by Lane Hart
Now that we’re outside in the cool fall darkness without witnesses, I turn to Quinton and ask him, “Why? Have you already slept with them?”
“Yes,” he says, which is definitely not the answer I was expecting. Before I can walk away, Quinton wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, trapping me, warming me and blocking the windy chill from the ocean. “But I don’t remember either one of them.”
“Like I believe that,” I mutter with my face turned away toward the sounds of the waves crashing on the other side of the deck.
“I couldn’t even tell you their names,” he says.
“Like that makes it better?” I huff.
“All I remember is you,” he says, bending down to kiss my neck and spreading a different type of cold chills down my arms. “Our first time on the sofa. The second time in our bed. The third in the guest room. The fourth when you wore the blue and yellow lingerie in Baltimore. Should I keep going? Because I remember all thirty-six times.”
“Thirty-six?” I repeat.
“Yeah, thirty-six,” he says as his lips continue to move over my neck, making my knees go weak. “I couldn’t forget them if I tried.”
“Hold on. Did you say our bed?” I ask when my brain catches up. With Quinton’s mouth on me, it makes it hard to think.
“Come on, Callie. You’ve been staying over for weeks now. Why don’t you just move in? Make it official?”
“I-I can’t. It’s too soon.”
Quinton pulls his lips away and straightens to his full gigantic height. “You just want to have an exit strategy, right?” he asks. “So you can up and leave Brady and me whenever you want? Well, that’s bullshit. I know you have trust issues, but do you really think I would be trying to make a baby with you if I wanted anyone else? Or ask you to live with me and travel with me if I was gonna cheat on you?”
“No, but –” I start.
“No buts. I’m not him. I would never hurt you like he did.”
“Right, because you’ve already slept with Bianca.”
Once the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a low blow to my sister, who is gone, and Quinton. But I don’t get the chance to apologize for them.
“I didn’t sleep with her,” he tells me. “I fucked her, once, when I was drunk in a bar. It was stupid and careless, but I don’t regret it. Now I have you and Brady. He needs you to be his mother, and I need you to love me enough that you’ll stick around even when things get tough.”
“I could never recover from you cheating on me,” I tell him, tears burning my eyes.
“That’s only one of the reasons I would never hurt you that way,” he says taking my face in his hands. “I’m in love with you, Callie, and I don’t want anyone else.”
“I…I love you too,” I admit to him, even though it’s so scary to step out on that cliff and chance getting thrown off of it again.
Before my doubts and fears can come creeping in, Quinton’s kissing them away, as if he knows our words aren’t enough. Now, he’s determined to show me how much he loves me. His hands move down my back and lift when they get to my bottom, hoisting me up his body so that my center is aligned with the proof of his need for me.
Without breaking our kiss, Quinton moves us to the dark corner of the deck where he sits me on the wooden rail. I reach underneath his tunic and jerk his boxers down just enough to free his cock, then my arms are back around his neck, urging him to keep his mouth on mine. Thanks to the short skirt of my dress, Quinton’s fingers easily seek and find my pussy covered only by the narrow fabric of my purple thong. Yanking the material to the side, his fingertips start to play me like a familiar instrument, knowing exactly how to touch me, to make me crazy with need for him. Quinton swallows my moans as he prepares me for his thick cock, making me orgasm in record-breaking time.
“Thirty-seven,” he whispers against my lips right before he withdraws his fingers and thrusts his cock into me.
My head falls back when I cry out at the sudden fullness of his invasion. And when he grips my hips and starts to move, I wrap my legs around his waist to try to keep him from retreating. Quinton’s mouth devours my neck and moves lower to my cleavage while he slams his powerful hips desperately into me. I should be worried about someone seeing us like this, but I’m not. This is what I need, right here, right now.
Grabbing a handful of Quinton’s green Mohawk, I give a sharp tug on it so that when he lifts his face, I’m able to kiss his lips, tasting him, mating our tongues in the same erotic rhythm of our lower bodies.
Like the waves crashing behind us, the pleasurable pressure builds again until it crests and breaks from deep inside me. At the same moment, Quinton slams into me one last time, groaning through his own release.
“Better every time,” he whispers against my lips as he keeps kissing me.
“The dress is convenient,” I tease him. “Yours and mine.”
Chuckling, he says, “One of the few benefits.”
“You should be proud,” I tell him, combing my fingers through his hair. “Not many men could wear this costume with green hair and still look hot.”
“It’s a curse,” he says as he slips out of me and pulls his boxer briefs back up. “At least you can see what’s underneath. Literally and figuratively.”
“True,” I admit. “And yet, I still love you.”
“Then I’m a lucky man,” he says placing a kiss on my temple.
“Oh, that reminds me,” I tell him when I remember the email that came in earlier today. “You know how you told me a few weeks ago that you would like to finish your degree?”
“Yeahhh,” he says slowly like he’s not sure what direction this is headed.
“Well I heard back from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, and they’ve accepted you into one of their online programs for the spring semester. They were able to get your transcript from Ohio, and you’re only thirty credits away from a business degree!”
“Seriously?” Quinton asks. “You got me into school here?”
“Ah, yeah. But I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to…”
“I do, I want to,” he interrupts. “It’s just…I’m not sure if I can do it on my own.”
“Of course you can,” I assure him, combing my fingers through his green hair. “And I told you, I’ll be here to help you out.”
“Thank you,” he says, kissing my cheek. “For the acceptance and for agreeing to stick around.”
“It’s nothing,” I tell him.
“It's everything. You are everything,” he replies, kissing my lips. “Now, should we go back to the party?” he asks when he pulls away.
I consider facing all those people again, the women who have been with Quinton and want him again so badly you can practically see them salivating. I think I would rather deal with my annoying ex-husband or the tabloids than go back in there.
“Can we just go home?” I ask as he picks me up from the rail and places my feet back on the deck’s wooden planks.
“Yeah, sure,” Quinton agrees when he takes my hand to lead me back inside, heading toward the parking lot. “We could put on a movie and pop some popcorn if you want.”
“That sounds like the best date ever,” I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze of appreciation.
Everything almost seems too good, too perfect to be true. Which makes me start to wonder if it really is.
Chapter Thirty-One
Callie
The next Friday, I wake up with my nose so stuffy I can’t breathe, but even worse are the horrible stomach cramps. Forget the stupid cold, I just know that another month has sadly come and gone. I feel so shitty and depressed that I never want to leave this bed again. But Quinton’s leaving soon for another away game. We haven’t had sex since last Friday night at the Halloween party because of long practices during the bye week and my snotty, very unsexy head cold. If I don’t go with him this weekend, will he give in to temptation?
“Morning,” Quinton
says, pressing a kiss to my neck, his prominent morning wood attempting to bury itself in my ass if it’s not taken care of soon.
And while I want him, and I always want him, this morning I just can’t do it. Especially when his palm slips around and rubs over my bloated, aching stomach with all the doubts running through my head.
Removing his hand from my belly and placing it on my hip, I ask him, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
The team leaves around one today to fly to the west coast for Sunday’s game, traveling a day earlier than usual to give all the players some time to adjust to the jet lag.
“We’ve got time for this before I have to go,” he assures me before he starts tugging down my pajama bottoms.
“I’m not in the mood this morning, Quinton,” I say sternly and jerk them back up.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing his palm up and down my arm. “Is your cold getting worse? Maybe you should go to the doctor since you’ve been sick for almost a week.”
“It’s not the cold,” I tell him, sniffling through the tears. “I just…I don’t want to have sex with you every freaking day.”
His hand freezes on my arm, and I instantly regret my words.
“Right, well, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure all the orgasms I’ve given you even when it’s not the ‘right time’ of the month to get knocked up,” he snaps. “All you have to do is tell me so, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Yeah, and then you’ll just go and get off with one of your many adoring fans instead,” I remark.
Quinton scoffs from behind me. “I can’t believe you said that. Is that really what you think I’ll do even after I told you I love you? That if you don’t fuck me, I’ll find someone who will?” he asks. “Is that…is that the only reason you fuck me if you’re not ovulating?”
I shrug because, while that’s not entirely true, it is partially why I don’t ever turn him down even if I’m not really in the mood. All Quinton has to do is kiss me for about ten seconds, and that quickly changes; but still, I also worry that he’ll wander if his sex drive doesn’t get its needs met.
“I’m not gonna cheat on you, Callie, whether we go weeks or, hell, even months without sex,” he tells me.
“You say that now, but wait until it’s been a few weeks like this one when I’m sick, and some slutty younger woman throws herself at you like they always do,” I tell him. “You’ll give in.”
“No, I would never do that to you,” he argues. “Before we met, yeah, I would’ve. That was when I was still single and didn’t have anyone to come home to. When I didn’t know what it felt like to actually need someone else in my life. But I need to know that you want to be with me because you love me and need me too, as much as I need you. Not just because you’re trying to get pregnant.”
“I do love you, but how could I ever trust someone like you when a regular man couldn’t stay faithful to me?” I ask him.
“I don’t know,” he answers on a sigh. “I guess it’s gonna take some time for me to prove it to you.”
“That’s the problem,” I argue. “You won’t be able to prove you didn’t do something.”
“So you’re telling me that no matter what I do or say, you’re gonna always assume the worst of me?” he asks.
“Probably.”
“Then I’ll just take you with me everywhere I go,” he says before climbing out of bed. I hear dressers opening and closing as he moves around the room. “Let’s move your flight up so you can leave today too.”
“No,” I reply, unmoving from the pillow.
“Then get some rest and go to the doctor so you can come tomorrow.”
“No, I’m not coming this weekend.”
“What? Why not?” Quinton asks, coming around the bed to stand in front of me, naked, with his fists on his hips, his cock swinging long and proud. If we weren’t arguing, I would point out his resemblance to the Jolly Green Giant. Instead, I tell him the truth.
“Because I don’t feel like leaving the house. I’m sick and my stomach’s cramping. My stupid period is about to start,” I admit, more tears overflowing from my eyes.
“Fuck, Callie,” Quinton mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That’s what this argument is all about? You’re upset because I failed you again?”
“You didn’t fail me. I’m the one who can’t get pregnant! Brady is proof that you’re not the one with a problem.”
“It’s only been two months. We’ll try again –”
“Don’t,” I interrupt him with a shake of my head. “Just go, okay?”
“I want you to come with me,” he says. “Please? It might be good for you to come out to California and get your mind off everything.”
“I can’t keep following you around just to make sure you don’t cheat!” I yell at him since there’s not a single ounce of motivation left inside me to get out of this bed today.
Quinton curses under his breath before he walks into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him.
Quinton
The flight to California passed in a blur of me alternating between brooding and being grumpy, snapping at other players for annoying me. I’m frustrated with seeing Callie so heartbroken and not being able to do shit about it.
“My card doesn’t work,” I tell the young, bleach blonde hotel clerk at the front desk. The team usually has someone hand out all the keys and room assignments when we get off the plane so that there’s no waiting around when we get to the hotel. Today, of all days, when I just want to hide out in my room, my key card is broken.
“I’m so sorry. Let me get that fixed right away for you,” the clerk replies with a smile that only makes me frown harder. After I give her my room number and name, she swipes another card for me.
“Thanks for joining us this weekend, Mr. Dunn. Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asks.
“No, thanks,” I assure her.
“Well, complimentary dining is included for your stay, along with the spa services if you need a massage in the privacy of your own room. We really appreciate your team staying with us here at the Pavilion. And as the daytime manager, I promise that we’ll take care of any and all of your needs while you’re here.”
That’s an invitation for sex if I’ve ever heard it.
And yeah, while in the past I would work off my frustration with a nameless, faceless woman, now, the thought of being with anyone who isn’t Callie is impossible. Even if she distrusts me, currently hates me, and hasn’t bothered to answer any of my texts from before our flight left hours ago.
Without even replying to the clerk, I grab my new key cards and walk toward the elevator bank, ready to get to my room and sack out. I try calling Callie once I’m settled in, but she doesn’t answer. Not wanting to call the house phone since it’s getting late and Brady’s probably asleep, I send her a text with the hotel’s phone number and my room number in case there’s no service on my cell and hope to hear from her tomorrow after she’s calmed down.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Callie
“Hey, I brought you another box of tissues,” Kelsey says when she knocks on the bedroom door Saturday morning.
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“Maybe you should go to the doctor today. Your nose sounds even stuffier than it did yesterday.”
“Ugh. My face is so swollen that my head feels like it’s about to explode,” I tell her, rolling over in bed to accept the box of tissues. Kelsey picks up the empty one on the side table to trash it for me.
“Call the doctor. It’s Saturday, so I don’t know about yours, but most offices close around noon.”
“Fine,” I agree, reaching for my phone and ignoring Quinton’s texts and missed calls to try and get an appointment. They set me up for noon, the last one of the day.
“There, happy?” I ask Kelsey once it’s done.
“I’ll text Quinton and let him know since he’s been asking about you,” she replies, taking a seat on the edge of
the bed. “Why are you ignoring him?”
“We sort of had a fight, and I told him I didn’t feel like going to the game.”
“I’m sure he understands. You’ve been sick for days.”
“The argument was about more than the game,” I tell her, reaching for a handful of tissues to blow my nose. Some of the previous boxes of tissues I’ve been through were for my tears, not just the cold.
“Well, maybe some time apart will cool things down,” she offers.
“Maybe,” I agree, thinking I was a pretty big bitch to Quinton yesterday morning. The only way I can trust him is to give him time to prove he can be faithful to me. And the fact that he wants me to go with him on all the away games is a pretty good sign that he doesn’t want to cheat on me. If he did, he would insist I stay home instead of buying my plane tickets himself.
A few hours later and I’m death warmed over, sitting on the edge of the exam table in Dr. Sutton’s office.
“Hi, Callie,” my family doctor says when she walks in with her electronic tablet.
“Hi,” I croak.
“Bad cold that’s getting worse?” she asks.
“Yeah. It started about three days ago and doesn’t seem to want to go away,” I tell her as she puts on her gloves and comes over to shine the light in my eyes, ears and down my throat. “Does it hurt here?” she asks, pressing on the swollen skin underneath my eyes.
“Yes,” I tell her with a cringe.
“Have you been upset? Crying? Because some of this is from what is definitely a sinus infection, but your eyes look a little bloodshot.”
“It’s nothing serious,” I admit. “My…significant other and I have been trying to get pregnant, but it looks like this month is a failure too.”
“But the nurse put down that your last period was five and a half weeks ago. Are your cycles normally that long?”
“Oh, no. I’m usually right around twenty-eight days if not shorter because of the endometriosis. I’ve been having bad cramps for a few days, so I’m sure I’m about to start,” I tell her.
