Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1) (29 page)

My core quivers. My legs shake. His grip in my hair tightens pulling me back, giving him better access to my neck. His teeth sink into the flesh as I erupt, and he pounds into me. I scream with each hit. This fuels him. To push me down. To lift up. To ride me harder. To make me fall into another orgasm followed by emptying inside me. His breath is hot against my skin, the evidence of us caught between us.

Our breaths slow, our heartbeats race. Our bodies still joined. Our love strong. Our bond intact. He pats my ass, and I lift off. He drops a kiss on my lips and goes to the bathroom returning with a washcloth to clean me. The cloth flies towards the hamper, missing by two feet, and his mouth disappears between my legs. “Not done with you.” He growls against my mound. Me? I spread my legs and let him get his fill. I’m a giver like that.

He’s tired for his game. I’m sore, so I have to stand through most of it. It’s Sunday. Our first dinner together since Christmas. Tension still runs among us, but this will be a group effort. I understand one person tried to tear it apart, but it will take all of us to put it back together.

Mason grins at me. “What?”

“I take it back. You’re good at faking after what I heard last night. Award winning performance.” I throw a pillow at his head and assure him I wasn’t faking and to get used to hearing Deacon’s name . . . loud and at all hours, well, as long as we don’t have Julie at home.

I refused to do the typical themed birthday party. I wanted something timeless. We didn’t need to look back on her first birthday pictures with
Frozen
or Dory decorating every surface. I enabled Avery’s help and Lee Lee’s. Things are moving forward. I’ve kept my word and kept my mouth shut. She hasn’t confronted the issue and it’s weighing on her. Slowly everyone is coming around but they’re also making her work for absolution. They aren’t the Messiah to give it to her, but she keeps trying.

Avery painted a canvas and added some chalkboard paint so I could write milestones. I missed the first few, but I’ve made up for it by keeping my own journal of her benchmarks. The mural is gold crowns with pink background; typical Princess and that’s what she is. I have her first smile, crawl, word, tooth, food . . . and her first cussing tantrum courtesy of Caden and Mason. Individual cookies with her initials wrapped in cellophane for guests—which is family only. The house has puked Pepto Bismol, but she loves it. I watch her jumping—barely an inch off the floor —trying to reach the streamers. Deacon picks her up and lets her tear one down and it goes directly to her mouth.

Mason and Caden walk in decked out in tuxedos; stunningly beautiful and here to spoil the Princess if the FIVE bags of presents they carry is any indication. “Overcompensating for something else guys?” I let my eyes wander down to their pants.

Mason reacts the way he always does. Covers his junk – with
one
hand . . . what a waste. Caden shoots me a wink and takes my teasing in stride.

“Evil woman.” Mason saunters past me and takes Julie from her father.

“Unc.” Julie places her head on Mason’s shoulder and he melts – as we all do when she uses that trick to get her way.

Festivities are never on a schedule with this bunch. Shouting, laughter, pranks, and disagreements are plentiful . . . so why should Julie’s birthday be any different. Each one of these buffoons brought the traditional first year birthday cake. Meaning we had a one year old smashing her face in ten . . . YES, ten . . . cakes. With a damn outfit change between each one. I had one tired girl on my hands and a mess of a kitchen.

How dare I put her down for a nap before presents
—.“I’m going to kill our friends and family,” I whisper to Deacon as he juggles a fussy baby.

“I’ll be your alibi, baby.” He kisses my forehead before kissing the crown of Julie’s head.

“C’mon.” Mason urges us to join them in the living room. He hops up before we sit down and steals Julie. Plucking a lollipop in her mouth as he settles her down with mounds of presents. Her eyes droop and sticky drool runs out of her mouth. Mason tears into the first present . . . an X-box. For a one year old. He’s an idiot. His grin and happiness is contagious though. Oh, look a catcher’s mitt. She can barely place a piece of hot dog in her mouth, but she’s expected to catch a thirty-five mile an hour ball. Imbeciles. The entire lot of them. Pink outfits from Lee Lee. A damn easel and PAINTS from Avery. I give up. It’s like a damn free for all in this house.

“Deacon, they’re out of control.”

“Yep, watch this.” He stands up. “Thank you all for being a part of today. Because of the abundance of love you’ve shown Julie, not just today but every single day a new toy appears, we’re out of room.” Groans fill the room. “But,” he shoots me a wink. “Our solution is simple. Whatever you bought her is taken to your house so she can play with it there.” I snicker and reach across picking Julie up, wiping the red sugar stuck to her cheek on Mason’s shirt and put my sleeping beauty to bed.

Baseball season should be called hell. He loves it. I love it for him.

He hates traveling. I hate him being gone.

Julie is walking and talking – and throwing fits when Mason doesn’t bring her a damn lollipop. I’m going to kick his ass.

“Pop. Pop. Pop.” Her tears stream as she stares at him.

“Unc Mason doesn’t have any.” He looks like he may shed a few tears.

“Pop. Pop. Pop.”

“Unc Mason will go get you some.”

“No. You’ve given her four. Enough, Mason.”

“But she’s crying.”

“Deal. I told you last week it wasn’t a good idea. You have to learn the word no, Mason.”

He walks to the door. “I swear if you bring another lollipop in this house, I’ll shove the stick up you’re a-s-s.”

“Spelling cuss words? Classy, Shortstop.”

“She repeats everything. So watch your mouth.”

“You’re mean.” He pouts. A twenty-year-old star baseball player fucking pouts because I won’t let him cuss or feed lollipops to a baby. More of a toddler now that she turned one. The same day Mason introduced her to lollipops. The entire fucking bag.

“Een.” Julie repeats—minus the m.

“See? Watch your mouth.”

“Unc Ace. Pop.” Her bottom lip sticks out and wobbles.

“Saylor, please. Don’t do this to her.”

“To her or to you?”

“Does it matter? I can’t do it. I’m going for lollipops.”

“Hand over your man card.” Deacon just emerged from the shower, and I lick my lips watching him walk in the room. “Later, Saylor.” He chuckles at me, knowing where my mind went.

“Dude, you look at your daughter and tell her no.”

“I don’t have to because I didn’t give her candy for this reason.” Deacon smiles at him and picks up Julie. “Let’s go get a cookie.”

“Cook.” She pats his cheeks, and the lollipop crisis is averted.

“You knew how to do that?”

“Distract a one-year-old? Yes, it’s my daily routine.”

“Bitch.” He glowers.

“Baby.” I smile. He slams the door as I make my way to the kitchen. I snake my arms around Deacon’s bare waist and kiss his back.

“Hmmm. After little bit goes to bed, I’m going to tear up your pussy.”

“Deacon. Not that word with her in the room.”

“Umm, you want to come up with a code name?” He’s being sarcastic.

“Yes. Matilda.”

He chokes as he tries to swallow his water. “I’m not referring to your
you know what
as Matilda.” He shakes his head. “That’s wrong.”

“Tilda,” Julie says with cookie flying out of her mouth and we laugh. Tears and belly-bending laughter. Most of our days are filled with it.

“You packed?” His fingers brush my hair back.

“Yeah.” Spring Break and travel. That’s what is on our agenda. Both sets of our parents are coming to help with Julie, but our entire week of break is taken up with games. He loves it. I love him. I’ve learned some terminology, and it makes him happy. That’s what I live for.

“It’s gonna suck not climbing in bed with you. I hate staying with the team.”

“Maybe if we get Mason a bag of lollipops he’ll help you sneak out.” I wink at him.

“Pop. Pop. Pop.” Shit!

Avery and Emberlee are driving me nuts with a team-building exercise. Exercise shouldn’t be included as a descriptive word if they want me to participate. Things are pretty damn good, but Emberlee is working her ass off, and she’s been amazing. Therapy has helped her, and the relationship she’s building with her dad has calmed her crazy down. She and Mason didn’t pick back up as fuck buddies, for which I’m thankful. She keeps promising me that since the therapist is acting as a buffer she will confront the issue of the letter she found. I personally think she’s afraid—it’s true.

“Look.” Avery throws a flyer at Lee Lee and me. I pick it up and see some nonsense that is advertising ‘Mud Run.’ Who in the actual fuck would not only run an obstacle course, but also in dirty wet mud?

“Nope.” I glance at her and laugh at her shocked expression.

“We’ve been vetoing things for a week. We are doing this.” Her hair bounces as she taps her foot, trying her hardest to look stern.

“I think it would be fun.” Lee Lee is such a traitor.

“What would be fun?” Mace, Caden, and my man walk in all sweaty from their workout. Deacon beelines for me and drops a kiss to my lips as I inhale his musty scent. It’s sexy.

“We’re going to do a mud run.” Hold up, I didn’t agree.

All three guys bust a gut laughing, and my attitude piques. “What’s so funny?”

“I remember your workouts. Shortstop, this isn’t for you.” I want to slap the smirk off Mason’s face.

“The hike I took you on to release your aggression…you never stopped complaining until you screamed loud enough to bust an eardrum.” Fuck, Caden.

“I’ll have you know I could do this and kick ass.”

“Want to wager?” Mason taunts. Shit, I’ve just agreed to this…damn my competitive streak.

“This isn’t a competition.” Avery is glaring. “It was supposed to be just us girls. School’s done in a week, and our summer is unknown.”

“It will be because y’all will suck so bad you won’t see us. You’ll be eating our dirt . . . literally.” Shit, Mason doesn’t stop. “Besides it isn’t like any of us are going backpacking through Europe. We live within minutes. We never have plans and end up spending every summer together.”