Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
DAYLEN
Ijump high into the air and catch the ball at practice before my feet fall back down for the completion. I’m immediately tackled hard to the ground by a giant linebacker falling on top of me. Fuck, that hurt.
I writhe around a bit, and some of the guys chuckle at my dramatics. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. I tend to do that at times.
In actual pain, I’m a tad slow to get up, and Coach shouts, “You good, Humblecut?”
Isn’t that a loaded question. Physically, I’m fine.
Mentally, I’m a mess. I miss her. I’m with her three times a week and still miss her.
Because when we’re together, it’s as if we’re not.
She’s so distant. I think I preferred it when we hated each other because the fire was there.
I have no read on her. She’s stoic, so I try to be the same way.
I honestly don’t know if I can make it through the rest of the year like this.
As I’ve reflected on our time together, I realized I was starting to fall for her. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but it did. And this iciness between us is messing with my head and hurting my heart.
I pretend that all is good in my world and nod. “I’m good, Coach,” I wheeze as I spit a little blood.
“At least your teammates laughed,” he says. “You know you’re getting old if you go down hard in front of people and they panic instead of laughing. If I went down like that, they’d call the paramedics before bothering to check on me.”
I chuckle. “Valid point, Coach.”
I return to the huddle, and Vance looks at me. “All good?”
“As good as strippers when a bunch of drunk, wealthy frat boys walk into a club after having visited an ATM.”
He cracks a small smile. “Nice catch.”
I lick my fingertips and then circle them in the air. “A tongue and finger combo isn’t just for flipping the pages of a book.”
His smile widens while he simultaneously rolls his eyes and calls the next play.
As practice draws to a close, the team of trainers ask to examine my ribs. I remove my shirt, and they immediately wince. “D, you’re all bruised. We should get them X-rayed.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m fine. It’s tackle football. Bruises happen. They’re not broken. Trust me, I would know.” I’ve broken my ribs countless times. It’s extremely painful—a hell of a lot more pain than I’m feeling now.
They instruct me to come get ice from them after I shower, which I assure them I will.
Before I head to the showers, I open my locker and pull out my phone to see if I missed any calls or texts while at practice. I see a notification of a text from Kennedy.
Wifey: Need to talk. Rang your doorbell, but I guess you’re not home. That, or you’re ignoring me. Heading through your gate to the backyard. I’ll wait for you by the pool. It’s important.
The pool? Shit. BJ has access to that area. She’s going to eat Kennedy.
I quickly call Kennedy’s cell to warn her, but there’s no answer. Oh my god, what if BJ already hurt her? Images flash through my mind of Kennedy lying on the ground in my backyard, bloody and injured, with BJ’s mouth around her throat.
Without bothering to shower, and still in my uniform pants, I grab my keys and run out the door toward my car. I’m racing home, fearing the worst. I keep calling her cell, but there’s no answer. Why isn’t she answering? What does that mean?
Twenty-five long minutes later, I pull into my driveway and jump out of my Jeep. I sprint toward the gate to the backyard at full speed.
I’m fearful of what I might find back here, but nothing prepares me for what I see when I walk through.
Kennedy is fast asleep on one of my chaise lounge chairs.
She’s on her back. BJ is peacefully sleeping, cuddled up next to her, with her head and paw on Kennedy’s stomach almost protectively.
Kennedy’s hand is resting on BJ’s neck. They look like best friends. What the hell? That dog hates women.
I quietly walk toward them so as not to disturb their sleep. They’re both out cold.
Looking down, I notice Kennedy is wearing spandex shorts and a white tank top, leaving very little to the imagination. My wife truly is a stunning woman. Physically, she’s perfect. Too bad she has to open her mouth.
Okay, I miss that mouth because lately she’s been saying nothing to me at all. I’d rather snark than the silent treatment.
Her eyelids start to blink open. I can see her green eyes take me in. There’s something different about her right now. I can’t place it. It’s like she’s softer. Impossible. This woman is as hard as nails. She’s managed to spend three days a week with me all month without barely looking at me.
I think she’s about to say something sweet, but I should have known better. She croaks out, “Why are you topless and in football pants? Do you ride around town like that? You’re such a tool.”
And…there’s the bitch I know and love to hate. Pathetically, I perk up at her comment. It’s the most she’s given me in a long while.
“BJ hates all women,” I tell her as I run my fingers through my messy practice hair. “I saw your text and was a little freaked out that she may have hurt you. Sorry I didn’t stop to shower and change while worried about my precious wife.”
She raises an eyebrow as she scratches behind BJ’s ear. “Hurt me?” She looks down at BJ, and in a baby voice that mimics the one I use with my dog, she says, “This angel showed me nothing but love. She’s a cupcake, right, baby girl?”
BJ coos and nuzzles her nose into Kennedy’s belly like they’re best friends. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. Her father. The man who loves and feeds her every day.
Only one word comes to mind. Traitor.
Her eyes home in on the bruising on my chest, and her brow creases. “What happened?”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “My wife likes it rough.”
She cracks a small smile before her face falls serious as she looks back up at me. “We need to talk.”
I sigh. “Sure. Can you give me ten minutes? I really need to jump in the shower. I can smell myself.”
She nods as she stretches her arms and yawns, revealing a sliver of her silky stomach that I miss licking.
My dick stirs, and she notices. “I can’t believe you guys wear those tight pants to play ball.
” Her eyes, shaded with obvious lust, stare unashamedly at my cock.
“They leave very little to the imagination.”
I roll my eyes and start walking to the house. “Stop ogling me, Ursula. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I admit that I walk extra slowly toward the house so she can admire my ass.
I can’t help the smirk that finds my lips. That felt like the old us. I can’t believe how much I missed our banter this past month.
I’m in my oversized shower, just about to finish, when the thick, seamless glass door opens and Kennedy walks in naked. I swallow down the large gulp in my throat. “W…what are you doing?”
She exhales, as if in resignation. “I’m so fucking horny. I helped you a few weeks ago. Now it’s your turn to pony up.” She nods at my rapidly growing erection. “You appear to be on board with the plan. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
My lips curl in amusement. “This is what we needed to talk about? You chomping at the bit for some Humblecock?”
Her face scrunches, and she makes a look of disgust. “Ugh. Humblecock? I’m adding men who incorporate cock into their last names to my red flag list.”
I chuckle. “You can’t get enough of my Humblecock. Just admit it.”
“It has nothing to do with you. I just need some cock, and Humblecock is the only one on the menu. Can you just shut your pretty mouth and give me a few orgasms? I need it.”
We both smile in amusement. This is how we used to be, and I don’t think I’m the only one who’s missed it.
I scratch my fingers through my beard, pretending to contemplate this even though my dick is giving my excitement away. “Hmm. I suppose I can take one for the team. What are you gonna give me?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“When I needed to fuck, you had conditions. First, you sodomized me, and then you made me wear your uniform to your game, where I had to deal with a whole thing with your father over it. What do I get if I give you what you need?”
She calls my bluff and spins on her heels before placing her hand on the door handle. “Forget I asked.”
She’s about to push it open when I grab her by the throat and pull her back flush to my front. With my other hand I cup her pussy, and her breath catches. “Fuck yes,” she moans.
I whisper into her ear, “Is this where you want me?” I tighten my grip on her neck and slowly run my middle finger through her. She’s swollen and dripping wet. “Where you need me?”
Her breathing deepens as she relaxes back into me. “Yes. Please. God, I need to be touched. Touch me, Daylen. Touch me everywhere with your big, rough hands.”
She places her hand over my lower one and pushes my finger into her tight, slick warmth while tilting her hips to deepen it. “I need to come so badly. You have no idea.”
My hand slides down from her throat and grabs her breast, twisting her nipple until it’s nice and hard. I add another finger inside her pussy, and together they push easily in and out of her slick channel while my thumb finds her clit. My lips latch onto her neck, tasting her unique sweetness.