Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Death by swollen dick is imminent.
BEAU
“One of the keys to the mental game,” Dr. Gary teaches, “is to treat every game like it’s just a game.”
Just a game
I write it in my journal, half to look like I’m trying and half because it kind of makes sense.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Colt doing the same.
Shit, it’s like we’re back in high school. He took the best notes in Chemistry while protons pissed me off. I hated science, but took the best History notes, which he hated. There were too many dates to remember when Colt had lots of those with varsity cheerleaders.
Was I ever mad about it?
Yeah. I said those girls were distractions when really… I was jealous.
I wanted a date with Colt.
Last night was pretty close.
The chef prepared lobster and red snapper for dinner. Blair joined us, emerging from her bedroom in another pretty sundress. It was white, and my heart flipped. She looked like a bride. It had us on our best behavior.
We enjoyed another sunset dinner outside, did the nightly dishes, and then settled on the sofa in the same spots for another movie. It was Blair’s turn, and she drew Dirty Dancing.
That was one of my top flicks, thanks to my sister, and besides, whose dick doesn’t dance for Patrick Swayze?
We ate popcorn. I recited the whole movie. And when that iconic scene at the end happened, Blair whipped her cute face my way. “Can you catch me like that?” she asked. “Like Johnny does Baby?”
I threw a buttery kernel at her. “In the pool, Baby. Because no one puts Bronson on the Injured Reserve list.”
“Got that right,” Colt agreed, and we tried to play it subtly. That we sorta made amends but not too much. We tried to make Blair believe we were still fighting a bit.
Everyone slept alone last night because I’m going for the long prank.
I’m playing for the big win with her.
“So let me ask you,” Dr. Gary continues our session. “When was it just a game between you two?”
“Easy,” I answer. “High school. Even when we made it to the state championship twice and won twice, I never felt the pressure. It was just Colt and me, and it was fun. I used to front flip into the end zone.”
“Colt?” Dr. Gary asks, “Do you agree?”
“Yeah.” He spins his pen. “It was just fun. We were kids, but it ain’t the same now.”
“What’s changed?”
I answer Doc, “Billions of dollars and millions of fans.”
“Even in college?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Even then, we were under pressure.”
“We were arch rivals,” Colt adds. “That made it worse.”
“That was your fault.”
“What?” Colt snaps. “I’m supposed to follow your game plan and not my dream?”
Okay. What the fuck?
We made up last night. We’re way past Bama versus Auburn and Iron Bowl drama.
Aren’t we?
“What do you mean my plan?” I raise my voice. “Bama was your dream, too. We were supposed to go together.”
“Well, let’s explore this,” Dr. Gary rolls up his verbal sleeves, and yeah, let’s explore.
Because clearly, Colt’s still pissed about it, so we start again. Shit, we can throw insults like pigskins. And we do for minutes until…
The sunrise appears again.
More like the full moon.
The full, luscious moon of Blair’s gorgeous bare ass but this morning, she slays. I mean, it’s full out, fucking murder because my dick swells so fast, all blood from my vital organs rushes to my cock.
Death by swollen dick is imminent.
“Fuck,” Colt chokes down his shock, too.
There, Blair stands on the deck, summoned by our shouts. She’s lifting her long black hair off the nape of her neck, looking over her shoulder and winking at us while she shakes her long, pink and black foxtail butt plug.
Like a hunting hound, I’m about to chase her foxy ass.
Then she turns around, wearing pink and black ears, pink high heels, and nothing else but—holy pussy goddess—did she cover herself in pink glitter? Are her nipples darker, too? Like red rouged?
“Uh…” My brain quit.
“Um…” So did Colt’s.
My only remaining thought?
Blair can’t live with us.
Not when she’s going to kill us daily with pornified sex temptations no pussy-loving creature can survive.
“Gentleman?” Dr. Gary studies our stupified faces.
He’s got to notice us squirming like we’re sixteen again in sex-ed class when the state of Alabama tried to teach abstinence, but our hard, teenage dicks wouldn’t wait. All we had to do was come once to know the preaching adults were hypocrites. That shit felt way too goddamn good to be immoral.
“Bronson? Hawke?” Dr. Gary tries to grab our attention.
But Blair sashays to the side of the flatscreen, pointing at Doc like she’s a XXX-rated Vanna White.
This ain’t Wheel of Fortune.
This is about to be Wheel of Foxy Fucks.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” I cough. “There’s a dolphin outside. It’s pretty cool.”
“A pretty pink dolphin.”
Colt doubles down on the bullshit, and he better pray such an animal exists.
“Sure,” Dr. Gary scoffs. “I’m sure it’s a rare visual. On that note, that’s your work today: visualization. You’re going to spend an hour visualizing your state championship. Give me the stats on your senior game.”
Thankfully, when it comes to football, my brain works even though my dick is busy.
“I had forty-two completions for three hundred and forty-five yards. Hawke caught two-thirds of them and three out of our four touchdowns.”
“Perfect,” Dr. Gary admires, but I still hear his annoyance. “Visualize that game for an hour. Time it, then journal about it. Twice. The goal is to make it a mental habit.”
“Gotcha, Doc.” Colt tries to smooth suspicious waters. “Will do.”
“Enjoy the pink dolphin,” Dr. Gary mocks before he ends our session this time.
“Shit!” I yowl toward the ceiling. “Blair Monroe! Woman, I’m gonna tan your foxy ass!”
She clicks by us, swaying her pink tail with no care since the session is over.
“Well,” she drawls, “it worked, didn’t it? Y’all stopped fighting.”
It’s a repeat of yesterday morning. Blair pours coffee, looking like she belongs on a stage with all my millions in her non-existent G-string while she sips and grins.
Colt nudges my bare foot, reminding me of the long prank, not the rocket about to explode in my trunks.
“No,” I lie. I think. “We’re still fighting, just not yelling. Wouldn’t want to scare the foxy wildlife.”
“That’s progress.” She pops a slice of pineapple in her mouth. “Now, kiss and make up.”
Every morning, the chef leaves us a vegetable quiche, fresh fruit, and juices. Colt and I already ate but now our eyes devour her eating breakfast while we sit on the sofa.
I don’t know my next move.
I’m too damn turned on.
With that furry anal plug swishing from her luscious ass, I’m reminded of our kinky Valentine’s night when Blair was a Bad Kitten, and I was her toy.
Damn, if Colt knew what he’s missing right now. Maybe he does because he fights the urge. It’s soaring in his trunks, too.
He rises, mumbling, “No one’s kissing, and no one’s making up.” Grabbing his journal, he heads to his lounger outside. “Let’s get to work.”
“Is he okay?” Blair worries after he leaves.
“Don’t know.” I shrug. “I might’ve pissed him off again. Guess your foxy ass will have to keep us from fighting all day.”
Quickly, I get up, hiding my smirk. With my journal in hand, I aim for a lounger, too. A few minutes later, Blair joins us outside.
Clicking away on her laptop, she lies, tummy and tits down on her lounger under the sun sail, her long furry tail gently fluttering in the warm breeze.
Limp is not an option for my dick today—same for Colt. I catch him grabbing his crotch like he’s in pain. Like there’s no relief from Blair’s temptation.
What makes it harder? Literally?
I know with that plug in her ass, Blair’s pussy is soaking wet. And based upon our Valentine’s night reunion, I know when I tug it, I can make her come. Real. Fucking. Hard.
Damn! It’s all I can visualize when I’m supposed to recall our state championship twelve years ago.
Over and over, it’s all I see when I close my eyes.
Me, fucking Blair.
Me, fucking Colt.
Us, fucking her.
Them, fucking me.
Every infinite, carnal combination of our three bodies.
It’s not just the sex we can share. It’s the morning coffees. The nightly movies. The laundry we can do together. The long talks we can have in bed.
I want everything with them; I just don’t know how.
Colt made our part easy. He asked me about living together, and maybe it’ll work for a while. For the first time in my life, I’m willing to try with him.
But me and Blair?
I’ve never had a girlfriend. Not since Reese in college, and no offense, I don’t really count her. That wasn’t two adults in love. That was me, trying to be a hero because I didn’t want to save myself.
Yeah, I’ve fucked around since. I’ve swiped for some kinky nights after the NDAs were signed, but no woman has been to my house. Hookups happen in hotels.
But my home? My bed?
It’s virgin territory like my heart. I’ve been saving it for someone—someone to dream with, someone to marry, someone to start a family with.
I thought it would be a decade from now, not in days, because the clock is ticking down. Like it’s past half-time, I gotta lock down a victory with Blair before we leave.
She’s my someone. So is Colt.
I realize it now. But can someone tell me how I can convince her to try? To trust?
The chef sets our lunch outside. It’s amusing when he eyes Blair’s bare ass and foxtail, but the guy’s chill. He and our maid. They must see all kinds of stuff, so they leave us and our kinky drama alone.
“Hey, Fox?” I sit at the table, filling fresh corn tortillas with Pibil—slow-roasted pork with local vegetables. “You gonna eat with us?”
Colt’s about to scarf down his meal, too, but Blair just shakes her tail.
“In a minute.” Her fingernails click on the keyboard. “I’m in flow-state.”
“I’m in hard-as-fuck-state,” Colt mumbles, sitting beside me. “Dude, you gotta do something because all of a sudden, I have a dirty fox fetish.”
“Try having a kitten fetish, too.” Colt stuffs his face, eyes wide, waiting for me to explain. “The first and last night I was with her? Valentine’s? Blair rocked my world wearing a Bad Kitty collar and a long black cat tail butt plug.”
I want to tell him more. I need to tell him more.
About how I discovered so many erotic things with Blair that night. About how we shared more than kink. It was a soul-branding connection, our connection, and I haven’t been the same since.
I found myself inside Blair—myself who loves Colt, too.
But it’s not for me to share. Not all of it. If Blair wants Colt to know her fantasies, too, she’ll tell him. Or show him.
Hell, is that what she’s doing now? Waiting us out? Trying our dick patience?
Watching her feet kick in the air, I nudge his. “Eat up, then play along. Let’s see if we can tempt the fox out of her den.”
When we finish our meal, we dive in the pool to refresh.
I jump out and plop down on the lounger beside Colt to dry off. There’s not a cloud in the summer sky, and soon we’re bone dry and boner hard, our desire for Blair scorching far hotter than the sun.
So, I disappear inside and make myself at home, rummaging through the bathroom Colt and Amber shared.
Amber left in such a huff; she left all sorts of lotions and potions behind, and Bingo, I grab a yellow bottle of “Glow Oil” that says it has SPF 50.
“Here.” I tap Colt’s arm with the bottle as I settle back beside him. “Oil up,” I whisper. “Let’s give her a helluva slippery fight.”
Colt smirks before he straightens his face.
We start on our arms, pouring puddles in our palms, slowly rubbing glistening oil over our flexing biceps.
Blair tries hiding it, but we’re stirring the pheromones in the air.
She glances our way while I prime Colt. “You know what I visualized today? The option route in that game. The state championship.” I eye Colt. He’s rubbing oil over his delts and ink while I rub him the wrong way by adding, “The route you missed.”
“The only one I fucking missed.” He starts on his beefy pecs. They pop with the tension in his voice. “You threw it out when I was breaking in.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Blair tilts her head, her foxy ears perking up at our tone.
“Nah,” I argue for the hell of it, caressing my pecs, too. “The way you juked. The way you dropped your hip. It signaled you were running out.”
Tipping the bottle, I drizzle a long, oily stream of coconut seduction down my abs.
“Like hell.” Colt gets riled up at the sight, grabbing the bottle from me and coating his washboard, too. “I was running in, and you threw out. That’s on you, dude. It was a rare time you couldn’t decide.”
“So you’re in my head now?”
“Yeah, I live there rent-free.”
“Then freely tell me what I’m thinking now.”
I’d really like to know because my brain is multi-tasking a lubricated prank, a pseudo fight, and a raging hard-on. Seducing Blair seduces me, too. Colt looks good enough to glide across.
Or down.
Or inside.
Fuck, what game are we playing?
“You’re thinking nine times out of ten; we think the same way,” Colt argues, polishing his abs, his big hands inching closer to his trunks like he’s itching to rip them open.
Or me.
Or Blair.
Or both.
“But it’s that one time out of ten”—he keeps tempting—“when you know you’re wrong and you miss.”
“I’m wrong? I miss? Fucker, do you know my pass completion percentage?”
“Yeah,” Colt woofs. “It’s seventy-one percent, thanks to me.”
“And you lead receiving yards, thanks to me.”
“Nah, baby,” Colt mocks, stroking his glazed abs and pissing me off. “All this body control. All this stamina. All this strength and agility.” And turning me on. “It’s all me.”
“Exactly,” I snarl. Half of me wants on him. Half of me wants in him. “It’s all you, and so was the Super Bowl interception.”
Touchdown.
I didn’t mean the insult, but I take the point. It was too easy.
“Fuck you, Bronson!” he barks. “That’s not what you said last night when?—”
“Hey!” Blair jumps up. “This ain’t daycare! Stop fighting.”
Our plan worked, but it went too far. She swishes our way, but now we’re angry with oil and sweat glistening over our tense muscles.
“Face it, Fox.” I glower. “We’ll never stop fighting over this.”
She arches her dark brow. “Never and always are irrational words for lazy minds. There’s only once they apply—never does anything stay the same because things always change.”
Damn, I love her sharp mind. I love her smart mouth. I love her sweet heart. I love her rousing curves. I love her dark landing strip.
My brooding glare aims for it.
“Don’t know, Raven.” Colt caresses his slick pecs, admiring her nudity, too. “Who can ever make us agree?”
I smirk because he’s going for the win.
“As foxy as you are,” he baits, “I still ain’t inclined to see it his way. Wonder what could make us stop fighting?”
“Yeah, Blair.” I pile on, going for the ultimate mind-fuck. “Who could ever make us feel the same inside?”
“God, y’all got jock itch of the brain.” She laughs. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?” Colt grins.
“You’re fighting to make me stop you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I mock. “Colt and I were fighting long before we ever knew your foxy ass.”
“Yeah,” Colt tags in, “and I bet you can’t ever stop us.”
Oh shit. Like a bomb, his dare lands in Blair’s sexy eyes. It’s about to be D-Day all over Colt’s dick because she won’t lose a sex war.
Leaning over, she smirks at me before crawling over Colt, lying on his lounger. Her lips cunning. Breasts mouthwatering. Hips heavenly. Pussy luring. That foxtail way too dangerous.
She coos, batting her long lashes at him, “Do you want to try me, Colt?”
Lazily, she rings her tongue around his hard, innie belly button. Colt has no chest hair. Dark blond dusts his legs and arms, while he has a sexy thin line that tempts you down from his belly button to the trimmed patch framing his long cock. With Blair’s tease, it’s rising for release from his swim trunks.
Colt gazes down at her, then at me. So, I rip open my swim trunks and shuck them down, kicking them aside. I’m as naked as a glistening jaybird, hard as a steel rod, and fisting my cock while I raise a brow at them.
“Yeah,” Colt answers, his voice gruff. “I really want to try you, Raven.”
Blair goes for his nipples next. His ink stops just above them, and I swear the woman is a sex savant. She knows they’re his trigger because when she slowly rings them, he moans. When she gently blows air over them, his hips thrust. When she finally licks, then sucks, then bites one, he grunts, “Fuck, woman. You’re hot as hell.”
Yes, she is.
I’m entranced watching her seduction. I’m light-headed, watching his pleasure. He has no idea how, in a moment, he’ll be forever marked by Blair. And she has no idea how, once she tastes Colt’s lips, she’ll be hooked.
She’s about to kiss him. He’s about to let her. She’s about to give him her beautiful body. And he’s about to take it. To love it.
This was supposed to be a bet, a prank, a temptation but now it’s more.
So much more.
Watching them together is everything I want, but not like this. I don’t want to trick her. I don’t want a joke. I want everything to be real and right with her. With him. With us.
“Come here, Kitten.” I leap, hooking my arm around Blair’s waist, snatching her body off his. “We need to talk.”
“But… ”
I don’t know who stammers it first.
Her? Colt? They’re both shocked by my reaction, and I don’t care. I can’t stop it. I’m a fucking caveman, and this isn’t about jealousy. It’s about survival.
“I need my woman for a minute,” I explain, taking it back to my prehistoric roots by slinging Blair over my shoulder.
Colt starts laughing while she squeals. “What the fuck, Beau? Put me down!”
But I go full Cro-Magnon. I slap her ass. Not hard. Just enough to stake my claim. “Never, woman. I’m never putting you down.”
“Y’all go settle the score now!” Colt calls out as I stomp away.
He gets it. I can hear it.
But Blair?
She dangles over my back, smacking my naked ass back. “You wanna play, Bronson?”
So I smack hers again. “You’re the one with a furry plug in her ass.”