Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1)

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  Hours pass and I have her cleaned, crib made, and I think it’s safe to say her stomach contents are expelled. She’s softly snoring and seems peaceful. I’m shocked Saylor hasn’t been in to check, but I’m sure she fell asleep. I try to quiet my steps, so I don’t wake her, but I desperately need a shower. I take one step in my room, and my heart sinks.

  She’s curled in a ball, washcloth over her head, trashcan by her side . . . sick as hell. She’s taken care of herself while I’ve taken care of Julie. If she would have just come to me, I could have comforted them both. I rush through a shower and run a tepid bath. Picking her tiny frame up, she wakens. “You better, baby?” I push her hair off her face, and she burrows into my chest. “I ran you a bath.” I strip her and lower us both in the warm water. I feel her muscles relax, and I roam the washcloth up and down her body. “I guess carrots aren’t your favorite, either?”

  “Thanks.” Her voice is small, and she looks miserable.

  “Why didn’t you come get me?” I pull her closer without moving her too much.

  “Julie needed you.”

  “Saylor, there is enough of me to go around. I promise I can take care of you both.”

  She nods and drifts off in my arms. I hold her until I feel she is asleep for the night and gently lift her and dry her body. I hate putting her on the floor, but I need to strip my bed. As soon as everything is clean and in order, I tuck her next to me and glance at the clock. Tomorrow is going to suck. I’ll be functioning on three hours of sleep, and I don’t know if either of them will be well enough for me to leave.

  Whatever they had didn’t last long. Emberlee and Avery are sitting on the floor playing with Julie, Saylor begged off wanting them to have their time, so she is studying and doing errands. Tonight that girl will be in my bed, no interruptions because as soon as I can pry Emberlee and Avery off of Julie, the little munchkin is spending the night with my parents, and I’m spending the night deep inside Saylor.

  “Has Adriane called?” Lee Lee asks, refusing to look at me.

  “No.”

  “She was in town the other day. I think she’s meeting me at my aunt’s for Thanksgiving.”

  “Emberlee, drop it.”

  “She asked me about Julie.” Avery is glaring at her.

  “She has no right to do that, and I’d hope as my friend you didn’t give her any information.”

  “She’s her mother.” Lee Lee is so defensive over her friend.

  “No, she was the incubator. Julie doesn’t have a mother,” I remind her, hoping the edge in my voice warns her.

  “Saylor sure is acting like one.” The bitterness in her delivery doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “Not in front of Julie,” Avery snaps. “We’re gonna go. Sorry, Deacon.”

  “It isn’t your fault, Avery.” I’m still in a stare down with Emberlee, and she averts her eyes with a huff. “Lee Lee, be careful and don’t get involved with things in the past. She made her choice, and I’m better off for it. Don’t take your bullshit out on Saylor.” She looks at me but seems to look right through me as she rolls her eyes and flips the switch for the entitled attitude I’ve seen too often from her friend. “Don’t make choices you can’t take back.” I hope she takes what I’m telling her to heart because I will do what’s best for Julie and myself—always. If that includes cutting her out of our life, I’ll do it.

  Every inch is shaved and buffed to a shine. Perfume at pulse points. I’m wearing my red lace thong and matching bra. I don’t know why I’m nervous; we’ve done this before. It’s different this time—we’re a couple, and I’m anxious.

  And horny. I pull up my skirt and slip on shoes so I can walk over to his house. I walk out of my room into his chest. “What the hell?”

  “I came to get you.” He kisses me. I pull his head tighter, and he pushes back. “No way. I won’t stop, and I need to feed you.”

  “You live like two hundred yards away; I think I’d be okay on my own,” I tease him.

  “Woman, you’d argue with me if I said the sky was blue.”

  “Actually it’s a shade . . .” His mouth cuts the rest of my statement off, and I chuckle in his mouth. I’m glad he did that because I had nothing. The sky is fucking blue. His tongue dips in my mouth, giving me a taste before he pulls back and grabs my hand.

  “Dinner will be there in five. Let’s go.”

  “You didn’t cook for me?”

  “Did you want corn dogs and box macaroni and cheese?”

  “There are lots of things I could practice with a corn dog.” Winking at him, I watch him adjust his dick. He throws me over his shoulder, smacking my ass as he carries me to his house. “Wait, my bag.” I’d thrown some necessities in a bag.

  “No clothes necessary.”

  “I’m not doing the walk of shame in the same outfit.”

  “You can steal another shirt.” He slaps my ass again, which gains him the silence he wanted. He carries me across all the yards, and I can’t complain because it puts me at eye level with his ass. I don’t know what baseball players do in terms of workouts but wow—dat ass. I wouldn’t dare admit this to anyone but Caden . . . squatting in his position as catcher has given him the best ass. Mason has drool-worthy arms. Deacon—he’s the whole package, but has a chest and legs that make me stupid.

  He deposits me inside the front door, and I take it all in. All the lights are dimmed with candles flanking every surface. I can see into the kitchen, the table is set, roses in the center surrounded by pillar candles. “What did you do, Deacon?”

  “Nothing you don’t deserve, baby. I’m treating you the way you make me feel.” He turns my head towards him. “You make me crazy. You challenge me. I never know what you’re going to throw me. I want to do this. All of it.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” I’m surprised by the emotions flooding through me. Fear, heat, tranquility.

  “Say yes. Tell me you want to try this . . . with both feet grounded. I don’t want you looking for a chance to flee.”

  “I can’t say no. I can’t say this doesn’t scare me, but despite my fear, I gravitate to you. It’s you I want to talk to, touch, share my experiences with. I want all of it, but I don’t know how to do this.”

  His smile roots me to the spot. I can’t take a full breath. “One day at a time. One situation at a time. Together. We do this together.”

  “Together…” I repeat in a whisper. His lips pressed to mine, we make a silent promise. The doorbell rings and interrupts us.

  “Dinner,” he sighs. My stomach rumbles, and he chuckles. “Just in time. I need to feed you.”

  He answers and grabs the bags from the delivery guy. “Is that so?”

  “You aren’t going to get any sleep, so the least I can do is give you food.”

  I silently cheer. I follow him to the kitchen while he sets everything up. Knolla’s Pizza and it’s Chicago Style Pizza. “How’d you know I love this place?”

  “I did some recon. Your friends aren’t good at keeping secrets.” He winks at me.

  “Your friends,” I grumble.

  “Sit.” He plates the food and carries it over. “No onions.” Kissing my head, he sits next to me.

  “Thanks.” I dig in, no shame in my game where beef is concerned.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You aren’t going home?” I shake my head, chewing a mouthful of burger. “You’re coming home with me.”

  I stare at him. “I’m not doing any such thing. That’s family time.”

  “I won’t be there all week, I’m staying here. I meant you could come for dinner. It’s usually an all day affair with everyone.”

  “Nope.” I pop a garlic knot in my mouth.

  “Yep.” He imitates me.

  “Not happening.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We will.” I continue eating. He does the same all while studying me. “Stop staring at me.”

  He sha
kes his head. “Challenging. Stubborn.”

  “Pain in my ass.”

  “Beautiful. Sexy.”

  “Hot. Sex god.” He pushes back and pulls me from my chair.

  “You can’t say sex and expect me to keep my hands off you.” His mouth slams on mine. Our tongues swirl; our breathing becomes synchronized. I feel him hoist me up and start walking. Our lips are glued to one another; neither of us wants to break this connection. My back hits the wall inside his bedroom. “This is going to be quick. I’ll take my time next round.”

  “Sounds good,” I mumble as he takes my mouth with his. His hands remove my shirt as he presses his hips against me, holding me in place. My bra is next, and his mouth drops to my chest as he molds my breasts with his hands. Nibbling and sucking my nipples, I clench my thighs against his waist, looking for friction on my pussy. I’m on fire, heat pulsating to my core, and I cry out in want. He’s devouring me, and I grip his shoulders as he pulls my nipples, nipping my neck and jaw. His hands leave my body to unbutton his pants and shove them down. Grabbing the hem of my skirt, I pull it to my waist, and I feel his hard length against my stomach.

  I drop my legs and squirm until he puts my feet on the floor. I drop to my knees and take his dick in my hands, rubbing up and down. His head falls to watch my every movement, biting his lip, his eyes smoldering as they take me in. I guide him in my mouth as I lean against the wall. His hands push my hair back, becoming tangled, tugging the strands. I slowly move his dick as far as I can to the back of my throat, upset I can’t take all of him in. His hands caress my head, my face, as I suck him hard. “Fuck, Saylor.” He groans as I continue sucking. I allow my teeth to rake down his cock, and he begins shallow thrusts. “Stop, baby. I’m going to come.” He pulls back, and my tongue licks the head and catches a drop of salty essence.

  He lifts me under my arms, and we’re back in the position we started. Kissing me long and hard, he’s making me gasp for air, my lungs feel like they’re seizing. His hands snap my panties, and they drop to the floor as he moves his arms under my legs pushing me further up the wall, aligning my pussy with his mouth. That skillful mouth. I’m completely exposed and at his mercy. His hands press into the back of my knees as his head dives between my legs into my soaking folds. My nails dig into his head holding him still, silently begging him to continue. His ministrations on my body are something I’ll crave until the day I die. His mouth makes love to me; my heart pounds, my legs shake, and my hips push into him. He’s become an addiction I’ve been craving since our first time, and I don’t know how much I can take before my orgasm shatters me. He slows down, moving his tongue in and out of me at a languid pace, his nose pressing my clit with the right amount of pressure. I feel my body tense, and it spurs him to flick his tongue against my tongue, and I explode. My body is no match for his mouth. He lowers my body down, still holding me wide open and enters me in one push. He stills and drops his forehead to my shoulder. “Shit. Condom.”

  “I’m on the pill.” Those words seem to unleash a beast in him. I know he’s clean. And I’m concluding that he’s mine as I’m his. His dick fills me, pounding into me relentlessly. My back is pressed against the door, and there is no escaping his assault on my body—I’d be crazy to try.

  “So tight. So wet. Fuck, baby.” His mouth is pressed against my neck as he licks and bites with each thrust. My body starts trembling, and he pushes in faster, harder working me through my second release. I’ll give him whatever he wants to take from my body. Sweat is glistening on his forehead, each thrust is stealing the air from my lungs, his fingers grip my thighs tight. The pain spurs me to move with him.

  I squeeze my core, and his body tenses, his lips find mine, and slowly he pushes into me once, twice, gasping as his release takes hold, and I feel him empty inside me. His lips don’t still, his body presses against me tighter, his heart as erratic as mine. “You’re going to be the death of me.” His lips still glide over mine.

  “We’ll just have to do this over and over so it doesn’t shock your body,” I whisper back into his mouth. His smile through our kiss is the perfect answer. I feel void as he pulls out and drops me on his bed. Disappearing for a few seconds into the bathroom, he comes back with a washcloth, and I let him tend to me. I feel him climb in bed and pull me close, burying his face into my neck.

  “I can’t agree to five nights. I need at least six with you.” I giggle as his hands roam and lull me to sleep.

  I look in his dresser for a shirt to wear—I need caffeine. I pull the first one I come across, and it hangs to mid-thigh. It’s black with yellow writing . . . I hope he doesn’t care I’m wearing it as I realize it’s his baseball shirt. #44 is under Wichita State on the front and centered in the back with ‘Douglas’ above it. I yawn as I stumble in the kitchen in search of a Coke. He’s at the counter drinking some protein drink, and his eyes take in my appearance. He caps his drink and puts it in the refrigerator. Handing me a can, I open it and sip. “Drink what you want.” His tone is husky and laced with sex.

  “What?”

  “You can’t walk in here with my shirt, my fucking name across you, and not expect me to haul your ass to bed.”

  “Holy shit.” I’m clenching my thighs.

  “You done?” I gulp and swallow.

  “Uh-huh.” He takes the can and tosses it into the sink, swooping me up in his arms, and I’m tossed on his bed with him following, covering my body. He flips me over. “Up on your knees. I want to see you wearing my name as I pound your sweet pussy.” His voice, his demands . . . it’s like he has a potion called insta-wet that shoots straight to my core.

  I obey him and am rewarded by his face buried between my legs. “Oh God,” I groan. His tongue and lips devastating my clit; he’s licking, swirling and pressing his tongue against my nub never allowing me to get used to one sensation. His fingers snake down my stomach and enter me as he nibbles and flicks my clit.

  I feel him at my entrance, and his fingers leave me as he enters me slowly allowing me to feel every inch. His hands grip my hips holding me in place as he destroys me. In and out, hard and fast, soft and rough. It’s all too much, and I come hard, milking his cock as he climaxes. “Damn, baby. That was hot.” I collapse on my stomach, too drained to give him the confirmation he doesn’t need. He’s rendered me stupid, and I’m okay with that.

  Hell week. That’s what the guys call it. “Shit gets serious.” Mason complains as he lowers himself to the couch. Practices longer, workouts tougher, muscles in constant aches and pains. I spend plenty of nights rubbing Deacon’s shoulders and back, and I’m paid in orgasms. I think I’m the winner.

  “And you love this?” I ask them because that’s just stupid.

  “Every second.” All three sigh with a content smile.

  Our routines don’t always sync, but we spend a lot of time together. I miss him the nights I’m not with him, but it’s good for us. We don’t need to suffocate one another this early—and I’m scared he’ll get tired of me. I reach for my journal, hoping to be able to unleash these doubts . . . erase them. It’s bookmarked to my last page, and I read the words.

  Shortstop,

  You told me you couldn’t write because you wanted to tell me. So do it. Pick up your phone and type it to me. Call me and utter the words. Don’t internalize and shut me out, open up and let me help.

  Deacon

  Fuck, could he get more perfect? I smile as I pen my return letter.

  Deacon,

  You need sleep, so I’ll write to you this way. You came into my life when I wasn’t looking or expecting it. You’ve driven me crazy, made me happy, and scared the hell out of me. I distance myself sometimes so you don’t tire of me. My dad was that way. For years everything was great, then he left. He was amazing at being a dad then quit. You’re amazing at being a boyfriend, and I’m worried you’ll quit on me one day.

  XOXO,

  Saylor

  I close my journal and rush to his door, dropping it on t
he stoop, hoping it doesn’t rain. I’m suddenly relaxed and drained, ready for sleep. Honesty—who knew it could heal you—

  Her journal blows my mind. The pain she feels, the doubts she lives with—it’s palpable. It shreds me.

  Saylor,

  I don’t see myself tiring of you. I reach for you when you’re not here. I smile when I think of you. I ache when I can’t feel you.

  You can officially have my man card. You’ve ruined me. You’re my weakness, and I only hope to be your strength.

  Trust me. Let me prove you wrong.

  Deacon

  In hindsight, I shouldn’t have put the journal on the table because Mason is in tears as he reads it. He leaves without a word and comes back ten minutes later with a box of tampons. “These should hold you over—UNTIL YOU FIND YOUR BALLS.”

  “Fuck you, Mason. If you knew the shit she’s dealt with, you’d rethink busting my balls.”

  “What balls?”

  “The ones I’m going to drag across your forehead when I knock your ass out. She didn’t grow up like us.”

  He looks puzzled. “I know she’s here on scholarship, but I didn’t think she had to be.”

  “She doesn’t. It’s deeper. For a long time it was just her and her mom.” Caden comes in and sits down, and I continue. “Her dad left when she was eleven. She says overnight he became a different person. I guess they were close when she was younger, but he disappeared from her life. She spent some time with him, but he wasn’t there. She felt like a burden, an afterthought, and it broke her heart. Two years later, he died, and she never got answers. She wants to know what changed. Her parents never divorced, and he carried a mountain of debt, so they had to move in with her grandparents. At thirteen, she had to pack up her life and move across the country. I don’t think she’s ever recovered. Her mom worked three jobs at times to make ends meet and pay off the debt. Saylor has worked odd jobs since and saves every penny. It’s her umbrella. Her security blanket.”