Chapter 6
GABE
CINCINNATI, OH
The team and coaches are getting off the charter bus when I hear my name called.
“Gabe! Gabe!”
Looking around, I’m not sure where it’s coming from. I’m surrounded by players.
“Gabe!”
Whipping my head around, I see a young woman, no older than 21, with fake blonde hair and fake tits. Oh, hell no.
“Gabe! Over here!” she yells.
Breaking from the team, I go over to her. I need to shut this down asap. She’s way too young for me.
“Miss?” I inquire politely.
“OMG, I’m Olivia,” the woman gushes. “You’re my favorite player!” she tells me, grasping my bicep.
I wince. I’m no longer a player. Also, I don’t want her touching me, as that seems way too intimate for someone I don’t know. “Well, I’m a manager now,” I tell her, stepping away from her reach.
“I know! I love it!” she cries, clapping her hands like a child.
“That’s great. I need to go. Take care now,” I tell her, walking away. I don’t even know what her age is and I don’t need to know. I don’t go for girls who are close to my daughter’s age.
“Wait! Can I get an autograph?”
I stop. Fuck, I just want to leave. “Sure.”
She steps up to me and flashes me her chest.
“Sorry, miss, I don’t sign skin,” I tell her, looking away. I don’t want to be labeled a total perv.
“Why not?” she pouts.
“I just don’t.”
“What about my shirt?”
“I can sign that. Turn around.”
She turns around, holding up a permanent marker. Taking it, I sign the back of her shirt quickly, then hand her back the marker. “Done. Now I need to go.”
I start to walk away, but she starts to follow me. You’ve got to be kidding me. Right before I get to the door of the hotel, she steps up beside me. “Invite me up,” she purrs, throwing her arm around me.
“No thanks,” I say, removing her arm from around my shoulders.
“You’re no fun! I just want a quick fuck,” she whines.
I stop in my tracks, turning around. “You need to leave. Now. Before I call security.”
She gasps. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would. Now please leave.”
She starts to get angry. “Why won’t you fuck me?” she hollers.
Fuck my life. “Leave now,” I seethe.
“But why?” she whines again.
“Listen up and listen hard. You’re way too young for me. I have a daughter that’s close to your age. I don’t date women who aren’t age appropriate. And you are not age appropriate.”
She’s crying fake tears, outraged she couldn’t bag her favorite player.
I turn and walk away, hoping like hell she doesn’t follow me or whip out her phone.
I enter the building and she stays outside.
Thank fuck. I don’t want to deal with that shit tonight.
I’m tired and it’s been a long day. I just want to get back to my room and relax. Alone.
Back in my hotel room, I rinse off quickly and slip into bed.
Grabbing my phone, I check my kids’ social media pages and nothing seems off.
Next order of business: texting Layla. I feel a little guilty that it’s already been three days since she left me her number.
But I’ve played it over and over in my mind and I’ve finally convinced myself to text her. Finding her contact, I type out a text.
Gabe: Hey Layla, it’s Gabe.
Layla: Who?
Gabe: Gabe Goldwyn
Layla: I’m kidding! I know.
Gabe: Of course.
Layla: Big win tonight.
Gabe: We needed the win, that’s for sure.
Layla: You in Cincinnati?
Gabe: Yep
Layla: Fun!
Gabe: If you say so. Make it back to Chicago?
Layla: Yes
Gabe: Good. Save my number.
Layla: Demanding, much?
Gabe:
Layla:
Gabe: I’d love to see you again.
Layla: You asking me out on a date?
Gabe: Say yes.
Layla: Let me check my calendar.
Gabe:
Layla: Patience, sir.
Gabe: Sir?
Layla: Daddy?
Gabe: Fuck, no.
Layla: That’s what I thought.
Gabe: About that date?
Layla: Yes
Gabe: Good. When?
Layla: When will you be in Chicago?
Gabe: Not for another two weeks.
Layla: Maybe then?
Gabe: Absolutely.
Layla: Perfect.
Gabe: I’ll text you.
Layla:
Gabe:
After my text exchange with Layla, I lay back against the pillows and shut my eyes, pleased as shit that she’s agreed to a date.
When she texted me back, I had to stop myself from pumping my fist in the air.
There’s nothing more I want right now than to see Layla again, other than winning the World Series, of course.
But now I have two whole weeks to wait until I get to feel her soft curves again.
Settling in, my mind drifts back to the night we shared and how good she felt, her body one with mine.
And that’s all it takes to get me hard, to the point of being painful.
Hitching my hips, I push down my athletic shorts and grip my erection, precum dripping from the tip.
Jacking my dick and using the precum as lubricant, I stroke my dick, desperately trying to find relief.
Squeezing and stroking, I imagine it’s Layla’s hands pleasuring me.
Needing to come, I stroke harder and faster, keeping the right amount of pressure on my dick.
I’m almost there. Finally, after what seems like forever, I feel a familiar tingle and my muscles tighten, my balls drawing up, signaling my climax.
I come, my release shooting out. I’m breathing hard and my ab muscles are clenched as the last vestiges of my release seep through my fingers.
Fuck, I needed that. If only Layla were here.