“Whatever. That’s one more thing I need to learn. Baseball. Well, he’s my endgame. Series winner.”
“Better.” Josh nods at me.
“I’m nervous,” I admit. Avery takes my hand, Lee Lee stands beside me; we aren’t ready for the touchy feely. That will be a work in progress, but she’s willing to put the work in, so I’m willing to let her. It’s all we can ask for.
“You’ve got this.” Avery reminds me.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” Julie is chattering with her arms thrust up for me to carry her.
“Come on sweet girl, let’s go get your Daddy.”
“Da-da-da-da-da.” I kiss her nose, and she returns the gesture; hers a bit sloppy and covering my entire nose in her slobbery mouth, but I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.
The stadium is full since it is Saturday night, but my eyes never lose sight of him. He hasn’t seen me yet, and it’s perfect. I didn’t want to distract him, and I was overwhelmed following his every move. And . . . dat ass. I watch the team dominate, up 8-2, and according to the spectators around me, we’ve sealed this win. “Top of the ninth inning and Shockers have shocked the Omaha Mavericks with their brutal display of domination.” I guess the announcer agrees, and the crowd starts celebrating. I sit there for another few minutes before I stand up with my first poster.
“I’m sorry.”
I see him staring.
“I’m not leaving.”
Followed with:
“We have plans.”
His smile melts me. His eyes captivate me.
“Meet behind home plate after the game?”
He nods, and I sit down with my cheeks splitting, feeling weightless. Maybe this will work.
I watch the players file in the dugout, and I rush down the steps, Mason clearing it with security. Julie is on my hip, and fucking Avery and Emberlee follow on my heels. His parents have a bit of decency and stand a ways off, ready to get Julie if need be.
Deacon, Mason, and Caden shuffle from the dugout, and I guess our friends don’t believe in privacy. I stand at home plate watching him. His chuckle eases the nerves, “Uh, Saylor. That’s the pitcher’s mound, babe. Home plate is here.” I’m an idiot.
I walk over to join him, practically tripping on Avery and Emberlee. “Seriously. This orgy isn’t working for me. I’m a one-man kinda girl.” None of them move an inch. I sigh and roll my eyes.
“Turn around,” his voice is husky. I spin and feel his hands lift my hair up. His intake of breath sends goose bumps down my body, eliciting a shiver. “Fuck.” I smile and turn to face him.
I am ready.
I hope he is, too.
I knew she was there as soon as she sat down. My eyes, my heart . . . gravitated to her. When I went looking for her yesterday and my friends told me she flew home for the weekend, I was pissed. I called, texted, almost sent smoke signals when Avery told me, “Have faith.” I was trying.
In the stands, her eyes don’t leave me. I feel her. I can’t help stealing glances, but I don’t want to be distracted. I want to end this game with a win and get my girls. So much needs to be said, but so much needs to be let go. No apologies. No forgiveness. I only want love.
“For as long as I can remember, I went to sleep with an ache inside me. Forlorn. Missing something. Until I spent the night in your arms, and I was whole. Fulfilled.” She jostles Julie but stares at me. In me. “I didn’t look forward to a new day, I dwelled on the past and forced myself to pretend. I faked a smile; I faked every moment in my life. Until you.”
“You’re not so good at faking, Shortstop,” Mason butts in.
“You wouldn’t know. How many girls have screamed, ‘Oh my God. Yes. Right there.’ Newsflash. They’re faking.” I let my head fall back, and the laughter erupt as she puts him in his place . . . once more.
It was good he broke up her diatribe. I’m getting choked up and want to hold her. Touch her. Reassure her. At the same time, I can tell she needs this. “There are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year; I didn’t live any of them until I had a life with you. Our time may have been short, but I was present. I was invested in each one of those days. It was a foreign feeling when I met you. I wanted you. I wanted you to notice me because somehow my heart knew how badly it needed you.”
“You done?” My tone is choppy because I’m losing the battle with myself to let her continue. To allow her unnecessary pain. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, my heart cracks but mends all at once.
“No. I know I have a lot to make up for, and I just want the chance. I want the chance to tell you how my day was. I want the chance to eat dinner with you and Julie. I want the chance to tuck her in bed and then join you. I want the chance to feel your arms hold me close. I want the chance to share your life. Somehow enrich it and give you everything you’ve given me. Love.”
I can’t stay away from her. I cup her face, wipe the tears with my thumbs, and speak. “You deserve all of that, Saylor, and I’m going to give every moment to you. I failed you. I should have pulled and not pushed. I should have fought for you. I promised you I would, but the second I felt hurt, I bailed. I accused you of doing exactly what I did. I need to ask for the chance to make it up to you. To apologize each day you let me in your life. I want the chance to see you achieve your goals. I want the chance to stand with you, Julie between us, and watch you succeed.”
“And you’re never getting your man card back.” Mason chuckles. I flip him off and watch her smile among her tears.
“My goals aren’t my focus. Our dreams are.” She winks at me, and I pull her close. Hold her secure. Absorb her love. Her joy. And hopefully ease her pain. My darling girl chooses that moment to head butt me to get her point across . . . she wants down.
I watch Saylor bend and set her feet on the ground, hold her hand firmly, and let her stand. On her own two feet, secured by the anchor we both need. “I love you,” I tell her and watch her face transform. Tears, smiles, giggles . . . and peace.
“I love you,” she declares and gasps as Julie pulls her little hand from her and steps—once—two—three steps to me. She falls on her ass and digs her fingers into the clay. “Holy shit.” Saylor claps her hand over her mouth.
“Josh, did you see?” my mom screams.
“That’s my angel.” Mason joins her in the dirt, and I’m not sure who is more mature.
“Deacon,” she sighs.
“I know, baby. I know.” And I do.
I know I’m lucky to be Julie’s dad.
I know I’m lucky to have an amazing support system.
I know I’m lucky to have her love.
I know I’ll never let her go.
“Now can we go home?” I whisper in her ear.
“One more thing.” She digs a piece of paper from her back pocket.
“Aren’t we done with letters?”
“Never. I want to be able to stare at your words in my darkest hours and know you love me.”
“You won’t need to because I’ll be there telling you.” She fists my shirt and drops her forehead to my chest. I open the folded sheet, and it’s a cashier’s check with my name across it . . . for three-hundred and twenty-two thousand dollars. I choke. “What is this?”
“My safety net. Giving it to you was the only way to show you I’m in. I’m all in. Heart, head, time. All of it is yours. I’ve worked every single day since I was thirteen. I learned day trading—illegally—when I was fifteen. I learned stocks a few months later. I invested ninety percent of everything I earned, whatever I had left at the end of the month from my ten percent, I did the same with it.”
“Why give it to me?” I’m gob smacked. This . . . this is huge for her, and I know that.
“Because you’re my safety net. Not as in you’re calming or without risk. You set me on fire. You invigorate me. You scare the hell out of me. More than that, you love me. I have you, and that’s what I need. All I’ll ever need. Somehow, you stripped the armor from me. My defenses you s
hredded. My love you earned. My devotion is yours. I don’t need money to feel secure. I need you. I need Julie. I need a future.”
Sighing, I capture her mouth. My need to taste her overwhelms the audience we have. “Now are we done?”
“Yep. Take me home.” She steps from my arms. “This doesn’t mean I’m moving in, but it does mean I’m amendable for sleepovers.” She winks at me.
“Mom!” She appears and scoops Julie up.
“I’ve got her tonight. I’ll drop her off in time for your game tomorrow.” She kisses my cheek, embraces Saylor, and grabs my dad, pulling him towards the car.
I toss Saylor over my shoulder and wave to my friends. “No interruptions. No calls. Forget we exist tonight.”
“Gotcha.”
“Have fun.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget cramps are better than contractions.” Fucking Mason. Saylor giggles, and it goes directly to my dick.
“My car is here.” She points to the parking lot.
“And it will still be here tomorrow.”
“Deacon, I can get a ticket.” She pushes up and reminds me. “I gave you all my funds, so I can’t really afford a ticket.” Her smile reassures me she’s still good with that decision.
“We’ll talk about the stunt later. After I’ve been inside you all night.”
“Deal,” her breathless moan spurs me to run to the Jeep. I don’t know if her door is shut before I’m speeding off campus so I can get her home, stripped, and under me.
I crave her more than any fucking conversation. We have all the time in the world to talk, to discuss our future. I have five minutes before I combust if I don’t feel her skin on mine. Taste her lips. Hear her moans.
I kick the door shut and push her against it. I move my body flush with hers as she grips my waist. My knees spread her thighs, and I press against her. I inhale her gasp and grab her wrists, pulling them over her head and securing them with one of my hands. Her eyes meet mine, and I don’t break contact until my lips brush hers. My tongue seeks hers. My heart syncs with hers.
I rub, push, and tug her clothes. I need her bare, and I need her now. Her shirt falls to the floor, her chest heaves, and I groan. “Red. Always in fucking red.” I sigh into her neck. The lace undoes me. Her impish grin tells me what I already know…she wore red for me.
I push the cups of her bra down and attach my mouth to her skin. Nipping, sucking, and tugging at her nipples. No finesse, no easing into this…pure carnal lust. She nudges her shoes off, and I follow suit. Her fingers start working the buttons of her jeans, and I push them off. I want to unwrap her. I want to unnerve her.
I’m busy with her jeans when her hand cups me through my baseball pants, and if she touches me like that again, I’ll never get my card back. Mason will forever ban me from the man club. “It’s been too long.” I’ve undone her jeans enough to shove my hand down the front and scrape my knuckles across her soaked panties. She lifts on her tiptoes and gyrates against my hand. “Fuck, Saylor.” She makes fast work of removing my jersey, my pants, my cup…freeing my cock to fit in her hands. Her hands that are stroking me up and down as I plunge two fingers inside her wet pussy.
I grip her waist and lift her feet off the floor, careful to not remove my fingers or dislodge her hands. I carry us to my room; I need her in my bed. “I have to taste you,” I warn her as I grab her legs and shove them wide. Her glistening folds invite my mouth, her juices begging to be lapped by my tongue.
“Fair is fair. I need you in my mouth. I want to swallow you deep.” Jesus fucking Christ.
“Up.” I pull her to her knees and move her up the bed. I crawl under her body until her center is pulsing against my tongue and push her back down so she can take me in her mouth. My hips jerk with her first swipe down my shaft. Her mouth suctions, and she sucks me down the back of her throat and holds me there, swallowing continuously.
Thrusting into her mouth, I move mine to her pussy. Flattening my tongue, I swirl through her folds, sucking her clit into my mouth, and as I release, I bite the end. Her hips begin humping my face, and I spear my tongue inside her, letting her take what she wants. I press my thumb against her clit and fuck her mouth with my tongue. “I’m gonna come, Deacon.”
“Damn right. In my mouth.” I grab her hair and tug. Pushing her down once to take my cock, then I pull her up and seat her on my mouth. Her hands reach for my cock so I double my efforts and have her screaming her release as my mouth works her through it. I let go of her hair and run my hands up her sides, cupping her breasts, tweaking her nipples as she’s still riding my face.
I lift under her arms, put her flat on the bed, and dive between her legs again. “I can’t. Oh God, Deacon. Too much.”
“Never. You will. Take it all in, Saylor,” I demand and she complies. I work her with my teeth, my tongue, using my entire mouth to send her soaring; taking every drop she gives me. I’m sliding two fingers in her, twisting and crooking them until she’s thrashing around the bed, screaming incoherently, her juices coating my fingers . . . her thighs. I lick a line up her stomach, take each nipple in my teeth before assaulting her mouth. I mimic fucking her pussy when I take her mouth and thrust deep inside her. I’m balls deep, and her walls are gripping me.
“Holy shit.”
“Welcome home, baby.” I tell her and begin to move.
As he takes my arms above my head and bites my neck, thrusting deep inside me, I feel heat. The passion, the love, the want . . . it all surrounds us. “Harder,” I plead.
He complies. I scream. I absorb every feeling coursing through me. I devour his demands, his love, his lust. His hand grabs my inner thigh, pushing it as high as he can, and plunges deeper. “So wet. So tight. Mine.” He snarls as sweat drips down his chest. My hands are confined by one of his, and I need to touch him.
“Please.” He knows what I’m asking because his smirk drives me nuts.
“What do you want, Saylor?” Each word is punctuated by a hard push inside me.
“I want to touch you.” He stops and flips our positions.
“Ride me. Take what you want.” His hands grip my hips, and he pushes me down as he thrusts up. “Slow.”
I grab his arms and push them above his head, bending my body down to cover his, rubbing my chest against his, the friction is heaven against my nipples. Moaning, I bite his bottom lip and move slowly. His face contorts in ecstasy. His mouth falls open, and he pants.
He breaks my grip on his hands, and they’re everywhere. At once. My back. My upper thighs. My ass. “Faster, Saylor. Fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command.” I rise up and slam down, impaling myself with his cock. His groan, my scream—they mingle and fill the air.
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back, and he jackknifes to a sitting position as he slides in deeper. His lips find my jaw. His teeth scraping, his body working me.
My core quivers. My legs shake. His grip in my hair tightens pulling me back, giving him better access to my neck. His teeth sink into the flesh as I erupt, and he pounds into me. I scream with each hit. This fuels him. To push me down. To lift up. To ride me harder. To make me fall into another orgasm followed by emptying inside me. His breath is hot against my skin, the evidence of us caught between us.
Our breaths slow, our heartbeats race. Our bodies still joined. Our love strong. Our bond intact. He pats my ass, and I lift off. He drops a kiss on my lips and goes to the bathroom returning with a washcloth to clean me. The cloth flies towards the hamper, missing by two feet, and his mouth disappears between my legs. “Not done with you.” He growls against my mound. Me? I spread my legs and let him get his fill. I’m a giver like that.
He’s tired for his game. I’m sore, so I have to stand through most of it. It’s Sunday. Our first dinner together since Christmas. Tension still runs among us, but this will be a group effort. I understand one person tried to tear it apart, but it will take all of us to put it back together.
“I take it back. You’re good at faking after what I heard last night. Award winning performance.” I throw a pillow at his head and assure him I wasn’t faking and to get used to hearing Deacon’s name . . . loud and at all hours, well, as long as we don’t have Julie at home.
I refused to do the typical themed birthday party. I wanted something timeless. We didn’t need to look back on her first birthday pictures with Frozen or Dory decorating every surface. I enabled Avery’s help and Lee Lee’s. Things are moving forward. I’ve kept my word and kept my mouth shut. She hasn’t confronted the issue and it’s weighing on her. Slowly everyone is coming around but they’re also making her work for absolution. They aren’t the Messiah to give it to her, but she keeps trying.
Avery painted a canvas and added some chalkboard paint so I could write milestones. I missed the first few, but I’ve made up for it by keeping my own journal of her benchmarks. The mural is gold crowns with pink background; typical Princess and that’s what she is. I have her first smile, crawl, word, tooth, food . . . and her first cussing tantrum courtesy of Caden and Mason. Individual cookies with her initials wrapped in cellophane for guests—which is family only. The house has puked Pepto Bismol, but she loves it. I watch her jumping—barely an inch off the floor —trying to reach the streamers. Deacon picks her up and lets her tear one down and it goes directly to her mouth.
Mason and Caden walk in decked out in tuxedos; stunningly beautiful and here to spoil the Princess if the FIVE bags of presents they carry is any indication. “Overcompensating for something else guys?” I let my eyes wander down to their pants.
Mason reacts the way he always does. Covers his junk – with one hand . . . what a waste. Caden shoots me a wink and takes my teasing in stride.
“Evil woman.” Mason saunters past me and takes Julie from her father.
Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1) Page 17
