“That’s more than my salary,” mumbles another newbie.
I toss the towel into the makeshift locker behind me and get to my feet. “You’ll make the cut, dude, and then you’ll get some nice bonuses from all the games we win this year. That’s what y’all should be worried about.”
The PR dude, Dennis Cross, gives me a dirty scowl when I duck out of the locker room a few minutes later, my bag slung over one shoulder and keys at the ready in my free hand. I shake my head and cut him off before he can get out another sentence about how I’m breaking the rules and setting a bad example for the rookies. “My family is number one and always has been. I’ll be here tomorrow and so will the reporters and the cameras.” They’re here every day.
“Not the same reporters.”
“Then they’ll have to come back or write a different story. Tell your mom she looked pretty in the press box today. Orange is a good color on her.”
Dennis’ mood instantly changes. “Thanks. I’ll pass that on.”
I clamp him on the shoulder and leave. The minute I’m in my car—a lipstick-red Lambo—I call my girl. “On my way home,” I announce.
“You got off early then? You weren’t sure this morning.”
“Nah, I was sure. You were the one who kept pointing to the schedule saying that my afternoon was booked.”
“So you’re skipping out on the mandatory press conference, are you?”
“Guilty.” I wave to the two cops sitting inside their car watching our training facility parking lot. I gave them autographed footballs the first day at the suggestion of Mallory. “You’d be proud of me.”
“I always am.”
“Not about football but I was a real human today.”
“Is that so?” She sounds like she’s smiling, which makes me smile.
“Yeah. I gave a compliment to the PR dude.”
“Dennis, honey, his name is Dennis. And good for you.”
“I should get a special prize when I get home,” I say. Being nice is still an effort for me, but I try because it makes Mallory happy.
“You are getting a special prize. It’s called homemade gnocchi.”
“I was thinking of maybe dessert—something spicy, hot, and—”
“My mom is standing right next to me!” she screeches. I hear the dial tone seconds later.
I lean my head back against the seat rest and blow out a sigh. I love that Mallory’s mom is finally sober and I love that she’s living close to us so Mallory can see her every day, but I also want to have phone sex with my girl as much as I want. The ride home will be boring without having Mallory talk me through how she’s going to slide my sweatpants over my ass, pull my dick out and then suck my soul through it. I manage to make it home, though, and Mallory greets me at the door with a kiss.
“I missed you, baby,” I tell her. My hands clamp around her hips and naturally drive her toward the nearest flat surface which, in the entryway of our penthouse apartment, is the wall. She’s just as eager. Her legs come up around my waist and she rubs her cloth-covered pussy over my already hard cock. Our tongues tangle as her fingers dig into my skull. I might’ve taken her then and there as I have dozens of times before but somehow I manage to keep my head. Reluctantly, I start to set her down. She clings to me, though, and forces my mouth back to hers.
I give in and kiss her back, tasting every corner of her inner mouth, licking the top of her tongue and biting her plush lower lip. One of her hands drops to push the waistband of my sweats down far enough that she can palm my aching cock.
“Baby, baby,” I mumble against her mouth, “what about your mama?”
“She said she had a headache and went to lie down.”
“At her place?” I bought her mom an apartment three floors below us.
“Yeah.” Mallory flicks her wrist and the pressure on the tip of my sensitive cock nearly brings me to my knees.
“Wh-what about the gnocchi?”
“It’s chilling. We have time.”
“Oh, thank God.” I start walking toward the bedroom, one hand under her ass and the other tangling in her long hair. “I’ve been thinking about your hot cunt all day long.”
“I can tell,” she teases and gives me another long stroke. I stumble but manage to right myself without dropping her.
“You’re acting like a smartass right now,” I warn.
“Oh no, what are you going to do? Spank me?” she teases. Her fingers find my balls. My eyes cross and my breath stops. She knows my body so well, but, then again, I know hers too. I know she loves it when I smack her ass until it’s cherry red. I know she loves it when I’m bottoming out in her while her face is planted in a pillow. I know she likes her clit sucked, her G-spot stroked, her neck bitten and her asshole eaten out. I know that she likes her coffee black and her sundaes with extra whip cream, no cherries, please, because those are disgusting. And to know her is to love her. I can’t imagine my life without her. I was a dick before I met Mallory because I didn’t know what love was. Now I do.