Balls: The Complete Players Collection (Sports Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  “Embarrass you with this next swing, that’s what.”

  Leon sniggers, looking to the boys for support. “Hear that, boys? That’s the sound of a desperate man, but you asked for it…”

  He draws back, but I know every one of his pitches inside out. I brace a moment before he fires.

  I collect the ball so hard the bat splits in two, splinters of it flying off into the sides of the cage.

  A shocked gasp goes up from the boys.

  “Jesus,” stammers Leon.

  I come forward, the boys running in.

  The boy who was batting runs forward to collect what’s left of his bat. He doesn’t look angry. In fact, he’s quite the opposite, staring down at the splintered wood in wonder. I pass it over and take out my wallet, thumbing him out a couple of hundreds. “Buy yourself something nice, a DeMarini, yeah?”

  He can’t speak, simply nodding and dashing off with his friends presumably to the nearest sports store.

  I stand in front of Leon, hands in my pockets. “Are we good?”

  He nods. “We’re good.”

  “You’ve got to give up dealing,” I tell him. “Even you’ve got to admit that was a close fucking call.”

  He nods. “I know, brother. I know, but it’s the only way.”

  I lean against the cage. “What are you talking about?”

  He looks to the sky again. “I mean, Dad’s been done for fraud and my family’s fucking broke. The money I get from dealing is the only thing allowing me to stay in this shithole.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”

  Leon shakes his head. “I don’t want charity. It’s not the Hunter way. It doesn’t matter anyhow. I’m suspended. Things are fucked.”

  “You’re suspended, not expelled. Get a job. It’s not the end of the world, and for fuck’s sake promise me you’ll give up dealing before you wind up in a different kind of cage.”

  He seems to take it in, but whether he’ll act on my advice is questionable. “I’ll stick to the booze. It’s cheaper.”

  “But no more tequila, I presume?”

  He smiles. “Never. Fucking. Again.”

  “That’s what you said about vodka,” I remind him.

  “And Scotch,” he smiles back.

  “And bourbon.”

  He stands there nodding, no more words required.

  “You think Coach misses us?” he asks.

  “Misses us?” I laugh. “Hell yes he does. Like a fat kid misses fucking cake.”

  *

  Back home, cell in hand, I start to search online. I soon discover Mr. Slimey is indeed one slippery character. Only six hours and three beers later do I find what I’m looking for.

  I tap the screen. “Gotcha.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WILLOW

  I yawn, deathly tired after a string of labs. Medical this and that swims around in my already overcrowded head. I can’t say I really understand how anyone makes it through pre-med given the mountain of information you’re expected to remember. Once more, my scholarship seems to hang in the balance.

  It’s an hour before sunset, the low light turning the sandstone buildings around the quad golden.

  I see Amy walking towards me. “Heading out?” I ask, hoping to have the room to myself again tonight.

  “If everything goes to plan,” she winks, continuing to walk on.

  Weirdo.

  The dorm’s emptying out as people gear up for extra-curricular activities, but not me, no. I intend to have a quiet night in with a miniature tub of cookies-and-cream and a one Mr. Husain A. Sattar, author of the wonderfully engaging tome Fundamentals of Pathology.

  Joy.

  I notice the door to my room is slightly ajar. Damn Amy. This is the third time she’s done this in as many months.

  I push the door open and immediately notice two things out of place.

  One, there is a giant green teddy on my bed that bears a striking resemblance to my beloved, and long lost, Mr. Slimey. Two, a guy who bears a striking resemblance to Asher is holding said teddy. The juxtaposition between the two is so comical I almost crack up laughing until I remind myself how mad I am.

  “Welcome,” says Asher. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.” He pats Mr. Slimey on the head. “We were just getting better acquainted.”

  There’s a cut above Asher’s left eye, but otherwise he seems pretty unscathed.

  I put my bag down but remain standing by the door. “Did you send Amy away?”

  He nods. “Cost me fifty bucks. It seems I’m bleeding money lately.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nevermind.”

  Cautiously, I come forward and pick up Mr. Slimey. Just the texture of him brings back so many memories—simultaneously cruel and comforting. “How did you know about…?”

  “Mr. Slimey?” Asher finishes. “I really want to hear the story behind that name, by the way, but to answer your question, it was Leon.”

  “Leon?” I question, bemused.

  “We made up, buried the hatchet, so to speak.”

  This is the last thing I expected. “You did?”

  He nods again, sincere. “It wasn’t easy, nor was finding your friend here. It seems his kind have become something of a collector’s item.”

  “Is it…?”

  “The actual Mr. Slimey?” He lifts his shoulders. “I don’t know, but I thought it might help, a small token to get me through the door.”

  “So you can have another go at me? Tell me how I’m just another girl who you screwed over, another big brag.”

  He puts his hands up, standing. “I’ve thought long and hard about that night and I want you to know I didn’t mean what I said in the slightest. I was angry, but not at you. I was angry at myself. I took it out on you and I hope, somehow, some way, you can forgive me.”

  “Why should I?”

  He comes forward. “Because you mean the world to me, Willow. It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you.”

  “Words, Asher. Just words.”

  He takes hold of Mr. Slimey, pulling the bear in front of himself and speaking in a baby voice. “Please forgive us?”

  I almost break into a smile at the absurdity of it. I want to, but I remain firm. “That’s not fair. Besides, do you know how hurtful what you said was? Never in my life…”

  He places Mr. Slimey aside and reaches for me. “I want to be with you, Willow. That’s all I know, and I fucked up, yes. I fucked up bad and I don’t know if I can repair that, but I want to try. Let me try, please. I’m begging you.”

  A hot tear runs down my cheek. Maybe it’s from seeing Mr. Slimey again, maybe it’s all the bottled up emotion overflowing, but I can’t bring myself to look up, to look into his eyes.

  “Please,” he begs.

  Now he’s here, the tirade I had planned is lost. “Where did you find him?”

  Asher follows my eyes. “Mr. Slimey? Kansas.”

  “Kansas?” I stammer. “That’s got to be a…”

  “Nine-hour drive, yes. I got back this morning.”

  “You drove to Kansas for Mr. Slimey?”

  He nods. “I did, and I’d do it again. I’d drive to the damn Moon and back just to see you smile again.”

  Curse you, Asher Slade. I’m slipping.

  “I bought it off this cute four-foot nanna type. We sat out on her porch drinking milk and eating cookies. I kid you not. Once I told her I played baseball, well… ‘My son played baseball, my nephew this, my friend Gladice’s husband’… I’m sure you can fill in the rest. I’ll tell you one thing, though. For an innocent old lady, Grandma sure knew how to drive a hard bargain. She wouldn’t let Mr. Slimey here go for anything less than four figures.”

  I’m exploding with laughter inside. I let the smallest of smiles slip. “Four figures? So you’ll be living off bread and water for the next few weeks then, I take it?”

  He smiles back, rubbing my arms. “Something like that.”


  I’ve missed his touch. I’ve missed this Asher. “Why? Why should I?”

  “Because you know we’re not done. I was a fucking idiot. I admit that freely, but don’t let one night determine the rest of our lives.”

  Now, I laugh. “Are you proposing?”

  He gets down on one knee. “If that’s what it takes. Fuck it. Mr. Slimey can be best man.”

  I laugh in full, the tension easing. I pull him up. “Okay, okay.”

  “Is that a yes?” he beams, lifting me up and spinning us around.

  He stops to look at Mr. Slimey. “I don’t know how I feel about letting him watch, though.”

  I play with the bottom of Asher’s shirt, his jeans tented out below with an obvious erection. “Don’t worry. He knows there’s only room for one man in my life.”

  *

  It doesn’t take long for us to find our groove again. Sadly, our impending afternoon romp is interrupted by Amy, who had forgotten her purse. When she sees Asher standing there, in no way trying to hide his hard-on, I think she might have had some kind of an epileptic fit, complete with twitchy eye.

  The mood dims somewhat when she leaves, so we decide to visit the home instead, catch up with the kids. It’s Asher’s idea.

  The second Asher is through the door, the kids go crazy. They pile onto him into a giant stack of little arms and legs, Asher trapped somewhere underneath, a smile of such overwhelming joy on his face you’d think he’d just been made a Major League MVP.

  “Where have you been, Ash-ah?” asks Tyler, looking resplendent today in a Spiderman tee and matching tutu. I love how kids are gender neutral. In my experience, boys Tyler’s age are just as happy playing with Barbie dolls as they are with Hot Wheels. They really don’t care.

  Asher crouches down to his level, glancing at me smiling before turning his attention back to Tyler. “I got into a fight.”

  Tyler’s quizzical face tilts. “Are you hurt?”

  Asher shakes his head. “No, I’m all good, buddy.”

  “Next time,” continues Tyler. “You should use your web. Like this.” With a flourish he pretends to shoot a spider web from his fingers.

  Asher falls, acting like he’s been caught. “You got me. Argh.”

  Tyler’s bubbly laugh follows, and once again a dog-pile of cuteness ensues.

  Something’s tugging on the leg of my pants. I look down at Annabelle, four. “Yes, Belle?”

  “Have you seen our pet, Willow?”

  I crouch. “Pet?” I’ve never seen an animal around the home before.

  Gale enters the room holding a fluffy white ball. “I think she’s referring to Bailey here.”

  It takes me a second to realize said fluff-ball is actually a puppy.

  Asher stands, the kids crowding around as Gale places Bailey on the floor. The kids pat it. I’m surprised how gentle they are.

  “Whose dog is it?” I ask, Gale coming up beside Asher and me.

  Gale puts her hands out. “No idea. We found it on the doorstep the other night whining. We took it to the vet, but it doesn’t have a chip or tag. The vet said she could hang onto her, but if no one claimed her within two weeks, she’d have to be put down. As you can see, little Bailey’s had a hard life. Someone hasn’t treated her right, and yes, I know it says ‘disadvantaged kids’ on the door, but I couldn’t let her go.”

  “The kids love her,” remarks Asher, crouched with them.

  “Unfortunately, she can’t stay,” adds Gale. “We think one or two of the kids might be allergic, and with state regulations and bureaucracy…”

  “What are you going to do with her?” I ask. I begged for a puppy when I was younger, but my parents were always against animals, thus Mr. Slimey.

  Gale shrugs. “Hon, I have no idea, but you two will keep this on the down-low, won’t you?”

  I nod. “Of course we will.”

  “I’ll take her,” says Asher.

  Gale and I look at him at the same time.

  “Yeah,” he nods. “I’ve got a decent-sized place. There’s a park across the road.”

  “Are you sure?” asks Gale.

  Asher looks to me, sapphire eyes full. “I’ll bring her back to see the kids as much as I can. Besides, my place could do with a feminine touch.” He takes my hand. “You don’t think Mr. Slimey will be jealous, will you?”

  I smile. “A new man and a new woman. I suppose he’ll just have to find a way to cope.”

  “You sure?” questions Gale.

  Asher nods. “Absolutely.”

  *

  I gather the kids together while Asher leaves early to pick up some things for Bailey.

  Gale watches him go dreamily. “My god that boy is going to make some lucky lady very happy one day.”

  I’m smiling so hard my mouth is starting to hurt, little Bailey clipping at my heels. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ASHER

  I agree to pick up Bailey the following day. Although Willow didn’t say it in as many words, I could see how much she wanted to help. I knew what I had to do, anything to make her happy.

  It’s been a while since I had a dog myself. Dad was a German Shepard man, but I figure a Maltese can’t be that much trouble.

  Famous last words, brother.

  I dodge an invite from the team to meet up at the Quagmire to spend my time with Willow walking through the park at the back of campus. We walk with hot dogs in hand, my shirt still stained Technicolor from an unexpected sauce ejaculation.

  The way she laughed at that… so fucking beautiful. I wanted to drag her behind a tree and have my way with her, but I manage to hold off my baser urges until we arrive back at my place.

  I toss my keys onto the kitchen table. “Welcome back.”

  Willow looks around, notices the collection of bottles on the longue table. “You’ve been living the broken-hearted man cliché, haven’t you?”

  “To a tee.”

  I pull Mr. Slimey from my backpack and head into the bedroom, placing him on the bedside drawers. I stand back.

  Willow slides her hands around my waist. “I know, I know. He’s not exactly the cutest teddy bear in the world.”

  I laugh. “Where did your parents find him? The Freddy Krueger prop department?”

  Willow slaps me on the chest. “Be nice now. He can hear you.”

  “Is he, you know, your Mr. Slimey? Can you tell?”

  “Does it matter?” she replies.

  I spin around and kiss her, so thankful to be back here with this amazing girl.

  We break apart breathless.

  “Wow,” she stammers.

  “Wow is right word. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.” I jerk my head at Mr. Slimey. “It’s kind of creeping me out having him watch us like this, though.”

  Willow lifts herself up to my ear, whispering. “You’ve never been in a threesome?”

  “Not with the spawn of Satan.”

  She laughs and kisses me again, her lips warm and wet.

  We pull apart when my cell rings from the kitchen.

  “Hold that thought.”

  I head off to the kitchen and answer, but’s it’s no one.

  I come into the bedroom. “Just a wrong…”

  My mouth drops.

  Willow’s lying on my bed, her skirt and shirt gone, her legs spread to reveal her bare pussy.

  “Hi,” she says, spreading her legs wider, her heated slit yawning open to reveal its plump, pink center. I almost lose it right there in my pants.

  “I took the liberty of removing my clothes. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I take a cautious step forward, all eight inches of cock straining against my pants. “Not at all.”

  She runs a finger down the crease of her sex, running just the tip of her pinkie against the bottom of her hole.

  Who is this girl and what has she done with Willow Grant?

  “Do you like what you see,” she continues, stroking herself.

  I
swallow hard, throat suddenly dry.

  “Do you like my young, fit body?”

  “Yes, I do,” I choke out.

  Why does she have this effect on me? And in full sex-kitten mode like this? It’s Irre-fucking-sistible.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” she purrs, continuing to play with herself. “Show me that big cock of yours.”

  She’s only a small thing, my Willow, with penetrating, amethyst eyes and a button nose that crinkles in the cutest possible way when she laughs, but here, right now, she is the very definition of sex. I could crack concrete with my cock right now.

  I look at her powder-pale body, at the glistening mouth of her pussy, and I don’t want anything else. I have to fuck her—now.

  I undo my belt and slide my trousers down, my hard cock tenting out my jocks. I give a final intake of breath before removing them and let my member spring free, balls like baby plums swinging between my legs as my cock bobs in the air.

  Her eyes glaze over as she stares at my shaft. “Hello, Red. Long time no see.”

  She kneels and stands, coming off the bed and walking towards me.

  Her fingers work at my shirt, going button by button, eyes fixed upon my own, lips twisted together. She takes my shirt off and throws it into the corner, her perfect breasts brushing against my chest.

  I gasp as she kneels and takes hold of my cock.

  “Willow…” I start.

  She places a finger on her lips and it’s like we’re back in the library again. “Let me.”

  I’m already steel in her hand, but the way she works my cock is incredible.

  She pumps it harder and faster, her eyes never leaving me as if this is the only thing she wants in the world—to make me come.

  My cock puffs larger. It swells thick in her pistoning hand. She tightens her grip and I tip-toe towards the all-consuming void. I choke down the excess saliva in my mouth, my stomach giving a strange yelp as I prepare to volley.

  I remember to breathe just as I’m about to come, holding it back with seconds to spare before once more it becomes overwhelming.

  Right at the height of my arousal, her fingers leave me.

  My cock twitches in the air feebly. It’s with a superhuman amount of restraint I don’t take it under my own power.

  She wags her finger. “Not yet.”