by Danica Avet
His phone rang and he thumped his head on the arm of the sofa. “I swear if that’s Mom again, I’m changing my number,” he groused, even though I knew he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if she didn’t call so much.
He rooted around for his phone, tickling me in the process. “That is not your phone,” I told him breathlessly.
Shaun winked and hit speaker. “Yo.”
“Shaun,” a woman said in a quavering voice. He stiffened against me and the happiness faded from his face like someone just blacked out the sun.
“Denise.” His voice came out flat.
My heart was pounding, because I’d never heard him sound so cold, so emotionless. Tucking myself closer to him, I gently stroked his chest. I hate that he has to deal with her. It isn’t a jealousy thing either. What they had together had long faded before we got together. It’s more like I want to wrap him up and protect him from her because every day that passes without her agreeing to anything adds more stress to him. He tries to hide it, but I see it. And it kills me.
“Have you signed the agreement?”
Denise sniffled. “Shaun, you don’t understand, I just can’t—can’t. And I can’t believe you don’t want me anymore, that you’re throwing away our marriage for some fat nobody!”
“First off, don’t ever talk about Kate that way. Secondly, our marriage was garbage, Denise. And you throw out garbage, you don’t keep it.”
She wailed, her voice hysterical. I almost ask Shaun to be nicer, but then she calmed down and spoke in a lost, little girl tone that grated on my nerves.
“Dr. Westerberg isn’t entirely certain I’m ready for release. He thinks I need more therapy sessions before he’ll give me a clean bill of health, b-but the hospital administer told me this morning that there’s barely any money left in my account to cover my stay,” she finished in this breathy tone that dripped with sex. My stomach turned. “If you could just add some more money—”
“No.”
“I just know we’re close to a breakthrough and— What did you say?” she asked, because obviously she thought he’s still wrapped around her finger.
“I said no,” Shaun repeated slowly. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Denise. You have one option here and that’s to sign the agreement this week. I’m finished playing with you.”
“But I’m still under a doctor’s care!” she protested, that helpless tone fading beneath her anger. “And if I don’t have my treatments, just think what that’d look like to the judge,” she added smugly. “Especially when you’re flaunting your whore all over the place, acting like you’re a single man instead of one who was married for eleven years to a woman who devoted her whole life to your happiness.”
“That’s fine, we can go before a judge if you really want to,” he said calmly.
Much calmer than I thought he would. I tilted my head back to stare at him in shock. The last time we spoke about his divorce he said he was trying to avoid turning it into a media circus by keeping it out of the courts. And suddenly he doesn’t care? He looked down at me, his face still an impassive mask, but he stroked a hand over my hair before he continued.
“I imagine the judge would be very interested in the fact that the private investigator my attorney hired found out that you’ve been seen around Los Angeles in the company of one Dr. Chris Westerberg, who gave you all kinds of tonsil exams not approved by the American Doctor’s Association,” he said coldly. “Or that you were also seen with Johnny in Malibu. Or that the total of your treatments and your stay at the hospital don’t add up to what’s been withdrawn from your account.”
Silence from the other end of the line. “You hired an investigator?” she whispered, horror coloring every word.
“My attorney did,” he corrected. “Seems she isn’t impressed with the leniency I’ve shown you, or the way your attorney keeps dodging her phone calls and she decided, with my approval, that it was time to move things along. So now you get to decide if what you have left of your settlement is worth pissing away, or you’ll bring this whole clusterfuck to an end with some dignity and grace.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘what’s left of my settlement’? I haven’t touched it!”
“Where do you think the money was coming from for your treatment, Denise?”
Now, standing in my office, I shake my head at the memory. After that little revelation things just got ugly, with Denise screaming at him, making threats to drag him through court, but I could hear the terror in her voice. Shaun finally hung up and went back to watching the show, as though nothing had happened. We haven’t really talked about it since, but he seems a little less burdened now, although Madison warned him not to get too cocky. I think she trusts Denise’s silence about as much as I do. Not at all.
“Hey Frosty, ready for the big debut?” Levi asks from the hallway, reminding me that I need to be on my A game.
Tonight is the first performance of what we’re calling the Party Anthem Show. Three weeks of practices and the band is finally ready to roll out the new sound. The drumline is going to kill the break and, just like Shaun said, the show highlights the Marching 300’s strongest elements, while downplaying our less impressive parts.
Turning away from the mirror, I grab my messenger bag and sling it across my chest. When I exit my office, it’s to see everyone’s outside and already in formation. I glance at my watch with a frown. They must be really excited about the show to be early for once. Normally it’s like trying to calm a bunch of sugar-crazed toddlers to get them in marching formation before a game.
I step outside and breathe deep. The air’s a little cooler now that we’re in October, but it’s nowhere near the temperatures Mom’s getting back in Chicago. Thinking that I might need to pull out some of my winter clothes just in case south Louisiana proves to be as fickle as Illinois, I take my place next to Mark.
That’s when I hear the snares kick out a familiar rhythm, but one that isn’t part of the cadence. Seconds later, the tubas come in with an even more familiar line and I feel the blood drain from my face. Mark takes a big step back, leaving me facing the entire band as they break into The Commodores’ “Brick House”. And they’re playing it with all their heart, horns blaring, heads bobbing, the drummers with ridiculous grins on their faces.
I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but the fact that Mark is chuckling off to the side makes me think I’m being punk’d. Luckily they don’t play the entire song. Walker bringing it to an end, although the sound continues to reverberate down the street. The crowd of tailgaters waiting for us to march cheers, but my attention is on the goofy smiles aimed my way.
“Welcome to the Marching 300, Katherine,” Mark says loudly enough for everyone to hear as he steps forward again, his hand extended.
I automatically shake it and look down to see he’s pressed something into my palm. It’s a gold pin of the school’s crest with the words ‘Marching 300’ in red beneath it. I’ve seen Mark and some of the section leaders wearing them but I have no idea why he’s giving me one and I look at him questioningly.
“Usually the pin is awarded when a band member attains three years of performance. Or when a staff member goes above and beyond what’s expected of them.” He beams as he looks from me to the band. “The section leaders got together a week ago and voted for you to receive this small token of their appreciation for all the hard work you’ve put into this band and the passion you’ve shown our music program.” He looks back at me and I must look like I’m about to cry—which I am—because he leans forward to whisper, “They played ‘The Baby Elephant Walk’ for my induction.”
It’s the perfect response because, instead of sobbing, I laugh before turning to the students. The little shits. “Thank you! Now let’s go rock this stadium!”
And the 300 cheers.
Kate
I’m high on success, sticky from the small Gatorade dousing the drumline gave me after half-time and excited to be with Shaun after a f
antastic win.
“It was fucking fantastic, baby,” my man tells me, as we pull into the drive. “I don’t think I’ve heard the audience cheer like that for touchdowns.”
I grin at him. “Liar,” I tease. “They were nearly voiceless by the seventh touchdown tonight.”
He leans over the console and steals a kiss. “It was still a kick ass show,” he says when he pulls away, climbing out the driver’s side. “And now everyone knows how talented my woman is,” he adds right before he closes the door.
My heart feels like it might just float out of my chest. Because he’s right. The audience didn’t just enjoy half-time, they fucking loved it. And that enjoyment transmitted to the band on the field until it seemed they were feeding off each other, because the more the audience reacted, the better the band played. It was the perfect night as far as I’m concerned. The band rocked the stadium and the Spartan football teams brought home the win.
“You guys were amazing,” I tell Shaun. He helps me out of the truck and I can’t resist grinning up at him. “I don’t think the male cheerleaders were too happy though. They were doing pushups all night long.” Not that they seemed to mind it.
“It’s been a good season,” he agrees, leading me inside. “Those boys are going to remember it for the rest of their lives.” He tosses his keys on the table and turns to me. “What do you feel like eating tonight?”
I don’t know what comes over me as we stand in his foyer, but he’s there, asking me what he can cook for us, looking sexy as hell, and I just say whatever’s in my heart. I close and lock the front door. Leaning against it, I whisper, “You.”
His eyes widen almost comically. While I have come out of my sexual shell, I haven’t been bold enough to come out and tell him I want to fool around. It just sort of happens when we’re together. But this time, this time, I want everything.
Ignoring the fact that I probably look like a hot mess with my hair sticking to my head and smelling like lime flavored sports drink, I whip off my shirt and drop it at my feet. Shaun’s shocked gaze goes from my face to my chest. I almost falter. Almost. But he’s spent the last several weeks building up my confidence, showing me just how sexy he thinks I am, so I brush the hesitation away and reach down for the buttons of my slacks as I kick out of my shoes and toe off my socks. It isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be and everything sort of jiggles as I do it, but I don’t think Shaun minds.
I look up again, watching his Adam’s apple bob when my pants hit the floor, leaving me in nothing but my bra and panties. I reach behind me to unfasten my bra, but don’t make it before Shaun dives right at me, as though he can’t contain himself anymore. I squeal, darting to the side, and the chase is on.
There’s no way I’ll outrun him, but then again I don’t want to. I want him to catch me, yet I also want to make him work for it. He purposely lets me get away several times, his hands glancing over my curves before I dart away. Each touch is magnified by the hungry expression on his face, sending tendrils of heat throughout my body no matter where we connect. It’s like a strange form of foreplay that has my pussy slick and my heart pounding.
He finally corners me in his bedroom, exactly where I want to be. I turn to face him, chest heaving from the run, and give him another sultry smile that turns into a squeak when he tackles me. We land on the bed in a tangle of limbs.
Breathless, I stare up at Shaun where he’s propped up over me, looming like the sexy beast he is. And I say the first thing that comes to mind. “God, I love you.”
We both freeze. Did I really just blurt out my feelings for him? He looks as stunned as I feel and the strange thing is I don’t regret telling him, because I do love him. He’s everything I could have ever hoped for. And when he cups my cheek, gaze scanning my face almost reverently, I know he feels the same.
But still, when he gives me the words, my throat tightens. “I love you too,” he says huskily, his expression tender. “Damn, but I love you, Katie. So fucking much.”
He kisses me, or I kiss him. I don’t know who initiates, but it doesn’t matter because it’s an exchange of promises to each other. Gentle, sweet, and full of the love I feel, I give everything I am to him and take everything he has to give in return. I don’t know how long we kiss, because it never seems like I can get enough of him, but, as our lips and tongues mate, the kiss changes from gentle and sweet to carnal.
One of his hands cups my breast, his thumb finding my nipple through the material of my bra. I arch my back, partly for more and partly so I can wiggle my arms behind me to unfasten the hooks. Once he feels the cups sag, he pulls away from the kiss to help me out of the contraption. My nipples tighten even more as I stare up at him kneeling over me like some barbarian conqueror. My pussy is so wet, I know it’s visible against the fabric of my panties, and when his gaze strokes down my body, pausing where I want him most, the knowledge is confirmed.
He slides off the bed and hard hands grip the sides of my panties, ripping them down my legs. The roughness of his movements, the proof of how much he wants me, only drives me wilder and, when I’m fully naked, I spread my legs wide for him to see how much he turns me on.
“Shaun,” I whisper, sliding my hands over my nipples and down my stomach, nearing the parted folds of my pussy. “Make love to me.”
His eyes dart from my sex to my face. “Katie?” His voice is so deep it’s almost unrecognizable. He clears his throat. “Are you sure, baby? Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Ever. You’re mine. I won’t let you get away from me again.”
His words cause more moisture to coat my folds, so much that I feel it trickle down my crack. I slide one hand over my pussy, finding my clit swollen and my lips so slick with arousal, it instantly coats my fingers. “Shaun, I need you to make love to me. Please.”
He seems to swell before my eyes, an almost predatory look taking over his face. But he doesn’t ravish me the way I expect him to. No, the contrary man reaches over to hit a switch that turns on all the lights in the room. I almost cover myself, but I get distracted. Why? Because my man begins a striptease that leaves me panting for more. Who needs Magic Mike when I have Shaun Decker?
Shaun
I was already turned on. The chase around the house got my adrenaline up. Watching her cute little ass jiggle as she ran made my dick hard, but none of it compared to this. Struggling to get out of my clothes, because I’m desperate to be inside Katie, I watch completely spellbound as she strokes her slick little clit. Her eyes are on me, dark and mysterious behind her glasses, her hair is fanned out over my bedspread, and she’s fucking killing me, I want her so much.
“Shaun,” she says, all breathless like, as soon as my pants hit the floor. Her fingers circle her clit, strumming it, and I swear my dick is going to explode. “I want you inside me.”
My hands are shaking as I kick out of my shoes and hop on one foot then the other to remove my socks, cock bobbing all over the place. I probably look ridiculous, but I can’t seem to care. Not when the scent of her need is thick in the air, rousing the beast inside of me. Free of all clothing, I fumble for the condoms I keep in my nightstand. I’d bought them only a couple of weeks ago, the optimist in me wanting to be prepared if Katie decided she was ready to move forward.
Now that she has, I’m all fucking thumbs. My lungs billow for air, my cock strains for her as I try to tear open the fucking packet.
“Motherfucker,” I growl as I struggle, the foil flying out of my hands to land on the bed. I pick it up and try again, when a soft, slim hand reaches out to take it from me.
“Let me do it,” Katie purrs, having sat up in the bed, her knees on either side of where I stand next to the bed. The position puts her face right on level with my dick and she looks up at me with that devilish smile. “Poor baby.”
Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. But then I can’t think at all because she presses a butterfly-soft kiss on the tip of my cock. My eyes roll at the touch and then squeeze shut when she stro
kes her tongue over me, lapping at the pre-cum slicking the crown. Every muscle in my body seizes at the rasp on sensitive skin. We’ve made each other come with our hands and mouths for the last few weeks, but I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her mouth on me.
She hums softly as she takes me deeper, sliding me between those pretty lips of hers, and sucks. My hands find her hair, the soft curls clinging to me as I just hold her. I want to thrust but I know if I do I’ll come down her throat and, while that’d feel fucking fantastic, I need to be inside her tight pussy. When her hand, slick from her arousal, cups my balls, I know if I don’t stop her now, I’ll finish too fucking soon.
“No,” I grunt, because my dick doesn’t mind if I come now. It’s just my brain and my possessiveness that want more than a blow job. I tug on her hair, a little groan leaving her at the pull. “I need to be inside you, baby.”
She releases me, but not before she torments me with a slow roll of her tongue against the underside of my cock that makes my toes curl. “That works for me,” she says breathlessly, lips swollen from kisses and sucking my dick.
I can’t make myself let go of her hair as she opens the foil and takes out the condom. How could such a normal, practical routine seem so sexy when she does it? Because it’s Katie. It’s the way she watches me, with a soft, almost shy smile, as she rolls it down my length, the firm grip of her hand making my balls tingle. It’s the tiny kiss she places on my wrist when she turns her head.
Love. That’s why I find everything about her sexy. It’s because I love her more than anything. As she peeks up at me through her eyelashes and those damn glasses, I realize if Corey called me right now to tell me the Patriots wanted to sign me as a first string tight end, but I’d have to leave Katie behind, I’d tell him no. I love her more than the career and game I thought was the sum of my whole fucking life. And it’s that epiphany that helps to loosen the tight grip of desperation I feel to have her.
