by S. E. Hall
For the first time all day, Brynn’s head pops up and her smile’s as big as I’ve ever seen on her. “Thank you, Camden. And no, they can’t, but I can pitch like a boy just fine.”
“My girl,” Zach declares again, adding in an impressed chuckle.
“Alright, Brynny’s spotlight is a given, so me and Sky get to be Captains. Let’s do this!” Presley springs from her chair, aggression oozing off her. Can’t imagine where she gets her competitive streak.
“I’ll go get the gear while you pick teams,” Emmet volunteers. “Still in the garage, Laney?”
“Yep, purple bins.”
“Gather round, people, draft starts now.” Presley directs, clapping once, sharp and hard. “Again, you suck worse than me, Sky, so you can pick first.”
“F you very much, and I pick Judd.”
“Brynny, you sure you got the pitchin’?” Presley asks her.
“All. Day. Long.”
“Then get over here.”
“Mom, you’re with me.” Sky takes her turn.
Presley slowly scans those remaining and I avoid her eyes as they make their way to me. I know she’s gonna leave me standing here, and it bothers me way more than it should. Brynn whispers something in her ear but she instantly shakes her head no to whatever was said… and captures my gaze, dead-on. “I pick Sutton.”
I hide my surprise — Presley’s full of ‘em — keeping full eye contact as I walk over to stand beside her.
“Since you’re here,” she leans in and whispers, at last airing the issue, “surely you can use that big ass body of yours to stop a ball. Don’t read more into it than that, though.”
Too late.
The back-and-forth continues until the teams are: Sky, Judd, Laney, What’s His Fuck, Zach, Evan, and Bennett, versus Hot Shot, Brynn, me, Dane, JT, Sawyer, and Bellamy.
“I’m sorry I picked you last,” Presley places a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, “but I know you’re woman enough to handle it, whereas my dad or your man would’ve been butt-hurt the rest of the day.”
“I heard that.” Sawyer tugs on Presley’s ponytail. “Okay, I assume the plan is, Sutton’s gunning for major league boy,” thanks for outing me, boss, “so I should chop Zach, Evan, and Judd at the knees, right?”
“Beckett,” Dane shakes his head while pinching the bridge of his nose. “First off, my wife can outplay all of them, and if you touch her knees, I’ll break both of yours. Also, there’s the tiny, but pertinent fact, that it’s baseball. Not football. Not cage fighting. Bat, run, catch, throw. That’s the gist of it. No knee-chopping.”
“Now that we’re clear on the sport we’re actually playing,” P smirks pointedly at her father, then cups her hands around her mouth and yells toward the other huddle, “game on, bitches!”
Chapter 11
Sutton
She stayed, and by the fifth frame, forgot to stew or act “put out,” instead smiling, laughing… and sucking something fierce at bowling.
“I still don’t understand why they wouldn’t put those bumpers things up on our lane,” she frumps as we walk across the parking lot. “Those other people got to use them.”
I squeeze her hand, that she’s freely letting me hold, and laugh. “Might’ve had something to do with the fact that there was a kid bowling with those other people. You did good without them, though. I can think of at least four times where you hit a pin, rather than the gutter. And, your lil’ bent over, ass-wiggle approach looked perfect every damn time.”
“Whatever,” she huffs. “I’m gonna practice, then I want a rematch.” She’s too bent about losing to realize she just offered up a chance to spend more time with her… which I don’t point out. “Where the hell did you park, the lot next door?” Oh yeah, she’s extra salty — she hates losing.
“Right over there.” I point.
It takes her a second, then she gasps, peering up at me with excitement blazing in her eyes. “You’re on your motorcycle tonight?”
“We are, yes. Unless, you were spiking your sweet tea behind my back? You know the rule, any drinking, no bike. I’ll call us an Uber if ya had a flask tucked away.”
She shakes her head wildly, blowing the hair away from her mouth. “No flask. Not a drop of anything in tea. Oh my God, I can’t wait!” She squeals, actually squeals, a beautiful sound of uncensored happiness I’d bet few have ever heard her make, ripping her hand from mine and running toward my ride.
“Slow down,” I laugh, taking my time to catch up, and soak in her rare, unhidden enthusiasm. “You remember everything I told ya last time?” I slide up behind her, hands easily finding her hips.
“No, not really, but I’m an excellent passenger, a natural, so it’ll come back to me. Like riding a bike,” she laughs.
I’d of had to have been blind not to notice her delight the first time I took her on my bike, but I had no idea she was this fascinated by it. I can feel her heartbeat racing, a tiny tremor running through her, and the voice she’s using has a sexy rasp to it that’s speaking straight to my ego. And dick.
I turn her to face me, reaching up to run a finger over her flushed cheek. “I’ve never seen you quite like this.”
“No one has, ‘cause I’ve never felt like this. I’ve been dying for another ride since the second the last one ended, this first time was kickass, but now, knowing, what I’ve been missing, I’m on a whole different sphere of excited. Finally, I get to be all ‘badass biker chick again!’”
“Okay, Badass, let’s review a few things before we take off.” She bobs her head, eager eyes begging me to hurry, completely agreeable to whatever I say next. Never thought I’d see the day. “Be mine. Only mine. For real. Forever. Starting right now.”
Her face crumbles in confusion. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Bastard!” She shoves at my chest, though snickering.
“Had the shot. You’re all wide-eyed, and cooperatively silent,” I chuckle, “had to take it.”
Not to be one-upped, she sidles in closer, lids dropping to half-mast as her lips curve into a sexy grin… hand rubbing my dick through my jeans. “You’re forgiven. It was kinda cute, actually. Now, will you please stop with the torture and give me a ride.”
Note to self: bring the bike around more often. As in, every fucking day.
“Please?” she purrs.
“Yeah, Sugar,” I grunt, growing hard beneath her touch. “I’m serious about reviewing a couple of things though, so gonna need you to stop with your torture, let me think straight.” She laughs quietly and removes her hand. “Okay, watch out for the pipe when you’re getting on and off. It gets real hot, don’t wantcha burning your pretty leg. When I lean or take a curve, don’t try to help me, stay loose and relaxed. Let me do the work, just like last time. If you need anything, pinch my stomach. And Presley, no letting go. Keep your arms around me until we’re completely stopped. Think you got it?”
“Got it,” she pops, rushing for the bike again. “Let’s go!”
“Not yet.” I snag her by a belt-loop to haul her back. “You need a helmet. That tiny detail, I would’ve thought for sure you’d remember. Crazy girl. Let me help ya put it on, then I’ll get on first, straighten ‘er up, and you climb on behind me.” She whirls around so fast her long hair whips me. I just can’t get over her sheer excitement… and doubt I ever will. “Good thing you stayed tonight, huh?” I hedge, carefully sliding her helmet on, tightening the chinstrap, and double-checking the fit. She nods her heavy head — cute as hell. “Alright, you’re all set. Not kidding, Hot Shot, do not let go of me for any reason. I know you, no sticking your arms out, pretending you’re flying back there.”
“No flying, check!” she yells through the helmet and gives me a thumbs up… also cute as hell… and I load up, then reach behind myself to help her do the same.
****
Presley
God, how I love this. The dirty rumble of power, the surge of freedom that comes with not being enclose
d, vibrations throughout my whole body, arms wrapped around the big, sexy rebel of a man maneuvering the massive machine — it’s electrifying. Intoxicating. And a more potent aphrodisiac than I even would’ve guessed. Pretty sure the vibrations between my legs are only half-motorcycle induced at this point.
I’ve missed this, and haven’t felt so alive in too long… until he makes a right onto Acorn Street. I pinch his stomach, hard, as he dares to pull over… in front of my apartment! I’m struggling to get my damn helmet off, ready to throw a fit of epic proportions, when he turns to help me.
“What’s with the scowl? You didn’t like it?” He asks, disappointment evident.
“Are you insane? Why would you think that?”
“Because you were ripping the skin off my stomach?”
“Okay, first of all, I wasn’t ripping anything, Nancy. And second, why the hell are we here?”
“I don’t understand this question either. Where else would we be? You’re always pretty adamant I take you straight home.”
“Not when I’m promised a ride on your bike! Sutton Ellis, if you think that little ten-minute jaunt counts as a ride, you are sadly mistaken. I waited a long time for this, I want my money’s worth.”
“Damn, Boss, all you had to do was say so. Let it never be said I left ya wanting more.” He smirks, chuckling as he lowers my helmet back down.
When we take off again, I melt into him, settling in nice and close for a long trip. He heads West, out of town, toward country that still feels like country. No stop-and-go traffic or lights, just open road that curves its way to the lake. The longer we wind along dark, tree-lined backroads, the stronger a certain exhilarated passion builds inside me, and soon, my hand’s sneaking under his shirt to pinch his bare stomach.
He finds the perfect place to park — an off-the-beaten-path spot that overlooks the water — the atmosphere and its vibe only ramping up my desire more. So much so, that by the time both our helmets are off, I’m breathing in heavy, uneven effort.
“How was that? Better?” He asks over his shoulder, that I’m using as a brace while finding ground.
“Much.”
“Need to stretch your legs?”
“Somethin’ like that.” I stretch my leg alright, up and over, his seamless help placing me right where I was headed — face-to-face with him, straddling his lap.
“Presley…”
I trace a fingertip over the growl in his throat. “Hmm?”
“You better be sure, and make up your mind real damn quick, ‘cause if you really want me to quit trying, this isn’t the way to go about it.”
I should listen. Heed his warning. Stop sending mixed signals. Rein it in, agree, and ask him to take me home.
I should do anything other than kiss him.
Chapter 6
Presley
We won the “friendly” game — despite Aunt Laney’s best attempts at being unfriendly, smack-talking worse than a sailor, in a rap-battle, and “accidentally” beaning both Dad and Uncle Dane in the head with the ball… twice. And she can throw, even when she’s not frustrated, so no idea how they’re still standing.
“Damn good pitchin’, Superstar.” Uncle Zach kisses the top of Brynny’s head.
“Hmph,” Aunt Laney sounds her protest. “The only reason you got it past the warning track is because Brynn served you up meatballs. None for her own mother of course.”
“Warning track my ass, this isn’t a real field, so… there isn’t one. And you do remember I was on your team, don’t you?” Zach counters.
“Yep, and we lost, so forgive me if I don’t award you MVP. I hate losing!”
“Nooo,” Uncle Dane laughs. “You? Surely you jest. Good game, baby.” He takes her stiff, pissed-off body in his arms. “My head’s fine by the way. Ears have stopped ringing. Thanks for asking.”
“Yeah, Gidge, good game. Way to shake off the loss,” Dad jabs, his finger and thumb shaped in an “L” and held up to his forehead. “My head’s fine too. You throw like a girl.”
“Awful lotta talk from the bat boy,” she jibes right back.
“Hey, I played!”
“With a beer in your hand!”
“Still played. For the winning team.”
She’s done, because he’s right, and turns away. “Sutton, why didn’t you ever play ball, or did you?” She asks him, flipping Dad off behind her back.
Yep, Aunt Laney noticed too — not only can Sutton use that enormous body of his to stop a ball, but he hit three home runs off Cameron — their team’s designated pitcher.
“I played some when I was younger,” he humbly replies and… ah, he’s blushing. “Just got lucky today.”
“Nah, man, no luck about it. They were deserved. You’ve got a great swing,” Cameron says respectfully; pretty decent of him.
“I told you to walk him, Camden,” Brynn grins up at… shit, Camden? His name’s not Cameron? Good thing I haven’t had the inkling to speak directly to him… our entire “date.”
“You into swallowing your pride and pitching away?” He grins, just as big, back at her. “No way. I know you better than that.”
“She does if that’s what I call!” Laney answers for her, inserting all lingering anger over the loss into her volume.
“What the hell, Brynny? You were helping two members of the other team?” I jokingly chastise her. Like I give a shit — we won — all the “mutiny” and blows to the head unable to keep the best team down.
“I’m hot, let’s jump in the pool,” JT suggests. “You got a couple pairs of trunks in the pool house, Sutton. Grab Camden some while you’re at it.”
*****
He wasn’t actually supposed to come with JT today, but I’d be lying if I said I was mad about it. Especially now. Sutton’s bare chest glistening as water runs down it in enticing rivulets, the pool temp no match for that big ol’ dick I remember well, teasing me from beneath his wet, clinging trunks... yeah, he’s more than welcome to stay.
And as is a long-standing “automatic” any time my family’s in a pool, a game of “Chicken” commences. I would’ve assumed I was expected to partner up with uh… Camden, it’s Camden, but not the case, I learn, when I’m suddenly hoisted out of the water… and my “date” is at the other end of the pool. I look down from the sturdy shoulders on which I’m now perched to see Sutton grinning up at me — having snuck between my legs while underwater.
I quickly glance around, sure that everyone’s looking at us, and find no spectators. Not even the women. How you peel your eyes off a wet shirtless, Sutton is beyond me, but, their loss.
“We should bet large amounts of money against our opponents,” Sutton regains my attention in gravelly flirtation. “On us winning.”
“And why is that?” I have a hunch where he’s going with this and can’t help but smile.
“Because you know as well as I do, anytime your legs are on my shoulders, everything goes perfectly.” His smirk is smug yet playful, his eyes anything but — smoldering with the dark, predatory promise, I know firsthand, he can deliver.
“I seem to recall standing at your door, pretty much offering to put my legs any damn place you wanted, but a lil’ blonde, you remember your girlfriend, right?” I arch both brows. “Had you turning me away.”
“Not. My. Girlfriend,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Not my anything, ever, ever, again. Thank you, by the way, for the save. Very cool of you, Hot Shot.”
“Yeah, well, don’t read too much into it. I figured-”
“We gonna play or what?” JT hollers, splashing water our way.
Just got saved myself. Nice timing, cousin of mine.
“I’m not going against Bellamy,” I call over my shoulder, tapping Sutton on his as signal to turn us in their direction. And never mind. “Aunt Laney,” I roll my eyes when I see her, rather than Bellamy, awaiting battle. “Get down. I’m not gonna hurt you either,” I laugh. The woman’s a nut job, sitting atop her son’s shoulders, the ferocious
sheen of “kill or be killed” in her eyes.
“Hurt? Presley, sweetie, bring it on,” she jeers. “I’ve got your hurt hangin’.”
“Mom, please don’t quote everything you hear Sawyer say. You have nothing hangin’,” JT explains.
“Sounds badass though,” she appeals.
“Sounds like you’re saying you have a dick, and balls, which would all be resting on my neck right now if you did,” JT laughs. “So no, not real badass.”
“Aim for her crotch, Princess,” my dad yells his advice. “Punch her in the new junk she’s packin’, she’ll go down crying.”
“Thank you,” I answer him — also a complete nut job. Ahh, very nice, nut job… now even more fitting, and funny, since Aunt Laney thinks she has a pair.
Sutton tilts his head up. “Tell me you’re not really considering roughing up your aunt. She’s like-”
“Still young enough to kick your ass? Why yes, I am, thank you for noticing, Sutton. How ‘bout you worry about my son and leave the rest to me and my niece? Who would die before backing down.” She leers at me. “Isn’t that right, Princess?”
“Gidge,” my dad bellows across the yard again, “your wife Daney isn’t allowed to sue when my baby breaks your new dick. Okay?”
“You know, if everyone went to the same therapist, they’d probably give y’all one helluva family discount,” Sutton chuckles, tightening his grip on my thighs, but with water on them… it turns into more of a sensual slide of his hands across my skin.
I’m robbed of the chance to savor the sensation though, because my aunt starts making God-awful sounding noises, forcing me to ask for clarification on my suspicion. “Is that supposed to be a chicken you’re impersonating over there?”
“Yep.” She “bocks” again, throwing in some flapping elbows.
“Sad,” I tsk and shake my head. “You suck at that worse than you do the game. One minute, crazy old lady.” I hold up a finger, then dip my head to whisper in Sutton’s ear. “JT’s left is his weak side. Hit him on the right, and he’ll lean, wobble. Laney’s as freakishly strong in her arms as she is her legs, so, she might not be kidding about her dick, and you’ll have to take J out from the bottom quick. I’ll only be able to hold my own with Grandma Gladiator for so long. Got it?”