13. Winner Either Way

Nour

As istradition when we lose a game, we go home, binge-eat Taco Bell, and sulk as we watch the highlights.

I have a hell of a time sulking after I hit a triple tonight, with bases loaded, and hit two others in the five innings I played. I suppose I can play up my annoyance for the one grounder I hit that I was out at first before I was even halfway to the base.

My head wasn't in it. I had glanced up at the stands, saw Jillian on her phone, and immediately wondered if she was setting up a meet with subject number two.

That can't happen. It's clear that her nips are, in fact, lucky.

When two thirty hits and I've seen no signs of her coming back from O'Donnell's, it's not subject two that most concerns me; it's the phone call I overheard the other night from her old man and the fact she is a grown-ass woman and can do as she pleases with her money. But the vile things he said and the tone he used, he's clearly fucked in the head.

Rome walks down the stairs and looks around. "Boys in bed?"

"Yeah." I sit up and try to mask the worry when I ask, "Everything okay?"

"Jillian's car stalled out at a light a couple blocks away. I'm going see what I can do or tow it home."

"Need some help?" I ask, standing up.

"If you're offering, I'm not gonna say no."

Once in his truck, I decide to feel out how receptive he'd be talking about his old man by cracking open the vault and letting some of my ancient history out.

"Cool you know cars. My old man's idea of teaching me anything about them was giving me the number to AAA when I got my first flat."

"Mom taught us all how to change the oil, tires, jump a car, basic maintenance."

"I taught myself to change a tire with a YouTube video after that." I smirk. "He was so pissed."

"I wish mine was pissed. He tried to find ways to monetize that shit." He nods forward. "Glad she called and didn't catch a ride with whoever that is."

"Who the fuck is that?" I ask, leaning forward and seeing the license plate on a red Stingray as we pass by. "Master? That's?—"

"Your backup catcher." He drives past her and does a U-turn.

"Your backup catcher," I toss back.

"Thought you were good with him?" He puts his truck in park.

"You good with that?" I ask, seeing Jillian smile and hand his phone back to him.

"Not one bit, but Mom's riding our asses about giving her room to … breathe."

"Hudson get that message?" I call after him as he opens the door.

"Jay V?" He chuckles. "Not her type. Google him."

"You think Masters is?"

He narrows his eyes and shrugs. "I know where he works. One step out of line, my mission is to make his life hell."

He gets out, and I sit here, shocked, stunned … pissed?

Get out and help, you idiot.

SportsManSam: He was flirting with you in front of Roman and lived through it.

And it pissedme the fuck off, almost as much as waiting ten minutes for a reply.

SportsManSam: You want me to be real? Fine. He and you fucking will mess with my game.

Still nothing.

SportsManSam: More real? I'm a guarantee *rainwater emoji* so the obvious choice for the "it's sex, not love" project.

Nothing.

SportsManSam: I should have started with thank you for supporting my own research and sending me the HAF pic last night. Happy to return the favor.

What the fuck is wrong with …?

GoodTimesOnly: You've got two minutes to bring me my vibe or I'm blocking you again.

It takes less than one, and only because I had to bring Ellie with me.

When I get to the RV, she's not in it.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to send her a message when I hear a whistle, and then Ellie tugs on her leash, heading toward the townhouses.

"You get me yelled at again, and this thing you and I have going on is over."

"Did I type out the wrong message? I said vibe, not my fur niece."

I look for Jillian and see her standing in the open doorway of my townhouse, stepping back into the foyer, scratching the top of Elle's head.

Eyes trained on hers, the warm light from the artificial candles she has scattered around casts a soft glow over her body clothed in just a threadbare tee-shirt that, hands to her knees, has a faded football on it.

"You snap your fingers and make this happen in the two minutes it took me to get out here?" I ask, kicking the door shut behind me.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing on her thick, soft lips. "It was after the squirt emoji and the reminder that it's been a few days since I've gotten off. You bring my vibe?"

I drop the leash, grab the back of her neck, pull her close enough to crash my lips over hers, and I devour her mouth, hands skating up her body, pushing the shirt higher and higher, tracing her curves, groaning at the discovery that she's completely bare beneath it.

I have to break our kiss to pull the shirt over her head. "The sweetness of your mouth makes me crave the taste of your pussy. I want you on my face."

Clearing her throat, she straightens her shoulders and steps back. "I'm going on a date with him."

Fists clenched at my sides, I pray it helps keep the tension there and out of my voice so I at least sound calm. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

Teeth clenched, jaw muscles popping, I tell her the truth. "Then I'm going to mark your pussy; make sure you're still feeling me. It'll be like I'm right there with you, chaperoning."

I peel off my shirt, causing whatever smart-ass thing she was going to stay to stick in her throat as she eye-fucks me.

I grab her up, and she squeals.

"That was so un-GTO-like."

"Then put me down." She wiggles slightly.

"Perfect," I say before nipping at her tit and giving her piercing a slight tug as I squat down on the newly refinished floors, with her naked body straddling my abs.

I reach between us and cup her pussy, sliding a finger inside. "You're wet already."

"Uh-huh," she so squeaks out, and it's cute as fuck.

I pull my finger out of her and grip her hips. "I wanna drown in your cum."

"You what?" she asks as I drag her up my body.

"Get that sweet little pussy up here."

She straddles my face like she's done it a million times. Her confidence is sexy.

I grip her hips and pull her down on my face, burying it in her pussy. "Fucking amazing."

"Oh fuck," she whimpers.

"While I tongue-fuck you, I want you to ride my fucking face like you've never ridden anything before."

She leans forward, placing her hands on the hardwood floor, and I pull her back to where I want her, spearing her with my tongue over and over until she begins to ride, sliding back and forth, soaking my face with her slickness.

I reach around her and slide a finger up and down the crack of her ass, rubbing circles around her puckered little hole with my pinky. When she begins rocking, my cock grows so hard it's almost painful when I press in, just a bit, and she cries out, pressing into my touch. I swear I could come in my sweats.

I don't go much deeper, and it's not because she's not loving it, because she is. It's because I'm a greedy bastard, and the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her, is euphoric.

Her body is spasming as she curses, crying out my name, and then everything tightens.

"Gonna come. I'm gonna come so fucking hard," she cries.

I flip us over, needing more control than she's able to give me in this position, and continue licking, sucking, and finger-fucking her until she's limp beneath me.

She's soaked, I'm soaked, it's messy, and it's fucking beautiful.

"I'm gonna fuck your tits, and then your mouth. If I can't get off like that, I'm gonna fuck that tight, wet, pretty little cunt of yours."

Between pants, she says, "Okay."

After removing my pants, I straddle her body, bend down, and kiss her forehead. "Good girl." Stroking my cock, I then realize, "Fuck, no lube."

She grabs her tits and squeezes them. "Spit between them."

"Fucking dream girl," I groan as I spit in my hand and start rubbing it up and down my shaft. Then I lean down, spit between her tits, and position my cock between them.

"I need these." I move her hands away and push her tits together, rolling her nipples as I slide my cock between them.

On the first inward stroke, her tongue darts out, and she licks my crown.

"Fuck yes, do that shit again."

She does, every damn time, and when my balls draw up, I know I'm gonna come soon.

"You ever swallow or no?"

"Come on my tits," she damn near begs.

"You want my cum on your tits, dream girl?" I tug at her piercing.

"Yes," she whimpers.

"All over your sexy fucking nipples?" I ask.

"All over," she says.

The first burst covers one nipple as she watches intently.

"Now the other."

"Yeah?" I groan and give her just that.

Panting, I move and drop beside her, pulling her close to me. "That was so fucking hot."

"How long before you fuck me?" she asks.

Smile creeping up on my face, I answer, "I'm not fucking you when you have a date tomorrow night."

"Lunch date. Don't make it weirder than it already is."

"How am I making it weird? I'm not the one going on a date. I'm good with what we're doing."

She yawns. "And what are we doing?"

"Proving theories and giving each other orgasms." I turn my head and look at her. "You catching feels, dream girl?"

"No, but you seem to be getting jealous over a date I accepted just to see how Rome would react."

I smile. "As soon as we rolled up, I knew any kid who drives a red Vette with vanity plates wasn't gonna give a fuck that the sexy as hell chick he'd be beating off to later was his teammate's little sister. I asked Rome before we got out how he felt about that."

"What did he say?"

"He said your mom told both your brothers to let you breathe, and that if Masters fucked up, he knew where he worked."

"Oh my God, you're taking that as a green flag for this." She motions between us.

"This"—I motion between us just as she did—"is different. We both have theories to prove. And this"—I motion between us again—"didn't start with the expectations that comes with a date."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He's a major league ball player, asking a girl on a date?" I shake my head. "He has an agenda." I curl up into a seated position. "You might as well get a collar with an engraved tag that says ‘WAG.' A guy like that sees how a hot little number like you fits perfectly into his life, Jillian."

"Do you think that's what I'm looking for?" she asks in a way I know I've pissed her off.

I grab my shirt and bend down to clean my jizz off her tits, and she bats my hand away.

"Is it?"

"There's no base I could stand on that would be far enough away to mistake you for a convenience, Jillian Hart." I grab my pants and step into them. "You're trouble with a capital T." I snag a candle off the floor and start looking around.

"Where are you going?" she asks, getting up.

"Checking out the place. I haven't been in here since the fire."

"Are you serious?" I hear what I think is a foot stomp.

Yep, I've pissed her off.

"Be pissed all you want; you know I'm speaking the truth."

I feel something hit the back of my head. "There's your jizz shirt."

I can't help but smile and stop when I hear her walking away. "Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

I hurry toward her, and when she turns to no doubt yell at me, I bend down, press a shoulder to her center, and lift her up.

"You asshole, put me down!"

"Not yet," I say as I jog through the house and up the stairs, straight to my room, where I set her on her feet in front of the back window.

"What is wrong with you?" She shoves my chest with both hands.

I grab them and turn her to face the window, pulling her back hard against me to keep her in place. "I was standing here one day and saw this bombshell brunette climb out of a car and stretch out, telling me she'd driven for a long time. She then grabbed a backpack and slung it over her shoulder. It was so heavy that her shoulder slumped. I could tell it was loaded up with books. In that minute, I knew that girl was a strong, smart, independent woman on her way to make whatever it was she wanted to out of herself. She was not the kind of girl a guy who's on the road or at the stadium more than half the year could possibly do any justice by consuming her life."

I let go of her and stand back. "I'm not saying love doesn't exist—we see it every day. But your theory isn't wrong. There are people who know that love is the greatest thing in the world, and they want it so badly they press for it, force it. That's not real, and that doesn't last. Trust me; I know."

"You've been in love?"

Fuck.

I close my eyes and nod. "Thought so. It ended badly."

"Because of baseball?" she asks.

"Yeah, because of baseball."

She shakes her head, telling me she doesn't understand.

"We dated all through college. My parents and her parents had expectations of what our lives should look like. I chose what I knew mine was supposed to be. Their approval meant more than us to her. Add to that, a minor league player doesn't make shit, so her lifestyle would change drastically."

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "I'm not."

"I bet she's dropping into your DMs now."

"Nah, she was married three months later. They have a kid, one on the way, a dog, the perfect house—exactly what she told she wanted, and she accepted that life gladly. My head was fucked up about it for a very long time."

When we hear Ellie whine, we laugh.

"Guess it's time to go."

Downstairs, we gather up the candles, toss them in the bag that she brought them in, and head out.

"You ever gonna start sleeping in the house?"

She shrugs. "Yeah?"

"Bet Rome and CeCe would like that."

"Fine."