by Hart, Romi
Likewise, would I spend too much time talking with him on Skype, texting him, thinking about him, and dreaming about him? Would a long distance relationship interfere with my studies? I’d made the Dean’s List last semester. I planned to be on that list every semester. Could I keep it up with the extra work of keeping up a long distance relationship with someone so far away? And aside from that, what if we just grew apart?
So far, four minor league teams were interested in him: the San Jose Giants, the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes, and the Modesto Nuts, all three teams were in California, and the Portland Sea Dogs in Oregon. All four of those teams were out west, far away from me.
Knowing how much his baseball career meant to him, I only showed encouraging support even if the team in question would mean he would leave me. This was his dream. Who was I to not support the man I love’s dream?
My dreams were coming true right before my eyes. To my surprise, I was awarded Dr. Zhu's coveted undergraduate research assistant position. It meant an incredibly busy schedule for me, but I was learning about electrochemical recovery systems and benefiting from world-class mentorship from an accomplished female engineer.
One night, I’d had a later day than usual from helping Dr. Zhu in the lab. I’d come home to Ryan in the kitchen making Carbonada Criolla. I loved this dish. It was a beef stew with sweet dried fruits like apricots and raisins, sweet potato, and winter squash. The first time I’d had it I was astounded at the perfect mix of sweet and lush savor.
Excitedly walking into the kitchen, I exclaimed, “Carbonada Criolla!”
Ryan looked up from the stove smiling, “Yep!”
I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. “It smells so delicious!”
He tapped the wooden spoon on the pot edge and put on the lid. He grabbed my hand and turned to me. “I got a call today.”
I’d hoped it was about a team nearby, but I stayed my voice just in case. “Ya?”
He walked me over to the kitchen table.
Uh oh.
The look on his face told me that this wasn’t exactly the best of news. He continued, “The Detroit Tigers are interested in me.”
I swallowed. “Detroit, huh?”
He nodded, looking down at this hands. “They’re a major league team.”
Trying the best I could, I smiled and squeezed his hand happily. “That’s fantastic, Ryan!”
He squeezed my hand back. “The scout was honest with me though. He said that I won’t actually get any real playing time. They’ve got an awesome lineup as it is: Fulmer, Sanchez, Zimmerman.” Ryan cleared his throat, his eyes looking away deep in thought.
Unsure of how to help him and just wanting to support whatever decision he made, I stayed quiet, holding onto his hand, encouraging him to speak his mind.
“The only real benefit of joining the Tigers would be the practice time I’d get with those guys, and that kind of training with those coaches could be worth it in the long run.” He scratched his chin. “Could be.”
“They would be great,” I said, agreeing with his train of thought.
He shook his head. “But, I’ve read all the research. An average pitcher’s career length used to be 5.6 years, but that study was done in 2007. Now, they’re saying with more research, like in kinesiology, pitchers’ careers are seeing a longer term.”
“That’s fantastic!” I exclaimed. I admired Ryan’s scientific mind as he applied it to athletics. He was truly an amazing man.
“But…” Okay. There was a but. I listened intently wanting to understand more about Ryan’s dilemma.
“There is still a chance that with all the medical research and advances, I could get injured. I could get injured in practice just as much as I could get injured playing in a game.”
“That’s true.” I nodded in agreement.
“The question is: do I want to risk injury playing in actual games even if they’re just minor league games or practicing in the big leagues? I love the rush of pitching in a game. A real game.”
This I understood. Cheerleading practice was nothing to actually cheering during a game. “I can see that,” I said.
He groaned. “It still doesn’t solve the problem of us not being together! All of these teams are nowhere near here.”
I sighed. “I know.”
He looked me in the face, pleading. “Can you just come wherever I go? You’re so smart. You can go anywhere.”
My heart ached. “Ryan, I’m on scholarship here at LSU. My parents couldn’t afford to send me to school. I have to stay here.” I looked down at the table, knowing both of our hearts were breaking. “And I’ve just gotten the research position with Dr. Zhu. Going to college has been my dream. I’m sorry, but I can’t give that up.”
Ryan's face softened apologetically. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. This is your dream. I can't ask you to give up your dreams when you're not asking me to give up mine. That was selfish of me." He brushed his fingertips down from my temple to my chin. "And I'm so proud of you for getting that research position. It is a kick-ass opportunity for your career. I'd hate myself if I got in the way of your goals."
His words touched me, bringing tears to my eyes. “I’d hate to get in the way of your goals too.”
Tears sprung to his eyes. “I’m just going to miss you so much, Kassie.”
I climbed onto his lap and buried my face into his neck, letting the tears run down freely on my face. Soon, this fairytale would come to an end.
Chapter 18
Ryan
The semester was over. I’d just taken my last exam in Kinesiology 337, The Psychology of Injury and Recovery. The class went in depth about the psychological, emotional, and social experiences associated with physical injuries. I’d been lucky not to have suffered any injuries that put me out of the game for good, but I’d had my fair share of shoulder pain. Ice had been my longtime best friend.
The minor league teams out West and the Detroit Tigers were all eager for my final decision. I’d promised them I’d have an answer after graduation, which was only three days away. Studying for my final exam for 337 was slightly more difficult than usual, not because of the material, but because the reading and my notes had me thinking about my baseball career options.
Wear and tear to my shoulder as a result of practice or pitching in a game was all the same. Who knew how long my shoulder would last? What was important to me: playing the game I love or tagging along watching other people play?
Kassie’s advice resonated in me. My baseball career wouldn’t last forever. She helped me realize that when pitching was over I could pursue my other passion: Kinesiology. For the first time in my life, I saw myself as something else besides just a pitcher. My whole life had been baseball, and I loved it. But I’d always been too afraid to think about the future when baseball was over. Who was I if I wasn’t pitching? But now? Because of Kassie, I saw graduate school in my distant future.
After the exam, I’d come home to an empty apartment. Kassie would still be taking her exams until the late afternoon. I sat at the kitchen table with a notepad, listing out the pros and cons of each team. My phone rang with an unknown number.
“Hello?” I said into my phone, expecting it to be a telemarketer of some kind.
“Ryan Romero?” a gruff voice asked.
“This is Ryan,” I said, twirling my pen in my hand.
“This is Don Garrison, the pitching coach for the New Orleans Baby Cakes.”
I dropped the pen on the table. “Hi! How are you?” I sputtered.
“I’m doing good, Ryan. Coach Thomas rang me up about you,” he revealed.
“He did?” I had no idea Coach Thomas had done that.
Garrison continued, “He talked to me about your heat. He says you’ve been throwing upwards 102 mph.”
I stood up from the table suddenly excited. “I have been, sir.”
“That’s pretty impressive. We were hoping that you’d be able to come to New Orleans. I’d like to me
et you.”
“Of course! When?” I said enthusiastically.
“When do you have time?” Garrison asked.
“Now. I have time right now!” I blurted.
Garrison gave a hearty laugh. “Okay. Come on down right now. Looking forward to it.”
Grabbing my keys, I ran out the door. It was an hour and twenty-minute drive to New Orleans. On the drive, I rolled down the windows and blasted Drake to get myself hyped up to meet the coaches.
When I got there, Garrison, a pot-bellied man with gray hair at his temples, greeted me. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. It shows you have initiative." I smiled at him, glad that he appreciated my effort and hoped that would help my chances of making the team.
Garrison motioned for me to follow him. “Let’s head down to the bullpen.”
I was eager to start throwing fast right off the rip to impress Garrison, but I knew doing that without proper warmup could destroy my shoulder. Restraining myself, I went through the motions of my normal warm-up routine. There was no use risking injury for a tryout.
From my studies, I knew that the pitching motion was inherently unnatural. I needed to get my body ready physiologically for what I was about to ask it to do. Right then, in front of Coach Garrison, I needed it to throw scorching heat.
After thirty solid minutes of warming up, I looked at Garrison and said confidently, “I’m ready.”
Garrison crossed his arms and put his hand on his chin. "You warmed up? Good. I like that you didn't rush. That's a sign of a pitcher that understands his body."
He stood behind me and held up a radar gun. “I’m ready when you are.”
Taking a deep breath, I imagined Kassie right there with me. I imagined how our life wouldn’t have to change if I got on this team so close to LSU. I imagined seeing her beautiful face every morning. As I threw that ball, I imagined our future together.
Garrison whistled. “Wow. 104.”
I turned around to face him. He smiled, “Welcome to the New Orleans Baby Cakes.”
The Baby Cakes were a Triple-A team. Triple-A teams were the highest level of play in the Minor Leagues and are intended to prepare players for the Major Leagues. Not only would I able to continue to be with Kassie, but the Baby Cakes were an affiliate of the Miami Marlins! This gave me a direct shot onto getting on the Marlins and bringing me back to Miami. By then, Kassie would be out of school.
When I got back into Baton Rouge, it was only four in the afternoon. I swung by Boudreaux's Jewelers. With the help of the saleswoman, I picked out a 1-carat princess cut diamond ring in white gold. The ring would look beautiful on Kassie's hand.
I walked into the apartment to see Kassie there, sitting on the couch watching House. I had a dozen red roses in my arms. She looked up smiling. “Are those for me?”
Looking down at the roses, I joked, “These? No. Absolutely not. These are mine.”
She hopped up from the couch, beaming and kissing me on the cheek. Taking the roses from me and smiling, she said, “These are so beautiful! I’m going to put these in water.”
I followed her into the kitchen. She turned to me with her eyes sparkling, “I killed my two exams today, Ryan! I don’t want to jinx it, but I think I’m going to be on the Dean’s List again!”
She grabbed a vase from the top cabinet, making her shirt ride up a bit on her back. Seeing that sliver of soft skin got me going, but I restrained myself.
Before she turned back around, I took out the ring from my pocket, opened the case, and got down on my knee. Kassie chattered on, “And Dr. Zhu wants to keep me on as her research assistant over the summer! She’s giving me a little bump in pay too!”
She spun back around with the vase in her hand. Seeing the vase wobble in her hands, I caught it from her. Her hand clamped around her open mouth. She whispered, “Ryan.”
Placing the vase carefully down on the floor, I picked up the ring again and held it out to her. She looked down at the ring and back at my face. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.
Looking into her lovely face, I said confidently, “Kassie Fairchild, will you be my wife?”
Kassie whimpered, “What about baseball? What about everything? What are we...”
I broke in, “I’m going to be on the New Orleans Baby Cakes. I don’t have to move away.”
Kassie gasped. “Oh my God! Really?”
I nodded. “Will you marry me, Kassie?”
Kassie shrieked, “Yes! Yes! I will marry you, Ryan Romero!”
Taking the ring out of the case, I slipped it on Kassie’s slender finger. She gushed, “It’s gorgeous! Oh my God! It’s gorgeous!”
As I attempted to stand, Kassie threw herself on me, making me lose my balance. We fell to the hardwood floor where she covered me in kisses all over my face and down my neck. She hit that spot that made me crazy while running her fingers through my scalp.
Kassie had on a short pink pleated skirt. My hands crawled up her thighs to her round ass. She didn’t have any panties on. I pulled back away in shock.
She laughed, pulling down my workout pants. “I was waiting for you to come home.” She took my heavy cock out immediately, plunging it into her wet mouth. I moaned in ecstasy, watching her suck me off.
Gently pushing her up, I lifted her shirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her round breasts and her already erect pink nipples looked glorious. I licked and sucked the hard little nubs as Kassie murmured, “I love your tongue on my nipples.”
She grabbed my pulsing dick quickly, shoving it into her dripping wet pussy. I groaned almost coming instantly. Her cunt was so tight and wrapped around my dick snugly.
I laid back and watched as Kassie rode me. She ran her hands under my shirt, feeling my chest and abs with hungry moist palms. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward, moaning and enjoying herself. Her breasts swung to and fro in my face as she rose and fell on my hungry cock. “You’re so hot, Kassie!” I licked her nipples as her breasts bobbed in front of me.
“Ryan, I’m going to come!” Kassie cried.
Flicking my tongue faster on her swinging tits, I groaned, “Come, baby! Come for me!”
Kassie moaned loudly arching her back and swiveling her hips. I loved watching her come. After a few moments, her eyes opened with a naughty grin. “I’m going to make you come now,” she declared.
Still wearing that sexy little skirt, she planted her feet on both sides of me in a squatting position. Slowly, she lifted herself up and then slammed back down on me. I moaned from the force. “Oh my God, Kassie! That feels amazing!”
Kassie did it again, rising right up off my dick and then slamming back down onto it. The delicious squeeze of entering her tight pussy was too much. “You like that?” Kassie murmured, watching my face.
I couldn’t speak as she continued to ride me. Exploding with violent force, I groaned and lifted Kassie off my dick. I spurt my cum out all over her little pink skirt.
Out of breath, I said, “I’m sorry!”
Kassie laughed, holding her hand out to look at her ring. “It’s so beautiful! I don’t care about this skirt!”
She tumbled down on me, kissing me again all over my face. Chuckling, I asked, “Do you like the ring?”
Kassie kissed me on my lips. “I love it! And I love you!”
On our kitchen floor, I held her to my chest, looking up at the ceiling. “I love you, too.”
Our dream come true would never have to end.
But this story does…
Temptation - Special Preview
Chapter 1
"Look at this place. Not a man here I would give the time of day to,” Kylie Michaels complained, waving a dismissive hand at the crowd around the bar. Shaking her head, she sighed. “I can’t believe there are almost four million men in New York City, and these pieces of rubble are what we get to choose from tonight.”
Theresa Brighton snorted and motioned for the bartender to bring her another drink. “Why do you even try? I
gave up a long time ago.” And with good reason. At 28, she’d already gone through one nasty divorce after a hell of a relationship. She had no intention of seeking out another.
Scoffing, Kylie shook her head. "One bad round doesn't count, especially if it's not your fault. Besides, you could do better." But her attention had already turned elsewhere, her eyes focused on the television to their right behind and above the bar. Reesa trained her gaze on it, and she sighed in exasperation.
Marcus Winters, the Soccer Savior for the Seattle Sounders, dominated the screen. Sure, he was gorgeous, but he was as fake and phony as they came, she figured. "Come on, Kylie," she chided as she wrinkled her nose at the interview airing. "You see that smile? How crooked it is? And how he tilts his head ever so slightly so he looks completely cocky and self-absorbed? It's all an act."
“How dare you say that to me?” Kylie asked in mock offense. Or maybe she really meant it. Reesa didn’t know anymore. She’d grown used to her friend’s celebrity crush on the famous center midfielder and striker. Yes, she’d even had to learn the jargon because of her best friend’s obsession. “That grin is as genuine as they come. See that dot in his cheek? You can’t fake dimples.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s as genuine as his perfectly golden tan,” Reesa laughed, blowing a kiss to the bartender as he handed her the drink. She really needed it, if they might end up talking sports all night. “Listen, Kylie, these guys are nothing like they seem on television. In real life, they’re human, and they don’t have good attitudes. I bet Marcus Winters is one of the most socially awkward people on this planet, and he would sit here at this bar, saying the same things about the women that we say about the men, just to avoid having to approach one of them on his friend’s insistence.”
“You’re a hater,” Kylie pouted.
Reesa just shrugged. “Oh, well. Speaking of which, you’re no longer allowed to avoid the stare of that handsome young man over there.” She pointed to a pretty blonde man who’d spent the last fifteen minutes ogling Kylie. “I know he’s no soccer superstar, but he’s a close second.” She gave her friend a shove and watched her weave her way to the other end of the bar. She didn’t turn away until she knew Kylie had joined in conversation and seemed okay.
