by Celia Aaron
When the stampede arrived, Easton took me to the ground, and I landed with my bad knee in the air to avoid impact. He propped himself on all fours over my knee and took the entire weight of the dog pile onto his back. How he did it, I had no idea.
We were face to face. “Nice fucking rip, man.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I strained to lift my head toward his ear. “Help me as much as you can, but don’t let anyone see.”
“Okay.”
After a few moments, the dog pile finally cleared, and Easton helped me to my feet. My knee was pretty fucked, but it could easily just be a bad bruise that would heal on its own in a day or two. I’d play through it like usual. The shit happened to catchers all the time.
While surrounded by all the guys, Easton kept his arm out for me to hold onto for support as I walked. When we were about ten feet from the dugout, everyone scattered, and I nodded at him.
He let go. I gritted my teeth and walked the last ten feet to the dugout on my own like nothing was wrong. It hurt so fucking bad I couldn’t even look at Nik. That crushed me more than anything.
Easton and Coach stood in front of me after most of the players had gone. People had big mouths, and I couldn’t risk any information getting back to the GM.
Once sure everyone had left, Coach turned to me. “How bad?”
“It’s not that bad, Coach.”
“The fuck.” Easton drew out his syllables, and he turned to Coach. “I had to take the weight of the pile so they didn’t land on him. And then help him off the field until the guys scattered. I still don’t know how he walked the last ten feet like that. He didn’t even look at his girlfriend, so I know it’s worse than ‘not that bad.’” He shook his head. “You can fucking trust us. We’re on your side. But you need to tell the truth. Stop trying to shoulder everything.”
Coach folded his arms over his chest and scowled. “He’s right you know? For once.”
“Oh, eat me.” Easton chuckled, as did I.
“Look, it could be bad. It could be bruised. I don’t know.” I pulled off a cleat.
“Did you feel a pop?” asked Easton.
I dropped my gaze to the ground.
Easton ran both hands up behind his head, and he arched his back as he looked up. “He has to go to a doctor.”
“Fuck you.” I tried to stand up and hobbled for a second. “I’m not going to a doctor. Ain’t happening!”
“Boys. Calm the fuck down. This shit doesn’t solve anything.”
Easton paced back and forth. “He felt a pop. You heard him. His knee—”
“What’s that about a knee?”
The three of us turned our heads in the direction of the voice. Rick Ingram, the general manager of the team, walked in. He was mid-thirties and the smuggest fuck on the planet. He’d been a big time sports analyst, and had devised a system using math and statistics to value baseball players. He saw us as numbers, not people, and gave no points for any intangibles like leadership or character. He was a cunt-o-potamus rex.
“Huh?” Coach’s voice boomed as Ingram strolled over.
“I heard something about a knee. What’s up? You okay, Braden?” A devilish smile formed on Ingram’s face.
“Just fine, sir.” I prayed he wouldn’t ask me to stand. I needed ice in the worst way, and then a whirlpool soak, and then for Nik to sit on my dick. Then I’d be fine.
“VanDerbakken.”
We all stared at Coach.
“What?” He shrugged. “He tore his ACL last week. Catcher for the A’s. That’s who we were talking about.”
It was true. I’d read about it a couple days ago.
“Oh, right.” Ingram brushed off the sleeve of his suit with distaste. He acted as if he hated having to come down and mingle with his lowly players. He turned his stare from Braden to Coach, and he motioned toward Coach’s office.
“Yep. You guys behave. But enjoy the win. Great fucking hit, Braden. You really saved our asses tonight. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Coach glowered at Ingram as he spoke, then stomped over to his office.
Finally, they shut the door and I whipped my head up to meet Easton’s stare. “Get me out of here, quick.”
NIKKI
“I WISH I could get in bed with you.” I sighed and fastened the back to my earring. My mom had called and invited me, just me, for dinner again. I’d refused. Then she sent my dad, who claimed my mom wanted to apologize, to visit me at work. Worry had laced his voice and crinkled his forehead. The scene the prior week had them on edge about Braden.
I couldn’t hide from Mom forever, unfortunately, so I intended to get it over with. Maybe they’d listen to me if I could talk to them one on one. Braden was going to be a part of my life with or without them. I just had to make them understand.
“You look beautiful.” Braden placed his hands behind his head.
I twirled so he could see all of me. My white top draped along my breasts, and my navy skirt fell to the middle of my thigh.
He made an mmm sound. “Good enough to eat. Speaking of that, come sit on my face.”
I arched a brow at him and put in my other earring. “You are having a majorly lazy day. Have you even been out of bed? You’re in the same spot you were in when I left for work.”
He shifted lower so he was lying flat on his back. “Come on over. I haven’t shaved in a couple days either. So this is officially a mustache ride.”
I giggled and walked through the bathroom and into the closet to find some shoes.
“I’m serious,” he called.
“No, you aren’t. You’re just trying to make me later than I already am.” I snagged a pair of strappy, silver sandals and returned to the bedroom.
“If you don’t get over here, I’ll drag you.” He raised up on an elbow and gave me a smoldering stare that went straight to my pussy. His broad chest was covered with a light dusting of dark hair, and the covers had slid down to reveal his muscled abs. The sheet began to tent over his cock.
I licked my lips and rubbed my thighs together. “Braden—”
“Tell me no again and you’ll get a spanking. Then you’ll have to explain to Mommy and Daddy why you can’t sit down at dinner.”
My knees went weak. “Oh my God. You’re awful.”
He leaned back and grinned. “Yes, yes I am. Now get that pussy on my face.”
My nipples hardened painfully against the molded cups of my bra. I wanted a spanking, of course, but I also wanted to be able to sit normally when I met with my parents. Then again, it seemed obvious that, when faced with having my pussy eaten or not having my pussy eaten, I should always go with having my pussy eaten. Even if it made me late to dinner.
“Nikki—”
“Okay, okay.” I slid my panties to the floor and walked to the bed. Before I could climb on top, Braden grabbed me around the waist and lifted me onto his chest.
He shoved my skirt up to my hips and stared between my legs. “I’m starving.”
“Braden.” I put a hand to my throat, my heart suddenly beating too fast.
“Show me your tits.” He grabbed my ass and pulled me toward the head of the bed.
I moved my knees so they were above his shoulders, my pussy hovering right above his face. He wrenched the fabric of my skirt tight around my stomach and stared up at me as I lifted my shirt and pulled my bra down. My pussy tingled each time he exhaled, and goosebumps rose all over my skin as he stared at my tits.
“Pinch your nipples.” He kneaded my ass.
I did as he said, pinching my nipples and moaning from my own touch.
“That’s my good girl.” He wrapped his hands around my upper thighs and pulled me down onto his mouth.
“Oh, Jesus.” My head fell back when he licked me from my entrance to my clit. I tried to lift up from him a little, to give him some space.
He wasn’t having it. His hands tightened on my thighs, pulling my full weight down onto him as he growled into my wet skin. He licked again and stoppe
d.
I peered down at him, and he began swirling his tongue around my clit, but when I looked at the headboard, he stopped.
“You want me to watch?” I pinched my nipples harder and rocked my hips against his lips as he nodded.
I kept my gaze locked on his as he pressed his tongue inside me. His kissing skills translated well from my mouth to my pussy. I cupped my tits and let my hips go, riding his face in long, slow movements.
He increased his tempo, focusing on my most sensitive spot and gripping my thighs hard enough to leave bruises.
Each swipe of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and tension pooled low in my hips. My movements became shorter and faster as he ran the broadside of his tongue against my clit again and again. I closed my eyes for a moment. When he stopped, I wanted to slap him. Instead, I opened my eyes. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled against me and began licking again.
“Fucker.” I glared and then squealed as he popped my ass with a smack.
He intensified his efforts, and I rode him hard, the way he liked it. I ground my pussy down on him, giving him every bit of me to lick and suck. My thighs began to tremble, and I kept my gaze firmly fixed on his hazel eyes. He did that thing where he flicked me with the tip of his tongue, then bore down and sucked. I was gone, moaning low in my throat as my hips seized and I came with a thumping orgasm. He shook his head back and forth, sending tiny explosions rocketing through my body until every circuit was overloaded. I leaned against the headboard and finally closed my eyes.
He licked a few more times, then scooted my hips down a little and grinned up at me.
“You go on to your parents’ house and get some grub. I’m all good here.”
“You. Are. Ridiculous.” I said between pants. I wanted to kiss him, but ‘contortionist’ wasn’t in my repertoire.
“Nope. Just full of delicious pussy.” He ran his hands across my ass and gave my mound a hard kiss. “And if they ask, feel free to tell your parents I already ate.”
“Braden didn’t mind fending for himself for dinner, did he?” Mother asked with faux concern as we sat down at the table.
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “He did just fine. Don’t worry.”
“I hate that I missed the chance to meet him.” Ben, my older brother, smiled warmly at me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him. He worked in a bigger city a few hours away and rarely came home.
“You’ll meet him soon. Maybe you can come to a game with me?”
“That would be awesome. Do you get good seats?” His light brown hair needed a cut, but he was otherwise well put-together in a simple button-down and jeans.
“The best. Right behind home plate.” I smiled, warming at the thought of having an ally at the table.
“Count me in.”
My father cleared his throat and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Speaking of Braden, we’d like to talk about what happened. Your mother and I need to know what sort of future you see with him.”
Way to start the heavy shit as early as possible. I placed my napkin in my lap as the cook set the salad course in front of me. “I see a long future with him.”
My mother coughed dryly, but I continued, “He’s the only man I’ve ever felt this way about. I’m in love with him. Whenever I think about him, I smile.” As if on cue, the corners of my lips turned up at the thought of the orgasm he’d given me before I’d left the apartment. “We argue sometimes, sure. We have tiffs like the one here. Though, in his defense, he was goaded into that.” I shot a pointed look at my mother, who avoided my gaze. “But we always make up. We’re always there for each other. He’s the one.”
“But he has a temper.” My father speared a piece of lettuce.
I crossed my arms. “Not really. That scene, caused by Carter, was completely out of character for him.”
“Are you saying I missed a scene?” Ben ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Why do I always miss the good stuff?”
I nodded. “Mom decided she would invite Carter over for dinner at the same time I was bringing Braden to meet them.”
“Mom.” Ben slung his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Come on, you know that wasn’t cool.”
He’d always had a way with her. Maybe it was because he was the oldest or maybe because he was a boy, but Mom always caved when it came to Ben. Relief began to surge inside me just from knowing he was on my side.
She pursed her lips. “Well, I just thought—”
“You’re too smart for your own good.” He squeezed her again before going back to his salad. “So, if Carter and Braden were here together, of course there was some sort of a fight, right?”
Despite Ben’s efforts, Mom seemed undeterred. “Braden isn’t the sort of man I pictured you with. He’s so, so angry. And he’s uneducated.”
“He knows what he needs to know to succeed at baseball. That’s his career.” I shrugged.
“But what will he do after his career is over?” My father’s eyes softened, and he put a hand on my upper arm. “He’s got what, five good years of baseball left, if that? His knees will go eventually. It happens to all catchers. Then what’s his plan? You’ve always been a hard worker, setting goals and knocking them down. Mom told me how you’re writing an article for Style and Substance now, already moving up. You have a bright future. We’re so proud of you. We just want to make sure you aren’t chaining yourself to someone who doesn’t share your work ethic.”
I fidgeted in my seat. Braden and I had never talked about what his plans were after baseball. Did he have some sort of backup career? What would he do when the seasons were over? Dad withdrew his hand, and the room fell silent as the cook replaced our salad plates with the main course—prime rib, roasted vegetables, and baked potatoes.
“He’ll find something else after baseball. We’ll figure it out together.” My voice had lost some of its strength, but I tried to sit a little taller to make up for it. “That’s how we do everything. Together.”
Dad cut into his prime rib and made an “oomph” noise. Mom shifted in her seat, and I suspected she’d kicked him under the table.
He began, “You know, I’m still involved in certain baseball circles.” He glanced at Mom but continued, “I was talking to a friend of the Ravens GM the other day after a round of golf at the club. He mentioned that Braden might be traded. Has he discussed that with you?”
Mom couldn’t contain her triumphant smile. I’d wipe that right off for her.
“We’ve discussed it. It’s one of the reasons he was so upset the other night. The trade talks were weighing on him. Maybe if you’d treated him like a person instead of some sort of insect you needed to brush away, he would have shared that information.” I was telling the truth, mostly. I didn’t mention that he hadn’t even told me until we were standing in the front yard and he was yelling at me. I winced at the memory. I’d resolved to forgive him for it, to try and forget it. But it still hurt all the same.
Mom’s smile fell away, and at least I got a slice of satisfaction from dousing her smugness.
“And that’s why he yelled—”
“Wait.” Ben’s eyes narrowed. “He yelled at you?”
“Just a little. Nothing crazy.”
Mom’s smile was back.
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “‘Just a little’? He’s lucky I don’t kick his ass! No guy yells at you, understand?”
I stared at him. “You’re yelling right now.”
“I’m your brother!” He clanged his fork on his plate. “I get to yell when you act like an idiot and let some guy walk all over you.”
Ben was so even-keeled that his anger took me off guard.
I needed him on my side. “It wasn’t like that. When you meet him, you’ll see. I promise, he’s never yelled before. It was just that one time.”
“One time too many,” Ben grumbled.
“Please have some faith in me. I would never be with a guy wh
o mistreated me, okay?” I tucked my hair behind my ears and stared down at my plate as tears burned behind my eyes. My parents? I could handle their disapproval. But my brother, too?
Ben took a deep breath and, in a calmer voice, asked, “So, where are they thinking of sending him?”
He was throwing me a bone. I’d take it and run with it. “He doesn’t know. They haven’t actually sat down and discussed it yet. There will be a meeting next week, I think.”
I picked at my food and tried to regain the same confidence I had when I left the apartment, fully satisfied with myself and my boyfriend.
“Are you okay with leaving your job, though?” Ben asked. “Especially now that you’re getting more responsibilities? Doesn’t it bother him that he’ll be taking you away from all that?”
“He hasn’t …” My fingers went cold as I realized what I was about to say. “He hasn’t asked me to go with him.” My voice was small, almost as small as I felt.
“Thank God.” My mother drained her glass and motioned for another.
Disappointment hit me so hard in the chest that I thought it might bruise. Even after Braden and I had made up and discussed the trade issue, he’d never asked if I’d go with him. He’d talked about places he didn’t want to go or teams he wouldn’t mind joining. He’d even discussed the costs of moving all his things. But never once did he ask, or even mention, that I’d be at his side.
“Nik, you okay?” Ben placed his napkin next to his plate and rose.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I stood and held out my palm toward him. “Stay, finish your meal. I’m not feeling so great. I think I’ll go.”
“Nikki, please stay.” Dad’s pleading tone joined Ben’s concerned look and made my insides heave. They pitied me, and it almost broke me down to tears. I couldn’t let it.
I straightened my back, wiped an errant tear from my cheek, and strode toward the front door. “I can’t. I have something I need to do.”
BRADEN
I HEARD A rattling against the door handle. “Fuck me. Nik’s home early.” Grabbing the remote, I clicked the power button and turned the TV on. The laptop tumbled over onto the floor, and the wireless mouse rolled under the coffee table. “Son of a fuck.”