Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

QUINCY – AGE 27 {RIPLEY – AGE 22}

Arizona: Ripley doesn't know anyone in Houston. Please look out for her.

Me: Ripley doesn't need a babysitter. She'll make friends.

I can be such a dick sometimes. Arizona and Ripley graduated from college last month. They were both drafted into the new women's professional softball league. Arizona was drafted by the team in Anaheim, California. Ripley was drafted by the team out of Houston, Texas. What are the chances that she'd end up in the same town as me?

Arizona: Just because your hair is styled like a girl doesn't mean you get to act like a little bitch. Invite her out with your friends. Or stop by her new apartment. Don't big time me, Abbott, I knew you when you shit your pants at the Barson's haunted mansion. I had to run all the way home to get you clean clothes. You owe me.

I can't help but let out a laugh at the pants-shitting incident reminder. She brings it up at least once a year.

She proceeds to give me the address. It's not far from me, but I'm in no rush to do anything about it. Opening that can of worms might be a mistake.

Ripley St. James has become the woman I measure all others against. The problem? None of them come remotely close to the real thing.

I can't explain the connection or the feelings evoked in me the evening we spent together, but they're there. I've never felt anything like it with anyone before or since. She was an inexperienced virgin before our one night together, yet I would give anything to feel half of what I felt that night with another woman.

We had a day game today so a bunch of us are at Blast Off, a trendy nightclub with a name that's a nod to the nearby Kennedy Space Center. We're all drinking, surrounded by women, having a great time.

My teammate, Drew, smiles at me. "Yo, California, you heading out soon?"

Admittedly, I don't stick around these evenings very long. I find a woman of interest and leave with her relatively early. What's the point in all the get-to-know-you crap? I'm in and out for a one-night good time only.

I lean back and smile, as I often do. "Soon. Maybe I'll have one more drink."

I notice a new group of women walk in through the front door. Despite the crowd, I immediately see Ripley among them. She stands out, having that sexy, red, curly hair, and by usually being a lot taller than most other women.

I was a minute away from leaving with the groupie standing at our table talking to me. I'm not sure I remember her name. Now that I see Ripley, I know there's no chance of me leaving with Ms. No Name.

I look Ripley up and down. Suddenly, the only thing I want tonight are those red curls bouncing on top of me. I want to bury my face between those thick thighs and take in that unique strawberry scent of hers. I have to adjust myself simply thinking of it.

I ignore the woman I've been talking to and watch Ripley for the next thirty minutes. She doesn't see me, but I can't stop staring at her. I notice that she's different than she was four years ago, having a bit more confidence and swagger.

She's in a skirt. I've rarely, if ever, seen her dressed up. It's definitely more form-fitting than anything she's worn in front of me in the past. Her curves are on display for every creepy fucker in here. My mouth is watering.

Her curls are down and wild. She's got on makeup and looks every bit the twenty-two-year-old temptress she now is.

She and her friends are at the bar, having a good time. My teammate Drew eventually notices them. I see him walking their way. I grind my teeth. He better not go near her.

Fortunately, I see him approach one of her friends. I almost feel bad for the girl. I might not ever be into relationships, but I don't pretend otherwise. I'm very clear up front with women that there is zero chance of anything beyond sex happening. Drew makes them feel like they're going to get married when of course they're not. It's a sleazeball way to be. He's my teammate, so I tolerate his antics, but I don't care for him at all.

While Drew is busy chatting with Ripley's friend, some guy I don't recognize walks up to Ripley and starts talking. Within seconds, she's laughing at something he said to her. Ugh, I hate that. Now he's laughing at something she said. I think I hate that even more.

Admittedly, even if not with me, I'm happy to see that she's clearly become more confident. She no longer looks like the insecure teenager I remember. She's a woman who seems more comfortable in her own skin. I'm proud of her for that.

After a few minutes, she stands. I have a glimmer of hope, thinking that maybe she's walking away from him. Nope, he's holding her hand, leading her to the dance floor. I feel my jaw tighten.

I watch his hands on her body while they dance for about half a song before I can't take it anymore.

I practically jump out of my seat and glide toward the dance floor. Without her noticing me, I sneak up behind her, push my body against her back, and whisper in her ear, "Don't forget, all your firsts are mine, including your first dance."

I feel her immediately stiffen before she turns around, wide-eyed. "Quincy?"

I fix an errant curl of hers while brushing my thumb along her soft face. "Shortcake."

The other guy tries to place his hand on her shoulder, but I slap it away and growl, "Get lost. She's mine."

I have five inches and sixty pounds on the guy. His brief moment of hesitancy quickly gives way to logic as he turns and walks away.

She tilts her head to the side like she's shocked by what I just did. "What's your problem? Don't be a cockblock. He was cute."

I pull her hips to mine and start moving us both to the beat of the music. "I thought you wanted me."

"I wanted you as my firsts. Mission accomplished. I haven't seen or heard from you in over four years, Quincy. Not since that night."

"What a night it was. Have you thought of me?"

She's quiet.

I give a satisfied smile. "I thought so."

"I'm not the same girl you once knew."

I look her body up and down in an outfit the Ripley I knew would never wear. "I can see that you're no longer a girl. You're a woman. A sexy woman. Let's have a drink so I can get to know the new Ripley St. James. I promised my sister I'd welcome you to Houston."

She quirks an eyebrow. "I've been here for over a month." Yes, I'm a dick . "An accidental run-in is quite the welcome, Quincy. I hope you didn't hurt yourself rolling out the red carpet for me."

Her words are biting, but her blue eyes are playful. She's not mad. She had no expectations of me reaching out to her.

"How about I make it up to you while we revisit all your firsts? Am I still the only?"

She lets out a laugh. It's belly-deep and so…so…Ripley. "You wish, Abbott. Four years is a long time, and I'm no longer an inexperienced, shy, eager girl willing to take whatever it is you'll throw my way."

I can't help but smile. "I like confident Ripley. It's sexy."

She smirks. "I like her too." She runs her fingers through the long curls at the back of my head. "I see you've kept these around."

"You said you liked them."

"When did I say that?"

"About six years ago."

"Are you telling me you've kept your hair long because of me?"

"What if I were to say yes?"

"I'd say you're full of shit. You haven't given me a second thought in years. I was one of many for you."

That's not true, but I'm not getting into this with her.

We continue to dance, our bodies pressed together, neither of us moving to break apart. We stare at each other. Ripley and I undoubtedly share a strong connection. There's no denying that. I didn't imagine it all those years ago.

Because I can't help myself, I bend and sink my face into her neck, inhaling deeply. She has such a distinct scent. Strawberries. It draws me to her. It's just so…comforting. It's like a warm blanket around me. One I crave.

She breathes, "What are you doing?"

"Taking you in. I love the way you smell. Everywhere ."

She gives me a small shove, enough to put some space between us. "This is a mistake. Go back to wherever you came from."

I grab her hand. "Come on. Let's have that drink. We need to catch up, old friend."

She attempts to pull out of my hold, but I overpower her, not letting go.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Fine. One drink. Then I'm getting back to the hottie I was dancing with before you cut in."

"No problem." Fat chance.

I bring her to our table and introduce her to my teammates. I simply say her name, not that she's my little sister's best friend. It occurs to me that I don't think I've ever introduced her to anyone as anything other than Arizona's friend before.

The waitress approaches and we order drinks. Fortunately, a table of professional baseball players garners top-notch service.

There's only one available chair at the table. I sit and start to pull Ripley onto my lap, but she pulls back. "Stop. I'm too big for that."

I'm stronger than she is, so I overpower her and pull her to sit on my lap, whispering in her ear, "I seem to remember a time when you very much enjoyed sitting on my lap."

She bites her lip as her cheeks flush at the memory. There's that lip bite I remember well. It's more of a lip-dragging. It stirs something in me. I want to suck on that lip.

I squeeze her close and maneuver her so that my leg is snugly between hers. It's under the table and very dark in here, so no one else can see it, but she looks back at me with a look of warning. I smile innocently .

Our drinks arrive, and we're chatting with my friends. Her friend Emily is sitting with Drew as they shamelessly make out at the table.

I'm happy to have Ripley in my arms again as I take liberties with my hands. I love her curvy, womanly body. She's so voluptuous.

I inhale her hair. Her smell is intoxicating to me.

"Tell me about college."

She smiles as if remembering. "We had the best four years. Arizona and I lived with two other girls on the team, twins Bailey and Kamryn Hart. Kamryn is the craziest person I've ever met."

I let out a laugh. "I've heard about her antics. Arizona talks about them all the time."

She nods. "Crazy but amazing. I miss all of them, especially your sister. This month is the longest she and I have ever been apart since the day we met."

"I love your friendship. I envied it at times. It's not easy to find truly trustworthy people. You two have that."

"We do. I love her like a sister. I'd do anything in the world for her."

I can't help but smile at the sincerity with which she loves Arizona.

She continues, "As you know, we won two national championships. It should have been three. I'm sorry you missed them. I know Arizona wished you could have been there."

"I couldn't come with my schedule. Your games were on the same days as ours. I watched most of them on television though. Sometimes I snuck my phone into the bullpen to watch during our games. You've had a great career. I love seeing you play. Both of you. I feel, in part, responsible."

She aimlessly runs her fingers through my hair. "You were. You always let us play with the older boys. It made both of us better."

Countless women love playing with my hair, but for some reason, when Ripley does it, it drives me wild. It's worth the harassment I've endured from teammates through the years about it just to have her fingers in it again. Her touch sends electricity running through my body, and she doesn't even realize it. Though I'm hard as a rock under her. She must feel that.

"What about you, Quincy? How are things? She worries about you. You're so tight-lipped. You never come home. It's always her flying here for visits. Why not the other way around?"

I shrug. "I fly in and out for a holiday now and then. Besides her, I have nothing to come home to."

"What about your parents?"

"They're busy. They never made time for us. Why should I make time for them?"

"That's not totally true."

"They've never once come to watch me play. With my first big contract, I offered to help them retire. They said no. I then offered to pay for a manager to give them more opportunities to see Arizona and I play. Again, they declined. I'm over it. I'm over them. My sister was the only thing I had tying me to our hometown. She doesn't live there anymore. I have no reason to ever go back."

I see a moment of hurt flash in her face before she steels herself. "They're good, hard-working people. Cut them some slack."

"I don't want to talk about my parents. "

"Fine." She sighs. "How do you like it here in Houston?"

"It's not bad. I'm not totally enamored with this city, but the guys are a good group. We have fun. Make sure you go to the rodeo. It's a life experience no one should miss."

"I plan to. Any girlfriends?"

"The only girl, woman, I want sitting on my lap is the one on there right now."

"You're full of crap, Quincy Abbott."

"I'm not. There's something comforting about having you back in my arms again."

She relaxes a bit and smiles. I know she feels it too.

"I saw your game on TV today. Your curveball is wicked this season. It's much better than in the past."

"I love that you watch me, and I love that you notice things like that. We got a new pitching coach. I like him. How's your team looking?"

"Not bad. We've only had practices so far. I've been spoiled having your sister catch for me for my entire career. As you know, a great catcher is invaluable to us pitchers. I need to get used to my new catcher. Our games start in a few weeks. I think I'll be the opening day pitcher. The coach told me he considers me the ace of the staff."

"Wow, that's amazing, though I'm not surprised. Good for you, Shortcake."

She smiles again as she continues playing with my curls. "I've always loved when you called me that."

"I know. Your whole body flushes. You'd think I was saying something dirty."

"You never say it in front of other people. Only when we're alone. "

I never noticed that. I suppose it's true.

We continue talking and catching up like old friends. As the evening goes on, she gradually becomes more and more comfortable with my roaming hands until she eventually leans back into me and begins to circle her hips a bit.

I sweep her hair to the side and run my lips up her neck, whispering, "I want you to come on my lap again. I think about that night all the time. Use me. Take what you need. I'll talk you through it."

She turns her head, so our eyes meet, and I nod in encouragement. Hesitating for a moment, she then spreads her legs a little wider, letting me know she's onboard.

Lifting my thigh just a bit more, I run it between her legs with as much friction as I can in this position. She momentarily gasps, but then grinds herself onto me.

She leans her head back onto my shoulder and continues her movements on my leg. I whisper in her ear, "That's it, Shortcake. I remember how wet your pink pussy got for me when I tasted you, when my cock was inside you. Give me all your juices."

I shake my leg a bit. She grabs hold of my jeans and moans, "Oh shit."

"I also remember how sensitive your nipples are." The first time in the hot tub, she came as soon as I sucked on one of her nipples.

I'm able to discreetly slide my hand up her shirt without anyone noticing. I pull the cup of her bra down and tweak her nipple, which is hardened and ready. I wish we were alone so I could tear these clothes off her and take it into my mouth.

She squeezes her legs around my thigh. I can feel her wet warmth against me.

"I want to suck on this nipple and taste your sweetness. I remember how hard it made you come. I remember how rosy and perfect it is. Your big tits. I want them in my face. I want to slide my cock through them."

She turns her head, runs her fingers through my hair, and breathes, "Kiss me."

I hesitate only briefly before my lips find hers. Her strawberry taste takes me back in time to the night she was mine. The two nights she was mine.

I have no doubt my teammates are looking on in shock. They've never seen me kiss a woman like this before because I haven't. I won't. I can't.

She grinds and circles my leg as our tongues dance a perfect tango. I squeeze her nipple hard, and she loses the battle of control. I swallow her moans as she begins quivering over my leg.

I kiss her through it, loving that she came on my lap again, just like that first night. I want to be inside her so badly. I want to do everything with her.

As she comes down, I can feel her smiling into my mouth. "You didn't come in your pants again, did you?"

I smile back. "You knew?"

She giggles. "I figured it out."

"It was the first time that had happened since I was a horny preteen. That was the mark you left on me, Shortcake."

Our faces break apart as reality appears to set in. She looks around in a bit of shock. The guys aren't looking. I'm sure they saw, but ballplayers making out with women in clubs isn't exactly new and exciting for them. They know not to stare, just as I wouldn't stare at them .

Ripley is clearly mortified though. Her smile completely drops. Her playful attitude is gone. She starts to stand but I hold her on my lap. "Relax."

"Let me go. This was a mistake."

"Come home with me. I want to touch you with nothing between us."

"No." When she again tries unsuccessfully to stand, she grits out, "Let me go. Now." Tears begin to sting her eyes.

I relent and she stands, straightening her skirt. "I'm not going down this road. Keeping this secret all these years has been hard enough. Goodbye, Quincy. I'll see you around."