Gunslinger: A Sports Romance (21 page)

"You know all there is to know. She was my college girlfriend who left me high and dry on our wedding day. But believe me when I say that her leaving me was nothing but the universe correcting its course and correcting my life. It had to happen, so that I would meet you."

"Are you sure you're over her? You sound angry when you talk about her."

"I was a kid, Sabrina, and of course I was angry. It was embarrassing as shit to be jilted like that. But there's nothing about not having her in my life that I regret. I only see you."

She swallows. "And I only see you."

I'm relieved to hear it.

"What did you think of my game?"

"I thought you did an amazing job leading your team to victory. You were awesome."

I beam with pride.

"Will you come to next week's game?"

"It's possible since I may have a lot of free time on my hands after this weekend."

"I'll fix it. I promise. Or you know what? You can leave Carson and start your own firm. Would you like that?"

"With you as my only client?" She smiles wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Me and Spin."

"Are you insane? Spin barely knows me. They're not following me anywhere."

"Who do you think convinced them to meet with Carson one more time?"

She steps back. "What are you talking about?"

"The world is a small place, babe. Marley's younger brother had been to a Stevenson Summer Combine several years ago. My family knows his family."

"Funny how you never mentioned that."

"We aren't best buds, but I may have told him his number one fan worked up there, and that I'd owe him one if he took a meeting."

"So he wasn't dazzled by me. It was all a set up," she says disappointed.

"Partially a set up."
 

I pull her to me again and lift her chin. I need her to know how sincere I am.
 

"I never told them what your name was, and we made no agreement that they'd have to stay on. The only deal we made was to give you guys a meeting. They were drawn to you specifically all on their own, and because of whatever you told them in there."

"And Peter?"

"All I asked him to do was give me a call if Spin called a meeting, and to make sure that you were sitting in on any meeting if they did. Little fucker didn't call me though, but at least you were there."

"Why'd you do all of this, Saint?"

"Because I was falling in love with you, and even though I didn't know it at the time, I knew that I wanted to help you reach your five-year goals. I wanted to be the man to help you get there. To make you happy. And now I want to be the man that helps you plan your next five years and your next fifty–if you let me."

She kisses me tenderly on the lips.
 

"Thank you."

"Why are you wearing all those clothes, and I'm just wearing these?"

I look down at my boxers.

"You know how exhausting it was peeling off the clothes of a two hundred forty-five pound quarterback?" She giggles throwing my words back at me. "I didn't have the energy to take mine off too."

"Let me help you then." I trail my knuckles down the side of her face.

I raise Sabrina's arms and slowly peel off her blouse and bra, but I leave the skirt. I love her in it. I've jerked myself off to the images of her in them when I'm on the road. So it stays.

"It's been a while since you've been in my bed," I say to her.

"We've never done it in a bed."

"Damn, we haven't?"

"You're very impulsive."

"Well let me rephrase that by saying it's been a while since I've been inside of you."

"You're a very busy man."
 

"I'm never too busy to give my lady what she needs."

"And what do I need?"

"Me inside of you today, tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that–"

She starts laughing and it's the most sublime thing I've ever heard.

"You'd have to take me everywhere to make that happen."

"I wish that were possible, Sabrina, because believe me I would."

She smiles and slides her fingertips down the side of my face.

"Well let's worry about today for now. You, me, in a bed. Make love to me, Saint."

"Your wish is my command. Get on the bed, baby."

Sabrina lies down, and I sit up on my knees between her legs. I lift her hips and keep them at a raised angle on my thighs. Her knees bent. Then I slide my hands under her skirt and pull her panties down and off.

"You don't need to ever wear these again," I say twirling them around my pointer finger before I fling them to the floor. "They just get in the way."

"Of course you'd say that–"

I silence her smart mouth quickly by sliding two of my fingers inside her slick pussy.

"What'd you say?" I tease while pumping them in and out of her. Making sure to simultaneously rub her clit with my thumb.

"Nothing now," she breathlessly answers.

"Exactly."

I pump harder and faster but keep a close eye on her breathing. I know when she's getting close to coming by how quickly her chest rises and falls. If I give myself another month, I'll be the master and commander of all of her orgasms.
 

"I need you inside me," she begs.

Like music to my years.

I slide her skirt up farther so that it bunches completely around her waist and look at her pussy. It's wet and beautiful and all mine. I lift it much higher and bend my head down to give it a kiss.

Then a lick.

Then I suck really hard on her clit and hold the suction for a few seconds.

I can hear her gripping the sheets tightly.

"Please–" she begs, and then I release her instantly.

I lower her back down and swiftly slide her farther forward, lining my cock up to the entrance of my favorite place to play.
 

"This is going to be deep and long," I promise her as I hold onto her waist and push myself deep inside of her.
 

Waiting a second for her to become adjusted to my size. At this angle I get really deep and it feels exquisite.
 

She bites her bottom lip. "I'm ready."

As I start getting deep inside of Sabrina's pussy, her moans start to turn to mewls, but I'm not ready for her to come yet, so I slide out, and turn her over on all fours. I playfully slap her ass once on each cheek, line myself back up, and enter her from behind.

"Even deeper," I groan.

She loves it and starts fucking me back.

Hard.

Her hair is conveniently in a ponytail, so I grab the end of it and pull her head back while I lick and kiss the side of her neck. Her groans are getting louder and my dick is swelling larger by the second as I stroke in and out.

"Whose pussy is this?" I demand to know.

"Yours."

"Whose!"

"Yours!"

She's almost there and there's no stopping that big orgasm train even if I wanted to. So I pull myself almost completely out of her, slap her ass one more time, then I ram all the way back home.

"Come for me."

Her orgasm hits her hard and fast. My name rolling off her lips like I am her alpha and omega. That shit makes me feel like a god. Her god.

The sound of her release sends me swiftly to mine.

"Fuck, baby. I love you," I groan.

"I love you too," she exhales.

Our bodies lay in a shuddering, sweaty mess.
 

We're both floating high on a cloud of post orgasm twilight.

I'm now on my back and have her pulled into my side. Her ponytail has since come apart, so I slide the wisps of hair out of her face. I kiss the top of her head, thanking whoever is out there watching over me for sending Sabrina to me.

"Would you do something for me, Saint?"

"Anything, baby."

She rolls over to the nightstand and picks up her phone. After a few swipes, she pulls up a song, presses play, and turns up the volume.

It's Ginuwine's "Pony."

Shit.

"Dance for me again," She demands mischievously.

"Go put your skirt back on and I will."

She smiles, slides on her skirt, and then hits play.

"Game on, Gunslinger."

SABRINA

Two years later ...

I almost feel as if I'm somewhere else and not at my own wedding. I mean I must be.

There are chickens on the loose.
 

A spotted horse is eating my wildflowers.

The mother of the groom is in the kitchen baking a pie for some unknown reason.

The makeup artist is late.

And to top everything off, I do believe there's actually a drone in the air.
 

Following me right this very minute.
 

I'm on my way to the chicken coop in my favorite terry cloth robe and some flip-flops to investigate why my new family's prized pets are clucking around the seating area for the two hundred plus guests that are about to see me marry the man of my dreams.

I'm not even going to mention this drone thing to Saint, because he'd probably run into his daddy's shed and shoot the thing down with a rifle. I'm pretty sure I know who it belongs to, and the last thing we need is to be sued by The Examiner. Saint's old reporter friend, Myra Kitch, is a senior sports reporter over there now, and she'd just love that. She still has it out for him. Especially nowadays.

"What the fuck is that?" Saint's brother Michael walks up behind me and catches me off guard.

"I think it's a drone," I say while gawking at it.

"The fuck? There's just no honor in journalism anymore. Look at what they've stooped to. There's never been uninvited press at Oak Hill before."

"Don't say that too loudly. You know Saint wanted to elope instead of get married here at home. I don't feel like hearing an, '
I told you so
.'"

Michael laughs. "That buzzard just wanted to take the quickest path to putting a baby inside of you. Elopement is way faster than how long it took to plan this shindig. I mean you made him wait a year, before he could even propose. You've got a cruel streak in you, sis. I like it."

Everything with Saint is a negotiation. I needed a year to figure out how to manage dating a celebrity athlete while opening a new business. I left Carson Financial and opened my own start-up, but I've got the best two clients in the world: Saint and Spin.
 

Because of all the change in my life, I told Saint that I wanted us to date an entire year, before we took things to the next level. He granted me that request, and I have to be honest, it was fun. He spent the entire year trying to convince me in very creative ways how it would be in my best interest to lock him down early.
 

We also both agreed that we wanted children, but my only stipulation with that was that we needed to be married first. My Sunday faithful parents wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I walked down the aisle in a maternity gown. Plus I kind of just wanted it to be the two of us for a while, before we added more humans to the equation. He agreed to that too. Which brings us to where we are now, two years later.

"And why are you out here anyway my beautiful sister-in-law? You should be inside getting ready to marry the bane of my existence. If he knew you were out here worried about all of this, he'd start throwing shit."
 

"Well right now I'm trying to figure out what to do about
that
thing." I point to the drone. "I made an exclusive deal with
People
magazine for the wedding photos. Three hundred thousand dollars and my reputation are on the line."

"What! Say no more, I'll take care of it, little sis. You just go inside and get pretty."

"I don't know, Mike," I say a little wary of his brand of help. He and Saint were definitely cut from the same cloth. "You can't shoot the thing out of the air. It's actually destruction of private property. I read about a case where a guy actually had to pay the company who was flying a drone over his property."

"Who said I was going to shoot the thing? You've been hanging around Saint too much. Stop worrying. Go inside. I've got this."

"All right." I give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks. Oh and Mike?"

"Yep?"

"The chickens?"

One of the little suckers just went running by.

"That would be a wedding prank courtesy of one Mr. Jake Stevenson. It's his ass backward way of trying to participate. I'll take care of that too."

"Thanks. I'm really going now."

"Good. Go get married. He's waiting."

***

My New York make up artist never shows up. The jerk. He was supposed to do my makeup and hair, but lucky for me there are two girls on deck to help me with whatever I need on the most important day of my life: Marisol and Kate.

Marisol convinces me to ditch the traditional updo but to wear my hair down in a simple, long-haired bob. The way I always wear it unless it's in a ponytail. It looks elegant and perfect.

Kate is more than excited to do my makeup. While she's on the more adventurous side with her makeup, I'm not, so she decides that I'd look good with an almost bare-faced look except for a soft smoky eye on my lids. When she's finished, I almost want to cry. I love it.