Lasting Fate

by Charisse Spiers

  She wraps her arms around me from behind. Most of the people are gone around us. Her hands slip under the waist of my pants. Her fingertips are brushing across my clean-shaven pubic area, coming close to my dick, but never touching. It's driving me fucking insane. I want her touching it. "No, but if it has anything to do with what you're doing, I'm ready to find out. Why don't you enlighten me?"

  She pulls her hands free and I'm ready to jump her. "Tonight. I have a surprise for you. Meet me at the end of the tunnel. I'll be the girl waiting for her hot fiancé."

  She releases me completely and slaps me on the ass before walking past me, never looking back. I smile as I watch her retreating form. Who would have thought the shy blonde at the beach that never said an unkind word would become the firecracker she is today. The girl can wind me up so tight I feel like I could snap. The best part of it all is that she's mine.

  I take off running towards the locker room. Coach is going to fucking kill me. Angelique just had to show up and start all of that shit. I'm supposed to be with the team right now. I only went to give Kinzleigh a kiss and I didn't even get that. That's what Kinzleigh does to me though. I get so lost in her that everything else becomes irrelevant no matter how important it is.

  As I come into the locker room everyone has already scattered off to the showers. Shit, I missed the end of game meeting.

  Fisher walks by with a towel around his waist, freshly showered. "Coach wants you in his office," he says as he stops at his locker, opening it.

  That nervous feeling I had earlier comes back full force. What if he kicks me off the team? Dammit, I need to quit acting so self centered. This isn't high school anymore.

  I walk back to his office and he's shuffling through paperwork. "You wanted to see me, Coach?" I walk inside as he looks up.

  "Shut the door, Son."

  Fuck!

  The hardness and edge to his voice doesn't sound good. I turn to shut the door, now shaking from what he's about to say. I stand with my back against the door, propping my foot up against it. I'm clenching the face guard of my helmet in my fist.

  Coach is around mid forties, light brown hair and pale blue eyes. He's a medium build, slightly aged around the eyes, and soft around the midsection, but otherwise in pretty good shape. He wears a gold sports ring on one hand. I'm not sure if it's a handed down family heirloom or his personally.

  "Where were you?" He looks at me, leans back in his chair, and links his fingers on the back of his head.

  "There was something I had to straighten out that occurred at kickoff. Sorry, Coach, it won't happen again."

  "You bet your ass it won't. When you're here you're on my time. I'm not your babysitter, I'm not your daddy, and I'm not your friend, I'm your coach. I have to think about everyone on this team, so in a sense I'm like your boss. What you did after the game was completely unacceptable. We go on the field as a team and exit as a team. We come back here to go over things while they're fresh. Once I dismiss the team you have plenty of time to deal with girlfriends and any other personal mishaps. What do you think would happen if you pulled a stunt like that in the NFL?"

  He looks at me in a brief pause, but not long enough for me to formulate an answer.

  "They could sever your contract or penalize you in one way or another; that's what they would do. Why? Because there are tons of players behind you waiting to take your place that would follow the rules and prioritize accordingly."

  He leans forward and places his forearms on his desk. "You're here, Breyson, because I took a chance on you. I know your high school coach well and I trust his judgment. He never asks me to recruit his players, but with you he called in a favor and personally brought me a game tape. I vouched for you, because I feel like you can bring a lot to this team, but it wasn't easy. I had to go before the athletic department and plead your case for a multitude of reasons. I went out on a limb already, but I don't play favorites. I won't keep you here just because you're a good player. You still have to earn your place just like everyone else on the team."

  "I understand, Coach. You're right. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." I feel like I'm being repetitive, but deep down I'm freaking out.

  "Good. Now, come sit down. There is something else we need to talk about."

  Shit, what now?

  I do as instructed and sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. "What is it, Coach?"

  "I just got word from the trainer that Matt is going to be out for the rest of the season. He tore his ACL and is going to have to undergo surgery to fix it. I'm moving you to first string for the remainder of the season. Right now I can't make any decisions further than that."

  I'm in shock. An ACL injury isn't something to be happy of, but this is giving me a shot at playing. I feel like I'm sitting in a dream. Am I really going to be starting every game? Holy shit. I'm trying to contain my excitement, but it's getting harder the longer I sit here. I can't wait to tell Kinzleigh. "Do I have any objections?"

  "No, sir. Thank you for this opportunity, Coach."

  "Good. I know you aren't on any form of scholarship right now and I can't make any promises, because most of the budget is probably maxed, but I'll get with the athletic department and see if there is anything we can do. Maybe we can at least work out a partial. I'll get with you on it when I know more. For now you are dismissed."

  I stand, ready to hurry up and shower so I can get out of here. I rush to the door and grab the handle. "Oh, Breyson."

  I turn, still holding the door handle in my grasp. "Keep playing like you played tonight and I guarantee you won't have any problems getting another starting spot come next season. Your ability to think out of the box and take risks will carry you places. I can tell you have the heart for the game, and that alone makes all the difference."

  "Thanks, Coach," I say and head out the door. I need to hurry. I have a girl waiting on me...

  Kinzleigh

  I can do this. I can do this. There is nothing to be nervous about. It's only Breyson.

  I pace back and forth at the opening of the tunnel, waiting on him to exit. Mom called and made all of the arrangements while I packed our bags. I was surprised to find out once I got to talk with Mom that she had the problem of another woman trying to interfere once before my parents got married. I should have given her a chance a long time ago.

  After Breyson left I went to change. I want to look my best. I put on a sexy bra and panty set that matched, along with sheer stockings that hooked to my panties for added sex appeal. Now that I'm finally comfortable in my own body I decided to be a little risqué with my choice of outfit. I went with a hot pink, long sleeve, cotton dress that stops at mid thigh, but fitted all the way down and low-cut scoop neck in the front, revealing the necklace I have yet to take off as well as the amazing post pregnancy cleavage. I’ve never had boobs to brag about until I got pregnant, but I’d have to say the size is a plus, and they have yet to decrease. Maybe, they will become a permanent fixture.

  It’s a dress Mom bought last winter when she had to go back to California for a high profile case. She always brings me back outfits that are to die for when she goes away on business. The woman has impeccable taste, but I always stuck them in the back of my closet afraid to get out of my comfort zone.

  The heels of my black booties are tapping against the concrete from my nerves. I finally put on the shoes that Presley brought me from Italy. I've never dressed like this in front of Breyson or ever for that matter. I've never been confident enough to pull it off. That was always Presley. I never had the boobs for it either until Bryce changed that.

  Mom agreed to keep him so Breyson and I could have a weekend together away from home. I've been storing milk since he was born and I packed my pump to keep it up while I'm away. I hate to leave him, but I never want us to get away from having time as a couple, even though we're young parents. It was another thing Mom and I talked about. She explained how imperative it really is to make time for each other in the midst of ki
ds and busy lives, and that it is the foundation for the temptations that will arise during a marriage, especially if either of us are successful in our careers. The thought that Angelique is only the beginning starts another whole ball of nerves. I hope that I'm always enough for him.

  I look down at my watch. Breyson always does this to me no matter how long we are together. He always gives me a stomach full of butterflies and leaves me breathless. I hope I don't screw this up. I've never planned a romantic getaway before. I want this weekend to be perfect, especially after tonight with him getting to play.

  I can hear footsteps coming through the tunnel. This is it. I take my place in the middle of the tunnel at the end, holding a red, long-stemmed rose. He walks into the light and my heart stops like it always does when I see him for the first time. He's wearing a navy polo with a hot pink, brand logo stitched on the left chest to match my dress. His jeans are a faded blue, contrasting against the dark of his shirt, and fit perfectly over his sculpted legs. He even gelled his hair. He's beautiful.

  He stops when he sees me. The look he gives me as his eyes scan down my body has my heart doing somersaults. I know I made the right decision based on the heated look in his eyes. That look makes a girl feel like she can conquer the world.

  He places his right hand over his heart. "What's this?"

  Just breathe. Speak slowly. Eye to eye contact. You got this.

  "I've come to take you away, Mr. Abercrombie. I decided I'd like to keep you to myself for a couple of days."

  He smirks and steps toward me so slowly it's making my nerves continue to tangle into a knot. I'm trying to even out my breathing with each step he takes. I feel like my hands are shaking wrapped around the stem of the rose. Why am I always on an uneven playing field with him?

  He stops two steps from touching me. "Where is it that you're taking me, Miss Baker?

  I extend my hand, holding out the single rose. I smile, suddenly getting a surge of boldness. "That's for me to know and you to find out. What do you say, do you want to go?"

  He takes the rose from my hand. His eyes deepen to a darker shade of blue. His smile enlarges as he weaves the stem through his fingers. He places his hands on my hips, rubbing them over my waist, and toward my back until they are resting on each butt cheek. He squeezes. "Baby, take me anywhere you want to go and I'll always follow."

  He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and I wrap my legs around his waist. He kisses my neck and instantly my eyes close, enjoying the feel of his lips against my skin. I don't pay attention to where he is going, only noticing that he is moving his legs.

  My upper back becomes pressed against cool, hard concrete; the tunnel wall I'm guessing. His lips begin to make a path down my neck towards my cleavage. The closer he gets to the soft bulges peeking out of my neckline, the wetter the trail becomes, now feeling his tongue gliding along my skin. "You look so damn hot, baby. Did you dress up just to take me out?"

  He nips the soft skin just above my neckline, causing me to squeeze my legs tighter around his waist. I feel one hand slip off my backside and reconnect on my knee. My hands link behind his neck for extra support. "I wanted to look sexy for you. I wanted this weekend to be special. I've never gotten to do anything like this for you. I want to keep you happy."

  I can feel his erection pressing between my legs, but confined inside his jeans. I feel ashamed that I want him inside me, even in such a public place. I need him. Everything with Angelique has me on edge. Luckily, we haven't seen anyone passing by.

  He lifts his head to look at me. "You could dress like this or in a pair of sweats and you would be sexy to me, but I won't deny that you have me salivating right now. Here I was prepared to take you out and you've already one-upped me."

  He presses his lips to mine and everything running wild inside calms down. My hands move into the bottom of his hairline as my tongue slides inside of is mouth first. I'm needy right now and need confirmation that it's still only me on his mind. All girls do it from time to time when another woman barges into the picture. They would be lying if they said otherwise.

  He runs his hand up the length of my leg, coming in contact with the straps that connect my stockings to my panties. I hear a throaty groan, but he doesn't stop. Right now he has all the access he needs with my short dress hiked up to my hips. I just want him to take it this time. I need him to be a sex driven man right now.

  He slides his thumb underneath the edging of my panties as he reaches the end of my leg. The light brushing of his thumb pad over my outer fold is driving me crazy. I moan and he presses me harder against the wall, repositioning himself to hold my weight in his opposite arm comfortably.

  He presses into me with his thumb as we continue to kiss. It feels so good but I need more. He breaks free, breathing heavily. "Damn, you're wet. You want it, baby?"

  "Breyson, please..."

  "Tell me what you want, baby."

  "I want you inside me."

  He looks around us to see if anyone is around. The tunnel is dark. The only light shining in is one of the beams from the field lights barely peeking inside the entry to the tunnel. "Here, out in the open? Not that I'm complaining, it's hot, but you are never this bold. The closest we came was a dark closet at New Years that resulted in our son. What's going on? Talk to me."

  I do not want to go into this conversation with him. There are some things that girls need to keep buried deep down into their chest of self-conscious moments. "Just forget it. It's nothing. Come on, let's go."

  Breyson repositions his hand between my legs, exchanging his thumb for his index and middle finger, slipping them inside in unison. I claw my nails down the back of his neck as I close my eyes. "I never said I didn't want it. In fact, I want it really bad. I just want you to tell me what you're thinking. Don't keep things from me. Not even if you think I don't want to hear them."

  He slides his fingers in and out, continuing at a steady rhythm. He rubs his thumb up through my folds, rotating his hand in a rocking motion. Each time he pulls his fingers out his thumb rubs from back to front over my clit and then back down as he slips them back in. "It's stupid," I say, barely able to concentrate while he's doing that. "Please don't make me tell you."

  "Tell me and then I'll fuck you right against this wall." I cannot believe I'm about to resort to bribery, but I want him. I'll always want him no matter what it takes.

  I look him in the eyes as he continues tormenting me with pleasure. He doesn't even act like he's straining to hold me up. I hate myself for asking this question, but I need to know. It's going to plague my mind if I don't. I know he loves me, but the recent unexpected visitor is nestling her unwelcome self in my mind. "Will you be honest? Even if it isn't what I want the answer to be?"

  I study his eyes, knowing that the eyes can't lie. They are the window to the deepest places of a person; places not visible to the naked eye. "I've always told you the truth."

  I take a deep breath. Here goes. "Is there any micro molecule of any kind inside you that still wants her? Will you ever look back on this day, knowing you had the chance to have her, and regret choosing me? I need to make sure that I will be enough for you...for as long as we both shall live."

  His eyes soften a little. He holds me wrapped around him against the wall with his body, but releases his hold on my butt and I hear a zipper being unzipped. He grabs one of my hands from behind his neck and places it around his shaft. "Do you feel how hard you make me? Not an increment of my dick is ever soft around you. I have to give it everything I have to contain myself and keep it under control when I'm with you. That's not just now, baby. It's been that way since I met you, and it’s not just sexual. I’m hard as a fucking rock not only because you’re hot as hell, but also because of the way I feel emotionally about you. Those thoughts you are having, I've had them too. It's like poison taking over your body. It's excruciating and consumes every part of you, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. It’s toxic to your mental health. If I can take the
m away from you I will."

  He places his hand under my thigh to support me, pulls his fingers on the other hand free from me, and places them in his mouth as he sucks them clean. "I wish I could take back what happened in our separation, but I can't. I didn’t know who I was or that this life was real. I never developed feelings for someone else, though, even then. There is not a cell in my body that has or will ever want someone besides you."

  He reaches down and places his hand over mine, moves my panties to the side with his fingers of the hand holding my thigh, and guides his erection between my legs. We both let go as he aligns the head at my entrance, never looking away from each other. With both hands placed under my thighs, he positions me and pulls me closer at the same time he thrusts inside.

  I moan as he fills me completely, and in every possible way. He thrusts in and out in a steady pace, taking his time. "Baby, you will always be more than enough for me. You complete me. For as long as we both live is what I was counting on when I asked you to be my wife. No one else will ever fit together like we do. No one else will ever love or need you as much as me. I will spend the rest of my life showing you that you are the only one I want and need."

  Those thoughts I was having: gone. Sometimes I feel stupid for thinking the things that I do from time to time, but without making me feel more insecure over petty things, he reassures me.

  He reaches between us and begins rubbing his thumb over my clit again, but faster this time. This time he's doing it in a constant fast motion. He does it this way when he wants me to get off, because he won't last. I can already feel it build from my emotions being all over the place. This is what I needed from him: to show me that I still have the same affect on him no matter how many beautiful women want him.

  I clutch his hair in both hands behind his neck and smash my lips to his as my orgasm starts to take over. Like a roller coaster making it to the top after the climb, from here it's a free fall, and though it doesn’t last very long, it’s the biggest rush to the bottom.