by Jesse Jordan
Sorry stud. Not tonight, probably got another hour of work to do. And you've got a game in 2 days.
I know. But I need you.
Is there anything more romantic than the simple statement that he needs me? I don't think there is, and I know I'm smiling as I type out my reply. Monday I'm yours for 3 days. Until then... take all your energy out on Sunday.
Keep it up, you're going to see just how much energy I've got. Monday you're mine.
I already am... but yeah, Monday. CU tomorrow, let me finish my work.
OK. CU. GN.
I set my phone aside, smiling softly to myself as I keep typing. There's not a lot to be done, but I know that with all the different organizations that are getting on board for this Scary Knight Out, I have to make sure everything's perfect or else the United Way and Toys For Tots are going to end up arguing over who gets the best donation spaces. It's happened before.
I'm going over the map of the portion of the stadium we're designating for the celebration, and trying to decide where to put the teacup ride when my phone rings again. “Come on Linc, I said-” I mutter before seeing it's not Lincoln at all. “Angie? Long time no hear!”
“Hey gorgeous, how're you doing in executive land?” Angie Sykes, my best friend from college, says. She and I were put together by the housing office simply because we both decided to graduate high school early and enroll early, so were starting our freshman years in January. It was a lucky coincidence, and in decade since, I don't think I've found a better friend.
“Not too bad, babe... how're you doing?”
“Well... I've got good news for you,” Angie says. “I mean, you did come to my wedding, and you did give Keith those box tickets last season that he's still raving about... so I figured you should be third in line after our parents.”
“What?” I ask, trying not to smile. I love Angie dearly, but there was a reason I bought high quality headphones when I was in college. Get the girl going talking, and she's going to keep going no matter what... and sometime in the half hour or so after she starts talking she might get to the point of what she was originally trying to say. Thankfully she's at least bubbly about it, although I do worry her poor Keith is going to go deaf intentionally by the time he's forty.
“Well... I took the test,” Angie says. “And... how'd you like to be a godmother?”
I gasp, nearly dropping my phone I'm so excited. “You're pregnant? How awesome!”
“I know, super-cool right?” Angie squeals happily in my ear. “I just found out today, they think it'll be next spring... maybe May or June. Isn't that just perfect? June bride, June mommy!”
“Okay Mama June,” I joke, earning a raspberry. “What? You set that one up too easily.”
“Good point, good point,” Angie says. “Keith's wigging out of course, I had to send him out with his buddies to chill for a bit. Frank says he'll make sure Keith gets home safely. I had to laugh, but I needed the peace and quiet! He's done nothing but pamper me since two this afternoon!”
“And that's a bad thing?” I reply. “Face it, you might have hit the jackpot on husbands, Angie. He's sweet, he's got a good job, and he is so head over heels for you that I bet you could drop him backstage at the Victoria's Secret fashion show and he wouldn't see a single titty.”
Angie laughs, knowing I'm right. He's nowhere near as handsome as Lincoln, but Keith's a good guy. There aren't enough of them in the world. “I guess you're right. So, what's new in the land of men who wear tight pants and run headfirst into each other?”
I laugh, there's nobody quite like Angie in my life and she's refreshing. She’s never been a sports fan, although before she met Keith she was more than willing to ogle a few players with me. “Not too much. I assume Keith's happy with the way the season's going?”
“Happy? Hell honey, he's asked me twice if there was any way I could drop a hint that he'd love to get tickets this season, the way they're playing. Especially that new guy... Monster? What sort of a parent names their kid Monster?”
“That's his nickname, Ang,” I correct her with a laugh. “His real name's Lincoln. Lincoln Watson, and yeah, he's really... something.”
There's a silence on the other end of the line for a moment before Angie comes back on. “You like this guy, don't you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to fake my innocence. “He's just really playing well for us.”
“Uh-huh,” Angie says knowingly. “Sam, how long have we known each other? Damn near a decade, right?”
“Just about.”
Angie harrumphs, a harrumph that I'm sure she uses at her job to humorously make her point clear. “And in that decade, I've seen you get the hots for quite a few guys. Now, I know your type. You're not into guys like Keith, which is why I think it's so damn sweet that you like him. He's too... normal I guess is the word, for someone like you. Oh no, for Sam Porter, you need to be with a strapping studmuffin that's at least six three and who bench presses a truck or something similarly ridiculous.”
“Hey!” I protest, even though thinking back, Angie's sort of right. I have always been attracted to athletes. “I'm not that shallow!”
“Not at all, babe. If it were just hot bodies you liked we'd have never been friends,” Angie counters. “You want a bit of an intellectual bad-boy to go with it. Remember when I dragged you to go see a production of Othello our junior year? That's who you like, smart, badass... the philosophical warrior king.”
“Well... maybe I've got high standards,” I admit, thinking that Angie’s been reading my mind recently or something. “Anything wrong with that?”
“Nope, not at all,” Angie says. “Now, this guy Lincoln... he ticks your boxes?”
“God does he,” I admit. “Angie, you know I don't kiss and tell, but he's... god as my witness he's nearly perfect in every way. He was in a funk for two weeks, and all it took was a single night together, and he's on a tear that I swear is going to go down in history books.”
Angie laughs. “So you like him?”
“We both like each other,” I admit. “Angie... I think I'm falling for him.”
“Woo-hoo!” Angie cheers me before sobering. “Uhm... what does Joe Crenshaw think about this? I mean, you always told me he was a bit of a diva.”
“A bit of a diva?” I ask, shaking my head. “Babe, I've spent the past six weeks wondering how in the hell I ever even thought about dating Joe Crenshaw.”
“Oh, I don't know... you were pretty into him for a while. He seemed like he had a lot you liked.”
I nod, thinking Angie was right. “Angie, physically Joe is... well, except in one very key area, Joe's got a lot that I liked. But there's a difference between being built like a stud and actually being a stud. With... with the other guy, I feel like he's totally into me body, mind, everything.”
“You're not telling anyone about it yet though,” Angie says knowingly. “I can hear it in your voice. You won’t even say his name in case someone overhears you.”
“What do you think I am, insane?” I ask. “Like you said, Joe Crenshaw's an immature diva, regardless of his football skills, and he's a cheating bastard on top of that. But he's also the star of the offense, and I don't want drama in the locker room. It'd tear apart the team, and that'd break Dad's heart. So yeah, we've both agreed to keep this private. Actually, you're the first person I've said anything to about this.”
“I'm honored... thankfully for you, I don't give two shits about football,” Angie teases. “Okay Sam, you need an ear, you just give me a call. Anything you need, I'll be there for you hon.”
“Thank you. And he'd thank you too if he knew about it. Maybe later, I can introduce you two. You'd like him, he dresses really well most of the time.”
Angie, a self-proclaimed bargain basement fashionista, laughs. “I bet... if he likes you, and you're falling for him, he's gotta have something good going for him. You really are falling for him?”
I hum, leaning back. “Oh yeah. I'm falling for
him, and falling hard.”
There's a sound in the hallway, and I look up, seeing nothing but darkness. “Hey babe, I gotta wrap up some stuff, I'll talk with you later, okay?”
Before Angie can reply I hang up, getting out of my chair and heading to the hallway. I'm worried... Angie was right. I didn't say Lincoln's name, but I dropped enough hints that someone could figure out something's going on.
I don't need that drama, and I rush down the hallway, trying to follow the sound of footsteps. They get to the elevator before I do though, and all I can do is stare at the light as it drops down to the ground level of the stadium before stopping.
“Damn,” I mutter, chewing my lip. “I am so going to need to tell Lincoln about this.”
But when? With tonight being Friday, do I want to risk causing him drama this close to a game?
No, I decide. I'll tough it out, and then I'll make a decision after Sunday's game.
Chapter 12
Lincoln
The knock on my door comes as a huge surprise, it's still Sunday night. After eight weeks of the regular season, four preseason games and training camp, my body's pretty beat up. Three days off with just two lifts and the rest of the time to spend with Samantha starting tomorrow? I've had Caribbean vacations that didn't sound so appealing.
So when there's knock at my door, I'm worried that something's happened. Samantha's original plan for us was to meet up tomorrow for lunch before I got in a light afternoon lift, and then we'd meet up at her place after she got off work. But if someone's come to my house...
I heave myself up off the sofa, where I've been sitting in total veg mode for the past two hours, letting the Tylenol do its work, and walk slowly to the front door. “Who is it?”
“It's me, Lincoln,” Samantha says, and I open the door to find a decidedly non-regular looking Samantha standing on my front step. “We need to talk.”
“What's happened?” I ask, letting her in. I step back and she walks in, letting me get a good look at her. Instead of her normal sexy clothes, form fitting items that make my cock stir as soon as I see her, she's totally dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, looking nothing at all like the Samantha Porter I've come to know and become very fond of. If anything, she looks like she's trying to be nondescript or undercover for some reason. “Is everything okay, babe?”
Samantha pulls off the baseball cap she's wearing and runs a hand through her hair, sighing. “I don't know. Lincoln, I may have messed up the other night. God, I've been tearing myself apart, but I didn't want to make you worry so close to today's game.”
“Come on in, let's talk. I'm sure it's nothing drastic,” I assure her, taking her hand. “I'm surprised but happy you came over.”
Samantha stops, and smiles, wrapping her arms around my neck and giving me a kiss. It's soft and a little quick, but it helps ease the aches in my body a hell of a lot more than the Tylenol, and I pull her closer. “Thank you, Lincoln,” she says as our kiss ends. “You're right, let's sit down and I'll tell you about it.”
I lead her into my living room, where she sits down on my sofa, her elbows on her knees. “Listen, someone on the team... may have heard me say something about me seeing someone on Friday night.”
I blink, surprised. “Okay. So maybe, maybe, and a maybe. I think I need some details.”
Samantha nods, taking a deep breath before she fills me in on what happened at the stadium. It takes her a few minutes, while she might say her friend's a bit of a blabbermouth Samantha's got her own way of waxing longwinded too, but when she wraps up, I understand. “So you didn't see anyone?”
“No... just heard footsteps in the hallway. Sounded like athletic shoes though, the way they squeaked on the concrete,” Samantha says. “Whoever they were, they were fast, they got to the elevators and inside in less than ten seconds or so.”
I nod, then chuckle, giving her a sideways glance and a smirk. “And you told your friend you like me a lot, huh?”
She laughs, nodding. “Yeah, I did.”
I suspect she told her friend something more than that, but that's okay... we've got time, and I don't want to rush things with her. Just the fact that we've planned to stay the night at each other's places is enough for me for now. “So... what do you want to do?”
“I don't know,” Samantha answers. “Lincoln, I'd like to say I've got a plan on this, but without even knowing if someone overheard me, I don't know what to do. Did you notice anything in the locker room?”
“No,” I reply, thinking. “But Saturday was walkthroughs, and today was game day, things are always weird.”
“Still... I'm worried. I know I didn't say your name in direct connection to me seeing someone, the way Angie joked right upfront sort of put me on that much of my guard. But still, someone might put some clues together... I know I've caught myself staring at you more than once when I've come out to watch practice.”
“I've noticed,” I admit. “Always helps. Well, here's what I think: we don't worry about it. If someone heard something, they heard something. You're a grown woman with her own mind, and you're allowed to see anyone you want to. If it was someone on the team, and they do make a connection between us, I'll deal with it. You're right, Joe's a diva, but he is on offense and I'm on defense. We don't even have to be on the field at the same time together. And the rest of the guys are professional enough that I hope it won’t effect things.”
“You sure?” Samantha asks. “I mean, a month ago we were sure we had to keep things on the hush-hush.”
“True,” I agree, “but a month ago, I was still the outsider, the new guy who had to prove himself to the rest of the team. Now I'm a leader. Nick Sedgwick and I have an understanding, and he's happy to be co-captain with me. We're gelling as a unit, and the coaches see it. I'm not saying if it came down to it Red would pick me over Joe... but there's respect in the locker room. That and the start the team's had means nobody wants to fuck with success. Besides, a month ago I wasn't sure where this was going. Now... I'm not saying I'm taking out newspaper ads, but if it comes out, it comes out. We can deal with it.”
Samantha nods, looking relieved. “I guess so. It's not like it could have remained a secret forever.”
“Nope. So, now that you're over here a day early, what would you like to do?” I ask, hoping she'll stay. “I've got to admit, I'm not exactly feeling up for going out, especially considering it's getting near midnight.”
“I know,” Samantha says. “How about... well, you got Netflix on that thing?”
“Of course,” I chuckle, picking up my wireless keyboard. “And I've got some drinks in the fridge. Nothing fancy, just a few beers, but if you want, I could throw in a bag of microwave popcorn.”
“Netflix n' chill with the girlfriend, huh?” Samantha asks. “I think that sounds great. But I'll get the drinks and popcorn. You load up the show.”
“Anything in mind?”
“Nah, your choice,” she says, padding to the kitchen. While she messes around, the staccato sound coming from my microwave making me smile, I look around for a show. It's way too late for me to want to pull up something too complicated or serious, and I definitely don't want to do a chick flick. Finally, I decide on a nature documentary just as Samantha comes back in, popcorn already out of the bag and into a big bowl. “Hey, you mind if we split a Dr. Pepper instead?”
“As long as you don't mind my cooties,” I joke, scooting over on the sofa and leaning back. Samantha sets the bowl in my lap and settles next to me, cracking open the bottle and taking a sip before offering it to me.
“So what'd you pull up?”
“Penguins, I think,” I reply, starting the show. “My brain's too fried to want to get into anything complicated. Hell, I think Pokemon's beyond my level right now.”
“I can do penguins,” Samantha says, snuggling against me. “I happen to find penguins quite cute. Not as cute as you, but quite cute.”
The show starts, but I'm quickly not focusing as Saman
tha's body presses against me. The Dr. Pepper disappears rapidly, and when I upend the bottle to get the last swig Samantha pouts. “Hey, I wanted that.”
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I'm sure there's a drop or two left.”
“Hmmm, I think I'll rather have this drink,” Samantha says, getting up and straddling my lap. She leans in, kissing me deeply, licking my lips before deftly sweeping her tongue through my mouth. “Mmmm... yep, next time you're going to have to feed me each sip just like that.”
We kiss again, my exhausted body not too exhausted to respond to the feeling of the beautiful woman in my arms and the way her hips are settling against my thickening cock. “Miss Porter, I do believe you're not very interested in penguins,” I tease, sliding my hands under her shirt to run my fingers up and down her spine. Samantha responds by pressing her breasts against my chest, sighing happily. “Yes, I'm sure you're not into penguins.”
“They are cute... but I can think of something a lot more interesting right now,” she says. “If... if you're feeling up to it?”
My cock twitches, growing hard in my pants and she grins, kissing the tip of my nose. “Feels like we've got an answer. Don't worry baby, I'll take care of everything. Where do you keep your condoms?”
“Condoms and lube are in my medicine cabinet,” I reply, helping her off with her sweatshirt. “But Samantha, I'm not crippled.”
“No... but I love the idea of you just letting me do this,” she says, getting off my lap. “If you want to help, get that shirt and those shoes off... leave the pants.”
I grin, watching her as she sashays towards my bathroom, her hips working side to side in that bewitching way she has that makes all my blood rush to my cock. I pull my shirt over my head and slip my shoes off, tossing them to the far side of the sofa before Samantha comes back in, wearing nothing but one of my workout tank tops... and maybe her panties underneath. Her breasts are pushing out and around the straps of the tank, her nipples already hard and pressing out against the cotton, making my mouth go dry. I whistle lowly, she's sexier than ever. “I don't think I could ever have imagined that shirt looking that good.”
