Sidelined (9 page)

Fucking. Nothing.

She curls her legs upward until the heels of her feet are digging into my lower back. Her pussy clenches, and I pull down.

Then I show her the stamina and pace I have.

Relentlessly. That’s the only word to describe the way I fuck her—like it’s the darkened tunnel and each thrust is the light at the end of it that will give us both unexplainable pleasure.

I kiss the side of her face and drive deeper and deeper into her, each squeeze of her muscles a desperate plea for more, for me, for fucking
more
of
me
.

And I give it.

Over and over, I give her more of me, until my legs are numb and the only remaining sensation in my body is what’s throbbing in my cock. In turn, she gives me more of her, her desperate, pleasured cries only driving my own desire to feel her and hear her come.

When she does, it’s long and it’s loud, and when I do, it’s quick and it’s hard.

I throw my bag in the passenger’s side of my car and slam the door.

“Uncle Jack!”

I turn just in time to brace myself for the impact of Reid’s seven-year-old son. He smacks into my legs face-first with an, “Oomph,” and I reach down to rub his messy hair.

“Hey, dude!”

“You were awwwwwesome out there!” he breathes excitedly, stepping back and jumping around. “That run! Whoa! You were like, ‘See ya! I’m outta here!’”

I can always count on Leo to boost my ego. “Ya think?” I crouch down so my eyes are on the same level as his.

“I swear I heard this big whoosh when you ran!”

“That fast? Damn.” I shake my head. “What do you think? We gonna win this weekend?”

“Duh!” he retorts smartly. “You’re the Vipers. You always win!”

I hold my hand up and he smacks it with his in an enthusiastic high five. Reid walks up behind him, grinning, flanked by his older sister, a.k.a. Felicia Wright, married mother of one and the biggest fucking wet dream of most of the Vipers boys.

But damn. Now, I almost think Macey is hotter.

Almost.

Well, she sure as fuck is when she’s on her front, fisting her sheets and lifting her hips so I can ram my cock into her wet pussy faster and harder.

“Jack,” Felicia says slowly, a smile creeping onto her face. “You know what I’ve told you about putting silly ideas in my nephew’s head.”

“Felicia, most times I’d be swayed by that gorgeous smile of yours, but you know as well as I do that your boys are going down this weekend,” I reply, folding my arms across my chest.

“Well, we’ll see. You might be quick, but they’re strong.”

“Damn, man.” I look at Reid. “How can you let your sister support the Patriots?”

He holds his hands up. “Not my call, bro. Something about Rogers having a nice butt.”

“Your husband know that?” I wink at Felicia.

“We get one free pass on a celebrity crush, and Vince Rogers is mine. What can I say?”

I laugh and turn to Leo. “You coming this weekend?”

He shakes his head. “No. Dad said I can pick two games because that’s when Nan can get off work. So I picked the 49ers and the Saints.”

“Good choice,” I tell him, knowing how hard it is for him when we play an away game. Luckily for both Leo and Reid, Reid’s family is his rock, so between his three sisters and his mom, he’s never short of someone who will take Leo in for the weekend. Usually, though, it is Felicia, because her son is the same age as Leo.

“You goin’ to your mom’s tonight?” Reid asks me, shutting the door after Leo gets in his car.

I nod. “Both my brother and sister will be there tonight. I can’t wait,” I finish dryly.

My brother is simultaneously my biggest supporter and hater—supporter because I’m his baby brother and he loves me, but hater because I did what he couldn’t: win the Heisman. Get drafted. Not get dropped.

And my sister… Well, I’d rather not go there.

I wave goodbye to Reid, Leo, and Felicia and get in my own car. The Los Angeles traffic is heavy at this time of day, but thanks to Halloween approaching and all sorts of shit happening that I don’t care about, it’s ten times worse than normal. It takes me almost twice as long to get home to my Long Beach house.

I park my car in the garage and give my motorcycle a pat. It would be so much fucking easier if I rode that to practice every day, but I love her too much. Besides, she wasn’t made for a city center. She was made for coastal rides. Which is exactly what I’ll get on the way to my mom’s tonight: a thirty-minute ride down the coast to her new house.

New house—the house she finally agreed to let me buy after Dad died three years ago. She moved in three months ago, and this is the first time the whole family has been together since she relocated from Rhode Island.

The house she refused to move into because she didn’t want to leave Dad behind. The house she has, since moving into, doted on, partially renovated, and adopted as her retirement baby.

And, no questions, I pay for every single thing. Not because I have to. Because it makes her happy and I want her to be happy.

Watching Parkinson’s take over my father for so many years made her miserable, and I know because I watched her heart break and spoke to her every fucking day until the day she finally called me. We had a deal when I left for college; she wouldn’t call me unless it was serious.

I rub my hand over my face and, after changing, head back downstairs. Reminiscing over my father’s death isn’t going to make tonight any easier. It’s just going to make it all the harder.

I lock the connecting door to the garage, open the garage door, and wheel my bike out. I shut and lock the garage door without letting the bike go, and after flicking the footrest down, I set my helmet on my head and swing my leg over the seat.

I start her up, the roaring purr of the engine as relaxing as the roar of a crowd on game day. I roll my shoulders a few times then pull away from my house and turn onto the coastal road that leads me directly to Mom’s place.

During the whole journey, my hands shake despite my firm grip on the handlebars. Fuck. My sister is the biggest pain in my ass. I wish it weren’t that way, but it is, and it’s her own damn fault. The day she sided with my cheating bitch of an ex is the day she fucked our relationship.

My jaw clenches as my destination comes into view. Mom’s little three-bedroom house, chosen with the hope of grandchildren staying over in mind, fills my sight as I round the corner fully. I notice, pulling into the driveway behind my brother’s Audi, that she’s put even more flowers in the front yard.

Great. More for me to weed out next summer.

“Mom?” I knock twice on the door and push it open before setting my helmet on the side table the way I do every week.

“In here, son,” she says—the same way she does every week.

I walk into the neutrally decorated living room and spy her sitting in her seat on the sofa. She tilts her face up to the side, and I bend to dutifully kiss her cheek. She smiles as I take the chair across from her.

“How are you, Mom?”

“I’m fine,” she replies, her eyes crinkling with the wideness of her smile. “And you?”

“I’m okay.” I mirror her smile and look up at the sound of a door shutting.

“Jack.” Scott, my brother, nods in my direction.

“Scott.” I return the gesture as there’s a knock at the door.

“I got it,” Scott says, half crouched over the sofa. Swiftly, he gets up and walks to the front door. “Bella!”

“Hey!” My sister’s voice makes me clench my jaw, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed by Mom.

She shoots me a hard look, and I give her the same wide-eyed, innocent look I did when I was a kid and had just done something wrong.

“Jack,” Bella says, greeting me before Mom.

Mom clears her throat, and Bella’s eyes snap to her. Mom tilts her face the same way she did for me, and Bella bends over to kiss Mom’s powdery cheek.

“Jack,” my sister repeats, forcing a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m all right.” She takes a seat next to Scott. “Just moved into a new apartment with Lucy.”

Four years and I can’t help the bile that sours my throat at the sound of her name. “Great. Bigger place?”

“Yeah. We’re both seeing new guys and thought it would be better to have a little more privacy, you know?”

“Yup.”

“Jack, can you help me in the kitchen?” Mom says, standing. “I need the strainer from the top cabinet.”

“I can get—”

“No, Scotty, it’s okay. Jack knows where everything is.”

Yeah, and I know the strainer isn’t in the top fucking cabinet.

“Sure, Mom.” I follow her into the spacious kitchen I had remodeled for her. She wasn’t a fan of the previous glossy, black surfaces, so I had it torn out and a rustic charm-style kitchen done.

I bend down to the cabinet next to the sink and extract the strainer from the mass of pots and pans. “Here, Mom. Here’s your strainer,” I say with a sarcastic hint to my voice.

She takes it from me and slaps it across my bicep with a grimace. “Attitude,” she warns me. “In there and out here, please. I know your sister is trying to get under your skin.”

“Why the fuck does she hafta bring her up, huh? It’s been four damn years. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Language.” She hits me with the strainer again.

I wince and step back. Jesus. “Sorry.”

Mom nods. “Accepted.” She goes about stirring pans and checking something in the oven. Something smells really fucking good. “Son, I know you don’t like talking about her, and I know Bella has no reason to bring it up except for spite. Your problem is that you react to it every time. Now, they live in Denver, and your sister has flown in for a few days to see me, so, please, please, try not to argue.”

“Yeah, well, if she’s staying, I’m definitely happy I’m away this weekend.”

“Patriots. I’ll be watching.”

“I know you will be, Mom.” I squeeze her shoulder. “You want me to set the table?”

“Would you?”

“I do every week.”

“You’re a good boy, Jack.”

“I’m twenty-five, Mom. I’m not a boy.”

“If you’re young enough to bend over my knee, you’re a boy.”

I laugh and pull the placemats from the drawer. I carry them over to the dining table and set each place.

“And you,” Mom says sharply, waving her wooden spoon around. I blink and focus—it’s pointed in my sister’s direction. “Cut it out.”

“Wh-what?” Bella’s eyes widen.

“You know what.” With that, Mom turns back to the boiling pans and kills the heat on every ring.

Bella narrows her eyes at me, and I simply shrug a shoulder. Technically, I didn’t say a thing about her. Mom started it.

“Sit,” Mom orders.

All three of us sit.

You don’t argue with my mom. Ever.

After two hours of my sister describing her fabulous life with my ex-girlfriend and my brother describing in great detail his life in Washington and working at the White House, I’m ready to take the nearest sharp knife and fucking impale my foot with it just so I can escape to the emergency room.