Chapter 6
God bless dating apps.
I know, I said I hated them. But at this orgasmic moment? I’m a big fan. Huge.
I just had two of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t even know what this guy looks like, or what his real name is.
I’m a sexual being. I have no problem finding a man for a night of fun.
I truly believe that stress and anxiety can be lessened with some orgasms. But, if I had to rate every man I’ve slept with, there would only be a handful that would be close to the top score.
This guy hasn’t even fucked me, and he’s already in the number one spot.
It may be the fact that I’m blindfolded, so every nerve ending in my body seems to be even more attuned to what he’s doing to me, or it could just be him.
“Better be careful,” I tease, breathing heavily. “You keep giving me orgasms, and I’m going to demand repeat performances if we’re ever in the same city again.”
Ground Man inhales quickly, then coughs a bunch. “Uh, I don’t know when I’ll be back in Chicago again.”
Unfortunately, I do know when I’ll be back in Chicago again.
The League sets our schedule pretty early on.
While actual game times may fluctuate, the schedule is set months before the season starts.
Chicago is in a different division, so at most, we’ll play twice a year.
We play one of our division rivals, the Bridge Point Bears, multiple times each season.
“Where ya headed next?” I murmur, my eyes still closed in bliss. I love the tingly feeling after an orgasm, where my entire body feels like it’s floating in a cloud.
“You really want to talk schedules right now, Kale? Or would you like me to fuck you?”
“Oh,” I giggle. “The latter, please.”
I feel Ground Man stand, and then I’m unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder.
Laughing, I wish I could open my eyes to stare at his butt, so I reach out to grab both cheeks.
Damn. I bet I could rest a Coke can on that sucker.
It’s incredibly bubbly. Unable to resist, I lightly slap one side, using the other hand to feel as it jiggles.
“This is nice. You have a really nice butt.”
“Good to know,” he replies, tossing me onto the bed. I listen as he closes the curtains, then hear him approach me. “Shirt off. On your knees, facing the headboard.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble, attempting a salute. I’m tempted to remove the blindfold. I bet his stance is all sinewy muscle and alpha male. “You gonna tell me your name, or do I have to call you Ground Man?”
“Thought we agreed to no details,” he says dryly.
I pull my shirt over my head, careful to avoid the blindfold, then shrug. “I don’t know. I just figured you’d want me shouting your name when I come.”
An odd noise comes from his direction. “Uh, no. No names.”
Weird, but okay. As long as I get one more orgasm out of this odd experience, I’m fine with whatever rules he wants to create. Except the one about the tied hands behind my back. That one brings back one specific horrifying memory.
As I turn toward the headboard, I hear a flurry of sound behind me.
Ground Man is viciously ripping his clothes off, and I feel his energy before his knees hit the bed.
He pushes against my spine, effectively situating me how he wants, and then I hear him ripping open the condom.
No words are needed as he thrusts inside me.
He grabs a handful of my hair, wrapping it around his fist, as he hammers into me. I’m already seeing stars. “Good to know you weren’t kidding about that eight inches.”
“I don’t lie about my dick size,” he growls, thrusting to the hilt and swiveling his hips.
Every few minutes, he repositions, hitting erogenous spots inside me I honestly didn’t know existed.
One particular position involved me on my side, with one leg over his shoulder.
This allowed him easy access to my clit, and I came so many times I blacked out for a moment.
A sheen of perspiration covers both of us as his thrusts become uneven, the rhythm clearly off, as he gets closer to his climax.
“One more,” he grunts.
“I can’t,” I moan. My body vibrates with dopamine and exhaustion. I think another orgasm might kill me.
“Yes. One more. Make me come. Now.” He pinches my clit, and my back arches off the bed as I come. I hear him roar his release, and vaguely feel the sensation of him coming inside me, but I can’t open my eyes. I instantly fall asleep.
I’m disoriented when I wake up.
The sun streaming through the open curtains is a dead giveaway that I’m not in my hotel room. I keep the curtains closed at night. I want my room to be pitch black while I’m sleeping. It’s at that moment I remember where I am.
Rearing to a sitting position, I frantically look around for Ground Man. I grab a pillow to cover myself, which is dumb. The guy had a finger in my ass and his tongue in my pussy last night. I doubt seeing me naked in daylight would be a fright.
“Hello?” I call out uncertainly. “Umm, hey, dude? You in the bathroom?”
When there’s no answer, I take a deep breath, then jump off the bed. Running to the bathroom, I find it empty. Holy shit. The guy banged me and left.
“Well, that’s an interesting development,” I murmur, laughing to myself.
Typically, it’s me sneaking out. I’m not quite sure how to feel.
Am I disappointed? Relieved? Angry? I mean, if he were still here, I wouldn’t have been opposed to an orgasm to wake me up.
The sex last night was unbelievable. He rocked my world.
It’s almost a shame I didn’t get a phone number, because I think I’d be willing to fly to Chicago every few months just to have a night like that.
As I collect my clothes from various places in the room, I’m chagrined to find no thong, but I do find the blindfold, which is a standard man’s tie. That motherfucker took my underwear, but left me this instead!
“Jerk,” I huff, removing my phone from my bag to see that it’s almost eight. I was supposed to be handing out breakfast to the team an hour ago. “Shit!”
I stuff the blindfold in my bag, determined to keep something from tonight as a souvenir.
If he gets to have one, why shouldn’t I?
I manage to find a rideshare close by, and get to the team hotel in fifteen minutes.
I find Coach Dunn waiting for me. “I sure hope you have an explanation for this, Ms. Holmes. It doesn’t bode well for my trust if you’re late on the first day. ”
Technically not my first day, since I’ve been working with the team for months now, but I’m not bringing that up. “I set my alarm wrong.”
His eyebrow pops up. “You’re really blaming your alarm?”
I certainly am not going to tell him it’s because I was getting my back blown out. “Yep. I’ll be sure to set three extra alarms, so I’m never late again.”
Coach studies me, and I have to wonder if I have a tell when I’m lying. He finally nods. “Alright. Most of the team grabbed their breakfast. Just a couple of guys left. Can you check on the electrolytes we have? I want extras on hand for everyone today.”
“Of course.”
Once Coach disappears, I let out a loud sigh of relief and walk into the small conference room where I’ll be handling all of the meals.
While I am a trained chef, my love of food has always been based in nutrition.
There will be times that I cook a meal for the team when we are at home, but the away games will be catered by local restaurants and services.
I plan to add extras, depending on what each player wants or needs, that will allow me to do some of the cooking and preparation myself. Nothing makes me happier than cooking.
Most of the guys selected egg-based dishes for a good chunk of their protein, while some wanted smoothies and oatmeal.
A couple of guys asked for smoked salmon on a bagel, which is what I chose to include for myself.
A perk of this job is having the opportunity to feed myself at every meal, and there’s nothing I like more than a sandwich that involves a bagel.
Cream cheese, capers, thinly sliced red onions, ribboned cucumbers, and fresh dill bring in a good chunk of protein, and it’s tremendously filling.
I head behind the table to see which guys haven’t picked up their meals, and I’m not surprised to find Max Callahan as one of them.
I’m honestly a little ticked because I went out of my way to make him a cheesecake-flavored Greek yogurt bowl, and added a ton of fresh fruit to it, because I know he likes sweets.
Not that he told me so, of course. I’ve just been watching him.
He grabs a candy bar a lot of afternoons, and if given the option of sweet or savory, he picks sweet almost every time.
I even made a batch of my banana protein baked oats, including them for all the guys, but mostly because I wanted to see if Max liked them.
“Is that mine?” a voice gruffly asks. Looking up, I find a disheveled Max staring at the box with his name on it. He reaches out to take it from me, and for some reason, I step away from him. “What the hell, Peaches? Give me my food.”
“Did no one ever teach you manners?” I snap. “Hello. Good morning. How are you today? Thank you for making my meal.”
Max still won’t look me in the eyes. “Rough night. Can I have my food? Please.”
Jake Holloway steps up beside him, giving me a big grin. “That may be the first time I’ve ever heard him use ‘please’ in a full sentence, Layla. You might want to accept it and move on. No telling when he’ll say it again.”
Max glances up at me, then immediately looks down at the table. What the hell is up with this guy? “Rough night? Can’t sleep without your favorite blankie or stuffy, Sunshine?”
Jake laughs. “I’ve got the room next to him, and I didn’t hear a peep until before dawn. Sounded like that was when you got in.”
“No. Wasn’t me. Maybe you heard me leaving for a run,” Max states. His eyes finally meet mine for a moment. “Can I have my food now, please?”
“You got him to say please twice. Wow,” Jake says dramatically. I roll my eyes, handing over the box. “Oh, Lay, any chance you’ll share the recipe for that banana bar thing in there? It was fantastic.”
“Sure,” I tell him, beaming with pride. It never gets old when someone compliments me on something I’ve created.
“A banana bar thing.” Max looks at the box skeptically. “Is this going to be something weird that I can’t pronounce, and you watch me eat every bite before you tell me it’s the skin of a beaver?”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “I don’t think I can find it in my heart to skin a beaver, so you’re safe from that.”
“Anything odd I should be aware of?” he asks.
“No. It’s all normal things in there. Do you eat eggs?” I inquire. “So I know how flexible I can be with food for the road trips.”
“Yeah, I eat eggs. Good protein.”
“What about fish and seafood?”
“Yes.”
“Chicken and steak?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Didn’t we go over this when I filled out the questionnaire?”
I stare at him incredulously, then pop both hands on my hips. “You refused to fill it out, Max. I’m going in blind here.”
He has the decency to look remorseful. “Oh. You can send it again, I guess.”
“No, that’s okay,” I answer sweetly.
“What? Why?”
I begin to swipe at the table, innocently picking at nondescript crumbs and lint. “I’ll wing it. It’ll be fun to see what I can get you to eat.”
“Did you give him the salmon bagel today?” Jake asks hopefully. “I’d love to see him eat that one. Bet he gags.”
I giggle again. “No. Just a normal protein bowl.”
Intrigued, Max opens the breakfast box. “It looks like yogurt.”
“Yes, Max. Yogurt has protein. Greek yogurt, especially. I also added protein powder to the bowl, which thickens it up, plus a dash of pudding mix. Since you’re such a sweets lover, I think you’ll like it.”
He looks up at me through his beautifully thick, dark lashes. “How did you know I like sweets?”
“I pay attention, Sunshine. Now go sit down to eat, so I can tell Coach you were a good boy,” I tease.
Max’s gaze darkens, and he leans in. “I’m not a good boy. But I bet you’re a good girl.”
Stunned, I watch as he turns around, striding to a table in the back of the room. I felt his words slide over my skin like hot honey, setting me on fire.
“Uh, Layla? You okay?” Jake asks hesitantly.
Nodding quickly, I chirp, “Yup!”
My phone pings with a message, and I yank it out of my pocket. It’s from Ground Man.
Ground Man: I can still taste you.
Ground Man: Thank you for giving me one hell of a night.
Me: I was disappointed to wake up alone. I hoped for a bonus this morning.
Ground Man: Early start for work.
Ground Man: If it helps ease the pain, it was a struggle to leave you alone.
Me: That does help.
Me: Any chance for a repeat tonight?
God, I feel so self-conscious. It’s like I’m fourteen again, passing a note to the cute boy I like, asking him if he likes me back.
Ground Man: Afraid not. Work has me all tied up until I leave to go home.
Me: Bummer.
Ground Man: I travel quite a bit. Maybe I’ll see you again.
Me: Maybe.
Sighing, I turn off my phone and shove it back in my pocket. I knew last night was a one-time thing, but it still sucks. I’ve never experienced sex like that. It’s going to be difficult to find someone who can measure up to Ground Man, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
“I liked the protein bowl,” Max says loudly, and my eyes snap to his. I hadn’t heard him approach, so engrossed in feeling sorry for myself and my needy pussy.
“Good for you. Expecting an award or medal now, Sunshine?” I snap. Standing, I motion around the room for the last few stragglers to focus. “Attention, everyone! Max Callahan ate something healthy, he liked it, and he didn’t die! A round of applause for the jerk.” Then I proceed to slow clap.
“That was unnecessary,” he growls. “I figured you should know for the future.”
“Yeah, at this point, I really don’t care what you like,” I sass. “You better eat every last crumb of whatever I give you, or I’ll make sure you don’t play one inning for months.”
“Jesus. Aren’t you dramatic this morning,” he mumbles, then walks out of the room.
As I watch him stride out of the room, his gait strikes me.
I notice his head is down, shoulders hunched, and he makes no effort to speak to anyone.
I feel a tiny prick of guilt over our entire interaction, but I don’t have time to focus on it.
I need to get busy with work, so I can stop thinking about my amazing one-night stand …
and I also need to get Max out of my mind.