by Lainey Davis
Bradford and I talk a bit more about my situation. When I tell him I’ve been fired from the training room at SCU, he says, “Hmmm,” in a low growl, but doesn’t elaborate. After a long pause, he says, “Well, like I said, anyone who can keep her cool while an athlete pukes on her and still reset the joint like a boss…Olive, I want you in my program. Put your application together and send it all directly to me, ok?”
By the time we hang up, I’m late for class and I’ve evidently missed a call from Leslie. Everything is happening at once, but I can’t help smiling at the anticipation of it all. So this is what it feels like when things are going well for a change, I think, typing my grad school application on the sly from the back row of my econ lecture.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Baxter: Six Months Later
DRAFT DAY. THE day I’ve been looking forward to for twenty years. I wake up with my girl in my bed and my dick hard against my stomach. I don’t even think I can concentrate to even deal with a hard-on. My insides are a wreck.
The past couple of months have been surreal for me. Olive got to stay in school thanks to the work study job in the laundry room. She said she didn’t mind washing sweat towels, but I think that’s mostly because I helped her shower after every shift. And I’ve gotten really fucking thorough when it comes to making sure my girl is clean.
The situation with Justin took care of itself when a couple of the graduate student trainers filed a complaint against Olive’s former boss. He’d been messing with all kinds of shit in the training room, taking people off their cases and wrecking their graduate research. By the time the athletic director fired him, he got dozens of phone calls about inappropriate shit that douche did to women, dating back years.
As soon as they hired a new head trainer, I made sure Olive was back in there where she belongs. She threw me through a loop, though, when she told me she wanted to stick with the swim team. She says she’s got a lot to learn about shoulders to be ready to dive into her grad program in the fall.
Surprisingly, I don’t even miss the extra time with her, because I get to spend all night with her now. I can’t believe there was a time when I didn’t spend every night with my face between her legs, making her scream my name in bed way louder than she ever screamed from the bleachers at a football game.
Olive stirs and opens her eyes. Then she feels my rock-hard third leg between us and she drops a hand to it. I wince at the contact. “Oh,” she says. “Someone is excited about draft day.”
“I feel like I might puke,” I tell her. Most of the guys expected to go in the first round are camped out at home with their families and their agents. Everyone I care about in the world is right here at Stone Creek University, so I see no reason to go anywhere. Which means the TV crew is showing up at my suite in a few hours.
“Want to see if I can help you relax?” Olive’s gotten real frisky, and I’m going to be really honest and say I fucking love that. We have years to make up for, and we’re making a good effort to get caught up. “Why don’t you lie back and let me help you,” she tells me, pushing me onto my back.
I lace my fingers together behind my head while she climbs up on top of me. Olive fell asleep wearing one of my jerseys, and I love that she’s got nothing else on. Just my name on her back and nothing else. She climbs on my lap and I feel her wriggle those hips around as she kisses her way down my chest. “Oh, shit,” I say when her mouth drops to my cock. I thought she was going to ride me this morning, but I’ll take this. I’ll take whatever she wants to give me.
Olive’s tongue circles the throbbing tip of my cock, her little hand around the base squeezing me rhythmically until I feel like I’m going to blow all over her face. “Olive,” I whisper. “Baby. Shit, that feels good.”
Olive looks up at me with those chocolate eyes as she opens her mouth. Her plump lips sink down my shaft and it feels so good, so wet. I think my eyes roll up into my head. “Mmmm,” she moans, slipping off my dick. “You’re so hard. You should get that checked out.”
“Very funny,” I choke, as she dives back down onto my dick. I feel my tip hit the back of her throat and keep on sliding as she starts moving her head up and down. “Olive,” I whisper. I need her to stop or I’m going to blow a gasket, but she raises her eyebrows at me and redoubles her effort.
A few more pumps of her fist and I’m a goner. My hips thrust up off the bed as I spurt into her mouth, groaning and clutching at my pillow. “Damn, Livvy.”
Olive pops off, grinning, and wipes her mouth with the back of her forearm. “Feel better?” She asks. When I nod, she slaps my stomach. “Good,” she says. “Now get up and get dressed. The crew will be here soon and we need you looking relaxed.
Olive sits on the arm of my couch chewing on her lip. Kev and Tim are here eating snacks that Tim’s mom had sent over. He’s still not eating carbs, which is why Kev’s mom sent along bread sticks…so we’d have options. Kev isn’t interested in going pro. He and Tim have big plans to take over the business world after graduation. They both have jobs lined up at some sort of foundation for gay teens.
Olive’s grad program sent a box of Ann Arbor gear with a note in it. My agent got a call from Detroit last week, and I know people have been talking. Olive’s mentor and Tim’s dad apparently know the coach from Detroit and told him how I kept my cool at the banquet. My agent got a text that said something about how he needs another hothead tackle like he needs a hole in the head. I was confused about all of it until Olive assured me they are all excited about me. My dad was fucking wrong about everything. People want me on their team and I can be an asset on and off the field.
I try not to focus too much on Detroit, though. Anything could happen, and I know Olive and I will be together no matter what. Her grad program isn’t forever. We have all the time in the world to be together, and when I go pro, I’ll be able to fly her to wherever I am whenever I want. First class, like she fucking deserves.
I start to sweat as the film crew turns on the lights while the draft begins. Detroit gets to pick first since they had such a bad season last year. But defensive players hardly ever go first. Can’t set my hopes on this too much.
I feel Olive rubbing my shoulder, but the sound of my heart drums out everything else in the room. I try to focus on the TV, but my mouth is thick and I can’t swallow.
And then the room erupts. Kev and Tim are on their feet, and Finnegan and Scotty start dumping champagne over my head. My agent leans against the wall with a smile and starts to say something, but I have to find my center. My gravity.
I look to Olive and pull her down on my lap. “What just happened,” I ask, leaning my forehead against hers.
She rubs her hand down my cheek. “You got drafted by Detroit, Bax.”
“We’re going to be together,” I whisper, pulling her hand into mine.
“Always,” she tells me, and she pulls me in for a kiss as I see the flash bulbs pop around the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Epilogue: Baxter
I PACE AROUND the apartment anxiously, waiting for Olive to get home from her clinical. This is my one day off before I’m on the road for a week and I’m missing my girl so much I could scream. The past two years have been rough, between my schedule and Olive’s. She’s working with a really prestigious shoulder study and has been following the baseball team around while she works with their pitching squad.
Of course, baseball’s schedule is basically the opposite of pro football. She’s busy during my down time and I’m barely here in season. But we’re making it work. At the end of the day, we come home to each other, or else we call each other. There’s a lot of love in my house, and this is the first time I can say that.
I have a whole speech worked out for what I want to say to Olive when she walks in the door, but when it opens and she steps in, shaking out her ponytail, I forget my words. The light catches her and her hair fucking glitters as it falls around her shoulders.
Her work uniform—khakis
and a polo—isn’t anything particularly sexy, but when I see her curves I just can’t hold myself together anymore. I cross the room in just a few steps and I pull her into my arms.
“Wow,” she says when she breaks the kiss. “You’re intense today.” She tries to back away, like she’s going to slip into the room and shower before we get dinner. But I don’t want to let her go.
“Olive,” I breathe, and I pull her back in. My lips close on hers and I’m telling her I want to be with her, I want her forever and longer than that.
“I love you, too,” she tells me as I tug her shirt free from her waistband. “Oh!”
I sink to my knees on the carpet in front of her and yank down her pants. “I want you,” I tell her.
“You’ve got me—oh!” She kicks her feet to step free of her pants, and before she can readjust, I hook her behind the knees and lower her to the floor. “You tackled me!” She squeals, giggling. I’m so hard, I’m convinced all the blood has left my head and is flowing directly to my cock. The anticipation of today has affected me more than I thought.
But I can’t focus on that now. I worry about getting these clothes off of Olive and getting her skin beneath mine. Now.
As I tongue her stomach, she purrs and digs her fingers into my hair just how I like. My scalp tingles as she massages my head, but my work is lower down. I edge down her body, dragging kisses and nipping at her with my teeth while she squirms beneath me.
“I love you,” I tell her, gently parting her legs with my thumbs. When I’ve got her spread open, I moan, dipping my tongue inside her peachy folds. I get a taste of her nectar and I worry that I’m going to come in my pants and spoil this whole thing.
“Bax,” she moans. “Feels so good.” There was a time when I only heard those words in my secret fantasies. When I never thought I could risk telling Olive how I feel because I might lose her. I had no idea how much bigger my world would grow when I finally took the leap, finally let myself be honest with her.
I slide two fingers deep inside her, just the way I know she likes it, and I lap at her clit until her walls clamp down on my hand. “That’s a baby one,” I tell her, kissing her thighs while her breath slows.
“Are you making fun of my orgasm?” She starts to prop herself up on her elbows, but I shake my head.
“Not making fun. Just reminding myself I’ve got work to do,” I say, shucking my own pants and shirt.
Fully naked, I settle in between Olive’s legs and just feel her nipples against my chest for a minute while I decide my next move. She reaches in between us for my dick and as she rubs it along her wet heat, I realize she’s feeling this need as intensely as me.
“I want you all day,” she tells me. “And I can’t have you.”
She nips at my neck. I love when she bites me, even when I’m sore from practice. “I sent you a pic,” I tell her, grinning. “Shoulder porn.” I like to make sure my own arms wind up in her camera roll alongside all those baseball shoulders she spends the day with.
She nods. “I know you did, and that made me just want you even more.” She tugs at my armpit hair, making me yelp, and I draw back.
From up on my forearms, looking down at her, I can see her. I can see her face loving me, and not much else. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me,” I tell her.
I watch as the blush creeps up her cheeks, along her chest. She smiles. She’s still not used to having someone talk nicely to her, even after 6 years away from her family. Even after two years living with me in Michigan.
But I’m going to work on it. I’m going to tell her every day of my life how she makes me feel, how she makes this world a better place.
But first I’m going to fuck her, because I’m so hard, it feels like the skin on my dick is going to rupture. I reach beneath her knee again and pick up a leg, tossing it over my shoulder. “Ooh,” she sighs as I line myself up, and then sink home.
God, that feels so fucking good. I’ll never get over the feel of my bare skin sliding along the velvet inside of Olive. I hook her other leg up over my shoulder, too, and I’m so deep inside I wonder if I’m going to fit.
But I look down at my girl and realize we fit together perfectly. She starts to wriggle around, rocking her hips as much as she can while I have her folded in half like this. “Feels so good,” she groans, and I start to move with her.
I work up a sweat, sliding in and out of her, my hips crashing against hers with every thrust and my hands scraping the carpet until I’m sure I’ll have rug burn on my palms. But I don’t give a shit. Nothing matters right now other than blowing her world.
“Baxter, yes!” Olive cries out, pulling her legs down and locking them around my waist instead. “Fuck me, please.”
This new angle gives me some more leverage, and I double my pace, our bodies slapping together there on the floor of our apartment halfway between the Detroit Stadium and Olive’s grad program. Everything about our lives here has been about learning to compromise, learning to make it work. Neither of us had anyone in our lives to teach us this shit, but we’ve been figuring it out together and loving every minute of it.
I accidentally kick one of the bar stools while my toes dig for purchase so I can pump into her harder. It’s just furniture. We can buy more, I think, as it topples over and crashes against something else. Olive has me making grocery lists and I’ve got her interested in protein shakes and we’ve made a fucking life here with a guest room for Kev and Tim and another one for Tia and Elyse when they come to visit.
“Baby, this is so good,” I mutter, and I’m not sure if I mean the sex or this apartment or the way we’ve each helped make each other’s dreams come true. Maybe all of it.
“Bax, I’m coming,” she wails, bucking her hips up into mine. “Holy shit, I’m coming,” and I can feel it. I feel her drawing me in, contracting around me again and again until I shatter.
I spurt inside her, filling her up with my release, with my love, with all I have to give. She starts to giggle and I can’t even feel my toes anymore, but I know that sound feels good.
“Hey,” I whisper, brushing aside her sweaty hair as soon as I can function again. “I was trying to ask you something and I got distracted.”
“What’s that,” she asks, tracing a finger along my nose and over along my jawline.
“Will you marry me?”
“What?” She pushes me off her chest and sits halfway up. “Are you serious?”
We’re sloppy and sticky, and we’re tangled together on the floor, and none of this is like I planned, but everything about this is fucking perfect. I work my way up on to one knee and rummage around in my pants for the box I’ve been hiding all day.
I find it among the forsythia branches that fell to the floor when I kicked over the stool, so I right myself and offer both to Olive. “You’re my entire world,” I tell her. “You’re all that I’ve ever wanted and you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. Marry me?” I ask her. “Marry me and make me the happiest man on earth.”
“Yes!” She screams, scrambling to reach my mouth and kiss me. “Yes, yes, of course I will, Bax.”
I fumble with the box and pull out the ring I had made for her. An emerald cut diamond set flat in the platinum band. “So it won’t get caught on your patients,” I tell her, sliding it onto her strong finger. I kiss her knuckle. “I wanted you to be able to wear it to work.”
“It’s perfect, Bax,” she says, pulling me in for a kiss. “I love our life together.”
“Me, too,” I tell her, stroking her hair and closing my eyes, imagining us growing old together, still feeling this spark, this beautiful, perfect love. “Me, too.”
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