Chapter 5
Not even a post-win hot shower can ease the adrenaline thrumming through my blood.
I’m riding a fucking high after we’ve secured yet another win under our belt. And nothing gets me harder than winning. Especially on another team’s home turf.
Well, that and a certain pretty boy pitcher who just happens to be the center of my thoughts lately—and my away game roomie thanks to Coach.
I can’t tell if it’s his polished exterior or the beast I know he’s barely holding back—either way, it’s got me fucked. He’s insufferable, humorless, and exactly the kind of trouble I shouldn’t want to get into.
But night after night, my fist knows better.
I’ve been strung out all week, ever since Sinclair hinted he might finally let me drag him into my favorite type of playtime—a night made for three.
I look down at my hardening length, deciding it’s time to get out of the shower to hit up my own little pocket of sunshine in dreary-ass Seattle.
Toweling dry, I swipe my phone off the bathroom counter of my hotel room to type out a text.
Me:
Hey babygirl. Ready to play tonight?
Deidre:
Always ;) Grand Hyatt?
Me:
Yup. Room 2415.
Deidre:
Be there in an hour. See you soon, War baby.
Fuck yes.
Walking out into the room, a smile breaks on my face when I look at the tidiness of Will’s bed compared to mine, his sheets neatly flat and pressed as if he never even slept in it.
The freak makes his bed every morning at the ass crack of dawn like housekeeping doesn’t exist. Surely he grew up with maids and butlers who never let him lift a finger.
Maybe it’s his pre-game ritual. I’m still getting to know my new teammate. He rarely comes out with us and usually retreats back to the room, passed out and snoring by the time I get back from being out with the boys.
I get that he’s new to the team and was traded by his own father. I can’t imagine the hit to the gut that must’ve been for him. But Sinclair is still a spoiled rich boy who’s a neat freak and can’t ever take a fucking joke.
So serious. So goddamn broody. Even his duffle bag sits neatly next to his perfectly made bed, whereas I look over at mine with clothes strewn across it and rumpled sheets.
No point in making it up now since Deidre will be here within the hour and the sheets are going to be on the floor when I’m done with her.
Hopefully when we’re done with her.
God, I’m in dire need of a good fuck. My cock surges with the thoughts of her soft body so pliable in my hands. Then my mind shifts to a broad chest with rippling abs and taut muscles throughout.
He’s firm and strong, piercing me with those midnight blue eyes and full lips I ache to bite and taste.
If Sinclair is a man of his word, then tonight should be no problem at all to dish out our depraved fantasies. My blood pulses straight between my legs, making it so I can’t help but reach down and squeeze the head that’s already leaking precum.
I need to know if he was just fucking around or if he’s down for this. I’m flying on the adrenaline from the win tonight, and Sinclair can ride the wave with me or get the hell off.
Me:
Are you in or out, Sinclair?
Pretty Boy:
The fuck are you talking about?
Me:
You told me to text you the time and place. You’ve got less than one hour to get back to our room if you want to prove to me that you can share your toys.
Three dots appear and disappear for what seems like forever. With my patience waning, I’m about to pull up Hughesy’s text thread to sub in for the stiff until finally he responds—splitting a filthy smile on my face.
Pretty Boy:
I’ll be there.