4. Sexting

Nour

SportsManSam: No need to think about it. Can't wait to meet up with you. Send me deets when you get them.

It was nearlytwenty hours since I sent that message before her reply.

GoodTimesOnly: Time Square area, around ten at night okay with you? We're going to see a show.

SportsManSam: Ten's good. You think we should exchange names?

GoodTimesOnly: A one-night stand doesn't require names. It requires body parts, *eggplant emoji* *peach emoji* sex you'll remember for months, and orgasms, *wave emoji* preferably multiples.

SportsManSam: Give me a second; I need to pinch myself to make sure you're not a dream GTO

GoodTimesOnly: Dream? No, I'm a *unicorn emoji*

SportsManSam: You can dance on my pole all night.

GoodTimesOnly: This pole comes up a lot, SMS.

SportsManSam: We all have our fantasies. Tell me yours.

GoodTimesOnly: Is this the part you ask for a picture of my tits so you can jerk off while I tell you how wet I get at the thought of one night with a stranger?

SportsManSam: If you want to send a picture of your gorgeous tits, I'm not going to tell you no.

There's no way in hell I'm going to admit that I've been rubbing one out to the same picture every morning and each night since she gifted me the one she did. The one I zoomed in on and found out she was pierced. Then I may have to admit it's now part of a routine I need to keep up until my next game to see if it's her unicorn tits that improved my game to defend against the allegation she would no doubt have that I'm "just like all the guys." One of several things would inevitably happen, but two are most disconcerting. One, she'd tell me that she hates baseball and I'll never get it up again while "pregaming" in the shower; or two, a one-night stand would be off the table because she'd see the value in fucking a pro player.

It feels like forever has passed, and I'm starting to worry that I went a little overboard.

SportsManSam: I don't need a picture, GTO.

As soon as I send the message, I get a blurry mirror selfie of a hot as hell, curvy brunette with a hand full of her own tit, fingers pinching a silver barbell, and I curl up into a seated position.

GoodTimesOnly: Well, I guess that was a bad idea.

SportsManSam: No, no, no, that wasn't bad at all. It was good, GTO, so good.

GoodTimesOnly: So…

SportsManSam: Such a good girl.

A few more minutes pass, and I again think I've fucked up with the good girl thing, but whatever, it's too late.

GoodTimesOnly: *kissy face emoji* I'll shoot you the details when I get my room number.

SportsManSam: Sleep well, gorgeous. Excited to be in you tomorrow.

SportsManSam: Proof of excitement or it's not true.

Not honoring her request would be a major dick move, but having a picture of my cock out there to be passed around is unsettling. So, I hold the phone in the correct position, grab my hard cock through my boxers, snap a picture, and then … I hit send.

GoodTimesOnly: Very nice. *drooly face emoji* See you tomorrow, SMS.

"Please tell me you didn't just send a dick pic while I am literally four feet away from you," AJ grumbles.

Fuck.

"I needed to see if these boxers make my dick look big."

He rolls over and props his head up on his hand. "Endorsement?"

What?

"Not sure yet." I only sort of lie, because it may happen one day.

"After our last game, I knew they'd be all over you. Happy for you, man." He lies back down and rolls over. "What time are you and Amira heading to the city tomorrow?"

Okay, this is an actual lie.

"Not sure yet, but probably afternoon."

"Cool." He yawns. "Going to work out tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Around six."

"Catch a ride with you?" he asks.

"Of course."

He yawns again. "Night."

"Night."

Not that Ihave ever questioned the fact that men think about sex more than we should, but it's more evident today than ever in the gym, where that is the topic of conversation.

It started with Locke walking in with a shit-ass grin on his face, and Vanders shaking his head and saying, "I give it a year before you walk in here looking like the Locke we all know."

"That's because you don't know Gwendolyn Locke." Leland points to his face. "Ask Pope when he gets here. He'll confirm."

As if on que, John Paul walks into the gym. "Ask me what?"

"Vanders said this look"—Locke circles his face with his hand—"will fade in a year."

"This look?" he asks.

"Vanders"—Turner shakes his head—"you and I both should know better than to act like experts when it comes to relationships."

Turner's not wrong; he's been married more times than I can keep track of, even if I gave a shit enough to keep track, and Vanders' marriage has been open for pretty much its entirety. Apparently, since becoming Jags, Locke and he strictly stuck to threesomes. Vanders because his wife doesn't like sex, and Locke because one-on-one was messy. He only ever loved one girl, and that girl is now back in his life, his bed, and shares his last name.

I get where Locke is coming from; I only thought I was falling in love once, and that was enough for me to never allow myself to blindly fall into anything like that again.

"We're not the same," Vanders states as he adds more weight to his bar.

"Same boat, different ocean," Turner admits.

"Nah, man, not even close. You've cruised in the Atlantic; I set anchor in the Artic."

I watch as a look passes between Steel and Pope, one that says, Defuse the situation.

Pope chuckles. "I don't know about all that, but I will confirm that Locke's not wrong. He's had that same stupid look on his face from the day Gwendolyn York moved to Walton, Texas, until the breakup. It's back, and it's not going anywhere. The whole team needs to learn to deal with it, just like the Walton Warriors did back in the day."

"No disrespect to your wife, Pope—she's a smoke show, too—but having known Gwen before they got married, I'm having no doubt they'll make it," AJ states, and the room goes silent. "What did I say?"

"You just called their wives hot." Blaze shakes his head. "Show some respect for the sanctity of marriage."

"I said no disrespect!" AJ defends. "I didn't ask how many times a day they get to lay hands on them."

Locke's face busts into a grin. "Let's just say, my pregame rituals have changed, and so has my batting average."

AJ chuckles then looks at Pope, expecting him to dish, too.

"Tereria"—he shakes his head as he scrubs a hand over his face then clears his throat—"my wife and I have five kids."

Grinning, AJ looks around the room. "See? That's what I'm talking about."

"You don't get married so you can stop beating off in the shower," Bennett scolds him.

"You get married because, one day, you're lucky enough to come face-to-face with the person who gives your heart an erection, not just your?—"

"Momma Joe," Amias Steel gasps as his grandmother walks into the center of the gym.

"Good morning, Amias." She walks over and kisses each of his cheeks.

"Good morning," he says with a slight smile.

She turns and looks at Bennett, who is beet red. "As a mother of four boys, Grandmomma Joe to five young men, not including those by choice and by marriage, great-grand to eight"—she smiles bigger—"make that nine after last night when Gabrielle became a mother on Mother's Day?—"

Claps, whistles, and congratulations pop off throughout the area.

"—and I can assure you that self-care in the shower doesn't end with I do."

Everyone, including Amias, laughs.

"I am sure Justice will be spending much more time doing just that in the coming weeks."

Bennett actually smiles.

"Any questions, feel free to ask me, after you've all come up for May's birthday cake."

"What kind is it this month?" Amias asks as she heads toward the exit.

"Cannoli," she calls back.

After a shower involving no self-care,eating a piece of Momma Joe's amazing cannoli cake, where I heard Momma Joe thank more than half the team for Mother's Day cards, flowers, or gifts, I head out to my vehicle to wait for Bennett and Tereria.

I make a note in my phone to send Momma Joe a Mother's Day gift next year, hoping I'm still here, and check the app.

Grinning from ear-to-ear, I look at the pictures she's sent.

GoodTimesOnly: How is it I still get shocked by things I see in the city?

GoodTimesOnly: This or That *unicorn emoji* edition.

The pictures that follow are of different unicorn masks; two of which she is modeling. And yeah, she's beautiful. Long, thick, dark hair; big, pouty lips; and her eyes … well, what I can see of them with the masks on, are a stunning cognac brown.

SportsManSam: Sorry for the delay, but I obviously prefer the one that doesn't cover your entire beautiful face. Those lips of yours look delicious.

GoodTimesOnly: Perfect. That's what I'm wearing tonight.

SportsManSam: That and nothing else?

GoodTimesOnly: That and these …

I wait for the image to come through, and when it does, it's a pair of gold, Louboutin strappy stilettos.

Fuck me.

SportsManSam: You just uncovered a kink I didn't know I had. Yes please.

GoodTimesOnly: Not too much of a bad girl vibe?

And you've uncovered one for me. Good girl.

SportsManSam: No, Little Miss Red Bottom, that mask, those shoes, they tick boxes on the good girl list.

I open my water bottle and take a drink as I wait for her reply.

GoodTimesOnly: You like bottoms red?

I damn near choke and opt to let the mouthful of water spray out instead.

"Uyar, what the fuck?" AJ laughs as he opens the back door and slides in.

I throw the door open, hit the button to open the hatch, slide out, and then hurry to the back of the Audi to grab a towel from the pile of clean ones in a duffel and make quick work of trying to save my phone from water damage.

AJ's laughing his damn head off, and yeah, it would be funny until you're freaking out about losing the only way to contact the girl who sports the lucky nips.

After wiping it off and seeing it's still in working order, I hit her back.

SportsManSam: GTO, I had a mouthful of water when I "red" that last message. My phone got a bath. I'd have loved to redden that *peach emoji* if my phone was ruined and I had lost contact with you.

GoodTimesOnly: *twerking GIF*

GoodTimesOnly: Hyatt Time Square. I won't know the room number until check-in. If by some chance we lose communication, I'll be the one in a *unicorn* mask with the red bottom … s.

"You texting your sister?" AJ asks.

I nod, even though that doesn't lessen the lie. It just feels better.

SportsManSam: See you soon.

GoodTimesOnly: Yes, you will. *unicorn emoji*

If you had toldminor league, or even high school, me that he'd be driving an hour and twenty minutes for a hookup, he would have laughed in your face, probably even smacked some sense into you. But here I am, entering the Lincoln Tunnel to meet a woman with lucky nips, a killer sense of humor, is sexy, and wants nothing but a good time.

I glance in my passenger seat and second-guess the flowers and champagne. I won't be drinking because I've already decided I'm driving back tonight, ensuring I make it back in time to start my pregame routine.

At the light, I looked down at my phone to see if she had sent the room number yet, and she had.

GoodTimesOnly: Thirteenth floor, room 1331.

I use voice to text to reply. "See you soon. Yeah, that shit's not gonna work. Well, hell, maybe it will. Unicorn emoji. If that reads wrong, forgive me. I'm using speech to text while driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic, rambling on like a moron."

A horn blasts behind me. "Fuck it. Full send."