Sweet Spot (6 page)

Ally splays out on the bed, her hands entwined in her hair. She’s a vision, beautiful and perfect. I pull her shirt off, sliding it over that perfect ass, and hurl it across the room. Her breasts steal my breath. They are the perfect size and shape, rounded and perky with rosy, taut nipples. I cover one with my mouth and lavish my tongue across her stiff nipple. I nibble and suck, pulling upward, unable to contain my lust.

I love the feel of her against me, the arch of her back, the way she wraps her ankles around me to pull me in closer. I don’t have any condoms, so proper intercourse is out of the question, but I still plan to rock her world. Hard.

While I’m loving on her nipples, I slip three fingers into her and fuck her hard, curling my fingertips to hit that tender spot inside her. Her hips rock along with my rhythm. I move to her neck, sucking and biting, my cock throbbing and aching against her. Her hands reach for me and run along the length of my cock, stealing my breath. She feels amazing.

We turn into a tangled mess of limbs and skin, stroking and kissing. Her lips find mine and we fall into one another. She bites my tongue and I pinch her clit in response. She moans against me and rocks her hips frantically.

I can feel the fingers of an orgasm wrapping around my cock as she hand fucks me, but I want the feel of her mouth on me. I spin her around so we’re in one of my favorite positions, the 69. She takes me wholly into her mouth and it takes all my focus to continue licking her without coming. Her mouth is hot and warm and her fingers grope my balls just the right amount. She’s perfect.

Her moans against my cock push me to the edge and just as I’m about to start reciting stats, I feel her pussy contract all around me once again. I let myself explode within her mouth, and she takes all of me, swallowing it down.

I’m in heaven.

We collapse next to each other and she curls into me, sighing and gently kissing my collarbone. We don’t say another word as she slips away to get dressed. Her clothes lie torn on the floor.

“Sorry.” I flash her a sheepish grin.

She steals my bathrobe, blows me a kiss, and disappears into the hallway without another word.

I’m so screwed.

I
wake
up to an empty bed and a head full of memories involving entwined limbs, soft skin, and the outline of a girl too beautiful and amazing for words. Of someone who has the power to radically change my life.

Of someone who managed to rock my world in the span of just a few minutes. How many total? Three, four on the ball field? Sixty in the hospital? As many last night?

How could a sum total of a couple hours change my life so completely?

My cock is ramrod straight immediately upon waking. The thought of her plump lips around my length has my motor running fast and hot, and I jack off twice in the shower, picturing her tight pussy around my cock, imagining the view of her tits bouncing as she rides the length of me, her ass thumping against my thighs. I have to brace myself against the side of the shower each time I get off, gasping against the steam building up in the bathroom and my full-color vision of coming inside her, of holding her hips steady as I come and come and come.

I’m on cloud nine. Everything feels perfect, right, aligned. My life doesn’t seem so chaotic under the fluorescent lights this morning. With Ally by my side, I feel infallible. She’s getting at least another run today. I can feel it. I text her as much.

No girl is luckier than me
is her response, followed by a selfie of her blowing a kiss to me.
Good luck out there. I can’t wait to cheer for you!

A grin cracks across my face, wide as the outfield. This girl…she does things to me. I like it. A lot.

My ritual prep kicks off with an hour in the hotel gym and a hearty breakfast of an egg white omelet and three donuts. I really like donuts, okay? Although they aren’t as sweet as they usually are, now that I’ve tasted Ally. Most of the guys are in the gym with me, getting pumped and talking trash while we lift weights and fill up the hotel restaurant in the morning.

Things get a little chaotic when we roll into town sometimes, but it’s fun. We sign autographs, tell jokes, dick around the lobby getting psyched for the game. The pitching staff tend to keep to themselves and spend a lot of time watching different hitters from the opposition. There isn’t as much separation as you might think, but baseball can get a little bit clique-y. We all come together at the stadium, though.

Visiting team locker rooms vary widely. The ones at Cellular Field are in pretty decent shape. I mean, it’s no Kauffman, but home field is always a special place. I sling my stuff into my locker and hit the field to stretch and warm up. It’s a big stadium and as soon as it hit the dirt, everything just feels…right.

Today, my friends, we are going to kick the White Sox’s ass. Nothing can bring me down to day. Nothing. I don’t even notice my knee acting up during practice.

We hit the locker room to get ready for the game and everyone is jazzed. It’s like we’re all feeling the same buzz and are ready to knock the Sox out of the park. Just like my dick last night. Oh snaps.

Jamie slaps me on the back after we change. “I’m proud of you, brother.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t see you at the hotel bar once, man. You’re really do it, sticking to your guns about reforming that bad boy image you had running.”

“I’m don’t have a bad boy image.” And just like that, guilt starts creeping back into my vision. “I just…you know…got around a lot.”

“Right.” Jamie rolls his eyes and smacks me on the back. “I know you’re not an asshole, but you’ve got a reputation for fucking around. A lot.”

“I just had a good time.” I shrug and look around the locker room at everyone getting psyched. The vibe is hot and tight. I love it. “But thanks, man.”

“Hey, you’re keeping your promise to the city and the team, and that’s pretty fucking awesome. I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start tearing up on me.”

“You wish.” Jamie throws a few fake punches. “Now get your game on tonight, boy.”

We fake box and hop around the locker room, but my heart is slowly falling out of it. I managed to keep the guilt at bay all day, reveling in the pussy-soaked joy of last night and forgetting that I acting like a fucking idiot. But now it’s come crashing back.

I try to push it out of my mind and hop around the locker room with the guys. There’s a game to win, runs to score, guys I can’t let down because my head is fucked up. It’s time to get in the zone.

Coach comes in and everyone cheers. He gives great pep talks. Really, everything Coach does is great. I’d do almost anything for this man. Apparently, this also includes not-totally-but-almost-banging his daughter. Guilt sweeps in.

But I’m not looking for a fling, right? I’m not throwing her out like trash like I do with the other girls (don’t look at me like that). Why does it feel like I’m sinking?

“Tell us what’s good, Coach!” Octivio yells and everyone cheers.

But something is wrong. Coach looks absolutely livid. He slams his fist down on a short row of lockers and crosses his arms, chest heaving.

“What’s up, Coach?” Edwards asks. The noise in the locker room dies down to almost nothing. “What happened?”

“That’s a damn good question.” He spits. “This ball club is supposed to be one of respect. Right?”

“Yes, Coach.” Everyone intones.

My stomach drops. I can’t explain why, but I think I know where this is going.

“So one of you guys care to explain to me why my daughter came down to breakfast this morning covered in hickeys?”

Shit
. I knew it.

Everyone looks around. Jamie cocks an eyebrow at me but I cover my face in confusion, while my heart is racing. It’s pin-drop silent in the locker room.

“I know it was one of you boneheads. And when I find out who the hell it was, you’re off the fucking team. Kiss your contract goodbye, because this is a goddamn violation. And you’re likely going to be dead by morning. I trust you all to act like adults and adhere to the principals of this ball club, so I expect a letter of resignation in the morning from the offending asshole who dared to put his hands on my daughter.”

Coach briefly meets my eyes, but continues scanning the room.

Inside, I’m conflicted. Relieved he doesn’t think it’s me, more guilt because it was me. I slept with his daughter, I covered her head to toe in hickeys. I violated his trust. My morning high is completely gone and now I just feel like a fucking asshole.

A lucky fucking asshole who Coach doesn’t think is currently responsible. Because I’m supposed to be cleaning up my act.

You know when you try to change, try to turn the car around and go down the path you’re supposed to, but a tire blows out and ruins fucking everything? This was my tire blow out. My utter weakness for this amazing girl.

And now it’s here, staring me in the face. We have to stop. We can’t see each other anymore or I’ll lose everything. Literally everything. I have to tell her tonight, as soon as we’re done at the game. I’d tell her now if I didn’t have a ballgame to destroy.

That sinking feeling seeps in, the one that knows everything is ruined. The best thing to ever happen to me is about to have to walk out of my life because I crossed a million different terrible lines and betrayed the man who inspires me the most.

I can’t be traded. I can’t lose my contract. These guys are my life. Kansas City is my home. As much as Ally means to me, I would literally be walking away from everything.

Except how can I walk from her? I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.

Jamie says something to me, but I don’t hear him. Coach is still red in the face and ranting, but he ends it with, “Have a good game” and slams the door shut. It’s silent for a moment longer and then everyone awkwardly grabs our gear and heads to the dugout.

We’re all looking at each other, sizing one another up to see who violated the code of conduct, and George finally says,

“Maybe she found a guy down at the hotel bar.”

“She’s fucking illegal, dude.” Comes from Carlos.

I keep my mouth shut and look at anyone in the face. Putting all this out of my head feels impossible, but I need to stay on top of my game tonight. Why couldn’t he have waited? Why kill the streak I had pumping through me?

Jesus fuck. I’m a mess.

It must have been way worse for her. Conversations behind closed doors with Coach are notoriously terrifying, and being his daughter must have made it worse. My poor Ally was probably alone through it while he tore her ass up.

Not
my
Ally. Just Ally. She’s not mine. Not any longer.

We head out to the field for the National Anthem and Coach still looks murderous, but he’s got his happy face on. Well, this should be fucking fun. You know how they say dudes don’t have any emotions? We’re just stoic, stone-faced creatures who piss away anything that has to do with feelings?

It’s bullshit. We bury it. We sweep it under the rug and pretend they don’t exist. We scrape ourselves clean and bury the hatchet and pretend like we
are
those stone creatures until one day we explode. Guys aren’t as violent as we look. The fuse burns hot for a long time before the
ka-boom
. But that’s why.

When my mom died, I did a lot of burying. Subsequently, I did a lot of exploding. See also: my frequent run-ins with the fine, good ol’ boys at the KCPD. See also: the girls I went through like water. See also: the number of empty liquor bottles in my recycle bin each week.

I was a fucking mess. Still am, I suppose. It’s not like a lot of time has passed between Coach tearing my ass up and today. The problem is, I thought I found a way to decompress without exploding. I thought I found a way to clear the slate without turning into a human torch.

The problem is she’s untouchable. And I touched her anyway. And now Coach knows.

Kind of.

I try my fucking best to take all that shit and cram it down to my shoes. Every feeling, every thought of Ally, every memory tied to scent and taste, shoved as far down deep as I dare go. But now I know my wire cutter is gone and I can’t get my head straight.

I strike out. I miss a relatively easy line drive so the Sox bat in two. In the third inning, I not only strike out again, but I fumble the ball at the bottom of the inning and fuck us out of an opportunity to get a double play. They score three more.

“What’s going on?” Jamie hisses at me as the bottom of our order takes the plate to bat. “I’ve never seen you so distracted.”

“Just got a lot going on.”

“We all do. You’ve had a lot of big shit go down and you still never fucked up a double play like that.”

“Sobriety sucks.” I flip him off behind my glove and lean back on the dugout bench. Five to nothing, White Sox. Sure, we could come back. We could also burn the fuck out and lose. Memories of this morning flood me, where I just knew we would kick ass and I pompously promised I’d score another run for Ally.

I can’t become this pile of broken promises. It’s time to do one thing at a time. With as little lying as possible, ideally.

“Talk to me, man.” Jamie rummages through the caddy of candy bars above his head and settles on a Baby Ruth, my favorite. He snaps it in half and offers me one, but I stick to my sunflower seeds and pretend each seed I spit out is another one of my sins.

Absolution by sunflower seed.

Except it’s not working.

“I’m just having an off day. Shit happens.”

He looks at me weird again and I’m over it. He’s been side-eyeing me for four fucking days and I don’t like his Jiminey Cricket bullshit. “What can I do? We need to get you back in the game.”

“Everyone has an off day. From now on, I’ll let you field the double plays and I’ll pay more attention to the strike zone. Back off, alright? God, you’re worse than Coach Bart.”

“Coach Bart sent me over here.”

I can’t help the heavy sigh. “Fucker.”

“Don’t want Henry taking your place.”

I set my jaw. “Fucking Henry is not taking my base. Period. Are you done?”

I know I have to ease up. Any more and he’s going to think I’m guilty with Coach’s daughter and that will be freaking career ending. He’s my boy, but his loyalty to the Royals runs deeper than anything else.

Jamie doesn’t move and I know I have to give him something. This is going to kill me, I can already feel it.

“Look, don’t say anything, okay?”

He’s skeptical, but nods.

“My knee has been fucking up lately.” I can’t even look at him, but I can feel his whole demeanor shift. “Shh! I’m serious, Jamie. Don’t say a fucking word.”

“You need to—“

“I know. I know what I’m supposed to do, okay? It’s not bad enough to take me off the roster and I’m sure as fuck not going down to Triple A for rehab.”

“You could fuck up your career over this, Kemp.” Jamie’s voice is low but the stadium is wild. Octivio hits a long ball into right field and we’re finally on the board with one run. We both clap and high-five Octivio after he makes his celebratory lap around the bases. I hope this means Jamie is done talking, but he finds me after the dugout settles down again.

“I’m serious, man. A knee injury is a career killer.”

“I know.” I finally glance over at him. “You can’t tell anyone. I’m serious. I’ve been icing it and putting shit on it. It’s getting better. I just overdid it in the gym this morning and it hurts.”

“Jesus Christ.” He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, brother.”

“That’s baseball.”

Risking Triple A and hospitals is better than risking Coach right now. And it wasn’t a bunch of bullshit either. I can already feel my knee swelling and I’m pretty certain I’m fucked. It’s only getting worse and eventually, I’m going to have to say something. That’s just one more conversation I’m not looking forward to.

The fourth inning closes out without any more fuck-ups on my end and I manage a solid double in the fifth, sending Carlos home. We’re at 5-2, White Sox, but it’s something. What’s also something is my goddamn knee, which seemed to have interpreted my confession to Jamie as an excuse to
really
fuck up and I’m dying. It takes all I have not to limp.

What I need to do is tell Coach so they can send Henry in. I know this. But Pride is a fickle mistress and we’re currently locked in a heated affair. The real kicker here is that I know Ally is watching…and I’m letting her down.