DONKEY: A Stepbrother Sports Romance (With FREE Bonus Novel Charged!) Read Free

nobody rookie with a smashed up knee to a somebody bad boy with a killer arm and a winning streak to put me in line for MVP that couldn’t stop partying. It was a dangerous, volatile combination, and it still would be if they’d let me. I’m in the papers almost every day of the week being scrutinized, both on the field and off of it and when that happens things tend to get taken out of context.
    “Other side, Landon. That’s it. Hands on your hips now.”
    That same girl is stroking my leg in a way that I know she knows is anything but professional. If my coach saw this, he’d crucify me.
    “And more relaxed now.”
    I enjoy myself, don’t get me wrong, I always have. The label fits, but every week I play hard too. The team does well and I never fuck up in a game because of what I do away from it. I ended last season with God knows how many new records and I would have got MVP if I was a bit more family friendly.
    What can I say? I’m a good looking guy with a huge dick, I’m a fucking NFL star and I like to party. Apparently all of those things don’t mix well.
    Anyway, last season, when we nearly made it all the way, it just got worse. That’s when I was properly thrown into the limelight.
    Word had got out that I was packing things in, for want of a better word, and out of nowhere I got a call to do a modelling shoot. I had no idea what it was for until I got there. Most of the adverts they cut my head out of, but loyal fans know it’s me. That’s where the nickname comes from. The Donkey. I guess once you know, it doesn’t need much explaining.
    This country is so full of double standards the commentators and journalists even call me it. It’s down on my modelling profile too. Imagine if they were talking about a girl. That shit wouldn’t rub at all.
    I just laugh it off because there isn’t anything else I can do. People think I’m a dick, quite literally, and that kind of works for me. It could be a hell of a lot worse, let’s put it that way. Journalists are going to print whatever they like, especially if they don’t like me, and there are a whole bunch of journos who seem to have it in for me.
    I guess they just like to see the mighty fall.
    “And that’s a wrap. Thank you people, you can now get your clothes on again.”
    With a smile, the photographer calls an end to the shoot. For the amount of photos he takes, he’ll get one or two good shots. We might even get called in again. They’ll put the whole thing through post production too, touch bits up here, airbrush bits there, soften the edges. Sometimes they cut off my tattoos depending on what the client wants, sometimes they even put more on, but what they never do is change the size of my dick.
    “So, what do you think then?”
    I’m not even half way back into my pants and she’s already hunted me down. I like confidence, but I also like a challenge, and for the time being, until I get the owners back on my side, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m officially out of the game.
    “Maybe next time.”
    Her eyes can’t conceal her disappointment, but she waves it off like it’s nothing.
    “Next time.”
    I watch another night of incredible sex vanish away in front of me and get back to getting dressed.
    “Donkey, Landon I mean, we need you again.” The photographer urgently rushes over. “Just some close ups.”
    “Ok.”
    I begin to walk back towards the table but the photographer stops me. “You know.” He looks down towards my dick.
    “Right”, I say, and begin to get undressed again, a whole row of models watching me.
    I don’t give a shit what people think about me, but I do care what people choose to print, especially if it means I can’t do the things I love. When all of this attention dies down, and I’ve kept my head low for a while, when I’ve led Shoreville to a superbowl final and taken home the trophy, when I’ve been voted MVP and everybody loves me again, despite what’s happened in the past, maybe