Novels by Donna Sheldon

Class finally let out, and I swear I could feel the relief ripple across the room like a collective sigh. The second the professor closed his laptop, everyone scrambled like they were escaping a burning building. I slung my bag over one shoulder again and shoved my phone into my pocket, ready to disappear before anyone decided I was interesting enough to talk to. I wasn’t in the mood to entertain, flirt, or fake-smile my way through small talk. But of course… “Hey, Captain, wait up!” I barely held back my groan as I turned my head slightly. Malik. The guy who sat next to me. He was pushing through a couple students, waving at me like we were old pals. Great. I slowed down just enough for him to catch up. “You really came to class today, huh?” he said, breath slightly hitched. “Didn’t think I’d see the legend in the flesh.” I gave him a lazy glance. “Yeah, well. Gotta keep you all on your toes.” He chuckled like that was the funniest thing anyone ever said. “Guess it’s true.

I regretted it the second I walked in.Not the outfit—I actually looked good. Gray hoodie stretched perfectly over my shoulders, joggers slung just low enough on my hips to be both casual and cocky, and my white sneakers were still clean from barely touching grass in the past week.But the moment I stepped into that lecture hall, it was like someone hit pause on a movie. Heads turned. Eyes widened. A few people even had their mouths open like they were seeing a damn ghost.One girl actually gasped. Gasped. Like I was some lost celebrity that had returned from exile. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes.“Holy shit… is that Captain?”“I didn’t know he even took this class.”“No way he remembers where we are in the syllabus.”I heard every damn whisper.And okay—fair. I barely showed up to lectures. I could count on one hand how many times I’d been in this room this semester. But I wasn’t stupid. Just had… priorities. Like hockey. And shooting content. And spiraling over boys

“Fuck!” I groaned as Marco swallowed my cock between his lips. I clenched a fistful of his hair and thrusted deep into the soft mouth surrounding me, Marco shut his eyes at the impact.FUCK YES!That was more like it.I clenched my fingers and shoved my cock deeper into Marco’s throat, and kept thrusting deeper and deeper until I came.But before I even had the chance to bask in my orgasm, Marco raised his head, and licked his well-fucked lips.I smirked. That was cute.I flipped him over, ignoring the fact he was yet to recover. That didn't master, I was already revving it up for round two.Now flat on his stomach, he grunted as I came back down over him and pressed his head against the couch. My hand clamped a tight fist around the base of his neck as his ass squeezed my cock when I tunneled deep inside him.“Fuck! Captain!” He cried out.But I didn't say a thing.There was no need for words when the rhythm between us was loud enough. The sound of skin meeting skin, the rustle of cl

The ride home should’ve cooled me down. I’d just showered, just gotten out of practice, just rubbed myself raw trying to rinse Andrew off my brain—and still, I was burning. Maybe not from the heat anymore, but from that damn ache that refused to leave. Not the kind of ache a hot bath or a protein shake could fix. This one was deep, coiled low in my stomach and tight around my throat.I needed something physical to ease all this shit up.My hand slid over to my phone resting in the passenger seat.I hadn’t called him in a while. It had been months, actually. We’d hooked up back when I first started doing OnlyFans. He’d been easy—quiet, eager, always down to meet when I needed it and never texting afterward unless I initiated. No strings, no drama, no expectations. He barely even asked questions. Just a good body and a mouth that didn’t run.I scrolled through my contacts, thumb pausing over his name: Marco.I hesitated for a split second. Then I tapped Call.It rang once, twice. Then h

The locker room was thick with that sharp, musky cocktail of sweat, wet gear, and ego bruises. Everyone was either stripping down, chugging water, or dissecting their plays like they hadn't just barely scraped through with a win. I didn’t say shit. Just sat on the bench, jersey half off, chest still heaving from the final period, my eyes locked on the floor like it owed me something.Andrew had made a goddamn clown outta me. And the worst part? He didn’t even gloat about it.James dropped next to me, tossing a towel over his head. “Well, that was fun,” he said, voice light like he wasn’t soaking in the fact that a freshman just skated circles around his captain.I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My mouth felt dry like cotton, and my head buzzed with too many curses and replayed moments.“Hey,” James nudged me with his elbow. “You alright?”“Yeah.” My voice was rough, gritted between my teeth.He gave me a look, one of those half-knowing smirks that said ‘you’re lying but I’m too tired to pu

I woke up with my sheets twisted around my legs, one arm draped over my eyes like it could somehow block out the reality of the day ahead. But it was no use. I could feel it crawling under my skin the moment I blinked awake.Game day.Freshman team.Andrew.Fuck.I sat up slowly, groaning as my back cracked in three different places. My throat was dry as hell and my head throbbed with that low, dull ache that only came from too much alcohol. The air was chilly, but my skin was already prickling with leftover tension, like my body remembered something my brain hadn’t even caught up to yet.I rubbed at my face and stumbled out of bed. The sun was slicing through the blinds in sharp little stripes, hitting the floor like prison bars. Not a great metaphor, considering I felt like a goddamn hostage in my own brain lately.I took a quick shower, half-assed my grooming, and yanked on my gear. The jersey felt heavy today, like it was carrying more than just the weight of my number.I didn’t e