KISMET

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “We won’t lose,” Avery whispers to me.

  “I know. Get them outta here. I’m trumping whatever you’re thinking.” She nods and gets to work.

  “Let’s go.” Avery waves Saylor off the couch.

  “Where?” She tries to snuggle deeper into Deacon.

  “Training. I’m not stripping for these fools.”

  “To the mall.” I grab my purse.

  “We aren’t training at the mall,” Saylor huffs. No shit, but I don’t want the guys to know my plans.

  “We have to be cute for this thing.” I toss my hair behind my shoulder, playing up the pampered princess thing, and stomp to the door.

  I hear traitor ass Saylor asking the guys. “Any color preference y’all want for our undergarments?” She’s betting against us. Oh, Avery and I wink knowing we have this in the bag.

  “What the fuck, Lee Lee?” Saylor sits in the front seat. “The mall?”

  I laugh and high five Avery. “Listen, Shortstop.” I wink at her shocked expression. “You think Deacon wants anyone to see you strip?” She swallows and shakes her head.

  “I’m afraid it will make me a widow before we’re married.” She rushes. “Not that we’re getting married anytime soon.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. He loves you; we’re okay with it.” I let her know I’m on board.

  “No ugly bridesmaid dresses.” Avery puts her two cents in.

  “Oh God. Ignore me.” She is red and fidgety.

  “Learn from the master. Avery will design us cute matching outfits. We’ll fit the clueless, cute girls persona they’ve labeled us with. I’ll admit we won’t beat them fairly . . . but we’ll need a back-up plan. You may have to wear shorts that are shorter than you’re comfortable with. Drain Deacon the night before. Underhanded tactics.”

  “I’m down.” She nods.

  “Yep, you’ll be down a lot.” Avery snickers from the back seat.

  “And you’ll be a beast with all that extra protein,” I add in.

  We all laugh. “You know we are the girl version of them. We’re like toddlers,” Saylor notes. We shrug.

  Sitting on my bed, I’m going over all the ploys we can do to win tomorrow. We’ve got Saylor on Deacon duty, but that isn’t going to help. I’m struggling with my self-imposed Brody Ban . . . and I could use extra protein.

  I strip and throw on a trench coat— left over prop from the Halloween the girls dressed as pimps and the guys as hoes. Speeding to his apartment is the best move to get this over with . . . I didn’t partake in liquid courage and I don’t want to give myself time to change my mind.

  My fist knocks once. Twice. As I’m getting impatient and fixing to bang, the door flies open, and he stands in front of me in nothing but shorts. His bare chest displaying his smooth skin, tight muscles . . . and his happy trail leading to the place that makes me ecstatic.

  “What are you doing here, Emberlee?” He’s gonna ruin this with talking.

  “Just in the neighborhood.” I step through the door without an invitation and strip my coat off. He won’t turn me away in this get-up. My birthday suit. The door slams and echoes off the walls.

  “Jesus. You can’t stand in my door naked. My neighbors could see.” Score. Getting him riled is an added bonus . . . for my pleasure.

  “Can I stand in your bedroom naked? Drop to my knees? Bend over your bed? All that I can do naked.” I bring my finger to my mouth and bite the tip. The sultry look is working, judging from his hooded eyes and staccato breath. I move so my chest is flush with his— skin to skin. Trailing my fingers up the side of his torso, I rejoice in the goose bumps I leave in their wake. I bring my head forward, circling my tongue on his skin, paying close attention to his nipples. Nips follow licks, emitting a growl deep in his chest. His hands grip my hips and pull me flush to his body, grinding his erection into my stomach. “Let’s go to your room so I can do all those things I mentioned— naked— with you.”

  He leads.

  I follow.

  His shorts land on the floor, and his ass hits the bed. I drop to my knees and run my hands over his straining dick, loving the feel of it hardening. I drop a few kisses on the crown and underside, allowing my tongue to trail the vein throbbing, and take him in my mouth as deep as I can. My hands grip the rest of his shaft, working in time with my mouth. His head falls back; his mouth slack jawed, as I listen to the sounds of pleasure erupting from his lips.

  I work him until he tugs my hair, pulling me from his cock. Our bodies are reversed, and as his head disappears between my legs, I jump off the bed, causing him to groan and pin my hips to the mattress. His tongue lavishes harsh and soft licks, his teeth nip my clit, and he sucks it into his mouth. I’m spiraling, and he’s there to deliver the final push to make me detonate.

  He stands and enters me in one push. Lifting my hips at the angle he wants, he continues entering me, building me to the crest once more. His hips piston, his thrusts more powerful, his finger finds my nub, and I skyrocket.

  He continues pushing in and roars my name as he stills. Our eyes lock. His dark to my light. My hiding to his openness. “Stay there, I’ll go get something to clean you up.” He pulls out with little fanfare, and as I hear the faucet running, I bolt.

  Smart move with the trench coat. I pull it on as I’m running to the door. I’m out of his parking lot faster than he can finish wetting the cloth. My Brody Ban will turn into and Emberlee Exile if I keep this shit up.

  They brought the entire baseball team and fucking Brody. I don’t know why I sought comfort from him last night— that isn’t my normal ammo. I try to keep sex and emotional entanglements separate.

  To say he was pissed when I scrammed after coming is an understatement. I didn’t mean it as a brush off, but I knew I had this commitment to my friends today and needed to be home. Had he informed me he’d be here, maybe things would be different. All of that’s a lie, but I have to do what I have to do so I can finish this race.

  Avery and Saylor are busy planning the boys’ defeat, and Brody is lighting a fire with the daggers he is shooting me. Hell no, he’s trained them, and that fuels my anger. Along with the team jeering and taunting us. “We can’t lose. Not to that asshole.” My eyes don’t leave his, and I hope he can read lips.

  “Who is that?” Saylor questions. “He’s kind of hot in a scary ‘I’ll kick your ass’ way.”

  “Nobody.” I’m trying to burn him to the ground with the heat I’m shooting his way.

  “Is that the reason you’ve stopped fucking your vibrator?” Avery’s observation makes Saylor choke.

  “Shut up, Avery.” I gave them what they wanted without realizing it.

  “Hey, we’re giving y’all a six-minute head start. It’s the fair thing to do.” Mason yells with a shitty smirk. I’d like to punch his face.

  Saylor goes to argue, but I interrupt. “Thanks.”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Why’d you agree? When they win they will tease us worse.”

  “I’m taking all I can get, and we aren’t losing.” I’m leading this mission.

  The signal for the start of the race echoes through the crowd, and we take off. We start with a pace that will kill us, but we’re determined— to die. The guys threw us a bone— a six-minute head start, with the terms we dance for six-minutes when we lose— fucking dicks.

  “Hurry!” God, I need to calm down. I sound like my father, barking orders acting like an officer in the military.

  We manage to maneuver most obstacles. I have mud everywhere. In every orifice and hole . . . it isn’t pleasant. Eighty percent of the competition we’ve smoked. I think I’ve scared Saylor and Avery; they are keeping up but slacking. Our gusto is fading, and there isn’t shit we can do. We’re drained.

  Comments from the guys start as they close in. “Can we bring singles and put them in your G-strings?” God, I want to throw up. I glance back and see Deacon is fuming.

  “We need a diversion!” Saylor yells.

 
“No shit, but our asses in front of them is an incentive. They want to see more skin, less clothes.” Avery states the obvious through pants.

  Glancing over my shoulder I know they’ll overtake us at the next obstacle. They have shit-eating grins, and Brody looks fucking hot with mud splattering his chest. I hate them. My body’s blazing in pain, and my muscles are cramping.

  “Fuck it. Here is our Hail Mary. I love you guys.” Saylor stops and turns to face them.

  “What are you doing?” Avery grabs for Saylor, and I stop to stare.

  “Saving us. Or killing myself. We’ll have to see how it plays out.” Saylor tries to reassure us, but it’s like a train wreck. Avery and I can’t stop her, but we don’t know her plan.

  Her shirt flies over her head, and she’s standing in a red sports bra— if you can call it that. I bend over in laughter when I see Deacon’s murderous glare. She jogs to stand sandwiched with Avery and me on either side of her and winks at her man. She falls back in the mud rubbing it all over her, and Deacon loses it. “UNCLE!” His shout echoes throughout the course.

  My hands go to my top. “Don’t fucking do it.” That voice stops me. “I swear you’ll regret it.” Usually I’m up for a challenge, but Brody is radiating rage, and I want to please him. I drop my hands, and he whispers in my ear, “We’ll talk later.” I shiver and want to reach for him. I let him leave and Saylor is putting her shirt back in place amid the guys whining. We won. Deacon forfeited, and it was a rule the entire team had to cross the finish line.

  Saylor skips to us and grabs our hands. She tugs, slowing us down, and starts whistling. I glance at Mason, and he’s seeing red— Caden is close to losing it as well. We swing our arms like we’re taking a leisurely stroll, and it feels good— a team. “Oh, remember, six minutes,” I taunt as we laugh, crossing the finish line.

  Saylor looks uneasy as we drive home. “Hey, we won’t invite anyone else over, and undies stay in place.” I know she isn’t keen on letting people see Deacon’s goods. “More for our viewing pleasure.”

  She exhales. “Thank you.”

  I nod. “You took one for the team. Stellar strategy. I’m proud.” I laugh and she blushes. “You had him seeing red.”

  When we get home I make us cosmos after our shower, and we prepare for the meat market we’re hosting. “They better do us proud. I don’t want just schlong flinging.”

  Saylor snorts. “You’re being optimistic thinking they all have impressive schlongs to fling.”

  “I know Mason and Brody do.” Avery’s head whips to me, and Saylor chokes, snorting her drink through her nose.

  “Who is Brody?” Saylor asks. I’m beet red avoiding their gazes. “There’s no Brody on the team.” Saylor is wracking her brain.

  “Fuck . . .” I whisper.

  “Spill it,” she demands. “Oh, the trainer!” She’s thrilled with her deductive skills.

  “Nobody. He is nobody.” I refuse to share. My eyes fill with tears and I sigh.

  Saylor pulls me into a hug. “It’s okay. We’re here when you need us.”

  “Brody?” Avery asks me in a quiet tone. I nod, letting some tears spill. “God, Lee Lee. When?”

  “Last month. Thanksgiving. And last night.” I’m ashamed I’ve been hiding this from her.

  “Emberlee.” Avery squeezes my hands. “Why? He hurt you last time.”

  “No, Avery. He fucking destroyed me,” I remind her. Saylor holds tight, and Avery won’t quit staring at me trying to see the cracks as she soothes me. I finally pull back and down my drink. “Commence the sausage fest.” I try to lighten the tension, and we all prop our feet up, waiting for our guests of honor. “Thank God we agreed undies stay up because I don’t want to see hairy asses. And I swear if there are any skid marks on their boxers, I’ll shame them. I will post that shit all over every dorm and hall at school. Wash your nasty ass.” My head is spinning. Emotional overload to shaming skid marks in two minutes.

  Deacon is busy barking orders to everyone performing— like we’re headlining a show. “Start with ‘Pony’ – Ginuwine version—so we keep the theme, switch to a small clip of ‘Wrecking Ball’ Eric Church, not Miley Cyrus, we don’t need that. End with ‘Ride’ by Chase Rice; that’s when I take center stage.”

  He’s eyeing our alcohol and sweating like a pig. “You nervous?” Mason whispers to him.

  “Yes. Fuck, man.” I’m trying to hide my laughter. He and Saylor haven’t had an easy ride.

  “Nothing to worry about.” Caden steps next to him. His anxiety isn’t lessened by their words of reassurance.

  “Let’s go,” he barks. I laugh at the excitement the team is showing; they have no clue what the girls will do to them. Emberlee will have them in tears. Deacon, Mason, Caden and I are relaxed. I don’t know Saylor and Avery that well, but Emberlee doesn’t bother me. I know the real her, and it’s in fun.

  I have to admit I’m eating up the attention Emberlee is paying me. Her eyes can’t stop roaming my body, so I give her a show. “I’m making it rain!” Avery shouts as she’s tossing dollar bills. I glance at the other guys and roll my eyes. They’ve had two fucking losses all year and can’t hold a rhythm. It’s horrible.

  I grab the metal pipe I brought as a prop and drop to the floor. Emberlee’s got tears of laughter, and I know she wants me. I concentrate timing my hip thrusts to the beat of the music. “Take it off!” she shouts. Avery jumps up, stepping on the coffee table, giving her own rendition of a strip show, and the music switches. Deacon steps to Saylor and the song stops. After a few moments, he drops to his knees and proposes to his girl.

  The love emitted— proudly displayed for our eyes— is awe-inspiring. Their friends are here for a front row seat, and I admit to feeling the emotion and gravity of it. I chance a look at my girl, and she’s wiping tears and smiling. She meets my gaze and gives me a thumbs-up. I stalk to her, dip my shoulder, and hoist her up.

  “What—?” Her words are cut off by catcalls and cheering.

  And my hand meeting her ass.

  I take her to her room, shut the door, and put her down, guarding the door so she doesn’t have an escape. “Why’d you leave?” I’m making her face this. Bullshit and games are done.

  “We had the run this morning,” she lies.

  “Bullshit. Try again.” Her eyes turn to slits, but she’s met her match.

  She holds her fierce stare for a minute before sagging to the bed. “I don’t know.”

  “Strike two. One to go and I’ll get the truth— my way.” Her head jerks up, and she’s silent. “Why’d you leave?”

  “I’m scared.” Her voice is quiet and unsure, but I step closer to her.

  “Of what?” She shrugs. “Strike three. Stand up.” We stand off for a minute, maybe two; she’s waging war with herself as she complies with my request. “Take off your clothes.”

  Her mouth fumbles, but nothing escapes from her lips. I strip my shirt; maybe she’ll get on board with follow the leader in this scenario. I stare at her, my face hardening to hide emotions, and off comes her shirt. “The rest,” I remind her. Her bra gets unhooked, spilling her perfect tits, and her shorts shimmy down her legs. She’s standing in her thong, and I swallow, trying to avoid choking with the amount of saliva that’s taken residence in my mouth. She’s fucking unbelievable—salivating.

  “What about you?” She eyes my chest and down to my shorts, which I’m positive, she can see tenting.

  “Oh, it’ll happen. Lie back.” She doesn’t, so I take another step to her. We’re inches from touching, but the heat transmitting off us is scorching. I feel it searing my skin, adding to the enticement of this moment. I’ll fuck the truth from her if I have to. “Lie. Back.”

  She’s spread sideways across her bed, so I drop to my knees, and it’s a good damn thing I didn’t remove my shorts. No way I could fight my dick from finding its home. My need is too strong. I swipe at her pussy from entrance to clit. “Why’d you leave?” Her hands fist the comforter, an
d I think she’s figured out the game I’m playing. My fucking endgame. Her. I’ll do whatever is necessary.

  Another lick. A suck of her clit and my fingers teasing her entrance, spreading the wetness. “Why. did. you. leave?”

  Her hooded emerald eyes lock on mine. “You scare me.” I reward her with a finger; pump it in and out a few times until her legs spread wide.

  “What scares you?” I can’t fix it if she doesn’t answer me. She doesn’t. I stop moving my finger and leave the tip in.

  “Fuck, Brody.” She moans. “I don’t know.”

  Flicking my tongue— lightly— over her clit. “Answer me.”

  Her head thrashes, and she screams. “You hurt me.” I’m aware of that.

  I slide two fingers in, her heat gripping me. “I’ve apologized. Isn’t that what you did? I’ve tried showing you what I want. You’re stubborn.” I twist my fingers, stroking her G-spot.

  “Oh my God.” She cries. “Right there.” I follow her advice.

  “You trust me?” She shakes her head. “You lying?” She chooses silence. I stop all movement.

  “Yes, I trust you.” I push my fingers back in, letting her soak up her pleasure. I pump and suck as she grinds against my face.

  “What don’t you trust?” She’s busy chasing her release, so I stop.

  “What?” Her words are escaping in a staccato rhythm.

  “What don’t you trust?” I push one finger in.

  “Myself.” Finally getting somewhere. I stand, push my shorts down, and climb over her.

  “Why?” I drag the head of my cock through her wetness, pausing at her entrance.

  Her eyes meet mine. “I’m still piecing myself together. What if I can’t be what you want? I’m used to disappointing people.” Her self-esteem is shit.

  I slide the head of my dick in. “You’re exactly what I want. I’ve been fighting for seven fucking months.”