Two Jocks Next Door: A Bad Boy MFM Romance Read online

  Two Jocks Next Door

  A Bad Boy MFM Romance

  Jay S. Wilder

  Bella Love-Wins

  Contents

  Copyright © 2016

  1. Tracey-Ann

  2. Tracey-Ann

  3. Connor

  4. Kade

  5. Connor

  6. Tracey-Ann

  7. Kade

  8. Connor

  9. Kade

  10. Connor

  11. Tracey-Ann

  12. Kade

  13. Tracey-Ann

  14. Connor

  15. Kade

  16. Tracey-Ann

  17. Connor

  18. Tracey-Ann

  19. Kade

  20. Connor

  21. Kade

  22. Tracey-Ann

  23. Connor

  24. Kade

  25. Tracey-Ann

  26. Connor

  27. Kade

  28. Tracey-Ann

  29. Kade

  30. Connor

  31. Tracey-Ann

  Want more of this threesome? Get their extended epilogue for Free!

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  Copyright © 2016

  All rights are reserved.

  Copyright © 2016

  Two Jocks Next Door - Jay S. Wilder and Bella Love-Wins

  1

  Tracey-Ann

  “Still think this was a bad idea?” Lily asks as she shimmies her way over to me. She raises her hands above her head and shakes her hips like a belly dancer. Her shirt lifts and shows off her flat stomach.

  “That shirt is half-way to crop top status,” I point out.

  Only Lily would forgo comfort for fashion.

  “I know,” she agrees. “Isn’t it great? But don’t change the subject. You didn’t answer my question.”

  I look past her shoulder and give it some thought.

  All around us the frat house living room throbs with laughter, music, and embarrassing attempts at flirting. I’ve been taking it all in from my post beside the staircase.

  “It’s pretty decent here,” I admit. “Definitely not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  Lily deserting me for twenty minutes doesn’t even bother me. I smile at my dorm mate over my red plastic cup. The entire party thus far has been more cliché than I expected… And I kind of like it.

  If nothing else, the experience might be good material for a play someday.

  Lily knocks her shoulder against mine. “See any good prospects yet?”

  I snort hard into my beer. Shit. A thick spray of foam and a bit of liquid shoots up into my face. I wipe the pale ale from my nose, embarrassed as I glance at her. “No. You?”

  She winks. “Maybe.”

  “Which means yes.”

  She coyly smiles. “It means maybe. How do I look?”

  She runs a hand over her short black hair. I roll my eyes. Lily’s a league ahead of every other girl on the University of Tennessee’s campus. With her cocoa skin and blue eyes, traits courtesy of her biracial DNA, she has a look completely her own. People see her walking down the street and practically fall over in awe of her magnificence.

  Combine her beauty with her confidence and outgoing personality and she can get any guy she pleases.

  I knock back the rest of my beer. “You look like you own this party.”

  She grins wide. “Now you’re talking! You totally fit in. No one would be able to guess you’re a frat house virgin.”

  A couple guys pass by just as she says virgin. One of them glances at me over his shoulder and smirks. Heat fills my cheeks.

  “Now that guy thinks I’m a real virgin,” I hiss. “Thanks a lot.”

  Lily laughs. “Good. Maybe he’ll come back around and hit you up. I’m going to check out the back yard. There’s some talk of moonshine floating around back there. Want to go?”

  I wave her off. “I’ll stay here and stick with beer.”

  “That’s right. I forgot. You’re a true Southerner. The prospect of moonshine is not exciting because you probably started drinking homemade liquor in your baby bottle.”

  “I’m not going to confirm or deny that.”

  In reality, I’ve never had moonshine. I’m unbelievably boring. For me, there’s close to no drinking and partying. No wild stories here. Except for maybe one that I don’t want to ever remember.

  She sends me an air kiss and slips out of the room. I keep close to the wall and push my way towards the kitchen. The party’s lighter in here, with only about a dozen people in the room. The nerdy guy manning the kegs fills me up, making this one drink more than my usual.

  I tell myself I can indulge as I rode my bike here, and get back to wall-flowering. My spot by the stairs has been stolen by a couple making out. Time to explore the rest of the house.

  I didn’t admit it outright to Lily, but I’m glad I came to the party. One more hour of staring at my computer’s blinking cursor and I might have gone insane. Writing a one-act play completely in iambic pentameter seemed easy the day I got the assignment. I once thought of myself as only a few rungs below Shakespeare himself. Seven days later and I’m questioning my whole decision to study Theater.

  Winding my way through the crowd, I sip my beer. I’m light-headed and slightly wasted. I start to wonder if you can get a DUI while biking.

  I cross what seems to be some kind of game room and grab an empty armchair in the corner. The place is frat house all the way. I’ve set my eyes on more futons tonight alone then I care to see in my whole life.

  I should have brought my notebook. The party’s ripe with characters to document. Maybe some of them can help with inspiration for my play. I pull my phone from my back pocket and open up its notebook app.

  Movement over the top of my phone catches my eye. I surreptitiously peek over my pink cell cover. A guy with pitch black hair sits on the edge of a coffee table, his thick eyebrows knitted together in a scowl. A leggy blonde looks down at him and flips her hair.

  “It was totally amazing,” the blonde says.

  The guy grunts and takes a drink from his plastic cup. He doesn’t look at the girl. It’s clear why she’s attempting to chat him up. He’s the cutest man at this party.

  “I’m gonna get a drink,” she goes on, unfazed. “You want anything?”

  He shakes his head. She prances around the coffee table and leaves the room.

  Two seconds pass, and another girl takes Blondie’s place. “Hey Kade,” she purrs, resting a hand on his broad shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” he coldly says. The one word sends a shiver down my back and into my toes. There’s something about his voice. It’s more than the low timbers or slight gravely quality. Though his answer has an unfriendly tone, there’s a softness hidden behind the steel.

  His eyes flick towards mine, and I quickly drop my gaze. I stare at my phone screen and start typing just to make it look like I’m actually doing something.

  Dark, stocky hints of a young Jack Kerouac.

  He could be just the character I’ve been searching for. I’ve always had a weird crush on Kerouac and often wished we lived at the same time. If I read his books, I periodically close the jacket to look at his picture. The stories are way better that way.

  “Whatever is happening on your phone must be better than the party,” a male voice says.

  I jerk and look up. The guy from the coffee table stands in front of me. As tall and bulky with muscle as he is, he’s also stealthy as a ninja.

  My phone falls into my lap. “Not… not really.”

  His hazel eyes drift across my face. I hold my breath while he st
udies me.

  What is he doing over here? The way he’s been turning girls away suggests he’s not in the mood for socializing. And yet he’s talking to me.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asks with a drawl.

  “Sure.”

  He pulls a footstool close and settles onto it. My heart starts pounding away. Not only is the guy cute, he's also a human being. I don't interact with those a whole lot. Not outside of class, anyway. I tend to deal with fictional characters much easier than flesh and blood people. It started in junior high with comic books. By high school, I transitioned to full on book worm and theater geek.

  I'm not misanthropic or shy by any degree. It's just been hard finding people I feel like spending more than ten minutes with. Lily and a couple other friends about round my social life out.

  “New here?” he asks, resting his arms on his legs.

  “I’m in my second year. Or do you mean…?”

  “This house,” he seriously says.

  I wonder if the guy ever cracks a smile.

  I realize I don’t care. There’s an intensity to his aura. He might talk like he’s in the middle of a courtroom testifying in front of a jury, but it’s irresistible.

  “Texas, huh?” I ask.

  His eyebrows go up in surprise. “I didn’t think my accent was that thick. You’ve spent time there?”

  I shake my head. “Never been. I’ve got a pretty decent ear for accents.”

  “That’s a nice talent to have.” The sensual shape of his words gives the impression he’s thinking about something other than dialects. “Kade Roberts.”

  He extends his broad hand. I wrap my palm around his. A surge of warmth travels up my arm and collects in my stomach. It spins there, growing into a ball of increasing heat.

  Wow.

  The handshake goes on.

  I still need to say my name.

  “Tracey-Ann Booth.”

  Kade whistles. “Now there’s a southern name if I ever heard one.”

  Butterflies flap in my stomach. I take a gulp of beer to sedate them. “Born and raised in east Tennessee. Right on the North Carolina border.”

  Kade’s eyes latch on mine. “How come I’ve never seen you here?”

  “I don’t go to a lot of parties.”

  “Shame.”

  Heat floods my cheeks. At a loss for what to do next, I take another sip from my cup. The heat intensifies and a wave of giddiness washes over me. I set my cup on the floor. I should stop for the night. Being at the party has made me forget about how quickly I get intoxicated. A few sips more and I'll be dangerously close to drunk.

  “I never see you around,” I counter, raising my chin.

  “Where do you hang?”

  “The library,” I grin. “The theater. My dorm room.”

  “I think I can confidently say I’d only be interested in visiting one of those places.”

  Liquid literally fills my panties. I gulp and look away. Can Kade sense how turned on I am? And do I care?

  Do I want him to know?

  “I guess you didn’t get a proper tour yet,” he says. “Since you’ve been sitting by yourself and all.”

  My eyes snap back to him. “No.”

  He nods his head towards the hallway. “How about it?”

  As long as we’re flirting, I might as well go all the way and play hard to get. It’s good practice for something I don’t often do.

  “What’s there to see?” I jauntily ask.

  “Mostly just jocks getting plastered,” Kade answers.

  “I think I’ve seen enough of that already.”

  “Let’s hang out in my room. It’s quieter up there.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip. His room. We’ll be alone. Anything could happen in there…

  Do I dare? Am I really the girl who slips into a frat house bedroom with a guy she just met?

  Yeah. Maybe I am.

  2

  Tracey-Ann

  My hands pulsate with energy. Enough thinking. More doing.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  I stand and follow him across the room and through the hall.

  We climb the stairs. My heart pounds in my ears with each step. I don’t know whether I’m thinking clearly or not right now. I don’t think I’m drunk, but I know I’m close.

  We pass a bright orange Vols jersey tacked to the wall. Right past it is a photograph of a Tennessee Vols team dated twenty years ago.

  “Football,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  Kade glances over her shoulder at me. “You like it?”

  I’ve been rude. I quickly backtrack. “It’s okay. I just don’t like it as much as, uh, some people.”

  “Vols fans are crazy,” he agrees.

  He pushes a door open and steps to the side. The bedroom I enter is immaculate and lightly furnished. Other than a desk, a bed, and a bookcase, there’s nothing but a framed and signed Vols jersey.

  Just how many of those things are in this house?

  I walk into the center of the room and eye the second jersey. “You’re crazy, huh?”

  “What?”

  I feel Kade’s heat only inches away from my back.

  I nod at the poster. “You said Vols fans are crazy.”

  “I’m not a fan.”

  I twist on my heel to look at him. He pulls the chair out from the desk and sits in it. “I’m a player. Linebacker.”

  “Oh. Just like Jack.”

  Kade cocks his head.

  “Kerouac,” I explain. “He was a football player turned writer.”

  “I liked Big Sur.”

  I look at him with new interest. “You’re probably the first person I’ve talked to that did.”

  “It’s slow, but it’s about a guy hanging out in the woods by himself. I can get down with that.”

  “I bet you don’t get much privacy here.”

  “Sometimes.” His gaze simmers.

  I gulp and look away. “You’re probably wondering just what rock I live under not to know you were a football player.”

  The first sign of a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “It’s nice. Everyone else at these parties knows who I am. It’s cool you don’t know about football.” His eyes drift to the bed behind me. “Have a seat.”

  I back up a bit and settle onto the end of the bed. Kade coolly gazes at me. I almost want to look away, but I can’t. It’s like my eyes are magnetically locked on his.

  Muffled shouts float from upstairs, the noises of the party the only sound in the room.

  Suddenly the door flies open. “Hey man, do you know where the beer helmet...”

  The blonde guy in the doorway stops short. Two piercing blue eyes study me. A smile snakes across his mouth. “Hey there.”

  I nod at him. “Hello.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

  “We’re just hanging out,” Kade interrupts.

  “Cool.” The guy’s eyes slip back towards me.

  “Tracey-Ann,” Kade says. “This is Connor.”

  I lift my palm in acknowledgment. “Hello again.”

  Connor smiles wider. “Nice to meet you.”

  He doesn’t make a move to leave or enter the room. He just comfortably stands where he is.

  My stomach starts to sink. Connor seems nice, but I thought Kade and I were going to get some alone time. Though I was a bit apprehensive climbing the stairs, now I’m fully sure I want to get to know Kade in a very, uh, personal way. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man and there’s a connection with Kade. If I don’t push hard and go all the way, I’m going to regret it.

  Kade crosses his arms and jerks his chin at Connor. “You busted the beer helmet. Remember?”

  Connor sucks in his lower lip. His eyes roll in frustration. “Shiiiit.”

  Kade shrugs. “That’s what happens if you do cannonballs into the pool with it on.”

  Connor scratches the back of his head. “I guess I can rig up another one.”

  �
��With what? Toilet paper rolls? Vacuum cleaner tubes? Stay here. Hang out with us.”

  A long moment passes as they look at each other. I push down a frustrated groan. With a third wheel confirmed, it's now highly unlikely anything will be happening between Kade and me.

  Both men break their eye contact to look at me instead.

  “Sure,” Connor says. “I’ll hang.” He comes and sits on the bed not more than a foot away from me.

  The realization of what’s happening hits me.

  They’re trying to start a threesome.

  At least I’m pretty sure they are. I’ve never been involved or invited to a threesome. I’m not sure just how they usually get started.

  “Your eyes are the color of dark chocolate,” Connor tells me.

  Yep. They are definitely trying to start a threesome.

  I pop to my feet like there’s a spring under my butt. “I have to go.”

  Kade sits up straighter. “Where to?”

  “It was nice to meet you guys,” I throw over my shoulder. “See you around!”

  I throw myself down the hallway and take the stairs two at a time. I land on the bottom floor with a leap.

  “Hey!” Lily grabs my arm. “What were you doing up there?”

  I glance over my shoulder. The landing is empty, but either Kade or Connor could arrive any second. “I need to leave. Now.”

  I grab her hand and drag her through the front door. We half walk, half tumble down the steps and across the grass.

  “Slow down,” she shrieks. “My champagne is spilling.”

  I let her wrist go and turn to face her. If I weren’t currently freaked out, I would be questioning the appearance of champagne at a frat party. “I just really need to go.”

  “Okay.”

  I turn and stomp for the row of bikes locked up outside the yard’s fence. “I don’t want to talk about why.”

  “Okay.”

  I unlock my bike with shaking hands. “Two guys just tried to have a threesome with me.”

  Lily’s mouth falls open. “Shut up. What guys?”

  I straddle the bike. The hard seat rubs against the swollen spot between my legs. “This football player Kade and some guy named Connor.”