Wannabe More

by Billie Dale

  Her words fade to moaning hums as I nibble along her collarbone, working the clasp behind her back. A flick and twist loosens the material, and I fall on the bed dragging the straps down her arms. Her chest is a replaying fantasy in my mind. As the padding and silk fall, her more than a handful breasts lower, parting in the middle. Round delicious globes with big pink circles surrounding hard peaks. Both hands full, my thumbs trace her nipples. I love the weight pressing on my palm. Pliable, gorgeous, hot and heavy flesh is nirvana in my hands. A few tweaks with my fingers and her eyes roll back. She forgets her doubts, arching to my touch. Mewling and moaning, her hips twitch. My dick grows harder. Unable to maintain slowness, I curl forward sucking one delicious nub between my lips while massaging the other.

  Her hands hold me in place as she tips to the side, falling on her back. The shaking hands and timidity vanish as her fingers drop to the buttons on my fly and mine to hers. A grab and pull frees my cock, without missing a step her small hand grips and strokes, with her thumb sweeping over the swollen head. My teeth grind, fighting the pleasure shooting from my balls up my spine. With her under me, and my memories of how she feels, I’m on the edge of exploding before we begin.

  Still, stay still. My hand falls from her body, fisting the blankets. Fuuuuck. My control slips.

  Keeping her hand moving, she wiggles shedding her underwear and shorts. “I need you,” she whimpers, shoving off my jeans. When I kick them free, she jerks me on top of her. All of her spread out below me, writhing, twisting, wanting. The Promised Land between her thighs glistens and with each squirm I inhale her sweetness. Unable to wait, I settle between her open legs, grab my length, and move through her folds, coating myself with her warm essence. My eyes lock with hers before trailing down over her tits, past her belly to where I hold myself. Up on my knees, inch by inch I push inside. “Holy Christ,” I grit through my teeth. Her tight, wet heat grips me like a fist, fueling my need to go faster.

  Her legs shake, as I push she bucks and my tip meets her end. We both release an ecstasy-filled moan, hesitating for the length of the huff then succumbing to the carnality. Unleashed, chasing release, she meets me thrust for thrust, pausing seconds here and there to ride out her fragmented orgasms. I sling her legs over my shoulders, dig my toes into the bed, and with my thumb working her bundle of nerves, I pound into her delicious body. Claiming her with each jerk of my hips. Her insides pull me deeper, clamping with vise force as her scream scratched voice praises the deities. My balls knot, my dick lengthens, and my release rushes up my shaft. Hips flush with hers I’m as deep as I can get when I spill inside her.

  Nothing and I mean nothing in the past years has felt this great. Home. As sappy as it sounds, I can’t fight the overwhelming emotion of being where I should, reopening those closed doors in my heart. I’ll turn in my mancard to keep this feeling.

  Fifty-Eight

  Six Months Later

  SAMANTHA

  FOR THREE WEEKS WE lived in bliss. According to Hendrix we’re sickening cohabitants with all the PDA. He traveled back to California just to get out of the ‘love nest’ we built. All good things end and Mazric had to return to Arkansas and his team.

  Months of schedule juggling have left both me and Mazzy Jae exhausted. Mazric and I agreed we’d maintain as much normalcy as possible, settling on us spending two weeks a month attending his home games. I swear we’re on a plane more than the ground. I wish I could say I’m optimistic about it getting better, but even before the season started his practice schedule limited our time.

  The smart answer is for us to move but I hate city life. Too many people, noise all hours, and it’s not home. FaceTime calls, late nights spent on the phone, missing his body next to me, and watching Mazzy bond then we’re off again. I love Mazric more than anything, but we need a change. We’ve dodged the talk for weeks but he’s feeling the strain too. Missing us affects his game and it’s getting worse.

  I’ll finish my veterinarian degree in May, freeing up my time, but the reason I went back to school was to practice in Seven Mile Forge, starting with livestock at Double V. I can’t open an emergency clinic if I’m traveling to Little Rock every other week. I’m also obligated to clinical hours, without them I can’t graduate.

  Rock meet hard place. I gave up my dream of becoming a doctor to have Mazzy. A decision I don’t regret, but now she’s nine and helping animals is what I want. Sacrificing my goals again isn’t an option. Call me selfish, but it’s time I put myself first. As soon as I grow some lady balls, I’ll tell him until then avoidance is my middle name.

  A MILLION IGNORED CALLS and texts, plus seven days later...

  My phone chimes with a text alert from my back pocket. Hands loaded with clean towels, I ignore its vibration on my butt. That poor cheek is numb from the multiple times I’ve pretended not to hear it. Hell, I had to disconnect my messages from my smart watch to keep my fingers from shaking off. After depositing the stack in the bathroom cabinet, I head to Mazzy’s room to collect her laundry. A repeated muffled jingle and hum shakes my back pocket as a bomb of texts hit one after another. I curse and swear, jerking shirts, pants, and pajamas off the floor until the ting-a-ling becomes the most irritating sound in the world. “Enough!” I shout. Tossing the basket on the bed, I rip my cell from my jeans, prepared to turn it off when the recent alerts light up the wake screen, and as I look more continue to come through.

  MJ: Mom, I need you at the pond.

  MJ: Mom

  MJ: Mom

  MJ: Mamma

  MJ: Mommy

  MJ: Mom

  They keep going and if I don’t go see what she wants, she’ll continue to blow up my phone. I won’t power it down if she’s not safe in the house. We’re suffering an unseasonably frigid winter and while snow isn’t common in this part of Kentucky, a thick white layer coats the ground from a recent cold front. Mazzy loves flapping her arms and legs to make snow angels and staying outside until the only way to warm her nose is with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. I’m not a fan of the slushy, sloppy mess on the roads or the freezing bite of the wind on my cheeks. If I had my choice, I’d hibernate until spring like an old angry bear, but my daughter’s down by the water. Though I told her to stay away and it’s frozen solid, I’d feel better if she’d come in the house. Maybe I can coerce her to snuggle with me while watching eighties movies and eating popcorn.

  The second I heard the weatherman report how bad this winter would be I hit up Amazon for the essentials. Wrapped in a down coat, fur-lined boots, gloves, hat, and a scarf wrapped around my nose and mouth, I pull open the back door. An icy gush of wind swirls, slapping what little skin I left exposed. On the hottest summer day I’m the woman chilled to the bone, sitting with a blanket while everyone else drips sweat. My feet stay cold 365 days a year, so the wintery slam on my body chatters my teeth so hard it hurts my brain. I slip and slide my way down the path through the frosty trees. It’d be a gorgeous sight if I weren’t freezing my tits off.

  I stare at the ground; hunkering forward to preserve what body heat I have left. The closer I step to the water’s edge the more greenery seeps through the snow. A warmer breeze grows hotter and the hardness under my feet turns mushy. Around the pond large blowing fans push out heat, melting the thick iced water and creating a tropical paradise with humid summery air.

  “What the hell is all this?” I wonder aloud, tugging down the cover over my mouth, basking in the balminess as a bead of sweat runs down my spine, “Mazzy Jae?” From freezing to roasting, I unzip my coat and pocket my gloves. “Mazilynn Jae Gentry, where the hell are you?”

  “You could...” I tense from his hot breath along the shell of my ear. “...give Ralphie’s brother in A Christmas Story a run for his money with all your bundling.” His voice raises goosebumps along my skin. My shoulders droop, and I lean into him needing his touch. His arms circle my waist, weaving together over my belly button and his nose nuzzles my neck. Because I’m ashamed of the way I handled our pre
dicament over the last week, I’m glad I don’t have to look him in the eye yet.

  “Care to share why you defrosted...” My mind flashes the image of his game schedule. “Wait. You should be in Charlotte getting ready to play tonight. Mazric, how are you here?”

  “Well, once upon a time, a boy fell in love with the girl next door. Took him years to see what was right in front of him, and he spent months lost in his own dickitude Then this girl who grew into an amazing woman and mom had a moment of weakness, deciding to give him another chance. It’s been hard, hell, impossible at times, but they’ve made it work until this week. The woman I love more than air won’t talk to me, and since I lost her once I refuse to take any chances.”

  His words spear my chest and I hate my immature self. He’s a phenomenal player and my toddler fit has put his career and our relationship on shaky ground. “Mazric, I’m sorry. I handled this all wrong. How is your coach okay with you being here?”

  “He’s not, but nothing matters more than you and Mazzy. Jesus, Sammy, I’ve been out of my mind running worst-case scenarios. With my head all over, my game is shit, worse than it’s ever been.” He spins me to face him. “We’ve built a relationship. Our schedules suck and with you beginning clinicals, it’ll get worse, but I went all-in six months ago and I can’t lose you.”

  His woodsy scent tingles my senses and the strong arms I crave muddle my brain. Though I’ve avoided him, my mind hasn’t. One of us must bend, if we don’t, we’ll break. He can’t leave the team; his ties are firm. The smartest solution is for MJ and me to move. If he were at the end of his time on the court, we could work through the distance knowing it wouldn’t be forever. But he’s not and he has already missed so much of Mazzy’s life.

  Arms around him I squeeze tighter, pressing my cheek against the rough material of his Carhartt. “We’ve got some serious decisions to make. Care to explain how thawing out the pond helps us figure it out?”

  He pulls back, grabs my hand, and lays three smooth black stones in my palm. I cock my head, arching a curious brow while rolling the rocks against my fingers. Forehead furrowed; I meet his russet eyes.

  Lips tipped in a smirk, his dimples pulled inward, he radiates devious intentions. When I glance down, I see similar pieces in his hand. “Since we’re at an impasse. We’re going to let a skip off determine our future.”

  He must’ve suffered a concussion during practice because he’s delusional. I relay my concerns regarding his sanity, questioning putting our complicated future on a few ebony pebbles.

  “Mazzy mentioned how boss you are at skipping and neither of us wants to face our choices. Best two out of three. If mine hops more and longer, then you put this ring on your finger.” He holds out the engagement ring. “Then you and MJ agree to give life in Little Rock a go.”

  “And if I win?” I question.

  “I quit the team and we continue here. Either way this ring goes on your finger,” he answers.

  “No way. You are out of your mind. You can’t quit. For one, you’re under contract and you love basketball. We agreed to give this our best shot and then proceed with the engagement. Mazric, we’ve tried and finagled but it’s not working. Our life is getting more difficult with my school obligations...God, this is the same argument we fall in every time and thus why I avoided it.” I push out my bottom lip, huffing a breath up my face and a fist digs the stones in the meat of my palm. The pain and air help keep my tears at bay, but pools form on my lower lids.

  “How about we do this and see?” He peels apart my fingers, tugging me forward by my wrist to the water’s edge.

  “Mazric,” I protest, but he silences me with a soft peck then another, on the last I nip at his lip. His free hand slips in my hair; cupping the back of my head he attacks my mouth. At the touch of our tongues, my nipples harden and want inflames my core. I’m tired of missing his hugs, falling asleep on his chest, cuddling on the couch. His love is my drug and we must figure this out, because not being together is turning me into a lovesick scatterbrained crackhead.

  “Fine. It’s a crazy-ass idea but I don’t have a better one.” I step to where the water laps at my toes. Without thinking I cock my arm, swinging forward with the motion I perfected years ago, I release the first stone. It slices through the air, skimming the surface eight times before it sinks.

  His eyes grow wide and his head whips from where my throw landed to me. “Someone’s been practicing,” he grumbles, throwing his first. Distracted with the distance of my toss, his sinks the moment it touches the water.

  “One to none,” I singsong, lobbing another. It whizzes through the air, hop, hop, hopping twelve times.

  Hands on his hips, he squares off with me. “Explain.”

  “A boy I loved gave me this book, and when I was missing him so much it hurt to breathe, I’d come out here to take my pain and anguish out on innocent rocks. I threw until my arm almost fell off. Then one day, I used the tips in that book, along with my knowledge of angles and trajectory. Once I learned the science of it, perfecting became easy. When Mazzy Jae was old enough, we spent afternoons trying different tosses. Even though she didn’t know who you were, it was something you’d do with her. It was the only time I allowed myself to wallow.”

  He tells me how he argued with our daughter when she swore I was a pro rock skipper, confessing he figured this would be an easy win since I never could figure it out when we were teens. Admitting he should’ve never doubted me, he lobs his second stone. It’s perfect and almost reaches the opposite bank before going under. “One to one,” he taunts.

  If I want to win, I need to up my game and show him how far I’ve come since those days this simple act kicked my ass. Trick shots are Mazzy’s specialty. She taught me this around the back fling that defies gravity. Stone positioned between my thumb and forefinger I spin, whipping my arm behind like a boomerang, flicking my wrist and flexing my fingers. The rock hovers before cutting a perforated line on the surface, hitting land on the other side. His jaw drops. Shaking his head he chortles a defeated laugh, but his competitive spirit won’t let him not at least try. Grumbling what the hell under his breath, he throws but it’s not better than mine.

  I dance about, celebrating my victory. He halts my twirling with a grab to my arm. From his pocket he removes the ring, slipping it on my finger. “Wait, no, I mean yes but no. You can’t quit.”

  He pulls me against his chest. “Guess it’s a good thing I just signed with the Lexington Generals then, huh?” he whispers in my ear.

  Lexington. Generals.

  The Kentucky NBA team two hours from where we live has the worst record in the league. A person of Mazric’s caliber would be a fool to join a losing team. I’m giddy inside from the potential of him living here with us. This solves our immediate issues, but there’s no way they can pay him what he’s worth. He’ll never be happy with the subpar talent. Also, he’d be leaving his best friend, Curry James. Players change teams all the time, but the Prospectors can’t be okay with letting him go.

  I itemize my lengthy list of concerns, speed talking myself to the edge of a nervous breakdown cliff. He holds me closer, tighter. “Get this through that big beautiful brain of yours. Nothing, and I mean not a damn thing in this world, matters beyond you and our daughter. This, us, is my future. It doesn’t matter how bad the team I play for is; what’s important is that I’m still active and it’s close to you. I’ve lived this so-called dream of mine for enough years, now I want my fantasy. The one so far out there I stopped believing it could happen. If it’s terrible playing for the Generals, then I’ll call it quits with no qualms, satisfied to live regret free right here with you and Mazzy.”

  “This is real? We’ll be together? No more living out of a suitcase or hours on planes? When you’re not at away games, the Generals don’t care about you living two hours away?”

  He shakes his head. “Had it written in my contract, along with other team building options. The Vortex Variable will reform the Gen
erals. Curry and I will start with the new recruits next season, and with time and Mazzy Jae’s help we will whip this team into shape.”

  Curry. Mazzy. Rebuilding. What?

  “Oh, did I forget to mention MJ and I have been in cahoots for a while? And did you honestly think I could go anywhere without Curry up my butt?” He laughs at my confused puckered face. “Mazilynn is persuasive when she’s tired of seeing her mom hurt. She and Curry drew up an elaborate plan, even worked with my agent before approaching me. Now set a wedding date, woman, ‘cause I’m tired of waiting to call you my wife.”

  Epilogue

  I TALKED MAZRIC INTO waiting until summer to get married. Enough time to plan a small ceremony, and it’s before his season starts. He was amiable on the date but had one demand: changing Mazzy’s last name and adding his to the birth certificate.

  We sign our names to a few forms and present them to a judge, who approves it all. Legally adding him on the father line and our daughter becomes Mazilynn Jae Vortex.

  Turns out, wedding planning is not my thing. June is when I met Mazric and June is the month we’ll promise our futures to each other. It’s March and I’ve procrastinated everything. Carrie Lynn chomps at the bit to step in and take over. Her and Vivianne have the entire event organized to the smallest detail. Showing me fabric samples and asking if I want embossed or debossed invitations, it’s madness.

  What colors do I want? Where do I want the ceremony performed? Who’s on the guest list? Floral arrangements, colors, cake, tablecloths for fuck’s sake. Ahhhh! Even when I still played with dolls and liked girly things, I never dreamed of the precocious princess wedding. An intimate ceremony with family and friends or we escape to Vegas. You’ve heard of bridezilla, I have planzillas. Carrie Lynn is the sweetest woman on the planet, but when her only son gets married, she’s the soon-to-be mother-in-law from hell.