The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel

“Why not?”

“Because I need to fuck you hard and come inside you in a way that makes me feel like an animal right now.”

“I want that, too. God, I want that, too.”

He lifted me, guiding my legs to wrap around his waist, and turned us toward the wall. “We’ll save the bed for making love. But I’m going to take you up against that wall right now.”

He kissed me until my lips bruised, and I gasped for air. The restraint he had been clinging to finally snapped, and the way he stared at me like I was his next meal was the most raw and sexually arousing thing I ever saw in my life. My back securely pinned against the wall, Brody’s hand slid from my ass to my opening, and he dipped two fingers inside. “Jesus, you’re soaked.”

He gripped my hips and thrust inside of me. My eyes fluttered closed; it felt so good to be filled by him, so right.

“Delilah, open your eyes.”

He pumped into me harder as his gaze held mine. “Tell me. Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

He whispered over my mouth. “Again.”

My body began to build toward climax. My breathing became more labored, and my words turned hoarse. “I love you, Brody Easton. I do.”

He told me he loved me over and over again as he thrust deeper and deeper. “I fucking love you,” he groaned as he came inside of me.

We stayed up against that wall for a long time with our foreheads pressed together. A moment of utter clarity struck me as we looked into each other’s eyes, our chests rising and falling in unison. For the last seven years, I had been searching for peace. I had thought peace was a place where there was no turbulence or fear. Where there were no highs and lows and where happiness was found in the calm at the center. But at that moment, I finally realized peace wasn’t about avoiding things. It was about making the choice to live life with all its chaos around you, and in the midst of it all, having calm in your heart.

Brody Easton, the man who’d entered my life like a storm, had turned out to be my calm. How was that for irony?





Epilogue


Delilah

I left the house while Brody was still sleeping so I could sneak in a doctor’s appointment before heading to the office.

I hadn’t expected them to do a sonogram today. My blood sugar had been a little high with my first pregnancy, so they were keeping a close watch. Brody was a nervous wreck about anything that could indicate a problem for the baby or me, so I’d stopped in for my urine test alone so as to not cause him stress on today of all days. It was our anniversary. Or anniversaries, to be exact.

“Your sugar looks good, Delilah. Since you’re here, why don’t we also do a quick sonogram? Check your fluid level.”

That was new with this pregnancy. Oligohydramnios—low levels of amniotic fluid. Mine wasn’t a cause for alarm, but just like my glucose levels, the doctor wanted to keep an eye on it. “Sure.” I felt bad for having a sonogram without Brody—the man teared up every time he looked at the screen, even when it was early, and the fetus only looked like a big ol’ tadpole.

I changed into a gown, and the doctor came into the testing room. After squirting cold gel across my growing belly, he began to swirl his magic wand around. I heard the strong heartbeat the minute he switched on the sound. After a few minutes, the doctor told me the fluid level had increased, and everything looked good so far. He focused on one area in particular. “Do you want to know the sex today?”

“Really? I thought it was too early.”

“Sometimes it is. But this little one isn’t shy and is exposing itself to me right at this moment.”

***

I’d only worked part time since our baby was born last year. Two days a week kept my foot in the door and also gave me an excuse to travel with my husband for away games. I patted my belly. Things would get more difficult once this little one arrived.

“Stop feeling yourself up.” Indie planted herself in the guest chair in my office and turned the tape dispenser toward her. She unrolled a long strip of tape and stuck it to her face from ear to ear, pushing up her nose to resemble a pig’s.

“That’s attractive.”

A few minutes later, Mr. CUM walked in and did a double take at Indie’s face. She just smiled like there was nothing wrong. It made him flustered. “Preseason starts next week. Can I count on you to get that husband of yours in for an interview?”

There was nothing the man denied me. “I’ll see if he’s up for it.”

When Mr. CUM disappeared, Indie raised an eyebrow. “If he’s up for it? That man would eat shit for you. Literally.”

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