Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
KENNEDY
I’ve been in my shower for more than thirty minutes with the temperature turned up as high as I can stand it. I’m sore. Really fucking sore. It’s making me a little nervous about my game today. I hope I can move like I need to.
I look down at my body. He marked me all over but did a nice job of limiting it to areas that will remain hidden by my basketball uniform. My breasts and ass took the brunt of it. I can’t help but smile, remembering what was undoubtedly the best sex of my life.
He was so overtly domineering in bed…once I poked the bear a little bit. It’s in complete contrast to his silly, laid-back demeanor. My fingers run over my red, raw nipples as I replay the morning inside my head.
Once again, he pulled countless orgasms from my body, over and over. He’s got talent. I’ll give him that.
He didn’t want to leave, but I kicked him out, knowing my body couldn’t possibly take any more sex, and I needed to get myself prepared to play today.
As he left, he thanked me for taking care of him in his time of need. I’m guessing that means this was a one-time thing, which is probably for the best. I hate that I’m sad at the notion of not having him again.
I blow-dry my hair and then style it into one of my perfect runway-ready ponytails. I then apply my makeup. I don’t overdo it for games, but a little foundation, mascara, and light lip gloss while on national television can’t hurt. I don’t want to look like Casper the Ghost.
They’re starting to photograph us when we walk into the stadium, so I’m doing my best to get creative with my gameday walk-in outfits.
In fact, Daylen lost a bet to me before we left for Vegas, and I get to dress him for his opening day walk-in outfit.
I shudder to think what he would have chosen for me to wear today if he had won.
I’d probably be dressed in a 1950s dad lawn-mowing outfit.
That or my gold bikini, which he mentioned countless times when we were drunk in Vegas.
I shimmy into expensive, high-end skinny jeans, which show off my figure nicely.
I can’t help but smile as I grab the shirt I purchased to wear today.
It’s a retro, fashionable, flattering one-of-a-kind version of Sulley’s college jersey.
It has her school, number, and name on it.
She has no idea about it. I can’t wait for her to see me wearing it.
Slipping into my stiletto heels, I leave my apartment and head to the stadium. As I enter, I’m accosted by photographers, all shouting questions at me about my outfit choice. I will no doubt be all over social media within the hour.
“Kennedy, why Sulley O’Shea’s jersey?” one of them stupidly asks.
I smile as I stand in front of our team’s step and repeat banner backdrop and pose for the flashes going off in my face. “Because she’s a superstar and my friend. I’m sick of the women in this league bashing her when they should be thanking her for bringing so much attention to the sport.”
It’s true. No one used to give a shit what we wore when we walked into the stadiums. We never got this type of media attention before Sulley came into the picture.
I continue, “She should know her teammates have her back, even if the rest of the women in this league feel threatened by her. We love and support her wholeheartedly.”
I blow them a kiss as I ignore the remaining questions, pose for another minute, and then head into the locker room.
Sulley’s eyes tear up when she sees me, offering me a huge hug and whispering into my ear, “I love you, Kennedy Jeffries. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
I crack a few jokes to mask the emotions swimming inside me over what she just said to me. I suppose I’ve never had a best friend, but I do now. It feels good to admit that I’m happy. For the first time in a very long time, I’m truly happy.
Shortly after we break apart, Fallon walks into the locker room in a white pantsuit. I let out a whistle. “Wow, you’re looking every bit the sexy coach. I’ve never seen you dressed this nicely. You look amazing.” She’s absolutely stunning.
She winks at me and whispers, “It’s a Prada suit. I knew you’d appreciate it more than anyone else.”
“You look hot,” I offer. “All the men in this stadium won’t be watching the game. They’ll be looking at you.”
She twists her lips. “Not really my goal for the day, but I appreciate the compliment.”
“Do you date?” I ask, realizing we’ve never once spoken about her love life. I know Bailey mentioned a hot date that one day, but I’ve never heard anything from Fallon about her love life.
She shrugs nervously. “A bit. Dating when you’re older has its…
challenges. I’m a single mom. All the men in my age bracket are either single dads or career playboys.
There are things going on that weren’t when I was young and single, without all the responsibilities and emotional baggage I have now.
” Her eyes move down to my chest, and a small smile forms on her lips.
“I certainly can’t get away with marks like those anymore.
Harper would see them in a second and ask a million questions. ”
I look down and realize my shirt has slipped a bit. Bite marks are clearly visible on my breasts, even though they won’t be once I’m in my sports bra and jersey.
She lets out a laugh. “I guess you had a good night.”
I offer a cheeky smile as I turn toward my locker. “It was a good morning.”
A really good morning. The best ever.
We’re on the court in our warmup layup lines when I notice my mother walk down the aisle toward her seat with a guy who must be at least ten years her junior following closely behind while holding her hand. She smiles and waves at me with her other.
The fuck? We don’t communicate. She’s lucky there are kids here, or I’d give her the finger.
Pierce is trailing behind them, looking miserable. He and I make eye contact, and he throws his hands in the air, conveying his frustration to me. Why is my mother parading her boy toy in front of him? She has no shame.
I refocus on my warmups but have to tug on my shorts a bit. I’m so damn sore. I think I’ll need an icepack between my legs after the game. Sulley notices and asks about it. I lie that some random guy I met on Tinder gave me a pounding.
I assume Daylen’s on Tinder. It could be true. I hate lying to her, but I have no choice. I don’t want anyone ever knowing about Daylen and me.
On the other side of the floor, I see Vance sitting and chatting with the Cougars guys and Anacondas women. They’re all super tight.
Just then, Daylen comes strolling down the aisle in my jersey. I can’t believe he really wore it, and I truly can’t help the huge smile it brings to my face to see him wearing it.
He smirks at me before grabbing his junk and mouthing, “I’m sore.”
I point to my crotch and mouth back, “Me too.”
His grin widens with obvious pride. Deviant.
My father then walks in wearing my jersey. He narrows his eyes at Daylen as he takes in the fact that he’s wearing the matching jersey. Daylen looks nervous. Oh man, it’s fun to watch him squirm as I see him try to explain it away. I wish I could hear what they were saying.
My attention is pulled when my mother yells my name. She knows well enough to never do that. It’s not like I’ll respond. She’s showing off for this guy. I can feel my rage rising to the surface.
As if I’m not angry enough, an opposing player, Diane Garma, who’s the biggest Sulley-hater on the planet, walks by Palmer and mumbles, “What do you do, eat potato chips and french fries all day?”
Palmer’s eyes immediately fill with tears.
I see red and march right over to stand protectively in front of Palmer. I cross my arms and puff out my chest. “Fuck off, Diane,” I spit at her. “Stay on your side. Don’t you even look at her, let alone talk to her ever again.”
She snarls. “What? I’m just speaking the truth. Unlike Palmer, I care what goes into my body.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’ve seen your ex-boyfriends on Instagram. Let me assure you, you don’t care what goes into your body.”
I hear Palmer snort in laughter behind me. I’m happy to hear her laughing and not crying over Diane’s cruel and unnecessary treatment.
Diane grits her teeth and shoves me. “Fuck you, Kennedy. We’re not all whores like you.”
I bring my lips to her ear and whisper, “I’ve seen the guy you’re currently dating.
I’ve also seen photos of him with other women.
How pathetic that you’re satisfied being second best. Do you see the giant, blond, hot pro football player sitting over there in my jersey? ” I motion my head toward Daylen.
She turns her head and looks at him.
I continue to whisper, “Yes, that one. He fucked my brains out all morning. For hours. I might be a whore, but I’m a whore who had a dozen orgasms from that big-dicked stud before I came to the stadium today.
And he liked it so much that he’s wearing my jersey.
He’s not out with another woman. In fact, I can guarantee you that you won’t see him with anyone else for the foreseeable future because unlike you, I know how to keep my man satisfied. ”
As if sensing what’s going on, Daylen brings his index and middle fingers to his mouth in a V shape and then flicks his tongue through them suggestively.
I smile at him, and he winks back at me.
“Enjoy your shitty lays, Diane. It shows in the way you play.”
I wave at her innocently just as Coach Lakshmi calls us into our pregame huddle. If looks could kill, Diane would kill me right now. It seems I’ve struck a chord. My hours of stalking her on social media are paying off today.
Palmer bumps my hip with hers. “Thank you. What did you whisper to her?”
I shrug. “Just a little friendly chatter among competitors.”
She giggles. “I doubt it was very friendly.”