Sweet Spot (5 page)

I’m very aware it didn’t bother her. She seemed to enjoy herself very, very much. I can still remember her taste on my lips as she came into my mouth. I can still hear her soft cries as her body shook. I can still see the beaming smile she gave me before we left, when she winked and waved shyly.

I would never want to bother you.
I don’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t. For more reasons than I can count. I force myself to close Facebook and put my phone down. I need to walk away. I need to avoid her before it gets too deep and I find myself facing a fuckton of trouble. My phone vibrates and I force myself to ignore it. I close my eyes, try to sleep.

It vibrates again.

I let myself have this small fantasy of her, reliving the way her lips felt when she kissed me, the way her body felt pressed against me. My phone vibrates a few more times, but I’m caught up in memories against the backdrop of Hamilton. Flashes of skin, the scent of sex, the way her hands curl up in her hair.

“Are you asleep?” Her soft voice whispers in between my chairs. “Or are you now too shy to talk to me?”

“Mmm?” I pretend to mumble.

“Thinking of me?” She teases.

“Mmhmm.” I should punch myself in the dick right now. At least it would help the ache down there.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Dangerous question. Dangerous, dangerous question. I play it safe by not answering. Mostly because I can’t. If I open my mouth, horrible things would come out.

My phone vibrates and against my better judgement, I check it. A series of messages from her awaits me.

That makes two of us.

I don’t want you to feel bad about yesterday. I kissed you first.

Though it was pretty clear you wanted to kiss me, too ;)

Don’t worry, it’s our secret.

I like having secrets with you.

I feel like I’m being repeatedly stabbed in the heart. I can’t have secrets with her, but I want all of them. Why can’t I just take my stupid fingers and type out,
We can’t have secrets
. Or
we can’t do this anymore
or
you’re a nice girl who deserves better than me
?

Because I’m a selfish asshole, that’s why. Because I waited for something sunny and perfect to come into my life after the death of my mom, waited for someone to help me fucking feel something after all those parts of me died.

And that amazing angel who helped overturn the bullshit…is Coach’s daughter. Coach’s young daughter. He’d tear my contract to fucking shreds if he knew. Then he’d tear
me
to shreds. All I can hear on loop in my head is
Tell her, tell her, tell her.

You’re very dangerous to have secrets with, Miss Holstead

What my dad doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him
.
I’m old enough to make my own choices

I can’t stop myself. I can’t.
What choice is that?

I hold my breath waiting for an answer. Minutes crawl by like slugs and my skin itches. My head hurts. My heart is pounding like a prepubescent teenager. Finally, finally, my phone vibrates again.

You.

D
inner with the guys
, and all I can think about is Ally. We’re at a local pizzeria, loading up on carbs and beer, surrounded by televisions blaring SportsCenter. Well, they’re drinking beer. I’m sticking to iced tea because of my oath. Breaking some of it means clinging like hell to the rest of it.

All around us are gorgeous, big-titted girls with skimpy outfits and free shots. They have toothpaste smiles and highlights in their hair and I’m pretty sure Jamie has fallen in love six different times in the forty minutes we’ve been here.

“Shame you can’t pick them up, huh?” Jamie says, a hint of teasing in his voice. I think he mostly just feels sorry for me. I don’t like it when people feel sorry for me. “More for me.”

“More for
me
.” Carlos cocks his fingers like a gun and scopes out the room. He settles on a redhead across the bar and fires. “My next ex-wife.”

Redheads used to be my kryptonite. Instead, I’m picturing Ally in one of these outfits with the tight referee shirts, breasts hanging out, tiny booty shorts holding in her perfect ass. Goddamn, I’m in way too deep way too fast.

I lean back, pretending to stretch, while I check my phone, looking for another text. My phone has been silent since we pulled into the hotel. As I’m leaning forward again, my knee tweaks. Fuck.

“You alright, Cowboy?” George leans across the table. “You look like you hurt something.”

I shrug him off and drain my tea. A gorgeous brunette tops me off right away. Her nose reminds me of Ally. It’s a weird thing to remind me of her, but it does. “Pinched my balls.”

“Right.” He snorts. “Henry’s been dying to hit the infield, you know.”

“Henry will not be playing second base tonight or any other night.” No one is taking my spot. My knee will be fine. I just tweaked it, no big deal. Things like this happen and we play anyway. Henry can keep his ass on the bench or floating between first and third base, but he is not going to be hanging out on my bag. Period.

“I don’t know, bro. You’re getting up there in years. Arthritis or some shit is sure to be setting in soon.”

This makes us laugh. “Fuck off, George. I’m only 28. Still in my prime.”

“Prime,” Jamie takes a big swig of his beer and my mouth waters. “Is 23. We’re old men now, brother.”

“Hell yeah!” Harrison high-fives George and Octivio. All three of those assholes are rookies in their early twenties. Damn good ballplayers…but not as good as me.

“Experience, amigos.” I wave them off and reach for the pitcher of beer on the table. “It’s better than young balls.”

A blonde in booty shorts materializes by my elbow and hands me a frosted beer mug. Half the mug is full before I catch Jamie staring at me. The guys go quiet for a minute and everyone watches me pour a beer.

Just one won’t hurt. Just one isn’t getting drunk and crazy. I imagine the disappointment in Ally’s eyes, and it stays my hand.

George clears his throat and Carlos reappears with his redheaded waitress, who holds a tray full of shots. He passes them out, but pauses in front of me. Everyone is silent now. Everyone is staring.

Everyone can go jump off a fucking bridge. It’s not them I’m doing this for.

I summon a wide smile and shake my head. “I’m good, man. Thanks. I think I’m going to head up to the room and get some sleep, actually. Gotta apply that Goldbond so Henry doesn’t get my spot tomorrow.”

The guys break into easy laughter and Octivio takes my shot for me. Jamie gives me a nod, reaffirming I did the right thing. I…really don’t know how to feel about this. Stuffing our faces and drinking beers the night before the first game of a new series is a bit of tradition for us. Now I’m being ostracized from the group because of one little fuck up.

Okay. One night of some pretty serious fuck ups. Whatever. Doesn’t mean I need to be wearing a freaking scarlet letter.

“I’ll catch you guys at breakfast.” I salute the table with two fingers and disappear into the cool night air, snatches of the night of my undoing filtering into my mind. At least it was fun. Really fun. Whether or not it was worth it is highly debatable, but I had a good time.

My feet instinctively turn towards the hotel bar. I’m dying for a real drink, but I’ll settle for club soda and lime.

I get it to go and slip out before any of the guys or Coach walk in. Coach likes to hold meetings with the rest of the coaching staff in hotel bars. I don’t need the embarrassment of having him taste my drink.

A group of girls, including one in a tiara with fake plastic penises in her hair, join me in the elevator, giggling and flirting. “You look familiar!” A redhead points.

“Just have one of those faces.” I flash a smile and look away, hoping they’ll drop it.

They don’t. “Wait, aren’t you Kemper Fife?”

I’m too tired to argue. “Uh, yeah.”

“Ooo!” Tiara girl coos. “We are so going to kick your ass this series.”

“What, the Sox beat the Royals? Inconceivable.”

“Our starting lineup is killer this season.” The redhead flips her hair. “But you’re really cute.”

This is exactly where the trouble would have started pre-ultimatum. Pre-Ally. A bachelorette party and a redhead. But tonight, I just want to lay down and think.

“Can we get a picture with you?”

“What, with the enemy?” I’m laughing, though.

“The cute enemy.”

Gotta oblige for the fans. I make sure to pose with my cup hidden behind the group of girls. The redhead licks my cheek and winks for the photo. Before they disappear down the wall, she whispers, “I’m in room 215. If you’re ever bored.”

See how I’m a trouble magnet? But I’m not even tempted, not with Ally running through my head on loop, a fever I can’t break. Time to drain this lime soda and go to bed watching highlight reels, because my head needs to stay in the game.

I promised to eat, breathe, and drink baseball.

Also, my knee fucking hurts. Thankfully, the ice machine is near my room and it’s only a quick hobble away. I pull up ESPN, ice my knee, and settle in for the evening. Maybe I’ll even order up some room service, because I wasn’t done eating pizza when shit got weird tonight. I just had to get out of there.

The room service menu is pretty impressive. Chicago is easily one of my favorite cities. The food and drinks and people are amazing, a culture unlike anything else I’ve ever witnessed. And I can order 57 different kinds of pizza from the comfort of my hotel room. How can I beat that? I settle for something called the Steamroad Express and kick back in my bed, relaxed.

Stomach taken care of, I can focus on business. Baseball. Kicking ass tomorrow and hopefully sweeping the series against the White Sox. That’ll teach that little redhead to talk shit in a hotel elevator. Cute enemy, my ass. It won’t be cute when I’m smearing her Sox all over the field.

The MLB app is running on my iPad so I can scope out the Sox’s lineup for tomorrow. It is actually pretty impressive. They’ve got a few rookies with high promise, like we do, and a legendary name or two. A few really solid bats. Their bullpen is something I’m not overly concerned about, though. My batting average against tomorrow’s starter is one of the highest against any other starter in the league, so it should be a fun game.

For us, anyway.

There’s a knock at the door and I holler out, “Just a second!” because I’ve got to move all the ice and find the damn remote to pause SportsCenter. Really, my knee just needs to be magically better because this shit is annoying, and so is this hobble I’ve got going on. I spent a full day on a bus with minimal walking to the restaurant tonight, and this does not spell out good things.

The rest should have helped.

But I can’t go down to Triple A to heal. I just can’t. I’m a Majors guy, not a Triple leaguer. Henry is not going to take my goddamn base.

I don’t bother checking the peephole, because I can smell the pizza from my door. “Just the man I wanted to…er….”

Standing before me, in a thin, royal blue tank top and booty shorts with her hair in loose curls, is Ally. Holding a pizza box. She’s absolutely stunning in this no makeup ensemble, like she’s ready for bed. Like she’s ready for bed with me.

I mean, why else would she be at my door holding a pizza, am I right? True story, my mother would fucking kill me right now, but I can’t help where my brain jumps around her. I shake off the thoughts and crack a smile without opening the door any further.

“You aren’t the pizza boy.”

“Guilty.” She flashes a dimpled smile and holds the box out to me. “Caught them in the hallway while I was getting ice. I thought I might drop it off for you instead.”

“Don’t trust the help, eh? Very smart. They might try to poison us before the big game tomorrow.”

“That’s exactly why I stopped by. To make sure you weren’t poisoned.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. I want to run my fingers over her wide cheeks but grip the door instead. “I should probably eat some first, just to be sure.”

“Oh man. If Chicago poisoned Coach’s daughter? Hell to pay everywhere.”

“Better me than you.”

“Never.” I say softly, unexpectedly. “You’re just…so young and have so much to live for.”

She rolls her eyes at this. “You really aren’t
that
old, Kemp.”

“Sure I am. Ancient. Arthritis. War stories. Dentures.”

She makes a face and shakes the pizza box before me. “Want some company?”

It strikes me just then I need her out of the hallway before anyone sees her here, at my door, dressed like this. God knows when the guys are coming back or, god forbid, Coach. I throw open the door and shamelessly check out her ass as she enters.

It’s perfect. No surprise there, but still. Perfect. I love booty shorts. Girl can rock them better than half the waitresses from tonight. She must do squats. I wonder how much she can lift? Clearly, she works out. And since half of my life is spent in the gym, I can admire a girl who works her fitness…Or whatever girls call it these days. Fucking girls.

She drops the pizza on my bed and slides it open. It smells amazing and is covered in peppers and sausage and ricotta, which looks like a real winner. My mouth is watering, but I know it’s not just from the pizza.

“This looks delicious.”

“Have at it, royal taste tester.”

“I see what you did there.” She’s so fucking cute when she smiles. She chooses a big piece, grabs it with two hands, toppings dripping everywhere, and takes a huge bite.

Am I dying? I think I’m dying. There’s nothing dainty about her. She’s sweet, so sweet, but so…different. She isn’t naughty but she isn’t an angel, either. And she isn’t shy about eating, which is a huge turn on.

I lean against the hotel desk and watch her chew it. She’s having the equivalent of a mouth orgasm and I’m suddenly stricken with the urge to give her a real one. To peel off those tight shorts and lick her until she screams my name. To see that sweet face in the same ecstasy under the direction of my tongue instead of a hot pizza.

Ally polishes off the slice and dusts off her hands. “That was amazing. You should try some.”

“I need to make sure you don’t keel over, first, remember?” I pretend to scoff at her. “Some royal food taster you are.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me and digs around for another large slice. Ally saunters over to me, a hot smolder filling her features, and presses our lower halves together. She puts the pizza up to my mouth and I obediently take a bite, unable to tear my eyes off of her.

Ally’s right. The pizza is damn delicious, easily the best I’ve ever had. Of course, that may have something to do with the hands feeding me, too. Our bodies pressed together is dangerous because I can barely contain my erection under a thin pair of basketball shorts and she’s wearing painted on clothing.

She feeds me the rest of the pizza, never saying a word, but licking her lips and stealing a bite every now and then. It’s so hot I feel like melting. We get down to the crust and we’re separated by mere inches.

“You’re right,” I whisper, licking the remaining sauce from my lips. “That was orgasmic.”

Her eyes are heavy and sexy and she drops the crust behind me on the desk. Her hands roam across my chest, our breathing matching pace, until she grabs a fistful of the t-shirt material and presses her perfect mouth against mine.

There is no hesitation this time, no bewilderment, no reservations. We crush together like the perfect swing and slider, soaring out of the park. My hands roam up her back and are pleased to report back she was not sporting a bra. I slip down one of the tank straps and bite her shoulder.

She presses herself into me and purrs in my ear, like a kitten. “Trying to take a bite?”

“I want to taste the sweetness.”

“You can taste the rainbow.”

I laugh. “Is that a euphemism for your pussy?” She shivers and I hear her breath slip. “You like it when I talk dirty to you?”

She takes another deep breath. “Maybe?”

I nibble on her ear. “Sounds like more than a maybe.”

“Maybe.” She looks coy and shy and naughty.

I can’t help myself any longer, this distance between us, these oscillating feelings of remorse and pleasure and pain and frustration and total ecstasy. I grab a fistful of her hair and walk her back to the bed. Her heart races against my chest and she looks like she’s about to take flight.

“Is this what you want?” I ask.

“Yes.” She breathes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

With one wide sweep, I knock the pizza box off the bed and replace it with her soft body. Her shorts, tight as they are, come off in a single rip, leaving her bare pussy staring up at me. I lick my lips and dive straight in, leaving her half clothed. The rest of her doesn’t matter anymore, just that she’s going to cum on my face and scream my name.

Her hands reach for my hair and she pulls as I part her lips and stare at the sweet pink flesh waiting for me. I start with her clit, sucking and licking, savoring the taste of her once more in my mouth. I could live on her forever.

Her hips rock against mine as she gasps. I run my tongue along the length of her cunt and gently toy with her opening. She loves it, begs for more with her hips, but I return to her clit and slip a finger inside her. The stubble on my chin brushes the tender skin and within a minute, she’s panting and moaning and moving against my mouth. I lick her until she stills.