by Lane Hart
“I don’t want Quinton to find out or anyone else,” I tell her since it’s so shameful. “Will you keep this to yourself? Quinton may blame me for causing problems with his friends or make a big deal out of it when it’s probably already over.”
“As long as you’re sure that these are your choices and not blackmail.”
“Absolutely,” I tell her honestly. “There’s no coercion needed to convince me to take part in a repeat of the Christmas party if they’re still interested after Friday. But that’s highly unlikely.”
“Then I guess you’re a lucky girl and you’re gonna make a ton of women jealous,” Callie says with a grin.
“Why, because I’ve been with both?”
“No, because you’ve single-handedly pussy whipped two of the country’s most eligible bachelors,” she explains. “I’m not sure if you could hear them arguing in the hallway, but they’ve got it bad for you. I don’t think dates on Friday night with other women is going to change that.”
“It’s just a competition –” I start, but Callie interrupts when she pats my knee and gets to her feet.
“Quinton has told me all about how Cameron and Nixon have always bet on everything under the sun. Win some, lose some, they’ve remained best friends for years. Now they’re brawling during practice, which they both know could’ve gotten them benched or even suspended.” Turning to face me, she says, “This is more than a bet. You are already more than a bet. It’s only gonna get worse and wreak havoc on their friendship, so you need to make a decision to end it entirely or pick one now before they kill each other or lose their football contracts.”
God, Callie’s right. It would be crazy of me to keep dragging this out and give in to being with both again.
But when my phone beeps in my hand with a text from Nixon telling me I better show up at Cameron’s house Friday after dinner and then a message from Cameron pops up on the screen a moment later saying I don’t have to come over after our date but he really hopes I will, it’s impossible for me to refuse.
Just one more night with the two hottest wide receivers in the league, and then I’ll end it.
Chapter Twelve
Cameron
“We’re seriously…gonna set Kelsey…up on a date Friday?” I ask Nix between gasps when we take a much-needed water break during practice.
“Yep,” he answers.
I gulp down the refreshing beverage, toss the empty cup in the big trash bin, then grab another one to sip on. “And we’re really gonna date her friends?”
Nixon takes a sip from his own cup. “Yep.”
Then, I start thinking about the part that I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about, being inside Kelsey again even though I know I shouldn’t, that a repeat performance could turn into a huge distraction on the field. Right now, with my contract up in the air, and not knowing if it will get renewed by the Wildcats, I need to concentrate on catching as many passes as possible and getting in the end zone to impress the team. This is the absolute worst time for me to start something with a woman, especially something as complicated as a threesome with my best friend. Former best friend.
As if he’s reading my mind, Nixon lowers his voice so that only I can hear it and asks, “Afterward, you still want her to come over to your place so we can both fuck her, right?”
I can barely prevent a groan of need from escaping my lips.
“I can’t fuck her,” I remind him which makes me want to cry. “Do you think she would…you know, get on her knees for me?”
“Hell yes,” Nix replies, grinning over the rim of the cup. “All we have to do is ask, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be game.” Pausing a moment, he says, “But don’t think for an instant that you’re gonna go around me and have the night alone with her.”
“Now would I try to do something so low?” I ask sarcastically.
“Yes,” he answers right away before he puts his cup of water to his lips and throws the rest of the clear liquid back. “And if I thought I stood a chance at convincing her to just come home with me, you know I would take it.”
“Right,” I mutter. “So, who are we gonna bring for her date?” I ask.
“Well, he can’t be hot,” Nix offers as he tosses his empty cup in the trash can.
“Of course not.”
“And he can’t be charismatic,” he adds.
“No way,” I agree. “Do we even know any unattractive, uncharismatic people?” I tease.
“I’m sure we can find someone,” he replies with a shrug of his shoulder pads.
“Hey guys,” Steve, our water boy, chooses the perfect time to flounce over. When he pushes his thick-framed glasses further up his nose, I know he’s the man for the job. “Do you need any water bottles to go?” he asks.
“Ah, no,” Nix tells him before he looks at me with his eyebrow lifted in question. I’m on it.
“So, Steve,” I say. “Are you currently seeing anyone?”
Taking off his glasses, he uses his jacket to clean the lens before putting them back on. “My glasses are a little foggy, but yeah, I can see okay.”
“No,” Nix says with a slap of his hand on his narrow shoulder. “What he meant was, are you dating anyone?”
“Oh,” Steve says in understanding. “No. Not at the moment. I met a girl online; but when we were supposed to meet, she never showed.”
“That’s too bad,” I tell him, feeling genuinely bad for the guy. “How would you like to accompany a beautiful girl to dinner Friday night?” I ask.
“Seriously?” he exclaims, brown eyes going wide behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Yes,” Nix replies. “I bet you could use a little extra cash too with Christmas right around the corner?”
“Well, sure,” Steve agrees.
“Then Nix and I will pay you to come to dinner with us and Quinton’s babysitter, Kelsey, Friday night.”
“Wow! Great!” he says.
“A few…small conditions,” I tack on.
“Okay, that’s cool,” Steve agrees.
“No matter what, you can’t touch her,” Nix growls with a finger pointed at him. “Not even accidentally.”
“No touching. Got it,” Steve says with a vehement nod of his head.
“And after dinner, you can’t see her again,” I warn. “Not even in your spank bank dreams.”
Shaking his head, he says, “I wouldn’t do that. I’m saving myself for marriage.”
“Even touching yourself?” Nix asks in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Steve answers, but I don’t believe that for an instant.
“Then, that’s perfect,” I tell him. “Meet us at Donovan’s on Third Street at seven.”
“Great,” he replies. “I’ve never been there before. Is it fancy? Should I wear my bow tie?”
Nix and I look at each other before we both answer simultaneously with, “Definitely.”
…
Kelsey
We found you a date.
That simple text message from Nixon shouldn’t cause my good mood to crash and burn, but it does.
I’m still waiting to hear back from two girls I met at school, Holly and Betsy, about whether or not they’re free Friday, and Cameron and Nixon have already found my date. They didn’t waste any time.
He’s a good guy but he’s sort of a dork.
Okay, so that follow-up message makes me smile before I type out a response.
How did you know that dork is just my type?
It’s true. I haven’t had but two serious-ish relationships and they were with the chess team president in high school and then an entomology major my sophomore year of college. The second man wanted to study insects for a living when I can’t even stand to look at pictures of bugs without my skin crawling.
Even if those two guys were geeks, they were still sweet and caring. Neither ever cheated on me, either. Trust and loyalty are more important to me than a nice body. Brains are sexy. Not as sexy as two football players in particular, but
still, there’s nothing wrong with dorks. I prefer them actually. Less chance of getting hurt with a socially awkward guy than a professional panty magician who can say poof and they’re gone!
Well, shit. Now Cam and I have really fucked up.
I actually giggle at Nixon’s next text message.
I’m still waiting to hear back from your date, I tell him. Do you want me to send you a picture of her?
No. I want you to send me a picture of you.
No.
Why would he want a picture of me? I take horrible pictures, and a selfie right now is out of the question since I’m in my lounge around clothes.
Come on. Pretty please. I’ll send you one of me right now wearing nothing but a towel…
Oh, jeez. I didn’t get a chance to see Nixon’s body at the Christmas party because all of his clothes stayed on. Well, I did see his long cock, but I would’ve liked to have seen more of him. I bet he’s just as ripped as Cameron. Ugh, but is it worth the sacrifice of sending him a picture of myself?
Yes, yes, it is, so I type back, Fine.
You first.
I scroll through my camera roll looking for the best image I can come up with. There are still pictures from the wedding that I need to delete, but there’s one of me in regular clothes with my hair and makeup done before I put on the dress. That’s the best I can probably do, so I send it to Nixon.
Gorgeous, is his instant response. I’m still smiling at that one word that warms me up like cocoa on a snow day when his photo pops up.
“Whoa!” I exclaim aloud as I take in the image of Nixon, dark hair wet, cocky grin on his face and so many abs they can barely all fit on the screen. Then there’s the unfortunate towel line on his waist, blocking the rest of his goods. I’ve never understood the appeal of dick pics until now when I would give anything to see what’s underneath the white cloth. If I zoom in on it, I can almost make out the outline of his length…
Now I’m getting hard thinking about you looking at this picture.
Oh, wow. Nixon sure does know exactly what to say to make a girl’s pulse race.
If you want to see it, all you have to do is ask.
No, way, I text back to tell him.
No, you won’t ask for it or no, you don’t want to see it?
Laughing, I text back, That’s a trap if I’ve ever heard one.
That’s not an answer.
Ugh! This man! I know I could just stop replying to him, but flirting with Nixon by text is more fun than I’ve had in a long time.
I’ll let you off the hook this time but you need to start asking for what you want in life.
That message is quickly followed by…yep, a new photo. One where the towel is long gone, and holy cow, Nixon’s hand is wrapped around his long, thick cock. There’s a mischievous grin on his handsome, scruffy face that says he knows exactly how hot he is and knows just how much I want him even if I won’t say the words.
Needing to reply with something after he put himself all out there, I say, Impressive.
Damn right it is.
I laugh out loud again when I read his message.
But you probably remember from the other night…
Yeah, I do, I admit.
You want another round just as much as I do, don’t you?
Maybe, I answer even as my cheeks warm in embarrassment for being honest about that.
But only if Cam joins us?
Yes.
Because you’re too nice to bust one of our balls or because you like being shared?
Thinking that over, it’s a little bit of both but I tell him the main reason.
Because if I pick one, then there’s a winner and a loser, and I’m nothing more than another one of your competitions.
His response is unexpected. Then don’t pick. Keep fucking us both starting Friday night after dinner.
Biting my bottom lip that’s still smiling, I tell him, Maybe.
How can I turn that maybe into a hell yes?
That question is easy to answer. You’re doing a pretty good job of it right now.
I’ll be damned. Dick pics HAVE been the key to a girl’s heart all along LOL.
Unable to help my own giggle, I type back LOL. Who would’ve known, right?
Get ready, sweetheart, because you’re gonna get dick pics at all hours of the day from now on.
Since Nixon has a mouthwatering cock, I think I can live with that. Replying back to him, I say, Just don’t tell any other guys the secret. Women would hate for men to find out we actually like looking at their johnsons. That’s why we always complain when we get them so they won’t catch on.
Your secret is safe with me… And I wait to see what the ellipses are for. If and only if you send me a tit pic.
My jaw drops because he’s ridiculous. I’m not sending him a topless pic.
No way.
Come on. You can keep your bra on.
I’m not wearing a bra.
Wow. That’s good to know. Are you lying in bed naked too?
Nope.
Way to ruin a guy’s fantasy.
I’m sure you and your fantasies are just fine. Use your imagination.
Not imagination but memories of grabbing your ass, cupping your breasts and slamming inside of your tight, wet…
Um, yeah. Memories can work too.
Fuck yes, they can. And Friday night we’re gonna make more.
Oh really? I ask him.
You’re gonna have new memories of my face buried between your legs, making you come before I mount you and fuck you into the mattress.
Oh, my God, Nixon is…incredibly graphic. And yeah, his words are having the intended effect of getting me excited.
But you see, I have this rule about no sex the day before a game…
Well, that’s disappointing.
So we’ll only have until midnight to fuck as many times as possible.
Dinner isn’t until seven, I remind him.
Then we better eat fast or cancel dinner reservations altogether.
We can’t do that. Quinton will think I’m a bitch for not setting up his friends on dates like we agreed…
I didn’t ask for any dates with anyone but you, Nixon says, followed by another text. And you turned me down.
I would’ve turned down Cameron too if he had asked. Same reasoning as above.
Yeah, got it. You’ll fuck us both but not date either.
That’s not fair, I say to him.
No, it’s fine. I only wanted to date you so I could fuck you again. Now I won’t have to go through all the effort of trying to seduce you.
That’s how you prefer it, right? I ask, even if it hurts a little to hear him put it so bluntly.
I’m starting to think that trying to fuck you again is more effort than all the dates I’ve ever had put together.
Probably not worth it then, I tell him.
Oh, you’re worth it. That’s why I would do pretty much anything to keep talking to you.
After considering that sweet comment, I ask, Even give up other women? Just to see how serious he is.
For you? Yeah. Is that what you want?
I don’t want to sleep with anyone who sleeps around.
Then I won’t sleep around. You have my word. Cameron won’t either. I’ll tell you if he does, and I’m sure he would do the same to me.
Okay, I agree.
So is that maybe now a yes?
Yes.
Glad I could convince you;) Nixon says with a winking emoji. Now let’s talk more about how we’re gonna fill those hours before midnight…You better wear a dress to save time.
And that’s how the next few days go, texting back and forth with Nixon. Cam sends me a few messages too, but his are short and sweet. Not the least bit naughty, which I have to admit is a little disappointing.
Chapter Thirteen
Nixon
Cameron fucking owes me.
I’ve spent every free minute since Tuesday texting with Kelsey, convin
cing her to come over to his place Friday after our dinner dates.
Not only that, I’ve gotten to know her, which means I know that Friday is not a one-off in any sense of the word.
If neither Cam or I fuck around with anyone else, Kelsey will keep coming back for more.
Why did I agree to give up other women for her?
Hell if I know. It started off as part of the competition with Cameron. I wanted to win Kelsey, and I wanted him to lose. Now that I know her, I understand that’s not gonna happen no matter how bad I may want her to myself.
So again, why don’t I go out and find one of the many women I can have alone, or hell, even with another chick at the same time?
Because Kelsey is…different. And I’ve had so much of the same old shit when it comes to one-night stands that I’m finding I really like different. She’s sweet and down to Earth, not chasing dollars or asking to appear on my arm in front of cameras to try and launch her modeling career. Yeah, been there, done all that.
I think I also like Kelsey because she’s a challenge. She won’t ever throw herself at me or Cam. She’ll require us to work for it every step of the way, which is exciting and makes the sex even better when we convince her to cave.
Like tonight.
I’ve been worked up all week thinking about getting Kelsey back to Cameron’s house and having my way with her over and over again until midnight, because you do not fuck with superstitions.
For example, one night before an away game three years back, I brought a girl to my hotel room with the intention of fucking her a few times before midnight Saturday. We were into our third round, so it took me a little longer to touch the sky. Just as I’m finally reaching for the stars, I glanced at the hotel clock and saw it was 12:04 a.m. Even though I panicked, I tried to tell myself it was nothing but a silly superstition and it doesn’t mean shit. What're four minutes?
The Wildcats lost that Sunday’s game to the Sharks, thirty-six to nothing. It was the first shutout in our team’s history! Neither Cam or I had more than three completed passes, and I fumbled a ball in the red zone that was run back by the defense for a touchdown.
