by S. E. Rose
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kent
Bailing as fast as I could after the game, isn’t like me. I play back my performance yesterday. I killed it. I’ve never been that laser-focused on my pitching ever. And I have the woman in my arms to thank for it.
Her curvy ass is wedged against my morning wood, and I want nothing more than to sink back inside her, but I also know that she’s got to be sore after our marathon sex-fest last night.
I tighten my hold on her and kiss the top of her head.
“Good morning,” she mumbles. I smile against her hair.
“Morning.”
Her ass wiggles against me.
“Careful, kitten. Or you’re gonna get round six whether you like it or not,” I say in a gravelly voice.
“Maybe I’m not opposed to that,” she retorts as she places my hand on her breast. My thumb skims her nipple, and she releases a soft moan that goes immediately to my dick. I trace her side and hip and cup her sex. She’s already wet for me. Fuck.
“More,” she groans as I part her and run my finger over her swollen clit. She’s so god damn perfect for me. I didn’t know what my perfect was, but now that I’ve found her, it’s undeniable.
I roll us over so that she’s on her back, looking up at me as I position my cock at her entrance, feeling her heat and wetness.
“You’re my perfect,” I mutter against her lips as I kiss her while thrusting home.
Tabitha
“I’m never leaving this shower,” I announce as I lean back and let the jets spray my body. Kent’s shower might be the most insane shower on the planet. At least six jets are spraying my body right now and a giant rain showerhead that is easily a foot in diameter. There are six automatic pumps for various toiletries that have motion sensors on them. There’s LED lighting, and a steam shower option as well. I glance over at the tub which is equally impressive with its dozen or so jets. Kent assured me it also had some weird water heater that constantly recycled the water to keep it heated properly. I decide that I no longer want to live in the guest suite, but instead, I’m going to move into Kent’s bathroom.
I stretch and wince. I’m pretty sure Kent helped me discover muscles I previously was unaware of until last night. Kent’s soapy hands glide over my body, massaging my sore muscles, and I sigh with pleasure. I also feel a little guilty because he should be the one getting a massage after his game. But I keep my mouth shutting, not wanting him to stop his ministrations.
“What do you want to do today?”
My eyes pop open. He steps out from behind me where he was doing magical things to my back muscles.
“I…don’t you have baseball stuff to do?”
He nods. “I do, but I have a few hours.” He winks.
“Well, then, I suppose we’ll have to find something to do. I wonder what—”
I don’t get out another word as his lips cover mine and make me forget everything, my name, my zip code, and even my need to get work done.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kent
It’s official. I’m so officially fucked. I’m in love with this woman.
“Dude, focus!” Ward yells to me.
“Get that shit-eating grin off your pretty face, Moore!” my pitching coach yells.
I shake my body out and try to focus but all I can think about is how good last night was and how much better it was this morning.
I’m suddenly overcome by a brilliant idea. I pull myself together because I have some calls to make after this, but right now, I need to focus.
It happens again, with my mind laser-focused on the present so I can get through practice and focus on my woman, I kick ass and take names during practice. Even my pitching coach notices my intensity.
“Boy, you got your mojo back. I don’t know where this is coming from but keep it up. We need it right now.”
By the time I shower, I have epic plans in motion. A few phone calls and things are rolling. I can’t wait to surprise Tabitha.
I walk toward my car and see Amery leaning against his.
“What’s up?” I ask him.
“You got it bad.”
I stop in my tracks.
“Dude, only magic pussy attached to a magic woman could possibly put that grin on your face. You look like a teenage boy who just banged his dream girl.”
“That obvious?”
Amery laughs. “Uh, yeah. I’m glad. She’s a keeper. Lyla loves her, too, which means she’s officially deemed as good people.”
I roll my eyes. “Great, I mean if Lyla likes her, I guess I can make it official.”
Amery punches his arm.
“Hey, hands off the merch. That arm has gotta see us through the World Series.”
“Don’t fuck around with her. Tell her how you feel. That’s all I have to say about it.”
“I will…I will…I just need to get through the next few days.”
“You ready for this?”
“The series or Tabby?”
Amery runs a hand through his hair. “Well, both I suppose.”
“Series, fuck yeah. I feel good about it. We can do it. And Tabby…she’s mine, she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Well, then. I look forward to watching you win…the series and the woman.”
“Thanks. How’d you tell Lyla that she was the one?”
“Just say the words. I had to get up the guts to admit it out loud but after that…well, that’s all she needed to hear.”
“I’ve never felt this way before,” I admit. I immediately hear footsteps behind us.
“Fuck…did you guys just start batting for my team?” Ward’s voice comes from behind me.
I roll my eyes as I turn around. “No, you fuckknob. I’m talking about Tabby.”
“Oh, ’cause that shit was gonna get real awkward if you were professing your love to Amery right here in the parking lot.”
“You’re such a fucker, Ward.”
Ward grins at us. “Takes one to know one. Hey, did you make Tabby meow, because, with that giant-ass grin on your face all of practice, it was sort of obvious that you got laid.”
I punch Ward in the arm, and he doesn’t even flinch. “Ow!” he says overly dramatic.
I give him a pointed look. “Whatever, and none of your fucking business.”
“Just don’t fuck things up and get in a funk before the series. We need your head in the motherfucking game.”
“Noted. No pressure.”
I climb into my car and give my friends the one-finger salute as I pull away. Time to go relax with my lady.
Tabitha
I look at the computer again, checking every detail of my photos. I hit the “no going back” button. They are off to be officially printed for the gala. Each individual will sign their wall-sized photograph and it will be auctioned off for the children’s hospital charity. I’ve had exhibits before, but I haven’t done a gala like this. It’s a big opportunity for me, and that both scares and invigorates me. Portraits are my bread and butter, and this could put my business on the map. I sigh, realizing that to be on a map I need a studio. I send a quick email to my insurance adjuster inquiring about where we are with my claim before I look back at the photos I’ve just sent for printing. These versions are for the actual subjects. I always give them their own copy as a courtesy. And I may have made an extra one for the Moores’ hallway of photographs.
I smile remembering it. There’s a small hallway beyond the foyer in their home and Mrs. Moore has family photographs hung all over it in no particular order. There are family photographs of all the kids at different ages. Some just with one kid or two or all five of them. A few of the entire family and some with their extended family and friends. I look down at my purse. I have two photos of my mom that I found at my grandparents’ house. One of her when she was a kid playing in the snow and one of her when she was a teenager.
Everything else was destroyed in the fire. Seeing what Mrs. Moore called her “wall of fame�
�� made me want one of those someday. The thought of having a family is both terrifying and happy at the same time. I’ve snapped so many candid shots of families down at the National Mall, and I love looking at them. Parents playing with kids, siblings running around and playing games, little ones sitting on their parent’s shoulders, babies in their mother’s arms. I have a whole album of them. I find them fascinating. There’s just something about families. Maybe it’s because I never had a real one, not like the kids I grew up with or families on television. Part of me so desperately yearns for that it physically hurts. And another part of me is terrified that if I let people get that close that I would fuck it up and lose them. I don’t know if I could go through that again.
My phone pings and I look down to see an email from my insurance adjuster.
Phil: We just got a police report. They should be sending it your way soon, but I attached it to the email. Jarrod admitted to starting the fire. We will be issuing a final check for the remainder of your insurance claim.
I stare at my phone in shock. A moment later it rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Miss Crane?”
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Smith with the DC Metropolitan Police Department. I’m calling to inform you that Jarrod Majerkawitz was arrested in connection with the fire at your apartment and studio. He has an initial hearing tomorrow. You don’t need to be present, but I wanted to keep you informed.”
“Oh my god. OK. What do I have to do?”
“Nothing. Not at this point. We probably need to take further statements from you, but the attorneys will be handling that. I just wanted to keep you informed on the case.”
I thank the detective and get his contact information. He confirms that Phil has received the initial report on the arson and the information about Jarrod. And just like that, I’m left shell-shocked and staring at my laptop.
After a few minutes of digesting the information, I close my laptop at the sound of the side door opening.
“Hey,” Kent’s voice calls out from the foyer connecting the guest suite and the rest of the house, and I immediately feel calmer.
“Hi, how was practice?”
I turn to find him at my door. “It was great.”
“I thought you’d be later.”
He shrugs. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“I bet.”
“You want to take part in my ritual for big games.”
My eyes widen.
“My pre-game ritual…” he adds.
“Uh, that depends on what your ‘pre-game ritual’ is…I don’t kill animals, I don’t do weird sacrifice ceremonies, and I don’t get tattoos on a whim.”
“Wow, are those your only hard limits?”
I put my hands on my hips and give him a pointed look. He smirks.
“Since I was a kid, I go to get ice cream on Main Street. They are open for one more hour. Obviously, I can’t always do that, but I think a series game justifies it.”
I grin. “Yep, I can totally take part in that ritual. Hold on, I just have to pee,” I say as I run to the bathroom to empty my bladder.
Kent’s sitting on my bed looking at a spread of family photographs that I have set out and ready to add to my “random families in D.C.” album.
“These are really good, Tabby.”
“Thanks,” I say shyly because I have never shown them to anyone.
“I’m serious. It’s like you captured the love in these moments. It’s palpable. You have a real gift for candid photos.”
I feel the heat creep up my cheeks. “Thanks, Kent. I…it’s just a hobby. I love photographing families. Sort of a photography guilty pleasure.”
“Why is it a guilty pleasure?”
I shrug. “I don’t get paid for it. I don’t ask permission. And I never do anything with those photos. They are just for me. Something I enjoy seeing. I know that sounds strange, but I guess…it’s like looking at something you can only dream about. Like those goal posters for sports or something. That’s my goal poster.”
His face softens. “You want a family?”
I bite my lip and nod. “I always wanted one.”
He stands and walks over toward me, brushing the hair off my forehead. “I guess I take mine for granted. I shouldn’t, but I do. You should consider doing these for real. Publishing a book of them. You should talk to the team marketing folks about doing photos for families on family day. We have one of those every season. I can connect you with some folks to talk to…”
I place a figure over his lips, and he trails off as I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him.
“Maybe I need a new routine,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I’m down with that, too,” I respond as I trace his lips with my tongue.
Kent picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us over to the bed.
“What if I give you my cold from the other day?” I murmur against his lips.
He chuckles. “Uh, too late for that. And you seem fine to me.”
He licks my lips and I part them to allow his tongue to swipe against mine. He goes to set me down, but I stand on the bed and start removing my clothes as he watches me, his pupils dilating with need. When I’m completely naked and exposed to him, he stands there and stares at me.
“Jesus, you’re perfection,” he whispers, his hand coming up to run along my stomach and waist. I can’t say that I often feel beautiful, but the way he’s caressing my skin and looking at me with so much desire, makes me feel brazen and confident.
I reach out and run my hand through his hair before pushing his head against my sex. He doesn’t need my words. He grips my thighs, pulling them apart and runs his tongue over my clit.
“Yes,” I breathe as his tongue continues to take me higher. He doesn’t let up as my cries become more frantic, my need taking over my body as I buck against his face and tongue. He devours me like a starved man. And as he slides a single finger inside me, I detonate.
“Kent!” I cry out as I grip his hair tighter, my whole body shaking.
He doesn’t give me time to come down all the way before he has me on my back and he’s driving into me. I grip his arms, searching for anything at all to hold on to through his brutal thrusts that have me climbing toward my second release.
His lips taste of my sex and there is something dirty and tantalizing about that. He bucks wildly against me, chasing his own release.
“Not gonna last,” he grunts as his thrusts get more and more uneven.
“Then come,” I urge him as I grind myself faster against his body, needing my release. Within seconds, we’re both crying out as the euphoria of our highs peak together.
Kent stills and looks down at me. “That was definitely a good addition to my pre-game routine.”
I laugh, but as my mind comes back down to reality the call with the officer is front and center.
“What?” he asks, caressing my face.
“An officer called. Jarrod set the fire,” I tell him.
His eyes blaze. “That motherfucker!”
“Hey, it’s OK. I’m OK. Everything is OK. It’s over. I’m getting my insurance check and hopefully, he’ll be locked up for a long time,” I say to him as I reach out and place my hand on his arm.
“I swear, I could kill both him and his brother for what they’ve done to you.”
I place my other hand on Kent’s cheek. “I don’t need you to kill anyone. I mean, maybe, but not now.”
I get a small smile with that comment. He leans his forehead against mine so that his face becomes blurred from being so close.
“No one hurts you, kitten. Not now, not ever.”
“OK,” I say slowly, swallowing as I do.
He takes a slow breath and kisses my forehead. “OK. Let’s get a shower and then ice cream. I definitely need ice cream.”
I laugh. “I can do that.”
Chapter Thirty
“Hi, Tabitha,” the kid at the ice
cream counter says. It completely startles me. I look around like I might be on some hidden camera television show. Maybe I’m getting punked.
“Hi,” I answer slowly.
“Same as last time?”
I nod slowly and Kent chuckles.
“How about you, Mr.…I mean Kent?”
“Same for me, too, Frankie.”
The kid nods and gets to work on our ice cream.
We settle down at the bistro table outside. Most things are closed for the night, but there are still some people trickling out of the bar and coffee shop. Di walks out of the coffee shop with a laptop under her arm. She waves and walks toward us.
“Hey, what are you two…oh, ice cream. Getting ready for the big game, then?” Di asks.
“Yep…following a ritual.”
Di ruffles Kent’s hair. “Little brother, you are not a man of mystery. I’m excited about tomorrow. I took off and everything. I think Principal Lennox is going to be annoyed, but what the fuck.”
I remember Kent telling me what his siblings all did, but I always mix up Di and Kylie, so I’m relieved when Di mentions the principal. Teacher. I need to remember that she is the teacher, which makes Kylie something about clothes, and Lanie is the lawyer.
“It’s interesting how you all went into such different careers,” I say to them as I lick my ice cream.
“I guess. I mean…it’s not that strange. We are all very different,” Di answers, her head cocked to one side as though she’s contemplating my thought. Then she snickers. “You know what KJ wanted to be if he didn’t make it in baseball?”
Kent glares at her.
“What?” I ask, truly curious as I glance between them.
“An ice cream taste tester,” she says with a giggle.
“That’s not true, I wanted to be an archaeologist like Indiana Jones.”
“No, that was before, but then Mom’s friend, Bernie, came to visit, and he worked for an ice cream company and told you about taste testing.”
“OK, but that was for like a week. And then I wanted to be an astronaut.”
“Oh, and then you wanted to be a rock star, and then what was after that…”