backside on the rim, she ran her fingers along the water. He took her hand and kissed it.

“I watched the game. What happened, baby?” she asked. There wasn’t an accusatory tone in that rasp, just concern.

“My head wasn’t on right,” he sighed, playing with her fingertips.  Sighing, he added, “I’m sorry for not picking up the phone.”

“I kinda figure you were still salty,” she surmised with a smile.

“And I paid for it,” he grumbled.

“Oh, no, you ain’t paid for it yet,” she assured him with a seductive wink. His body stiffened as he watched her stand up, pulling the jersey over her head to reveal that body. “I think you got another quarter in ya.”

She kicked off the heels and proceeded to get into the tub. Those soothing fingers went right to work on his hurting shoulders. He nestled his head between her soft mounds taking in that scent that was all Camille. The delicious pressure she applied on his aching muscles warmed him.

The feel of her soft, consoling frame against his battered one made him forget the crush of defeat. His lips kissed the twin mounds before him, enjoying their silkiness against his mouth. His tongue laved a coiled nipple ringing a husky moan from her throat, then the other. His arms wrapped about her waist, gripping her booty securely. He wanted to feel her close to him, dive into those familiar depths and get lost. He latched onto her tasty nub and suckled hungrily.

Camille’s fingers continued to work that ache in his shoulder until the muscle worked loose from it tightness.  His own fingers went to work massaging her ass; gripping it, molding it, grinding it against his hardness. “What you got to prove?” she sighed against his ear.

“How much I want you,” he said, kissing her neck.

”Oh, I know you want me, playa,” she said. “But let mama sooth her warrior.”

Her lips molded against his in a searing kiss before working down his neck to his chest. Her tongue flicked at his nipple, causing it to harden beneath her magic. Her hands ran down the length of his torso toward the back to grip his tight, juicy butt. She dug her nails playfully into the meat there, making him buck, splashing the water. She giggled sweetly at his response. Then she lowered herself further down into the water, her eyes never disconnecting from his.

“What you doing, baby?” he asked, curiously.

Then he watched as she submerged beneath the surface, leaving only her curls floating. He quickly felt her warm mouth surrounding his engorged dick, sealing it in its embrace. The feeling was unreal as she moved her head up and down out of the water. No, she’s not giving me underwater head, he mused in awe. His hands gripped the sides of the tub as he leaned back into the sensation.

Her tongue tickled the base of his dick, adding a new tingle to her movements. Her hand fondled his balls, rolling them, squeezing them, tugging them. It was unbelievable. Her mouth continued to work over him, clasping his manhood like she wanted to devour it. His head fell back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. After several, heart pumping seconds, Camille slowly emerged from the water. Only her eyes and nose were visible, casting a wicked eye on him. He looked down at her with shock and appreciation in his eyes.

“Damn, baby,” he gasped.

Camille just smiled as she fully emerged from the water to wrap her arms around his neck. With hesitation, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling his dick into her waiting puss. The pleasure that crossed his face made her inner muscles clench, which elicited a groan from him. Soon, her hips rocked, causing mini waves to lap against their bodies. His hands rested on the hump of her pert booty, feeling the muscles pump against him like a low rider. Despite being in the water, he could feel her own silky wetness hug his pulsing manhood, making him double in size.

“You gonna answer my call next time?” she giggled against his ear.

Stifling an intense groan, he growled, “Yes, ma’am.”

“After this bath, you gonna tackle me in that bedroom like you shoulda tackled that running back?”

He gripped her hair possessively, forcing her eyes to his. There was a hot fire in his eyes that made a promise. “I’ll crush you.”

Camille deepened her smile while she began to bounce up and down harder on his dick, pushing him further into her depths. “Oh, yeah? You gonna beat this up? Carry me over a couple yards?”

His eyes rolled back feeling the exquisite pressure. His mouth sought hers, hoping to mask the roar stuck in his throat. She was feeling too good. Her voice and the words she was saying were adding fuel to the flames.

She pulled her mouth away. “You gonna pressure the line!”

“Yes!”

“You gonna go in for the sack.” Her hips pushed down hard impaling him into her body. He could feel her walls quiver, which caused sparks to fly over his sensitive tip. Her climatic moan was doing things to him, caressing him all over. The way her body trembled in it release made everything strain to reach it. “Uh, Race!” she screamed, clutching his dick tight to her.

“Uh, Ca-mille!” he gritted her name through his teeth, his hands clutching her backside tightly, steadying her movements. His release shot inside of her, hot and slick. His head rested against her bosom, taking in the pleasure she was freely giving. The sound of his ragged breath echoed through the bathroom over the sound of the jets. Running his hand over her damp curls, he said, “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she sighed, caressing his locks. Tugging them slightly, she looked into his eyes. “You need to lose games more often if you gonna come with it like that.”

He laughed pulling her into a kiss. “I can’t lose if I got you. Besides, this was only the first quarter, baby. We got three more to go.”

Hoisting her out of the tub, he carried her into the bedroom – they were going in for some serious OT. Who says losers can’t win?