Infinity. (Infinity Series) (30 page)

No one seemed to be able to comprehend that my decision was simply to leave the game while I was on top, and to finally be the husband and father that my family deserved to have. Then again, I turned down every interview request where I could have explained all of that to the public.

Why? Because it was no one’s business. The world had heard enough from me. Hell, I was sick of myself.  I couldn’t turn on the TV or read a magazine without seeing me pimping a product. Yes, it was time to leave the bright spotlight.

Sure, I was aware of the horrible things being said about me. The media can always dig up the disgruntled ex-teammate who thought I was an asshole. Aiden and Mark kept hounding me to speak out, to grant an interview, explaining my reasons. Frankly, I was tired of justifying myself to anyone, and most of all the press. So I flat out refused, and spent my time focused on my wife, who struggled every damn day with her pregnancy.

Maybe I should have done one little interview.

I toss the ball up in my hand and catch it for the hundredth/thousandth/millionth time. My life is so good right now. I mean, my life is as close to perfect as it can be while not playing football, but do I want to expose my kids to the media? As far as I know there are no pictures of the twins at all, and Ainsley’s pics are from when she was a baby. I cringe at the thought of some asshole reporter asking me questions in front of my kids that would make them think less of me.

I stop tossing the ball, catching it one last time, and lean my head back against the leather desk chair, looking up at the shadowed grey ceiling. I can’t protect them forever, but I’d damn sure like to try.

I grab my phone and text Charlie.

Me:
You in bed yet?

When she doesn’t respond immediately, I assume that she’s already asleep, and now I’ve probably disturbed her. Just when I look away from my phone, I hear the trill indicating that I have a text.

Charlie:
A had a bad dream. She begged to sleep with us, but I got her back in her bed. I figured that we didn’t need another distraction to keep you up. Coming to bed soon?

Me:
Let Pancho out. I’ll be there in a few
.

I push off from behind my desk, finally letting the football rest, and grab my phone with my right hand. Slipping it into my shorts pocket and walking to the built-ins, I place the football back in its glass box. It’s the football that I threw for the game-winning touchdown in the Super Bowl. I made the pass with two seconds left in the game, and we were down by six.
What a feeling…
electricity surges through my body, and it makes my left hand vibrate. I might even smile at the memory. It was the last pass that I ever threw as a professional athlete.

Next to the glass case that stores my football is a framed picture of Charlie, right before she went to the hospital to deliver Ainsley. We found the pictures when we were cleaning out the McMansion before our move to Somerville. Charlie thinks that Brad took it, but she can’t remember. She’s in the hotel that she watched the victory parade from. I love the picture. In fact, it’s one of my most cherished items. It’s her in jeans and a rose-colored sweater. Her stomach is so pronounced that the picture almost looks doctored. She’s doing maybe a shimmy or some sort of dance move. Her arms are above her head, and her fingers are positioned as if she’s snapping. Charlie’s face is radiant. She’s glowing with happiness. Her huge, toothy smile matches her eyes.
And to think that about twelve hours later we met our daughter.

Picking up the picture, I carry it to the closest windows so I can see it better in the moonlight. It makes me smile. I wasn’t there when Charlie went into labor, or for most of the drama leading up to Ainsley’s birth, but this picture makes me believe that Charlie was okay and happy. I feel more a part of that special time when I look at it. My lips curl into a smile as I set it back on the shelf next to my other treasured possessions.

I step through my door and into Jenny’s office—when she’s gracing me with her presence—and onto the front porch of CharCol Inc. It’s a gorgeous August night. I take a deep breath and smell the comforting scent of pine. An overwhelming feeling of blessings rolls through me. Because of football and wise business decisions, my family is able to have all of this. For the first time tonight, I feel like maybe I deserve it. I’m a man who worked my ass off since I was twelve years’ old, when I became serious about football, to give my family this beautiful piece of property to live on.

I walk the fifty yards to the house, listening to the leaves crunch under my feet. When I’m just about to the wrap-around porch, I’m almost taken down by our psychotic love monster, Pancho the Destructicon. My dog and I are as thick as thieves, but when the rest of the family is in the house he doesn’t leave his post. We’ve chatted. We’re boys. He watches out for the gang while I’m gone.

Pancho and I have a late-night ritual that Charlie doesn’t know about. Us boys like to pee against one of our favorite trees. It’s an old oak tree that is not close enough to the lake to house a rope swing over the water, but it’s a damn fine tree. In fact, I’ve thought about building a playhouse around it for the kids. Pancho hikes his leg, and I drop my shorts enough to get my dick out.

About midstream, I hear in her know-it-all voice, “I’ve always wondered why you don’t go to the bathroom before you come to bed.”

I look down at Pancho and whisper, “Busted.”

She continues, “Is this why I can’t get the boys to use our indoor plumbing? Because I don’t approve if it is. Nature is not your toilet. In fact, we have five bathrooms inside that you can choose from. It’s unsanitary…”

“I got it. You don’t want me pissing outside. Noted.” I look down at Pancho, and he looks up at me with these huge brown eyes, clearly expressing the regret he feels for the situation that I’ve gotten us in to.

I fix my shorts, and Pancho and I walk up to the porch, stepping up to where my lovely wife stands in one of my old T-shirts that hits her about mid-thigh, her caramel-colored hair twisted into a half ponytail, face clean of all makeup, and a smirk that says that I’m never going to live this down.

“You look deliciously fuckable,” I coo into her ear, hoping that I can use her body as a distraction from my anxiety. I wrap her into my arms and kiss her hair. “I love you, even when you’re being an uptight, condescending shrew.”

She drops her chin and even in the dark of the night, only lit by moonlight and stars, I can see her mind spinning. She looks up at me and bats her eyelashes. “I love you, even when you’re being a disgusting male pig.”

I pull back and slap her ass. And then I quote one of our favorite movies that we recently watched. “Take me to bed, or lose me forever.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Show me the way home, honey.”

With that, I take her hand, pulling her into a dance position. She giggles. “It’s rude to just assume that a lady wants to dance with you.”

I nibble on the shell of her ear. “Mrs. McKinney will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

I don’t wait for her response and begin singing “Bless the Broken Road”
as I two-step us to the French doors that lead to our bedroom. Pancho runs along ahead as if he’s making sure there’s nothing keeping me from getting her right where I want her. She’s laughing like a teenage girl on prom night as I spin her around and dip her back in my arms for a soul-searing kiss. I fucking love that we’ve been together this long and still make each other happy.

Once I’ve waltzed her to our large bed, I dip her again, letting her back rest on the mattress. My T-shirt rides up to her waist revealing her long, lean, beautiful legs and white cotton panties. That’s all it takes. My cock makes note of just how much we love being inside those panties.

I shut the French doors behind me and shoo Pancho out of our bedroom, closing and locking the door. All we need is for a little face to appear next to our bed asking why Daddy is making Mommy scream. I then activate our high-tech, top of the line, cost-as-much-as –the-house security system, and then focus my full attention on Doctor Caroline Jane Collins-McKinney, who is the most perfect girl for me.

I stalk toward her, doing a pathetic attempt at a striptease that makes her lavender eyes dance with mirth as she grazes over my physique. I throw my green T-shirt on the floor and run my hand over my abs, and then strike a muscle-man pose.

She scoots further back on the bed and pushes up against the cerulean-blue padded headboard. She hits the bed as if inviting me up.
Hell no! I’m having fun.

I turn around and face my back to her while I tease, removing my black athletic shorts. I take them halfway down and bring them right back up as I hear her laugh. “You want the full package, baby? I need to hear you.”

She lets out a whoop and holler that make me smile like a big dopey idiot. I drop my shorts again, showing her my half-moon and wait for more excitement from my girl.

“Colin, bring that fine behind and unwiped dick to me right this instant.” She laughs.

I turn my head over my right shoulder and flash her my half-smile that she fucking loves. “I haven’t heard the word please slip out of those beautiful lips of yours.”

She brings her knees up to her chest and taps her feet repeatedly on the bed while she shakes her head. “Colin Fucking McKinney, I am crazy in love with you. Come see me. I can’t take any more of your pathetic attempts at a striptease.”

I mean, I’m a guy after all, so I drop trou, do a 180-spin move that would make an Olympic ice-skater proud, and dive on the bed. She rips off my old-ass faded T-shirt that she’s wearing and shows me her still perfect tits, even after breastfeeding our children.

I can’t stop myself. I take God’s most perfect creations in my hands, giving them equal attention. Licking, sucking, biting, and everything else I can think to do. She positions herself in between my legs so I’m now straddling her. Once she’s settled, she reaches up and grabs my very hard dick, and I let out a moan of pleasure that I can feel in my toes. I mean, who could blame me? I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive.

She holds on to my cock with the force that she knows drives me crazy. There’s a certain comfort in being with the same person long enough that they know exactly what you like.
And God, does she know exactly what I like.
She pumps my dick with five long, hard strokes before she stops, and collects the wetness off my tip.

I’d like to say that I’m all cool and immune to her after all these years, but I’m still fucking pathetic. I’d come right now, if she wouldn’t give me shit about it for the next forty years. I let out an audible sigh as she massages my wetness around the tip of my dick.

When I can’t take it any longer, I dive back for her tits, determined that I’m going to make her come by just sucking and massaging them. I can do it. They’ve become even more sensitive since the twins. I hiss in her ear, “You’re going to scream my name without me even feeding you my cock.”

She drops her head back against the ridiculously expensive bed pillows that she bought in Paris and made me haul back to the States. “I’d like to see you try, big boy. My tits are so numb after breastfeeding your three spawn. I can barely feel your mouth right now.”

I know that’s not true. And oh yeah… Dear Lord, challenge accepted.

I spend the next fifteen minutes—I know, because I watched the clock for future arguments—making this woman scream my name as she attempts to shove my very hard cock inside of her and almost pulls out every hair on my head. She’s the one who’s going to make me bald by forty.

I want to high-five myself, but I don’t because she’d never let me live it down either. When I finally relent my torturous assault on her breasts, I slip my rock-hard dick inside of her and she pulls me in deeper. This is where I want to be. Balls-deep inside of my girl.

I start sliding in and out of her, finding the rhythm that she likes so much. Then she opens her big mouth, “Quit obsessing over things that you can’t change.”

She does this on purpose.

What I want to do is pull out of her, leaving her longing for me, but I know that she’ll just get herself off. Then I’ll just have watched her masturbate, and be left with the hardest dick in the Brazos Valley. I punish her just a little by picking up my rhythm and ensuring I hit the spot inside that makes her eyes roll back in her head.

“You think the kids are ready to be introduced to the vultures?” I say, while I continue to slide in out of her hot wetness.
Jesus Christ, this feels awesome.
Apparently she agrees, because her eyes roll momentarily to the back of her head.

“Don’t see that we have a choice,” she says as she reaches up and begins to twist my nipples in some sort of way that makes my dick pulse.

“I don’t know,” I groan sounding like a pathetic fuck to my own ears.

Before I know it, she flips me and I’m on my back, staring at her crazed sex-hair that is messy enough that I want to beat on my chest and scream, “I make this gorgeous woman look like this.” Her eyes that pierce my soul meet mine as she brings her full lips into a soft smile. She begins to move up and down on me in a dance that is all her own.
God, I love this woman.
“It’s not hard, lover boy.” She smirks.

“Oh really, Mrs. McKinney?” I grab her hips and try to direct her movements. “It feels pretty hard to me.” My distraction technique is a total fail on my part. I don’t know why I bother. She owns me. The eight years that we took off were just so we could build to this point in our life.

She looks down, meeting my eyes, and her perfect tits bounce as she rides me. I feel her clit rubbing against my pubic bone. “They’ll have to find out at some point that your retirement was controversial. Kids will eventually tell them on the playground.”

“Why are we discussing this while I’m fucking your brains out?” I ask as I slap her ass and then reach up and pinch her very taut nipples.

She lets a moan escape that I’m surprised doesn’t bring the house down around us.