by Teagan Kade
Dean Willis sits at his desk. Beside him stands Karen, smiling. That’s a good sign, right?
Please don’t be about the scholarship. Please don’t be about the scholarship.
Please don’t be about the scholarship.
I stand awkwardly before them. “You asked to see me?”
Karen takes a seat beside me, looking to the Dean. Actually, there’s more to it than a simple glance. The Dean and Karen? I wonder.
The Dean tents his fingers together and puts on a smile. “How are you, Ms. Grant?”
Why is my mouth so dry? “I’m fine, thank you.”
I close my legs together a touch tighter. I’m not so dry there.
The Dean stands and starts to pace. He holds a piece of paper in his hands. “Your professors say you’re a model student, Willow. Looks like you’ve got a very bright future ahead of you.”
Both the Dean and Karen are smiling way too much. I wait for the ‘but.’
“Willow,” starts Karen, and I’m getting a little weirded out by hearing my name so much. “We wanted to thank you, on behalf of the college, for your work with Asher Slade. We know it can’t have been easy taking him on at the center, but, as you know, he is an asset to our sporting pedigree here at Penbrook. Serving his community has done him a world of good.”
This is about Asher? “I’m not sure I understand.”
The Dean sits on the edge of his desk still smiling. He places my record down. “I’ve had it on good authority Asher has been working rather diligently at the home for the last couple of weeks under your guidance. Is that true?”
My chest is tight. “Yes. The children really enjoy having him around, as do the staff. He’s been a big help.”
The Dean looks to Karen again. “Excellent. And it’s not affecting your studies?”
I swallow again and shake my head. “No, sir.”
“That’s just what we like to hear,” he beams. “Now, to the matter at hand.”
Here we go.
“This experiment with Asher has been such a success, no doubt thanks to your hard work, that we’re hoping you could do us one more favor. Of course, we’ll add it all to your record, make sure the relevant bodies know about your hard work.”
I’m still not following. “A favor, sir?”
“One more student,” smiles Karen.
“Another student?” I query, still lost.
Karen and the Dean exchange another look.
Once more the Dean smiles. “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been another… ‘incident’ that requires disciplinary action, but, naturally, we would prefer to deal with it in-house, and given the way this thing with Mr. Slade has panned out, the authorities have been happy to… Well, you know.”
“You want another student to volunteer at the home?”
“Precisely,” says the Dean, tapping his desk for effect. “What do you say?”
“What did they do?”
Another eye exchange. “We can’t discuss details, sorry, suffice to say it was a serious matter, one that requires discretion. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Can you help us?” asks the Dean.
I have a feeling I can’t refuse. I nod again. “Yes, sir, whatever you need.”
“That’s the spirit,” he enthuses. “I have work to attend to, but I’ll have Karen fill you in with the finer details of it all. And again, if you have any issues you’re welcome to contact me directly.”
I do my best to smile back. “I appreciate that.”
I stand still not really comprehending precisely what I to do.
Outside, the door to the Dean’s office closing behind us, I face Karen. “Can I ask which student the Dean was referring to?”
She rolls her eyes. “Another Hellcat, I’m afraid, damn them.”
“A Hellcat?”
“Yes,” she says, scowling. “Mr. Leon Hunter. Do you know him?”
CHAPTER TEN
ASHER
I come out of the showers after training straight into the path of Coach Harris. Something tells me he’s been waiting.
He looks down at my dick, hands on his hips. “Can you cover up that crotch cannon of yours, Slade?”
Someone tosses me a towel. I wrap it around my waist. “Better?”
“I got a call from the Dean today.”
Shit. What now? “Did you?”
Coach’s face changes. He’s smiling—a rarest of Harris’s facial expressions. “He told me you’re fucking acing this community service thing. Says you’re doing the college proud. So good, in fact, that you’re free.”
“Free?” I question.
“Yes, sir. You’re off the hook. It’s back to training as usual, which means double time given the importance of these final games. Whatever you were doing at the home—dishing out candy to the kids, fucking the staff—it worked.”
“I don’t have to volunteer at the home any more. Is that what you’re saying?”
Coach’s shit grin stays. “I am. You’ll report here instead, where you belong.”
“But…” I trail off. What am I supposed to say here? I should be elated, but I’m strangely conflicted.
Coach’s expression darkens. “As for Leon…”
“Leon?” I query, looking around for him. I haven’t even realized he’s missing.
“You didn’t hear? He knocked out some punk freshman at the Quagmire the other night, fucked up the kid’s face real good.”
I haven’t seen Leon in a while. I’ve been too busy with Willow. “Fuck.”
Coach nods. “Yes, ‘fuck’ indeed, but don’t worry. Thanks to you,” he prods me in the chest. “It’s going to be alright.”
I’m confused. “Thanks to me?”
He starts to walk away, continuing to speak. “Yes, Slade. Thanks to you.”
I stand there half-naked wondering what the hell he’s going on about. Whatever it is, it sounds ominous.
Coach turns and starts to pace back. “I almost forgot. I need you to put your best foot forward in this next game.”
“Don’t I always?”
“This one’s special. I have it on good authority a New York scout will be showing up soon—maybe this game, maybe the next. Who knows? We’ll lay out the red carpet, of course, but it’s up to you to ensure you hit it out of the park. You hearing me?”
“Loud and clear, Coach.”
He takes my shoulder. His hand’s like a fucking vice. “That’s the spirit. Before you know it you’ll be a Yankee. Just remember to thank your old Coach Harris in your memoirs, won’t you?”
“How could I forget?”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Get out of here. Have some fun. Come Saturday it’s game on… for all of us.”
*
Willow seems distant when I meet her at the Grind House.
“You okay?” I ask. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She holds her mug of coffee with two hands, bringing it to her lips and sipping. She offers me a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine. How about you? How was training?”
I lean back, arm over the chair next to me. “Good. Real good. Coach said the Dean called, told him I don’t have to volunteer at the home any more. I’ll be training double with the championship coming up and all.” I see the disappointment register on her face, as I knew it would. “But don’t worry. I can still come around to the center on weekends and nights, plus we’ll still see each other. I’ll make damn sure of that.”
She’s looking past me, distracted.
“Willow?”
Her eyes, sangria in shade, focus back on mine, the smile returning. “No, that’s great. I’m going to be busy studying anyhow.”
“But you still want to see me, don’t you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course, you idiot.” And the Willow I know returns. “You owe me an orgasm…. or ten.”
A girl at the table behind us turns around at the mention of the big O. “You’ll be okay at the home without me?”
“I was doi
ng fine before you showed up, wasn’t I? Besides, I can’t take much credit. The staff are the ones who do the real heavy lifting. We get to go home. They live there.”
I shrug. “I don’t think it would be so bad.”
“You say that now, but what happens when you’ve got kids screaming into the night, waking up on the hour? And not just one kid either.”
“I’m used to staying up.”
She laughs. “Yes, so I’ve heard, though I don’t know if all night benders qualify you for childcare.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Don’t you always?”
She’s smiling in full now, the coffee steaming before her. “You haven’t touched your brownie.”
I pick at the baked good in question. “You mean this four-by-two-inch slab of sugar and flour? It’s just for show.”
She reaches over and takes it off my plate, sliding it into her mouth. “Your loss. Are you on some sort of man diet?” she continues, mouth chewing. Somehow she still manages to look hot with crumbs falling from her lips.
“Coach’s orders.”
Eyes narrowing. “Do you always do what your coach tells you?” she asks, poking the last bit of brownie into her mouth.
“You know me. I always follow orders when it’s time to bat.”
“And what about outside of baseball?”
“Only if you’re giving them. If you asked me to get under this table and make you come using only my tongue, right now, I’d do it.”
She leans back, eyeing me. “Would you now? You’d get into trouble.”
“And get to spend more time with you at the home. Sounds win-win to me.”
She laughs. “Why don’t we go back to your place for a different kind of training?”
I grin wide. “Let me get the bill.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WILLOW
I’m waiting at the home for Leon to show up. He’s already half an hour late.
I should have said no, but it was the Dean. What was I supposed to do? In lieu of my fickle grades, I need all the gold stars I can get.
Keep it professional and you won’t have a problem. But it’s not me I’m concerned about.
A chili-red muscle car screeches to a halt in front of me. Leon emerges with Ray Bans on and a look on his face so smug you’d think he’d just won the lottery.
“You can’t park there,” I state robotically.
He takes off his sunglasses and pops his collar. “Watch me.”
“You’re late,” I continue.
“And you’re not going to say a damn thing about it, are you, Amanda?”
I look around nervously. “I told you not to call me that.”
“And I told you your secret’s safe with me. Provided we get along, if you know what I’m saying.”
Unfortunately, I do.
From the get-go, the nightmare is real. Leon shows no interest in the kids, whining and whinging at the smallest of instructions. He seems too preoccupied with his cell, constantly laughing or smiling to himself at text messages that pop up every couple of seconds. Worse, I think he’s high. It’s not safe.
I’m struggling to get the kids into the media room to watch a movie. I nod to his cell. “Why don’t you put that thing away?”
His eyes lift. “I’ve heard you say that before.”
“Enough,” I snap.
He slips the cell into his pocket and approaches me. “No, no. In fact, I remember exactly what you wanted me to do with it.”
“Everything okay, Willow?” asks Glenda, poking her head around the doorway.
Leon lays the charm on thick. “We’re just fine, and can I say how adorable these children are.” He pats the head of the closest child. “You guys deserve a medal.”
Glenda swoons at the attention. “Yes, well. We’re just happy to have you boys.”
Leon places his hand behind my back. It drops down to my backside. “And Willow here,” he says, emphasizing my name. “What a gem she is.”
“Oh, we know,” agrees Glenda. “Where would we be without her?”
“Where indeed?” replies Leon, his hand mercifully moving away before I barf all over the floor… or break it.
Once I manage to get the kids in place and the cursed TV working, I turn to look for Leon only to find him heading for the front door. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve seen enough. I’m out of here.”
“I’ll call the Dean,” I threaten.
He laughs. “You do that. I’ll call Asher, give him a little history lesson.”
I can’t do anything. He’s got me.
Let him tell Asher. So what?
But I can’t allow it. I don’t want anything to jeopardize what we have. For the first time in a long time I feel alive again.
So, I watch him go. “What do I tell the others?” I shout.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he calls back.
Asshole.
I make a commitment to myself then and there that Leon Hunter is going to get what’s coming to him, even if I have to bring back Amanda to do it.
*
This thing with Leon is another cherry on top of what is already an overloaded slab of stress, with exams coming up and countless assignments due. I’m so tempted to call Karen, try to talk it through with her, but right now all I really want to do is see Asher.
I attempt to concentrate on my breathing as I walk, but I’m losing it. The past — a past which I had long believed buried — is being exhumed. I came here to forget all that, to start new, but now it seems whatever I do I’m unable to escape from what I did, who I was. It’s like a bad dream.
I knock on Asher’s apartment door expecting him to be at training — because wouldn’t that be perfect? — but he answers shirtless, hand scratching his chest where for the first time I notice a stylized tattoo of a mother cradling a child.
He sees me looking and peers down himself. “Yes. That. No need to go into it now.”
“I didn’t know you had…”
“Ink?” he finishes. “I guess you’re not up to date with the numerous scantily clad images of Yours Truly getting around then?”
“I have seen the... You know.”
He nods, hands behind his head, boxers beautifully low. “The infamous dick selfie.”
I swallow. “Delfie?”
“I believe ‘Big Red’ is what most people call it.”
“Isn’t that what you call your beloved bat?”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I see.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know the story behind that one either.”
He steps aside. “Enter, Willow of Penbrook.”
I notice a swathe of papers and books spread out on the table. “Wow. So you do study?”
I pick up a book from the table. Asher’s studying economics, but this book has nothing to with said subject.”
I hold it up. “You’re borrowing pre-med books from the library? Why?”
He comes forward. “For you. I thought it might help, for studying and what-not, if I was better versed in everything doctor.”
I’m impressed, kind of flattered, but mostly impressed. Could this be? That the great Asher Slade is finally thinking about others rather than himself? “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
He shrugs. “It was either that or jerk off to that mental image of you sucking my cock again.”
“Yes, that,” I stammer, cheeks growing hot and rosy.
He steps up to me and carefully takes the book from my hand, placing it back on the table. He holds my sides and looks down into my eyes. “Yes, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life.”
“I’m sure you’ve had many sexual encounters far more interesting than that.”
He shakes his head slowly. “It’s not about the act. It’s about you. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I’m fucking electric when I’m around you. I feel like I can do anything.”
I de
cide to play. What the hell? It’s time I blew off some steam of my own. After the mess with Leon, I need it.
It’s time for fourth base.
I run a single finger between the planks of his pecs, over the bumpy abs below and keep going until my finger rests on the top of his waistband. “I want to go all the way.”
He takes my face in his hands, lifting it to meet his gaze. “Are you sure?”
I nod, closing my eyes and letting my face fall against his hand. “I want you. I want all of you.”
To make it absolutely clear, I reach down and cup the growing bulge in his boxers.
I start to rub him as we kiss. He sucks on my lower lip, teeth softly brushing against it. God, he tastes amazing—lips warm and salty.
He picks me up, carrying me to the bedroom, falling back onto the bed so I’m straddling him. My crotch is against his. I can feel his hardness through his boxers hot and ready. I want to feel his skin, his naked body, with an urgency that’s damn near blinding.
A tingly anticipation begins to spread through my thighs and crotch. I start to grind myself against him, my nerves lighting up. All my worries slip away until there is only overwhelming desire and the heat of this moment.
He speaks, his voice heavy. “I’ve been waiting for this. Can you feel how hard I am for you?”
“Yes,” I moan back, grinding down harder on his cock.
He pulls my shirt away, unsnapping my bra with a single hand. I help him remove it so he can take my breasts in his hands, thumbs brushing against my already strained nipples.
His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated as he drinks me in.
He sits up and takes a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until sensation beats at me like a hammer, every tender flick of his tongue shooting pangs of pleasure directly to my core. It’s incredible.
He takes the nipple between his teeth, biting down gently.
I gasp sharply in response, rising quicker.
My nipple falls from his mouth glossy and red.
“I love that sound,” he says. “I want to hear you gasp and moan for me every fucking hour of every fucking day.”
His thumb moves back to a soft caress, the highway of sensation that follows at peak hour.
I lift myself up and pull away my jeans until I’m left only in my panties.