by Frankie Love
“Really, Cooper, me looking at memes of another guy makes you insecure? You’re a pro athlete who has women fawning over him left and right. Heck, I bet you’ve slept with more woman this year than Magic Mike and Brock combined.”
Cooper runs a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “You wanna talk about the women I’ve slept with Gracie? Seems like it could change the vibe....”
My shoulders tense. I want this evening to go perfectly. My pussy needs it to go perfectly. Which is why I am going to wait until tomorrow before bringing up the conversation I had earlier today with my advisor.
“No. Let’s talk about those pastries, I mean pasties. After we watch the all-male strip show, then what?”
“Then you are going to strip for me, and if you’re good, you might even get a tip.”
I blush because as he says this a waiter brings a basket of bread to the table.
“What sort of tip are we talking about?”
“Depends on how good a pole dancer you are.”
I shake my head, laughing at the absurdity. “And my stripper name, what should that be?”
“Well, you brought pastries ... how about we stick with the theme?
“Hmmm,” I say, sipping my champagne. “I got it. Cupcake.”
“And what kind of cupcake are you, Gracie?” Cooper asks, leaning forward.
I grin, loving this game I’m playing with the hottest man I have literally ever seen. Forget Brock and freaking Magic Mike. I have Cooper Bentley across from me, inviting me to strip for him tonight.
“The kind that are filled with cream.”
15
Stripping for Cupcake
September 2017
COCKPIT is funny, more than anything. And at one point, McQueen pulls Gracie onstage, plops her down in a chair, and the entire cast comes out to give her a lap dance.
Her face is bright red, but it’s clear she’s having the time of her life.
Am I threatened by these men flexing their pecs and shaking their asses in Gracie’s face?
Fuck yeah. Watching her up there is fun, but damn, I want her for more than the Kinky List.
And tomorrow I am going to tell her that.
I’m going to tell her that all year all I’ve wanted is to be with her. That there hasn’t been anyone else.
She comes off the stage, a smile spread across her face, her minidress riding up her thigh, her tits pushed together teasing me all through dinner and this show.
I am ready to see them in all their glory.
“You ready for your turn?” I ask, taking her hand and leading her out of the theater toward the club entrance.
“I’m ready for a lot of things, Cooper.”
At the front desk, I check in with our reservation and a man in a thong and nothing else leads us to a back section of the club, away from the gyrating women and men, and away from the card tables, to an area that is all pink velvet curtains, glittering chandeliers and private rooms.
“Here you are, Mr. Bentley. You have the room reserved for the next four hours. There is a phone in the room in case you need anything at all.”
I thank him, then pull Gracie into the room.
“Wow, this is so, um, fancy.” She looks around as I pour us champagne. The room is filled with everything you could want for a night of pleasure. Besides toys, there is a stripper pole, a heart-shaped bed, a swing.
“We’re not using those tonight,” she says, pointing to the handcuffs, whips, and ball gags on a shelf. “But these .... I could do that.”
She’s pointing to a rack of clothes. She pulls one outfit off the hanger, it’s a tiny stripper ensemble.
I adjust my cock.
“Okay, Cooper, you sit down, get yourself comfortable, and let me change.”
“You’re just going for it?” This girl never ceases to impress me.
“I play by the rules. You told me this is what’s happening tonight, and I’m going to ace it. After our threesome slash foursome disaster, I’m pretty committed to making this resolution more... enjoyable.”
“You know how to put on a strip show?”
She frowns. “Maybe not perfectly, but I just watched half a dozen men get down in their tighty-whities. I think I can manage.”
The lights are low, and we’ve finished our flutes of champagne. The stage is set.
Gracie’s voice comes from behind the dressing room curtain, “I don’t know if I can walk out there in this, Coop.”
“I’m sure you look amazing, Gracie. Fuck, you look perfect without anything on at all.”
“It’s just, this outfit doesn’t leave much for me to actually strip off.”
“Let me see.”
“These heels are really high.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want to fall.”
“I’ll catch you.”
“Don’t be cheesy.”
I swallow heavily. If only this girl knew.
“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have too. I just thought...”
“That I wanted to finish my list like a good girl?”
“Well, yeah.”
She sighs, then says, “I’m going to do a few twirls or whatever, but don’t like, laugh. Promise?”
I rarely hear Gracie sound insecure. She is unabashedly inexperienced, but she doesn’t try to hide what she is. I remember the night after my game in August when Bridget was basically throwing her and her sexual inexperience under the bus, but Gracie never once seemed embarrassed.
And when we made the list; it was all about Gracie wanting to try new things, to put herself out there. She never said no to the handcuffs or the public-sex. She’s the one who suggested the foursome. She’s been all in since the start.
So why is she so hesitant now?
“Gracie, I have been waiting a long time for this night, and so have you. Come do a little dance, and then you and I... we can end the night on our own terms.”
She doesn’t answer with words, instead, she pulls back the curtain and reveals herself in all her stripper glory. We’re talking a gold t-strap bodysuit.
A three-inch piece of material reaches from her neck to her pussy, and back around. Another three-inch band stretches over her tits, covering her nipples, but not much else.
Fuck, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My cock twitches as she walks to the stripper pole in her four-inch black stilettos that scream fuck me.
Don’t worry baby, I’m planning on it.
“Gracie,” I groan, as she places her hands on the pole, walking in a circle, the backside of the bodysuit a thong, revealing her round ass in all its perfection.
“You like it?” she asks gently, a juxtaposition to the sultry clothes she wears. Clothes that scream confidence and sex appeal. “Do I look okay?”
I swallow, remembering that, Kinky List or not, Gracie is a woman who is in the flesh and taking a risk every time she shows up for these resolutions. She is vulnerable, and fragile, and fucking hot as hell.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, and watch as the softest smile crosses her lips.
My words must give her confidence, because as the bass pounds from the speakers, Gracie begins moving her hips, hands on the pole, arms outstretched, arching her back.
She wraps a leg around the pole, letting her head fall back, and fuck – all I want is her.
This girl is working the pole like it can get her pussy off, and my cock is fucking hard as hell, wanting to be the thing that gets her wet.
“You’re killing me, Gracie,” I groan, watching her round, perky tits press together and she swings around the pole, moving pretty damn gracefully for a woman who has never taken a turn around one before.
The song ends, and she closes her eyes, offering me an exaggerated bow, then walking toward me in those take-me-now heels.
“You ready for your lap dance?” she asks, her confidence found somewhere during her turn on the pole or maybe when she saw the massive bulge in my trousers.
> She circles me, her fingers running over my shoulders and then she is facing me, her tits in my face, her hair falling over her shoulders, her lips so fucking kissable.
I reach out to pull her toward me. She looks down, those big brown eyes of hers, full of longing, no longer inhibited. Right now, Gracie is free.
“I don’t want a lap dance,” I tell her.
“What do you want, Cooper?” she asks as I place my hands on her bare hips, pulling her to me. Then she’s in my lap, her arms around my neck, and we are kissing. Hard.
The kind of kisses you get when you have waited months to taste her lips. The kind of kiss you get when the heat between two people reaches a boiling point.
The kind of kiss you get when the girl you want is close enough to keep.
“Gracie,” I pant, kissing her again, my hands in her hair, holding the base of her neck, her chin tilted to mine. I kiss her again, more, deeper. Now. I kiss her, our mouths part. I kiss her, our tongues collide. I kiss her, and pick her up by her perfect little ass, carrying her to the bed, and crawl on top of her, tugging off my pants as I do.
She’s unbuttoning my shirt, tossing it aside; my fingers slide between her legs, feeling her delicate cunt, the one I have dreamed about for the past several months, waiting. Wanting. Fucking praying that I would see and taste and have her again.
Praying that she would finish that damn paper so I could finish this damn list.
So, I could tell her how I really feel.
“Let me taste you, Cooper,” she whispers in my ear, my hard cock pressing against her soft skin. Her hands are on me, and she’s never sucked me off before.
Fuck me now; this is a dream come true.
She gets up on her knees, her tiny little outfit revealing the parts of her I need to see.
Everything.
I roll to my back, naked before Gracie, and suddenly I’m the vulnerable one. I want her so badly, want her for more than a list... and yet, she hasn’t even hinted at wanting anything else. Now I’m on my back for her, my cock fucking furious, alive, hard and hers for the taking.
She doesn’t back down. She takes it in her hands, stroking me gently, then leaning over, and pressing my tip into her mouth.
I close my eyes, reach for her ass, pulling her closer to me, wanting to taste her as she tastes me.
“Come closer, baby,” I tell her.
As if she’d been planning this, she lifts her leg, straddling me backward, giving me full access to her creamy little ass. My hands run over her cheeks, then I pull her closer to me until she is sitting on my face, her little pussy pressed to my mouth, and her mouth on my raging cock.
She starts sucking me, sealing her lips around my dick, licking my length up and down, as I draw her pussy closer still, using my fingers to move the fabric of her stripper suit, and press my tongue to her wet little pussy. My tongue runs down her slit, tasting her sweet release, as she sucks my cock, hard.
As I lick her, groans escape her mouth, and I add a finger to her cunt as she starts sucking me faster, faster, and faster.
“Oh, Cooper,” she whimpers, her come all over my face as I finger fuck her harder, adding another finger, her juice coating me as my tongue licks it all up.
God, she tastes like fucking heaven.
My cock is so close to exploding, and she must sense this, because she lifts her little ass from my mouth, and before I can ask if she’s okay, she has sunk her pussy over my cock, riding me reverse cowboy, as I hold onto her waist, my balls so fucking tight as she rides me.
As she fucks me.
Good and hard.
“I’m gonna come, Gracie,” I tell her.
She reaches for her hair, pulling it to the top of her head, as her hips move faster, faster, faster. As she starts crying in pleasure, my cock filling her cunt so well. She is warm and tight and my cock spurts my creamy come in her pussy. I fill her up with my seed and she grips my legs, rocking her hips harder as she comes too, her juicy release spreading down her thighs to mine.
“Oh my god, oh my god, Cooper, ohh,” she cries, coming until there’s nothing left.
“Gracie, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I whisper, my hands resting on her waist, my eyes on her back.
But what I really want is to see her.
“Cooper,” she sighs, lifting off me, turning to face me. “That fuck was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I swallow, once again hit with the realization that Gracie sees the two of us as fuck-buddies.
What I see is so much more.
16
Call to the Bullpen
October 2017
Things have been a clusterfuck between Cooper and me.
And it’s all my fault.
After our strip tease in Vegas, I kinda messed everything up.
And the worst part is … I haven’t even spoken to him to try and clear the air.
The Yankees are about to make it to the World Series. If he had a jam-packed schedule before... it doesn’t hold a candle to the intensity that is his life right now.
Cooper is the anchor holding his team all together. I know because I check the box scores every morning, even though I watch the games on TV the night before.
Which is why a note being slipped under my door four weeks after our COCKPIT hook-up is pretty much a shocker. He hasn’t even been staying at his apartment during home games.
Gracie,
I made a commitment to you. And I don’t take commitments lightly.
Tonight. You and me. In your bedroom. Nine pm.
Cooper
At first, I have no idea what to think. This is a bad idea, right? I had basically told him this entire thing is a job to me, and he retreats.
After pulling open my apartment door and see that Cooper isn’t out there, I carry the note to my living room where Bridget sits crossed legged on my couch.
She has Wednesday’s off at the women’s clinic she works at. After graduating last spring – when I did not – she got herself an awesome position doing important work. She says the pay is shit, and the benefits are bare bones, but she is doing something that she believes has value.
She may like to hook-up all freaky-deeky with strangers on Saturday nights, but maybe she just needs to let her wilder side free on the weekends so she can be all business when she’s at work.
Regardless, I’m proud as hell of her.
Even if I haven’t been honest.
Like, all year.
“Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?” she asks, unwrapping her burrito. She just brought over Chipotle and while I’m grateful, I suddenly don’t have an appetite.
“Just read it,” I say, tossing her the letter.
“What the fuck does this mean?” she asks, frowning as she scans the note.
“I think I should start at the beginning.”
Her eyes narrow; she leans in.
Have I got a story for her.
An hour later I’ve described the leaky sink, the Kinky List, and the “dates” we’ve had in detail. But of course, I don’t explain the last four weeks.
Mostly because I’m ashamed.
“So, let me get this straight,” Bridget says. “The hottest pro athlete in the state and possibly the country – has been fucking you sideways all year and you are literally just now telling me?”
“It wasn’t personal.”
“Sure seems like it,” she says, shrugging, picking at her tortilla chip crumbs.
“Well, it wasn’t personal in a way that is mean. At first, I thought you might be too eager about it. I got insecure about it. I messed up school – and Cooper wasn’t having that––”
“Which is a good thing,” Bridget says, interrupting.
“True, but I’m just saying, at that point, too much time had passed. I didn't know what to say.”
“Besides, hey BFF I am currently screwing the hottest man in the USA?”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “I could have.
But I didn’t. And honestly, I thought the entire thing was off after Vegas... I can’t believe he wants to see me again.”
“What happened in Vegas? I mean, what happened after you 69’d until you passed out?”
I exhale slowly. This is where our story got all jacked up. “We went back to the hotel, we slept in his bed, but not like sex-all-night-sleep, we literally slept. I had horrible jet lag, he was exhausted from the Arizona series. Anyways, the next morning we woke, ordered room service, and he asked again about my meeting with my advisor.”
“About her wanting you to bulk up your research and submit it to a literary agent?”
“Yeah.”
“Why does that involve Cooper?”
When I turned in my grad paper my advisor loved my paper so much she thought it had the potential to be a sort of memoir slash research-based book. Of course, the idea of a book deal flashed like massive golden unicorns before my eyes.
But I knew immediately that Cooper might not like it.
Like, at all.
“The paper is pretty much exploring the Kinky List ... what happened to a woman when she decided to take charge of her sexuality.”
Bridget’s mouth falls to an O. I’ve rendered her speechless for the first time in her life.
“I’m confused, I thought you’ve spent the last four weeks working on this book proposal,” she says. “How are you doing that if he nixed it?”
“I’ve been trying to make it work without naming names. But the truth is, Cooper being Cooper is part of the appeal of the book in the first place. I’m pretty much spinning my wheels, wondering if I should just take a page from your playbook and randomly find guys on the internet to check off the last two items.”
Bridget picks up the note. “Except he wants to see you again.”
“He was so irritated in Vegas. He said chronicling our sexual exploits wasn’t the life changing work I should aspire to. He said that like he knows me.”