Cleat Chaser (5 page)

The warm inviting water pelted my neck and shoulders before cascading down my body in smooth streams. I planted my left hand on the wall under the shower head and took my cock in my right.

Closing my eyes, there she was once again.

I couldn’t be long. Kasey had been making fun of how long my showers took since I was a teenager, and there would be a multitude of teasing to come if I didn’t make quick work. Still, I wanted to draw it out, fuck Kyrie in my mind for hours.

I needed a scenario. I always needed some semblance of a plot in the land of jerk-off or it just wouldn’t do it for me.

I pictured myself hopping the railing and chasing her up to the concourse, barreling through anyone who got in the way of what I wanted. I fisted my cock and started sliding my hand back and forth. The warm water would help with my time restraints.

There was no time for dialogue in this fantasy, so I got to the concourse, but couldn’t see her. Then I caught a glimpse of her brunette hair and hauled ass in her direction.

She turned around right as I came up behind her. She gasped. I palmed both of her cheeks and kissed her long and hard, thrusting up against her side.

When our lips parted she started to say something and I picked her up by the waist as she wrapped her long, curvy legs around me. I eyed a maintenance closet and quickly carried her in that direction, head on a swivel to make sure nobody saw us. In reality, I’d have a swarm of fans on me and be wearing a cup, but there wasn’t time to deal with these types of issues when I was trying to make my dick explode.

We burst through the door, and I pinned her up against the wall. She squealed. I yanked the Kindle from her hand and hurled it against the wall, shattering the screen.
Good one, Easton.

Her eyes grew wide as I watched her, showing her the naughty shit I was about to do to her with merely my gaze.

My hand sped up on my cock under the water. Something about the anticipation before the fuck was almost as good as shoving my dick in something warm and wet.

I stood her up for a moment to yank her jeans half down her ass, before doing the same with my baseball pants. Flipping her around, my chest to her back, I pulled her hips toward me. I bit down on her shoulder and thrust my cock up inside of her tight pussy. Everything in my fantasy grew brighter and more vivid as I felt her wrapped around me. At the same time in the shower, I thrust my cock into my hand and groaned.
Fuck!

I sped up the pace in my mind, fucking her against the wall to the sounds of her gasps as my hand kept time on my cock in reality. I did my best to imagine the warm friction of my soaked hand as Kyrie’s pussy clamped around my dick. My muscles tensed and my balls tightened.

At this point, I snapped out of the daydream and imagined her in the shower with me, tits bouncing around and ass slapping against my thighs as I tried to hold my come back as long as possible.

When I imagined her calling out my name as she came on my dick, I angled my hand down and shot into the tile floor of my shower. I exhaled a gigantic breath, then panted. “Holy shit.”

Once my mind grew a little less fuzzy, I reached up and grabbed the shower head, maneuvering it around to wash some stray floaters down the drain.

After thoroughly washing my cock, and the rest of me, I stepped from the shower. The cool air was frigid on my hot skin. I toweled off my body and walked back to the mirror, shifting the towel to my head and drying my hair.

Reaching over with my palm, I cleared enough of the fog from it to see my face. “Don’t fuck this up.”

Braden and I sat in a corner table of the restaurant. “Is Nik always late?” I glanced around at the mahogany woodwork that gave the place so much character. Someone a few tables over was eating a steak and my stomach growled at the smell.

“Always, bro.”

I kept running my hands down my pants. My palms were damp and my clothes seemed too tight, though I knew they weren’t.

“What the hell takes them so long?”

“They think they have to spend five hundred dollars and four hours getting ready for us. It really is a wasted effort. Hundred dollars worth of makeup, five hundred dollars worth of makeup.” He shrugged. “My cock doesn’t recognize the difference. He wants to park in the ‘v’ regardless.”

I smirked. “Sure, sure. I like your logic, sir.”

I pulled a highball glass up to my mouth. The Maker’s and Coke was a perfect combination of bitter and sweet. I usually drank whiskey straight, but I wanted some caffeine.

Braden began to speak when suddenly all sounds, smells, tastes—everything faded away but my vision as Kyrie walked through the doors with Nik. My cock kicked in my pants and went from hanging to hard at a world record pace. “Down,” I mumbled toward my lap.

“What’s up?” Braden hadn’t seen them yet.

“They’re here. Look.” I gestured toward them. “And I just went from six to midnight under this table.”

He started to chuckle.

“You gotta run interference. This cannot be concealed.”

“I’m on it.” He jumped up and ran over to Nik. Taking her in his arms, they reenacted a porn video with clothes on.

I watched Kyrie out of the corner of my eye.
Holy shit.
She was curvy in every way I could dream—big perfect tits, long legs, shapely thighs—but her eyes and hair drew me more than anything. She had on more makeup than I thought she would, but I was ninety-nine percent sure that had Nikki written all over it.

I turned to look at her head-on. Kyrie’s green eyes locked onto mine.
Damn, I want this girl.

K
YRIE

I
’D FOOLISHLY ALLOWED
Nikki to drive us to the restaurant. By the time we got there, I was a mix of car sick and terrified.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” she said as I stepped on the curb and put my hands on my hips, breathing deeply to get myself under control.

“You are insane. I almost stomped a hole through the floorboard trying to hit the imaginary brake.” A cool wind blew past, making me particularly aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. Warm days, cool nights. I should have worn a jacket.

Delicious smells wafted from the fancy restaurant behind me—roasted meat and fresh bread. Despite my momentary bout of Nikki-induced nausea, the food lured me up the front steps and through the heavy wooden doors.

“Welcome.” A peppy maître d greeted us as a few of the men at the bar to our left turned and gawked.

Nikki sidled up, swaying her hips for the audience. “We’re here with Braden Pearson.”

“Ah, yes.” He smiled, fake but nice all the same. “I’ll show you to your table. Right this way.”

I followed Nikki as we passed through a hall in the rear of the dining area. It was dimmer back here, the lights fading for the few tables situated along the back wall. I scanned the room for Braden, but there were no tables with a single man.

“He must not be here yet,” I said.

“Nikki!” A deep voice from the far corner—Braden. And he wasn’t alone.

I stopped, almost tripping over my own feet. Easton, the pitcher, sat at the table. His eyes were on me, roving my body from my toes to the top of my head. He shifted in his seat and met my gaze. An easy smile spread across his angular face and heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks. The words “oh, fuck” played on repeat in my mind as Braden stood to greet us. Easton remained seated.

Nikki looked over her shoulder at me. “Come on.”

Maybe it’s time for second chances
. Her earlier words played through my mind. Then I recalled how she’d twirled her hair. The classic sign of Nikki subterfuge. I’d been duped.

Before I could flay her for tricking me into a double date, Braden wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a public display of affection that would have made a prostitute blush. I remained where I stood, trying to decide whether I should suffer through dinner or make my apologies and leave.

I took a step back, preparing to turn on my heel and walk out.

“Kyrie, is it?” Easton’s voice, a rich baritone with a Southern accent, lilted into my ears.

He stood, holding his napkin in front of him at an odd angle. He wore a dark blazer, a light blue button down, open at the collar, and a pair of jeans—the perfect mix of dressy and casual.

I glanced up to his eyes as Braden and Nikki finally ended their makeout session.

“Yes.” She said. “Sorry about that. I get excited sometimes. Easton, this is my friend Kyrie.”

“I think we’ve met.” He stepped forward and held out his hand.

Light music began playing in the front of the restaurant, a string quartet by the sound of it. I pondered his bruised knuckles for a moment before my manners took over, and I extended my hand. His wide palm swallowed mine as we shook.

“I don’t think so.”

His deep blue eyes sparkled in the low light. “Weren’t you at the game last night?”

I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Something about him—the same magnetism that had drawn me at the game—was still working against me now. “I was, but we never spoke.”

“I saw you, though.” He held my hand for a moment longer than necessary before releasing me.

“Well, now that introductions are out of the way, what are we eating?” Nikki took the seat next to Braden and looked everywhere but at me.
Bitch.

Easton pulled out my chair and I sat, once again giving way to my manners. He sat next to me and draped his napkin in his lap again.

“So, Easton, tell us about you.” Nikki leaned forward as Braden rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’m from Atlanta. I’ve been playing baseball since I could walk. It’s all I’ve ever done really. I have a sister—”

“All of that’s real interesting.” Nikki took a gulp of the wine the waiter had just poured. “But are you single?”

I tried to kick her under the table, but Braden yelped instead and looked at me.

Nikki ignored him, her focus on Easton. “Go on, tell me.”

“Yes, I’m single.” He shifted in his seat, the elegant chair creaking under his weight.

“Excellent.”

I shook my head at Nikki, but Easton turned toward me so I stopped.

“How about you?” he asked.

“How about me what?” I dropped my eyes. Maybe if I could look at something else—anything else—I wouldn’t get lost in his gaze.

“Are you single?”

“Yes, she is.” Nikki giggled.

Fight or flight kicked in again, and I pondered claiming I had to go to the restroom and, instead, hailing a cab and leaving. Before I could make my move, Easton draped his arm across the back of my chair and I got a hint of his aftershave—delicious and masculine. My eyelids fluttered closed.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.

I tried not to. I really did, but in the end, I couldn’t help myself. I looked him in the eye. My heart hammered as I drank him in, every last detail of his handsome face. The way he’d looked on the field, intense and determined, had melted away. Here, he was relaxed, a small smile turning the corners of his sinful mouth as he held me captive. I let my eyes linger along his lips and wondered what he would taste like. He ran his fingertips lightly across my shoulder and my body erupted in goosebumps as heat pooled low in my stomach. Had I ever seen a more gorgeous man?

The waiter stepped up, breaking the spell. I leaned forward, away from Easton’s too-direct gaze and the warm touch of his skin.

I tried to get myself under control as the waiter took our orders. The restaurant was well known for steak, so I had an easy choice of entrée. Once our glasses were refilled, he hurried away. The air between Easton and me seemed to thicken by the moment. There was no air between Nikki and Braden, both of them glued together, their chairs wedged against each other.

“So, any team news?” Nikki asked and dug into the baguette left by the waiter.

“Nothing, really. We’re supposed to be getting a new pitcher sometime soon. That’s about it.” Braden ran his hand around Nikki’s back and rested his fingers along her ribs, right below her breast.