Endgame (The Atlanta Boys)

26. Dakota

26

DAKOTA

“Mhm baby, you make it so good for me. Ahh, right there, mhm.”

Somehow, I’ve managed to get myself into a bit of a predicament. Being the competitive woman I am, I unfortunately thought it would be a great idea to save the best on my bingo space for last, not realizing what that would entail. I should say it is best for the viewer, not necessarily for the performer.

This must be karma for all the blowjobs I refused to give Trevor when he never deserved them. Almost always, but that’s beside the point.

As soon as my remaining space was revealed, the crowded bar went bat shit crazy, with energy like you wouldn’t believe over the idea of witnessing a dildo sucked by a pretty face. This is it, the moment my pride reaches its all-time low. I’m ready to put on a show and make it count. I never say no to a challenge, and I’m not about to stop.

My head makes a quick swiveling motion of the room in an attempt to seek out Callaway. In the middle of our last round, he received a phone call from his mom and stepped out to take it. It didn’t seem super urgent, which makes me surprised he isn’t back by now.

Accepting that he won’t get front row seats to my downfall, I take on my task without him. Public dildo sucking seems to be the equivalent of feet pics; the goods ain't free and I’m offering it up without question.

What does that say about me?

The rule calls for one minute in total of performing.

Saying that out loud sounds unhinged .

I can’t help the tears and laughter that escape my mouth. There are only thirty seconds left on the timer.

I’m giving this silicone dick my all, drooling, moaning, jaw-locking, the whole nine yards. If I had a dick, I’d be pretty satisfied with my production.

Ten out of ten.

I look towards Navy and Tenley, and I see them standing on wooden chairs, hands cupped over their mouths, howling and barking. Animals. They look like lunatics, and that only makes me exaggerate my show even more. Look at me out here making my besties proud.

I let the dildo slip out past my lips as I run my soft tongue over its tip, moaning so loud I’m convinced it's believable. I turn my body to the side of the crowd, giving them a direct view of my sucking.

My peripheral alerts me that I’m being watched intently and feverishly. Or maybe that’s my body warning me he’s nearby. Shifting my sight in the direction of my front, my eyes connect with the ones of my dreams. Monkeys in the slammer, he looks feral.

A strike is coming, and the idea of that makes me downright ache.

I squeeze my thighs together, a miserable attempt at relieving the pulse between them while blinking forcefully as they water and lock onto his. My body is on fire from the dildo sucking and his delight in it.

I want his eyes never to leave me.

That’s why I find myself imagining it’s Cal’s cock I’m sucking. His cock I’m teasing and pushing over the edge, only to pull him out and take him again.

If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor. Right now, it’s only me and Callaway Hayes in this tavern. His body is hanging against the outer door frame, arms raised over his head, gripping the molding, those flexed muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt, biting his bottom lip so roughly I’d be surprised if it didn’t leave a mark. His eyes never stray from mine. They are full of fire and lust, making me crumble on the spot. I immediately let out a loud moan. “ Mhmmm. ”

This is new. He usually exudes restraint and willpower. This sight is the complete opposite.

I could get used to him watching me like this. No doubt his cock is hard as stone behind those jeans.

I want him. What else is new?

The ache is lingering for what feels like an eternity. I know we can’t go there with each other, but does that mean teasing is off the table?

We never discussed the fine print.

This is turning out to work in my favor.

“Time. Well done our dirty dick sucker. The dildo is yours to keep; do with it as you wish.” The game announcer reports my win, and I exit the stage with stride. I don’t bother looking back to find Callaway. I’m sure he will make himself known to me one way or another. Not that I didn’t see him distinctly, but still, I know I’m due for a confrontation.

Let him . He doesn’t own me, although I’d love for him to strap me up and make a mess of me, but one step at a time.

We haven’t even kissed yet unless you count me kissing his cheek earlier in the night. I also have this sinking feeling I did something inappropriate last night. I can’t remember anything to save my life. If anything, I’m sure Callaway remembers. Whatever it was I may have done, I’d like him to forget about it or request a redo.

I head to the restroom to check my face for evidence of my dirty deed—feeling my own saliva on my cheeks. The crowd seems to be thinning out to what looks like our group and some locals. There’s a core of regulars at Joe’s; their presence makes this place feel even more special.

I set off down the hall to the left of the DJ booth in search of the women’s restroom. Why are there so many doors in such a small place?

Bingo. I find it.

I only make it halfway through the door before I’m firmly lifted off the ground and shuttled over a robust set of shoulders, only to be placed on the sink counter with a thud.

What the hell? My defenses are in overdrive from this apparent bathroom intruder.

I’m frantic, trying to remember a sliver of the techniques I learned in the one self-defense class years ago my Dad signed us up for. I’m drawing a blank, likely because I didn’t actually get to train after accidentally decking the instructor in the face and getting kicked out.

But now is not the time to remember that I know absolutely nothing.

My fear is immediately replaced with relief as I look to see Callaway shut the bathroom door and turn the lock. His heat immediately fills the small space. His gaze never falters as he stalks towards me, his body caging me like a starved giant hunting its next meal.

Tonight, that meal looks like me.

Finally.

I can’t look him in the eyes. I know he watched me up there and enjoyed himself. It’s not that I’m embarrassed, I have a perpetual fear of disappointing people I care about. The idea of letting him down sounds dreadful. I can practically feel the rage seeping from his body, invading my senses.

“Callaway, what are you doing in here? You need to go before Navy finds us!” I’m whisper yelling, hoping he catches onto my panic.

This caveman decides to ignore me, evidently not giving a rat's ass who sees us in here together.

His eyes resemble black orbs.

You can’t see past the darkness in them.

“Were you trying to tempt me out there, Dakota? Hoping that little skit would set me off and leave me unable to resist you?”

Perceptive you are my guy.

I was only trying to tease you.

“No. I looked for you, and you weren’t there. I didn’t think it mattered.”

I’m not naive. I knew he would eventually see me. The windows in Joe’s are open and large enough to jump through, putting the stage at the center of the viewpoint no matter where you stand. To see him so on edge and off balance makes me happier than I care to admit.

“I won’t lie and say seeing you up there didn’t surprise me, but fuck, you sure know how to put on a show, baby. It took everything in me not to charge up there and take you home.”

Take me right here, you big stubborn man .

“Still waiting on you to do that, big guy.” I snap back as I bite my bottom lip to catch his attention even more. His wanting eyes follow the motion.

I’m a fickle fickle woman. When he corners me like this, I can’t even remember my own name, much less why I decided we can’t have some fun together.

That’s right, work and his sister—my best friend.

Two very important variables.

His eyes grow clouded as a growl escapes his lips. I’m already moaning at the anticipation of his touch. Please, touch me.

“Now, you know I can’t do that. Not until you’re mine in every way it counts. But take your time, I’ll still be here.”

Why does he have to be so perfect and put together? I want him to be ravenous for me. Right this second. Like he can’t breathe without his lips and body on mine.

My mind is not my own tonight. That dildo really did a number on my self-discipline. I’m undoubtedly here to win.

“Don’t you ever want to just say fuck the rules and do what feels good for once? We can ask for forgiveness later.” The wink I send him only leads him to growl even louder. He’s wrestling with his control.

I’m a certified hussy. My mind has been taken over by my needy vagina. Send help—or not.

“I thought you said this thing with us wasn’t happening, Dakota? It’s evident you regretted throwing yourself at me at the club. What gives?”

Such a strange place to have a conversation like this—in the middle of the women's bathroom at Joe’s.

“Maybe I’m tired of fighting it. I know we shouldn’t, but I can’t help feeling like I need to be close to you. And I hate myself for that.”

He’s examining my body language. Maybe he thinks I’m giving mixed signals, but he is too. He’s the one who scooped me up like a caveman and locked me in this bathroom with him. He practically set me up for failure.

We’re both at fault here.

He’s infuriating, but I need him closer.

His large hands grip the countertops surrounding me. He leans into my space, sending vibrations to my core.

“You captivate me.” I’m a dead woman against this man.

My eyes haze over as I find his stare, biting my lip slightly to contain the urge. “That’s what scares me.”

A touch so gentle sparks chills up my leg. My eyes follow the motion of his long finger ghosting the inside of my knee, and slowly dragging it upward with a feather-like touch, leading to the place that meets my core, then pulling away.

I’m throbbing. I can’t help the desperate moan that escapes me.

“I can’t wait to give you the world, sweetheart.” His touch is back.

My legs feel like they’re going to fall apart on their own. He feels so good. “Let my lips plant soft kisses right here…until I reach the spot I know you’re aching for me.” I’m silent, lost in the feel of him.

He’s barely touching me, yet it feels like the equivalent of going all the way. His words slowly etch themselves into my heart, giving me a permanent tattoo of his pursuit.

Even turned on, he’s speaking love and kindness into me.

His black eyes scan my body longingly as he continues the trail of his touch, this time running it across the sliver of skin my shirt is unable to conceal.

If he's hungry, then I’m famished.

The itch to give in is too strong.

“Callaway.” The thrill is too much to bear—my body is desperate for release, but my heart is grappling to hold onto him even more.

“You’re so talented. The sexiness of you at work drives me mad with the need to claim you. I’m always longing for you.”

I am too. He’s clearly lost in his praise of me.

“If I could have you, I’d run my tongue lightly against the softness of your skin, before slipping off your skirt and panties, and letting my tongue taste you for the first time. I bet I’d find you already drenched for me, isn’t that right, angel?”

My nodding satisfies him—his smile is addicting, just like his dirty mouth.

His light touch makes its way up my neck before descending again to run lightly along the edge of my breast. “Hearing your voice every day is the thing I look forward to the most.” He circles back around, both hands caressing the edges again. I never knew this could feel so euphoric.

“And this right here,” his finger glides along the swell of my cleavage, lining the shape of my full breasts, “is where I’m going to mark you with my cum.”

“Oh god.” I’m seeing stars. He’s filthy, and I can’t wait to get dirty with him.

The feeling consumes me, causing my nipples to turn to peaks, starving for the smallest touch. His teasing is close enough to my aching core I can feel the beginnings of an orgasm draw near.

Until he moves away again, setting out on a new destination—one that will leave me breathless the same.

My head is thrown back into oblivion, long brown hair grazing the bathroom mirror, as I give my body over to his touch and let myself enjoy him .

The way his eyes follow his every movement tells me he’s enjoying touching me.

We know this thing between us can’t happen—but the teasing distracts my mind from the roadblocks striving to stand in our way.

Would it really be so bad? One time might be enough for us, and then we can agree to move on cordially.

But I don’t think that’s possible—at least for me.

I can confidently say I know he’s ruined me for any other man. That thought terrifies me.

“You’re mine, Dakota.” He’s never been ashamed of wanting me.

It’s exhilarating to be seen by someone so passionately, the opposite being what I was accustomed to feeling.

Being needed is a much different feeling than being tolerated. I can see now the difference between being liked by a boy and loved by a man.

There’s no comparison.

“I want to be yours, Callaway. More than you know.”

My eyes open in seconds, finding the biggest smile lighting up his entire face. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it shine so vividly.

I gave him a lead. A small possibility. And he’s ready to run with it.

“That’s progress, angel. I’ll take it.”

I don’t realize he stopped his teasing touches until his hand gently reaches to tuck a strand of my wild hair behind my ear, an action he seems to love doing. My smile feels warm and comforted with my sexual desire fading.

He’s becoming so much more than a man I want to fuck and forget.

He’s constant and kind. Those traits seem to be the things that make me the weakest .

A sudden knocking on the door breaks our trance—or, I should say, breaks the bubble of possibility built around us.

We’ve been here too long.

He’s got my full attention now—there’s no way I could have ever missed him. My exterior wall is breaking, leading me to think a thought that not long ago would have never crossed my mind—I’d like to move forward with him.

Callaway and I decide to exit the bathroom one at a time to avoid any gossip, which I know will happen anyway with the length of time we’ve been gone. My freshly tousled hair is the perfect bait to feed the starving crowd of friends we have.

Entering the tavern's main room, not one person seems to notice we’ve been gone because, apparently, a new field of entertainment has stolen the moment.

It looks a lot like Tenley Abrams, and she’s about to conquer the next round. Walking up to the bingo table, I lean over her shoulder to get a good read of her board. Cal silently walks past me, taking his seat beside Bodhi.

Her final spot calls for her to do a body shot off a stranger; watching her contemplate who her lucky victim will be is hilarious.

Before I can offer up my help, she stands to attention and yells at her chosen victim. “Graves, get on the goddamn table,” pointing to the designated spot.

I’ve never seen Gus so caught off guard. His eyes are practically bulging from their sockets, and words have yet to leave his mouth. I’ve always been convinced the woman who finally locks him down will be one who surprises him.

Well, look what we have here .

“Uh, why am I getting on the table?” If he weren’t such a giant, his body would undoubtedly be laid out by now. He looks like he’s about to fall at her feet.

Oh, he likes them bossy, I see.

Tenley speaks up, “Do what you’re told. Get ready for my tongue, Graves. Now, get on the fucking table.”

Girlfriend came to play.

I’ve never seen a mammoth-sized playboy move so quickly to the bark of a woman. It’s about time these men caught up.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

This is going to be entertaining to watch.

The prospect of a massive baseball player and a tall supermodel-esque woman getting dirty is evidently an experience not a single person in the tavern is willing to miss out on. The crowd hovers around Gus, laid center on the round table, while Tenley stands between his legs, ready to win this game.

“Lose the shirt.” She’s ruthless.

Gus’s head pops up to attention, reacting to the sound of her strong voice, while he sends her his signature playboy wink, “If you’re trying to get me naked, princess, all you have to do is ask.”

As Gus removes his shirt, hollers break out like wildfire, and the crowd is met with tan and chiseled abs.

If Tenley is affected by the sight of them, she doesn’t let on to it.

Looking at him with eyes of disgust, Tenley imitates puking while crushing his ego to pieces.

“Not a chance, pretty boy. I’d never risk my health with all the exposure that dick has seen. I’ll stick with the outer perimeters.”

Her feistiness seems like it only makes him want to tease her more.

The tension and anger in the room is almost tangible.

Watchers fall silent in hypnotization as Tenley climbs onto the end of the table and slowly crawls on her hands and knees to the promised land between Gus’s legs. His abs are on full display, and the goofiest grin lights up across his face.

“Do your worst, princess.”

Better be careful what you ask for, buddy.

Tenley’s laugh bubbles over in a way that reveals her tortuous plans for him, making this more than a task to fill a bingo spot.

Her hand reaches out towards King, “Shot and a lime, please.”

King hustles over with the goods, and Tenley settles herself between Gus’s legs again. She’s standing upright on her knees, quickly deciding now is the time to take off her jean jacket and let the goods do their job. Gus all but salivates at the sight of her.

Tenley is well endowed in the breast department, something I know she is self-conscious of, but the size of them comes in handy when needed.

He may even be low-key growling and licking his lips.

Her black plunging neckline conceals barely a nipple, giving Gus a live-action experience.

King stands up to the side of Gus’s body and sets the tequila shot glass on his navel, while urging him to open his lips for the lime. His lust is evident with the level of haze taking over his eyes, fixed solely on Tenley. I have never seen him react this way.

Patience wearing thin, Tenley acts fast throwing off the entire tavern.

Her tall frame grabs a pinch of salt off the table and draws a line from where the band of his jeans lead to his navel. Lifting her body slightly, she leans over him seductively, grazing her breasts along his thighs as she slowly licks the salt from bottom to top. Instead of her hands placed behind her back, they’re gripped tight to the center of his massive thighs. The act is sexy and tempting.

I find myself looking back at Cal, silently blushing at the thought of our moment in the bathroom. He smirks knowingly, causing my cheeks to flush.

“Mhmmm, Ten.” Gus’s moans are unapologetic.

Tenley’s giggle echoes through the room.

With salt on her tongue, she pulls back on her knees, hands still gripping his thighs, and looks up at Gus like she’s enjoying being the tool to his unraveling. Her head bends toward his navel, and he watches in awe as she wraps her mouth around the glass and throws the tequila back like it’s the best she’s ever tasted. The crowd starts cheering, almost forgetting there’s still one last thing she needs to do. The heavy breathing of Gus’s chest is clearly throwing off his patience. He’s all but pleading for her to come closer and take the lime from his mouth.

Tenley, however, always does the unexpected. I almost tumble to the floor in laughter as I watch her move her legs over his hips to straddle his waist and slowly lean forward. Gus looks like a desperate fool, his body growing feverish in anticipation of her mouth.

Except, she changes course and stops a few inches away from him, turning in a quick motion. Her body is headed towards King as he gets to her side in seconds with a lime in his mouth for her taking. As soon as Tenley’s mouth meets King, Gus spits the lime out, the crowd watching as it shoots upwards and hits him back in the face on the way down.

Laughter envelopes the room, and it’s the freest sound. Callaway is also caught off guard because tears are pouring down his face in hysterics; hell, even Bodhi is chuckling at it.

“Man, that’s fucked up.”

It’s clear Gus’s pride just took a beating. It must be a first for him because shocked is a light term to describe the look on his handsome face.

What a queen .

It’s time to take care of my girl’s tab for that free entertainment.

The last couple of months have shown me how much I’ve been lacking female friendships like Tenley’s in my life.

It feels good to have a village.

“Aww, Gus, you don’t do it for me. But thanks for the bingo win.”

With that, Tenley struts confidently towards the bingo table, secures her win, and yells at the top of her lungs, “Dirty Bingo!”

It’s nights like these that put life into perspective for me.

I’ve been lost for the last year and a half; Trevor’s presence was partial but not worth including. I can count the number of times I have laughed on one hand— genuinely belly laughed. Of all the laughs I’ve experienced recently, most have been with this group of people. Almost all of them have been shared with Callaway.

There’s still so much more I want to know about him. His challenging and positive exterior is one of the best parts of him, but I’m craving a deeper connection. I’ve been lying to myself, thinking playing hard to get is what’s best for us since he refuses to sleep with me. I see now it’s only bringing a feeling of torture and giving us an uneven playing field.

It’s unfair to him and unfair to me.

The conversation we had on the phone this morning felt like the next step. Unintentionally, I shared more with Callaway than I have with anyone else. Deep down, I think, since meeting him, I’ve known my truths would be safe with him, which led to my comfort in sharing them with him.

A part of me is fearful it may be too late to give my heart over to him, leaving me indefinitely in the friendzone.

Appreciating his closeness, Callaway is seated on the other side of me, and his large, tattooed hand has yet to leave my upper thigh; I can’t find it in me to ask him to move it. He’s openly showing me affection around his friends, and it’s throwing off my thoughts. My eyes read the room, searching for Navy’s eyes on us. Thankfully, I find her in heavy conversation with Tenley, not sparing us a second glance.

I am typically good at playing hard to get and keeping Cal on his toes, but lately, I’ve done nothing but turn into a pile of melted mush around the man. It’s not the feeling you get when desire takes over, although that feeling is still very much there. It’s more like an infatuation of the heart. He’s so good . My mind is constantly fading off into this unknown fantasy of what a future with him would look like.

What would our home look like?

What kind of lover would he be?

Would he fill up my gas tank for me every week to make sure I never go without?

Would our son be like him and our daughter like me?

Would he make sure our pantry is filled to the brim with my favorite cookies?

Would he tell me lame funny facts every day?

I have all the reasons to believe Cal would make me so damn happy. He’s made his feelings known to me more times than not, but why am I still so hesitant? If anything, his affirmations in the bathroom should have had me running to the courthouse for a name change.

This is my favorite version of Callaway, when he’s relaxed and playful. His carefree spirit and energy are addicting.

Tenley won two more rounds with Gus battling her to the fittest; their bickering played out more like a lover's quarrel ending in a good night in the sheets. Minus the sheets, at least as of now. The majority of us decide to hang back and watch other groups play their rounds. People watching Dirty Bingo is an underrated sport. If you’re not cheering, they’re not winning.

Exhaustion seems to hit me out of nowhere, and the idea of my warm bed and an unconscious level of sleep seems to sound better and better as the night goes on.

With my yawns taking over my energy, I decide to call an Uber and head out. I don’t have much planned this week, as it's the off week, but meeting the realtor at my parents' house is on tomorrow's agenda. I will need all the sleep I can get.

I turn towards Navy and Tenley. “I’m gonna head out.”

They both look at me like they’re about to tag team and force me to stay.

It feels good to be wanted by them. But not enough to stay.

Sleep sounds much better at the moment.

They nod in understanding and stand to hug me before turning back to their conversations. I take that as my sign to say goodbye to the rest of the group, letting them know I’ll see them Saturday for the photo shoot.

The strangest part about Cal and I is that we are in this weird limbo. He feels like more than a friend, even though he’s not; and he feels like a friend, even though he’s more. It makes greeting and saying goodbye an awkward thing to navigate; except tonight, I don’t have the energy to fight it.

Cal’s looking up at me like he’s waiting for me to initiate the goodbye. This seems to be him letting me take the lead. It looks like I may shock him with this one.

Leaning down, my lips hover beside his ear, “Walk me out?”

I look towards Navy, finding her eyes already on us as I send her a soft smile hoping she doesn’t assume the worst.

Cal’s stupid happy beautiful smile that makes me weak greets me as he makes quick work to stand and ushers me to the exit door. His hand against the small of my back sends chills down my body.

His touch makes me hyper-aware of every move.

Outside, the parking lot is deserted except for our group of cars. It’s eleven at night and the road leaves nothing but gravel to the eye, perks of Joe’s being in the middle of nowhere. Moving to the side of me, Cal watches me intently as I rub my arms hastily, trying my best to warm myself against the coolness of the night. He looks down, almost silently convicting himself for not wearing a jacket. Thinking quickly, he moves his large frame to stand behind me, and my body stills as his heat overwhelms me. His body heat feels like the first sip of coffee in the morning. It’s the comfort and warmth my body needs to make it through the day, slowly what Callaway’s presence is becoming for me. I’m starting to see my inability to fight these feelings I have for him.

Sheltering myself in his warmth, we stand in silence for what feels like hours, not wanting this moment to end. I decide I may shrivel to nothing at some point, and getting home is my protection against that. I move to grab my phone from my purse, finally planning to call for an Uber, when Callaway's strong hand covers my phone, placing it back into my purse.

His low voice meets my ear, “Take a drive with me. I’ll bring you home after.” I really shouldn't. My anxiety about tomorrow comes in waves, but the better part of me knows it’s necessary. Sadly, I’m ready for the mental exhaustion to end.

It’s as if my mind has yet to catch up with my actions; without even thinking, an okay escapes my mouth.