by Kristy Marie
Yeah, where the fuck were you?
“She’s in the shower,” Cade informs me from behind.
How the fuck does he know she’s in the shower? My rage amplifies as the thought of Cade consoling Anniston last night clouds my judgment.
She’s mine.
All fucking mine.
Payback is a bitch, Cade.
I clap Hayes on the shoulder, feeling slightly guilty for wishing Anniston wouldn’t have taken them in. Hayes isn’t so bad. He’s friendly, loves baseball and most importantly, keeps his fucking eyes and hands to himself. “I gotta go see Ans for a minute.”
“Yeah, man. Sure.”
I tell him we’ll grab a beer later and throw down my bag, my pissing match already in motion.
My shirt comes off first, landing on the sofa. I swagger to the stairs, throwing off my undershirt, giving Cade a ringside seat to my striptease.
Heavy footfalls sound behind me. Knowing Cade is following me makes me entirely too excited. There goes the belt. It makes a clunking sound as it hits the wood planks of the stairs.
“It was a joke, Theo.”
“And guess who gets the last laugh, Cade? Me! See if you fucking taunt me from miles away again.”
Right shoe hits the landing.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers, right behind me.
“I suggest you take the kids out for a Happy Meal.” I toss my left shoe. It falls down several steps before landing. “Daddy is about to hate-fuck his mood out on Mommy.”
I step out of my pants, careful not to lose my balance. Now I’m clad only in my Calvins.
“You are insane. It was a fucking joke!”
I shrug. Too late now. Coming to a stop at Anniston’s door, I can hear the shower running.
“Better hurry, Gorgeous.” I pull at my waistband, giving it a few teasing tugs.
Cade’s lips pull tight into a sneer. Just his expression makes me revel in my revenge. Who’s in a rage now, Cadey boy?
I plaster an eat-shit-and-die-a-slow-death look on my face before I try the handle. “You have about a minute before I unlock this door, tie your Commander down, and fuck her brains out until she screams for mercy.”
He narrows his eyes, his jaw ticking furiously. Checkmate, asshole.
“Five… four…” I pull down my Calvins, giving Cade a perfect view of my ass. “One.”
When I turn around, the only thing I see is his back, retreating down the steps. Now, to deal with Anniston.
Anniston’s bedroom is steamy when I open the door. It drives me crazy that she doesn’t use the exhaust fan. Navigating my way through the fog, I take in her tidy bedroom decorated in creams and pinks before I beeline it to the wet bar and grab a bottled water out of her mini fridge. Better to hydrate now, because what I am about do to her will expend a shit-ton of fluids.
Ans is belting out a song about singing in the shower from the shower. It’s awful. She’s perfect in many ways, except for singing. She can’t sing for shit. I slam back the water, eager to get my arms around her, and ease through the door. Her iPod is on the counter, feeding her horrific serenade. I pick it up, scroll through her playlist looking for a more appropriate song for what I have in mind. Finding The Neighbourhood, one of my favorites, I select “Daddy Issues,” and immediately I’m graced with her silence, saving me from her dreadful singing voice.
“Cade?”
What the ever-loving fuck? How often does Cade come in here when she showers? Oh Anniston, you are in for a punishing today, girl.
I stay silent, never answering her and flip on the exhaust fan. It’s so fucking steamy in here that I can barely see. A stumble over Anniston’s shoes, placed stupidly on the bath mat I might add, nearly has me cussing, ruining my plan of silence. But I make it to the shower door without injury, stepping under the hot spray, right in front of her naked body.
Her eyes go wide at the sight of me. “Theo,” she gasps, reaching for me. “What are you doing here? I just saw you play last night. Are you hurt?”
Her hands massage the muscles in my shoulders, taking in every detail, confirming I am injury free. I bring my finger to her lips to shush her. I’m not here to answer her questions.
She looks confused for a moment and then takes in my expression. She knows the firm set of my jaw. The tension that is cording my muscles. She knows what the hard set of my eyes means. I am pissed. So pissed, that nothing she can say will soothe my rage. Control. I need control.
“It’s not Thursday,” she whispers hesitantly like she is talking to a crazy person. Maybe she is. I feel wickedly crazy right now.
I nod in agreement. Today is Tuesday. “I don’t give a fuck.”
She swallows thickly and nods her okay. Immediately, I push her back against the cold tile. It’s not enough to hurt her, just enough to shock. I attack her mouth first, forcing it open and taking her gasp. She returns the aggression, both of us grunting, but when I force her head back, allowing the water to cascade down her breasts, she relaxes, allowing me the dominance I need.
Anniston is pliant for once, rubbing my shoulders, caressing my face with her pruned fingertips. She wants me to relax, too, giving me everything she thinks I need to make it happen. She’s concerned about my behavior but she won’t ask me about it right now. She’ll wait until I’m sated and then she will weasel it out of me like she always does.
I move down her wet body, caressing her heavy breasts in my hands. They aren’t huge and bouncy. She’s a runner. Everything about her is tight and firm. Her breasts are no different. They fit into my hands, soft, and smooth. No double D’s here.
Clasping the peach-colored nipple in my mouth, I suck. Hard. Her knees buckle and I have to grab ahold of her waist to keep her upright before attacking the other.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” I demand. Her breathing is uneven but she follows directions, grasping my shoulders firmly with both hands.
Still sucking the nipple into a hardened state, my hand slides between her legs, reaching her center. Because I love to see what I do to her, I push in a finger until my last knuckle disappears. Yes. Fucking yes.
Like she can’t help it, Anniston clenches around my finger immediately, throwing her head back on cry.
“Don’t start,” I hiss, biting down on her nipple. Right now, I need her to last.
She squeals from my love bite to her breast and tries to relax. When she does, I reward her, adding another finger, stretching her slowly. Circling in her heat, in and out, I find her G-spot and add some pressure. “Oh, shit,” she whines before groaning, her back bowing off the tile, seeking more. “Theo…” she begs.
Aligned to her center, I breathe against her lips, “Open your legs.”
She fumbles, a little uncoordinated, spreads them a little farther apart but nowhere close to where I need them.
“Wider,” I fuss, biting her hip. When she opens them wide enough, I drop to my knees on the hard tile, and bury my face in her pussy, feasting on her juices.
Tortuously, I lick hard over her bundle of nerves, determined to draw out her pleasure for as long as I can stand. The pressure of my tongue is too much for her to come, I know this from experience. This clit is fucking mine. I know how to work this clit like a goddamned pro. And right now, she doesn’t come until I get what I need, which is… Fuck. I don’t know. Do I need comfort like some pussy? Maybe. Maybe I just need to feel that she’s safe in my arms. Punish her for making me crazy with worry.
Anniston tugs at my hair, cooing, “I’m almost there. Keep going.”
Oh, no. Not today, babe.
I jump up, cutting off the water.
“What the hell, Theo?”
She’s pissed. Good.
I tug her out of the shower and haul her up against the bathroom counter, her back to me, flushed and naked, dripping water everywhere. Against the granite, my hands wind through her tangled hair and pull, showing her I mean business.
“Look at me,” I demand.
She glares at me thro
ugh the mirror.
Yes, baby. That’s what I want to see. I tug her head back again, exposing her neck. “Did you walk home alone last night?”
She jerks under my hands. “Who told you that?” Her voice is weak, telling me she knew I would be angry.
Should I tell her that her precious little pet betrayed her?
“Don’t worry about how I know. Worry about what I am going to do about it.”
She glares at me defiantly and huffs out an angry breath. “It’s not a big deal.”
I growl at her blatant dismissal of a serious situation and yank her around. Chest to chest, our bodies are slick with water and anticipation, our breaths coming harsh and labored.
Somehow, not all of the blood is pooling in my dick where it should be in a moment like this. No, my entire body is humming, pumping furiously with blood and adrenaline to the point I feel like a stroke might be on the horizon if she keeps this blasé attitude up. “It’s a big fucking deal and you know it.” I fight the urge to shake some sense into her, instead, letting my hand glide down her slick ass, to the valley of her rounded, firm, buttocks. Gripping, I spin her back around to face the sink and dip my hand straight into her dripping heat.
“Please, Theo,” she begs, her head dropping forward as her fingers cling desperately to the granite.
That’s right, baby, hold on.
I kick her feet apart, ignoring her pleas for mercy. She’s had this coming. First, when she walked home after some psycho had her at knifepoint. Second, when she called Thor instead of me. And third, when she hung up on me when I called, calmly asking what happened. Fine. I acted like a complete lunatic but that’s not the point. The point is: something terrible happened to my girl and I wasn’t here to protect her. Maybe I’m using her carefree attitude to punish her but really… I’m just so fucking crazy to be inside her. To wrap her in my arms and feel her against my chest. Being rough with her is just a kinky bonus.
Legs spread open, aligned behind her, I stare at her flushed cheeks in the mirror. A sweet smile is all she gets before I barrel in between her tight folds, her pliant body falling across the sink from the impact.
“Look at me,” I demand rudely, bringing her flush against my chest so I can get a good look at those hazy blue eyes in the mirror again. “Look at what you do to me.”
Anniston’s grimace as she overcomes the sting of my violent push turns slowly upside down and into a smile. Then… she laughs. Head back, full on belly laugh. “Tsk, tsk, Theo, never show your cards this early in the game.”
What she means with that asshole comment is that I, once again, fucked up and showed her how much she controls me. Instead of being the one in control of the situation, it’s her. Unintentionally, she is controlling me with my need to have her. And I fucking hate it.
I pull out, my dick dripping her juices onto the stupid pink fuzzy bath mat that always leaves pink fibers on my socks, and slam back into her, making that laugh morph into a groan.
“You like it, don’t you?” Another thrust has her knees trembling but I’m too far gone to ease off now. No, I steadily pound her narrow hips into the unforgiving stone, over and over until I’m confident she is going to be bruised tomorrow. “You like to fuck with my head, don’t you McCallister?”
Anniston winks at me in the mirror before she clenches her walls, squeezing the head of my dick, the tightening sensation breaking my rhythm. “Maybe I just like fucking you,” she pops off with a sly grin.
See, this is why she is made for me. Every single day she challenges me. Whether it’s on the field, or in the bedroom—fuck, even in a game of Monopoly—she never lets me half-ass anything. Ever.
I slip out of her easily and grip under her knees, picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder. She laughs as I storm out of the bathroom and smash her against the bedroom door. “Let the boys hear what happens when the big, bad Commander gets punished, yeah?”
Her eyes narrow, clearly pissed that the guys are about to hear her beg but she doesn’t say it out loud and contribute to my already crazy state. For once, she lets me have this moment.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I really don’t need an answer to my question. I know why she didn’t call. I was on the field and I wouldn’t have been able to help her. But fuck! I bite her ear before licking away the sting. “Wrap your fucking legs around me.”
She does. And when she smooths a hand along my jaw, calm and collected, and whispers, “Take what you need, Teddy,” adding a soft, timid kiss to my mouth, I do.
I plunge into her and hate-fuck the stress, the worry, and the jealously all out, one scream after another until I can’t imagine the knife at her throat or Cade’s monstrous hands rubbing on her delicate shoulders.
I fuck her senseless against the door until I am a sweaty mess of cum. That’s right. That shit is everywhere. On the floor. Down my legs. Smeared across Anniston’s tits. You name it, it’s there. It was very caveman of me and now that the rage has dissipated, I feel a bit ashamed of myself.
Anniston is lying across my lap on the floor. Those baby blues, full of love, gaze up at me. “Are you all good?”
Taking a deep breath, I respond earnestly, “I’m sorry.”
She massages my calves in a soothing motion. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I should have told you what happened when you called. But you were irate.”
Seriously Ans?
“No, you should have called me when it happened. Or the police! Even a fucking car service would have been better than walking home, Anniston! What if—” I stop, taking a few deep breaths to settle back down. I don’t want to lose my buzz thinking about what could have happened again. I don’t think we can go another round to pound those images out of my head.
She nods. “You’re right. I should have. I will do better next time.”
She’s fucking placating me. I know that monologue and I will not fall for it again. She’s full of shit. What she really means is: I’m sorry you found out and next time I won’t tell anyone so it doesn’t get back to you. I am an adult and will do as I damn well please.
I’ve heard it all before from Ms. I-won’t-ask-for-help-ever. That’s okay, though. I’ve got something for that bullshit.
After Thad called ranting about my sudden departure after the game, I told him about Anniston, and he was all over that shit. Suddenly, he was totally cool with my leaving and ready to smooth it over with Bellamy. If there is anything that I have in common with my brother, it’s Anniston.
We both love her. That’s another reason we don’t get along so well. He claims to have seen her first. I don’t give a fuck. I staked claim immediately. I can’t help it he pussied around and let me take her.
“There won’t be a next time,” I say absently, twirling a wet strand of hair around my finger, my mind spinning ideas of what I am going to do to this fucker when I get to him. He grabbed my girl’s pussy. That shit is punishable by death in my book.
“How do you know?” she asks. “We have to help Nicole, Theo. We can’t leave her there if what Lawson says is true.”
Damn her bleeding heart. Shifting her up my thighs, my arms securing her closer to me, I promise, “We’ll help her. But from this point forward, you’ll never leave our sight. You’ve officially become our charge, Commander. Welcome to the world of doing what we fucking tell you.” I’m smiling when I say that last little bit because I know she won’t stomach being the one ordered around. She tenses beneath my hold.
“No—”
“I’m hungry,” I interrupt, her protest dying at the sound of my stomach growling.
She laughs, letting her argument go for now. “I bet you are, crazy. Come on, let’s go out for dinner. Vic is cooking here and… let’s just go out.”
She sits up and helps me from the floor. We both groan. Damn. I should have calmed down before attacking the fuck out of her like that. We both are going to be sore tomorrow.
We shower, quickly this time, and throw on clothes in under fifteen
minutes. I pull a hat over my head, not in the mood to deal with my hair, and grab the keys off the nightstand.
“You ready?” she asks, posed by the door looking all freshly fucked and showered. It’s adorable and sexy as hell, all at the same time.
“Yup,” I answer, making my way over.
Forgetting about my staircase striptease, I cringe when she opens the door and my underwear lay there, confessing all my recent sins.
She turns back to me slowly with a horror-stricken face and mouths, OMG.
I nod. “Yeah, it wasn’t one of my finest moments.”
“What’s with the monkey suit?”
Tim’s distinctive voice has me opening my eyes as he flops down beside me and kicks his leg over the armrest, undeterred by my presence on the sofa. He’s in his workout clothes and still dripping sweat—obviously a shower was too much to ask this late in the evening.
“You watching this?” he questions, his broken dialect not too hard for me to understand.
Before I can answer, he scrolls through the channels, not giving a fuck if I’m watching this awful nature show or not. I’m not. Clearly.
I mumble a “no,” but then realize he can’t see my mouth so I clarify with a shake of my head. “No, go ahead, man.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me or my response, only scrolling until he finds an UFC fight and settles in against the cushions. I don’t know Tim very well. He keeps to himself mostly and rarely speaks, especially to me.
And apparently, that’s not changed, which is fine by me. I don’t care to make small talk any more than I have to tonight. Once again, my eyes to drift shut, picking up where I left off in counting down the days until the end of the season. Seventy-five, in case you’re curious. Seventy-five more games until I can be with Ans for three straight, uninterrupted months.
“So, the monkey suit?” Tim interrupts my thoughts. “Where you going?”
“Oh, I uh, have this charity gala tonight for the All-Stars.”
The gala and the game are being held in Atlanta this year and although I would like nothing more than to have Ans alone in another state, I’m glad to be able to sleep in my own bed. Well, it’s Ans’, but whatever, you know what I mean.
