Bridgette
I might not dress up every day, but I knew when the occasion called for it.
I knew the ins and outs of fashion.
I stayed in the outskirts of it, given that my mother was in the forefront, but maybe it was also a part of my DNA that I could mix and match clothes without any effort.
When I put in the effort, I wanted it to be special.
My go-to designer was Armani.
My mother’s assistant was friends with Armani’s lead designer which meant that he sent me samples from the latest collection when he could.
Many times, I donated them to clothing stores within the area.
I couldn’t give them away before they were worn on the runway, but a few months after, if someone found Armani at Goodwill in Melrose, it was probably from me.
I had no reason to wear them.
I was in college.
Sweats, yoga pants, jeans, and t-shirts were my staple clothes.
Even if I never wore them, Tre still sent them. Maybe he was also hoping that I’d join my mother in her business. But mostly I thought it was because he was a nice guy. Eccentric, but really nice.
When I asked Tre for his opinion on a dress, he finagled it out of me on why I was asking.
I confirmed that I was going to be with Scott on the red carpet for a charity event hosted by the Royals.
He squealed like it was Christmas and set out to find me the perfect dress. He knew my dress size, so it was a matter of finding out the right style.
I thought he was going to send me another Armani creation, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I knew that Tre had picked out the perfect dress.
I did my own makeup and Rianna was so mad that she was going to miss my big red carpet debut, but she had a really important work group that she couldn’t get out of.
Her ten thumbs-up emojis let me know that my makeup was on point.
I loved the way the sage color brought out the tan I’d acquired from being under Golden State’s sunshine. The off-shoulder pleated trim defined my curves and the column silhouette created an illusion that I was delicate. At first, I thought that the flower detail by the waist was too much, but Tre fought me on it, saying that it would highlight my waist.
He was right, of course.
I applied the glossy red lipstick to my lips, a bolt of color on my almost nude makeup look and stretched my lips to a grin, ensuring that there weren’t any spaces that needed to be filled in.
My hair, longer and almost reaching my waist, was set in wavy loose curls, and I took a picture of myself after the final touches and sent it to Tre.
He made me promise him a photo after I was all made up and his response was immediate.
Tons of fire emojis and a ‘you get him, girl’ made me giggle.
Another text chimed in on my phone, it was the car that Scott had hired to pick me up.
His team had a flight delay, so as much as he wanted to pick me up from my place; he had no choice but to ask someone else to pick me up. I could’ve driven, but Scott pushed back the idea as soon as I blurted it out.
He said that there was no way he was going to be burdened by driving his car or my car when the minute he put his hands on me, he’d want to whisk me away into the privacy of his place.
I put on my glittering gold Jimmy Choos, and tried not to fall over as I took a step.
It had been a while since I wore heels this high, and now would be the best time to have a quarterback within arms’ length.
I struggled with the first few steps, but as soon as I got used to the feeling of pointed heels on my soles, I walked to the elevator and pressed down on the button.
An older-looking gentleman dressed in a black suit and tie greeted me by the front. He said, “Miss Cordello?”
I smiled at him and asked, “You’re Johnny?”
“Yes Ma’am,” was his answer and I thanked him as he opened the door for me. The Infiniti SUV was nice inside and the driver had a small bottled water waiting for me.
Johnny talked during the drive, and I laughed when he told me stories of his sixteen year-old daughter who was giving him heart palpitations because she had just gotten her driver’s permit and had started driving on the streets of LA.
Anyone who drove around here was a warrior and a saint. You had to conquer the streets like a race car driver, but have the patience to deal with assholes like a saint.
The drive to Barker Hangar didn’t take long, and as Johnny opened the door for me to get out of, I placed a hand on his arm and said, “Thank you.”
He replied with a, “You’re most welcome. I’ll see you and Scott later.”
I nodded my head and walked towards the red carpet laid out by the entrance to the event.
I felt vibrations inside my small Gucci clutch bag, a gift from my brother on my eighteenth birthday, and saw the text from Scott.
Babe, another twenty minutes. So sorry. Traffic was a bitch getting out of LAX.
I replied with, It’s okay, I’m here already. I’m going to go inside.
A second hadn’t even gone by when he replied, Are you sure?
He was asking if I was sure if I wanted to walk the red carpet alone.
Sure, this wasn’t the Academy Awards where hundreds of reporters were around. I eyed at least ten prominent media stations and I willed myself to go through with it.
This would probably be the easiest part.
I’d love to walk with him across the red carpet, but then there would be more questions about us. If I walked alone, maybe they wouldn’t recognize me and I could just be passed on as another guest.
I’m sure, was my reply back. I’ll see you inside.
I’m dying to be inside of you, he returned and I felt my body heat up.
We hadn’t been together in weeks and I missed him so much.
We Facetimed, but not being able to feel each other’s skin was hard.
“Hey.” A voice that haunted my past came from behind me.
I turned around and saw Dex walking towards me; he was dressed in a two-button navy suit that was most likely customized for him.
“You look beautiful, Bridgette.” His left arm went to my elbow and I gritted my teeth, “Dex, don’t touch me.”
His blue eyes flashed with annoyance, “You used to like my touches.”
I had no time for this, “Used to. Past tense.”
I walked towards the red carpet and stopped as soon as I realized that he was still beside me; we couldn’t walk on it together. Otherwise, the gossip mill would be churning another sick love triangle story before my Jimmy Choos crossed the entrance to the building.
His hair was longer and there was strain in his eyes when he spoke up again, “Where’s Strauss?”
“Running late,” I answered, my gaze on the couples walking the carpet together.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to walk with me to get inside.” His voice was patronizing, and I remembered the times when just hearing his voice made my heart flutter. Now all I felt was apathy.
“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us,” I muttered in hushed tones, hoping that no one noticed how he and I were huddled on the side.
His left hand rose up in the air, and I stopped whatever he was going to do by saying, “Dex. Please. Not here.”
“I just wanted to fix your hair.” His voice was empty of malice, “It’s hard for me to watch you with him.”
Welcome to my nightmare, asshole.
Years ago, I watched him flaunt cheerleader after cheerleader in front of my face after we’d broken up. Once he was done with them, football groupies came into rotation.
Since he went to an all-boys school like my brother, the girls he hung out with were from my school.
They were my classmates, lab partners, or acquaintances.
Most of our relationship was in the shadows because Dex didn’t want Bishop to know, and at the time I thought he was being considerate of me.
As it turned out, he never really wanted anyone else to know because he didn’t want to hurt his playboy reputation.
I looked at his face, his classically handsome features that a sculptor would find himself lucky to create a mold of. His looks only got better with age, but even when he looked this good, he failed to get a rise of any emotion from me.
Time really had a way of creating distance from the pain.
I stepped away from him and with resolve as hard as the small diamonds that pierced my ears, I smiled at the reporters waiting by the carpet.
“Who are you wearing, Bridgette?” A reporter from NBC sports asked, she was a brunette who was dressed in a slinky blue dress, and as she pressed the microphone close to my face, I was taken aback that she knew my name. But I answered her with a smile, “I’m wearing Kass Payne. She’s a new designer and I love this dress.”
“I love it, too. You look beautiful. Has Scott seen you yet?” She was asking what was on her mind, and as much as I wanted to get away from the camera as soon as possible, I thought of all the times my boyfriend had defended our relationship in the media, even when he shouldn’t, even when he didn’t have to.
“Not yet.” I gave the camera another smile.
“What do you think of his win last night?” She was wearing a press ID tag over her neck and it said Sandra.
“I think it’s great. Great for the Royals,” I said, my memory flashing back to why I had slept so late last night. I’d waited for Scott’s call after his team won against Cincinnati. Their winning streak hadn’t been broken, and I was truly happy for him.
A strong arm snaked around my waist, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes as my face turned towards him. He smelled fresh, a mix of spice and crispness, and I couldn’t help my left hand as it instinctively touched his suit-covered chest.
His kiss was warm against my forehead, “Sorry I’m late.”
“Three touchdowns, over three hundred passing yards, and winning in the typical Scott Strauss fashion, what do you think of your chances are for the Super Bowl this year?” Sandra’s attention was now on Scott, and it gave me time to check him out.
Gah.
He was so handsome, so delicious.
The gray suit he was wearing accentuated his shoulders and he had a small scruff growing on his chin, highlighting his jawline. His green eyes were on Sandra, but the grip that he had on my waist was getting tighter, firmer. He was trying to control his reaction to me with his hold.
They talked football for a few minutes and when she let us go, she offered us a gracious smile while Scott tried to steer us away from another reporter.
We couldn’t escape them though.
He was the quarterback, and everyone wanted a piece of him.
His left hand caressed the shoulder that was exposed by my dress and before another reporter snagged us, he brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, “You look gorgeous, babe. I can’t wait to have you alone.”
Then he straightened himself and faced another barrage of questions.
I would never get used to this.
The constant slew of questions and the massive amount of attention.
The cameras flashed everywhere around us just as I wanted to hide away in the corner and stay invisible.
The hand firmly pressed against my shoulder was giving me encouragement through his soft caresses and letting me know that he was here for me was enough to make me stay rooted to my spot and smile my way through everything.
Everyone looked at him with adoration, sometimes hunger, and at other times, jealousy.
He never returned the women’s flirty smiles and while he was charming, he maintained a professional boundary.
But in the few seconds that we were allowed privacy along the red carpet, he’d given me a look that said it all.
That he appreciated me being here.
And that he was so proud that I was standing by his side.
I hated the spotlight, but I loved the man who was in the middle of it.
He didn’t ask for this, it was thrust upon him because of what he signified.
And so I would…
I would stand by him, through all the photos and the selfies and the questions because away from the lights, he gave me his heart, and for that, I’d give him my all.
“God, I thought it’d never end.” Scott growled in my ear as he grabbed my butt under my dress.
He’d kept his hands off of me throughout the event, but the heated, lingering looks he threw my way every second he was away from me, warned me that the strawberry truffles weren’t going to be enough to stave off his hunger for me.
He gave me the cursory hand holding, but for most of the evening, he was obliged to talk to the attendees.
I was more than happy to stay by his side and watch him charm the devoted Royals’ fans.
“What the fuck?” His voice held equal parts annoyance and bewilderment.
I was so focused on helping rid him of his suit that it took me a second to look up at him.
“What is it?” My voice came out husky and filled with need. I missed him so much. The hunger I’d seen in his eyes would be mirrored in mine if they were looking closely at us. If it was up to Scott, Johnny would have been given quite a show inside the SUV on the ride back home. I had to whisper him promises that he could do whatever he wanted with me if he behaved during the ride back to his place.
He was holding my gold thong in his right hand. I hadn’t even realized he’d taken it off. More like torn it apart from the looks of what remained of the frayed fabric in his big hand.
“You were wearing this the whole night?” Scott green eyes turned even darker and amid the dim lights coming from his kitchen, he looked feral, predatory. “This is a scrap of nothing, babe.”
“I didn’t want underwear lines on my dress.” He’d never seen me in a thong. I preferred comfy boy shorts and easy-to-wear seamless hip huggers.
“If I knew you’d been wearing this we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did at the party.” His hand lifted the thong in the air and slowly placed it under his nose, “God, you smell so good, babe.”
I clamped my legs, hoping my wetness didn’t drip down to my feet.
I felt the thick finger of his left hand push further inside of me, “Does me sniffing your thong make you wetter?”
He was loud and so filthy.
My back involuntarily arched so he could push his finger deep, deeper inside of me.
“You’re so hot, Bridge. So fucking hot.” My eyes closed and a moan was the best I could do in response.
His finger left my center and I groaned at the absence, “Scott, please. Put it back.”
“Open your eyes, babe.” His voice, while on edge, was still a command, prompting me to obey.
I watched as he licked his finger that had been soaked inside of me, and I felt myself burning up to an immeasurable temperature. If the Sahara was hot, I was a hundred degrees past the hottest recorded temp. My body sang for him, and he made quick work of removing his clothes. His dress shirt lost a couple of buttons in the battle, and in a quick motion he lifted me in his muscled arms while moving toward his bedroom.
“Stand up.” His voice was barely hanging on by a thread. “Lemme take off your dress for you.”
I was putty to his hands, allowing him to lower the zipper on the side of my dress, barely feeling the weight of it fall to my feet. The strapless bra I wore quickly came off next, and his hands replaced them to cover me up.
I felt the silk of his pants against my legs, and his breath was hot on my left ear as he bent down to lick that area.
His rough hands caressed, played, and tugged on my nipples and I opened my legs wider as I started feeling his cock poking and prodding against my butt.
“I love you, Bridge.” The gentle, whispered words were a stark contrast to the way his hands were exploring my body. “Missed you so much.”
I tried to turn my head, but Scott’s head stopped me from the motion.
“I love you, too.”
Before him, I’d only been with one man.
It wasn’t for lack of trying. Circumstances and opportunity just didn’t come my way.
I knew that Scott had a lot more experience than me with the bedroom games, and I could be jealous of all the women he was with.
Maybe in a way, I was.
But they weren’t the ones being pleasured by his fingers at that moment.
They weren’t the ones he was claiming to be his, and they weren’t here.
I was.
I felt the thick intrusion of his cock linger around the junction between my thighs and with one of my legs propped up on his bed, I gave him permission by muttering, “Get inside me, babe.”
He gave me a few seconds to adjust to his thickness, and when I pushed down against him, it was his signal to keep going.
“Oh.” I moaned as he hit a spot that enhanced what I was feeling ten times greater. He placed his left thumb above my clit and I bucked up against him.
“Like that, babe?” He husked, “You like my cock inside of you and my fingers playing with your pussy?”
Dirty words came out of his gorgeous mouth when he was in the heights of passion.
A loud moan that vibrated from my center to my mouth came out of me, “Don’t stop. It feels so good.”
His mouth found a home on my right shoulder, and as he plunged inside of me, he sucked on my skin, rougher, harder, almost painful.
“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” he stammered as he set us in a wild rhythm.
I was lost, so lost in the bliss that he was giving me, my hips undulating to their own accord, and I felt his thrusts become more frequent and uncoordinated.
For a man who looked so controlled on the field, in the bedroom he was a wild, uncaged animal.
“Are you close?” His breaths were coming out sputtered, and I loved that I could make him feel that way. He was so cool in high pressured situations that you’d never think he ever lost his cool.
This, right now, the way he was pummeling inside me, his cock going in and out of me, his breaths staggering in pleasure – I loved seeing him this way.
“Almost,” I eked out, feeling the rough pad of his thumb circling my clit, just the way I loved it, and when he thrust in one, two, three times, I lost whatever train of thought I had and let out a, “I’m coming. Ooohhh, oohh, ooohhhh.”
Scott’s hips flexed and he was relentless when he pushed his cock in, out, in, in, and out of me. The quick bursts of, “Almost there, fuck yeah, almost. So good. Yeah. Yeah, right there. Aaah!” came from his lips.
I bent my waist lower so he could feel me deeper, and the hands that were now on my waist gripped tighter. His teeth scraped against my nape and I felt another burst of wetness come out of me.
He’d stopped wearing a condom when I told him that I was on birth control.
He was floored when I gave him the news; he knew that came out of a place of trust. Trust that he would not subject me to STDs by sleeping around. Trust that he would not break my heart.
I’d never had sex without condoms.
But this man, the one whose voice was ragged against my skin, who was now pounding into me without logic, he deserved all of it.
My love, my trust, my everything.
He wasn’t perfect just as I wasn’t. He was willing to fight for me, and I for him.
He let out a final, strangled, “Yeah!” and the flood of fluid inside me let me know that he’d finally reached his orgasm.
His lips grazed my neck in a tender, loving kiss and then he said, “You’re incredible, babe.”
I felt a smile on my shoulder and I responded, “You too, Ice Man. You too.”
“I can’t believe you made Botox Lady smile,” Scott laughed as he settled himself on the slate grey sectional in his living room.
“She’s not Botox Lady,” I gave his abs a light punch and it bounced back. The man was hard all over, it wasn’t his skin that recoiled when abused, it was mine.
His green eyes mocked me, “Really sweetheart? Her cheeks didn’t move when she talked, she’s all plastic. She’d melt in front of the microwave.”
“You don’t melt in the microwave, unless you’re cheese,” I responded with a shake of my head.
I felt his fingers lightly massaging my scalp as I leaned back against his chest. Scott had an aversion to clothes when it was the two of us alone together. I was cool with it as long as he wore boxers. If I didn’t make the request, his penis would be greeting me everywhere I turned.
He was allowed to be naked in the bed, but outside of it, he had to cover his bottom half for my sake.
He said that I could be naked all day and all night and he wouldn’t mind.
‘Course he wouldn’t, we’d never get around to doing anything else if I was naked.
“Fine. Her eyes aren’t plastic, but everything else on her is,” he said, pretending to surrender. The man didn’t like to lose, not even in our little debates.
Right now, we, more like he, was trying to convince me that Claudine Yang, the third wife of Joe Hemlock, the owner of the Royals’, didn’t have a real body part anywhere on her. It was really a pointless, mindless discussion since she was alive, so obviously her heart was really beating and it wasn’t plasticized.
“You really surprised her when you started talking in Mandarin.” He couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “Sometimes I forget that behind all your hotness, you’re a genius.”
I chuckled at his comment, he was being ridiculous. “I’m not a genius. I just happen to speak a few languages.”
Ms. Yang was complaining in Chinese Mandarin about how slow the servers were during the event and when I said, “Not really. I think there’s just too many people here otherwise the servers are doing great,” in Chinese, her almond eyes almost bugged out of her head and she talked to me the whole night.
Her husband had team business to attend to so Claudine talked to me most of the night before she left with him after the awards were handed out to the funding recipients in the community, where the Royals gave out $20 million for charitable causes.
At first glance she was intimidating, she didn’t smile. It could be from Botox, but I didn’t want to give Scott further fuel to his muddled brain and really, he should lose at something, sometimes. I loved the man, but his ego was also bigger when he claimed himself as the winner during our mini-debates.
“You impressed her so much that next year they might add ten mil to my contract.” He busted out laughing. Again.
I slapped his leg that he’d interwoven with mine, engulfing me in his body heat. He didn’t like clothes because he emitted so much heat while I liked to be wrapped up in a bundle even when it was eighty degrees outside.
“Honestly, babe, thank you so much for coming with me tonight.” The kiss he placed on the top of my head made a loud sound around the quiet that surrounded us.
I loved times like these, nights when it was just him and me, cushioned against the noise of the paparazzi who wanted every tidbit about us, blanketed against the sports pundits who wanted a piece of him.
“I had fun,” I replied, rubbing the side of my leg then before his hand replaced it so he could rub the same spot. “I liked talking to your teammates and their girlfriends and wives.”
That was a partial truth.
“Really? Even Holder’s date, Danielle, Playmate of the Year?” His voice held a suspended disbelief.
I shook my head, “Hmm. The fact that you know her name should bother me.”
His strong arms wrapped around my shoulders in a hug, “Babe, she’s like everywhere. Plus, she introduced herself to me.”
He wasn’t lying. The minute Danielle spotted Scott, she’d made a beeline for him.
Forget that she was there with Scott’s wide receiver, Holder. She wanted to take a selfie with Scott, and Scott had a weird smile on his face when she pointed at me with her French-tipped nails and asked me to a picture of them.
“You were smiling the whole time I took the photo,” I said, remembering that I wanted to ask him why he had that weird smile.
He sighed and his hands massaged my legs, exposed by the light blue pajama shorts I was wearing. I’d left a few articles of clothing at Scott’s place since I usually stayed over when he was home. Now I didn’t have to think of bringing an overnight bag.
“She asked me if I could put my hands on her boobs and I told her, ‘Hell no’,” he said, his voice deflecting the burden that he carried. “It sucks. She’s there with my teammate for Chrissake, but she wanted me to put my hands on her. The fact that I was there with you didn’t even rattle her. I just don’t believe it, the way some women put themselves down. Like they have no value.”
“I’m not a saint. I slept with women who only wanted one night stands, but I made sure that they weren’t with somebody else. It doesn’t matter how sexy a woman is, if they’re with another person, they should be off-limits,” he said in a voice that held another undertone.
He was talking about Danielle, but now he was referring to Dex.
“He approached me tonight.” I didn’t want any secrets between us, especially about my ex-boyfriend. “Before you arrived, he just wanted to say hi.”
“I’m sure he said more than hi,” Scott snipped, letting out a whoosh from under his breath. “He knows the score between you and me, but he’s like an annoying cockroach that just wants to hang around.”
“Just focus on your game, babe,” I said, knowing that while Dex was on the team, he’d bug Scott. “He doesn’t matter. Just like all those women who want to get at you, they don’t matter. I love you and you love me, that is enough for me.”
Since his boxers were made of thin fabric, I felt his cock nudge against my spine, “How did you get to be so smart, Bridge?”
I slowly pulled my legs up and removed his hands from mine so I could turn around and straddle my legs around his waist.
When I was in a comfortable position, I looked into his beautiful green eyes, the pale iris’ surrounding the pupil, a convergence of blue and green, and as his hands reached up to cup my cheeks, he said, “Someday you’ll realize that you hold everything of me.”
I placed a soft kiss on his hard lips, and this was probably not the best time to tell him, but I had no choice. “I have an interview. My advisor e-mailed me that NASA wants to go ahead with the program and she thinks it would be good if I went in. I’m still an undergrad, and I don’t know how this will play out…”
“You want to go?” With me, Scott didn’t hold himself back. I saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes; I also saw pride and excitement.
I nodded my head. “It’s my dream.”
He closed his eyes for a second, and I felt pieces of my heart shattering when he spoke, “When you get in, it’s not a question of if because I know you, you’ll get in – how long will you be gone?”
To get into the astronaut program took years, but this new hushed-hushed program would let qualified candidates bypass experience requirements, fast tracking them to space.
“I’m not sure. Maybe six months. A year.” Before Scott, my plans were a two-way ticket to and from space. Now that he was in my life, I wanted to take as many stop-overs as I could so I could be with him.
His hands dropped down to his sides and I saw the muscles in his jaw tense, and as he lowered his gaze to the floor, I allowed myself to commit this moment to memory.
It would be painful if he broke up with me, but I’d find myself to understand.
He wasn’t going to wait for me. A man like him, he had the pick of women, and as much as he loved me, I knew that sometimes it wasn’t enough.
“I dreamed of football for so long,” he started, his expression morose, but his eyes were filled with so many different emotions. “I held onto that dream until the day I played in the NFL. I know what it’s like to look at something and want it so much that you dedicate your life fulfilling it, gunning for that dream. Now that I’ve reached it, I want a Super Bowl, I want the football records to hold my name. But I also want you by side when I reach them.”
His right forefinger circled my jaw, and tears fell from my eyes, “You’re allowed to dream, babe. You’re allowed to work for them and reach them. I’d hate for you to look back at your life and know that you could have but you didn’t.”
“I don’t want to leave you…us. I don’t know how it’s going to work out if I get in.” My uncertainties have now found a voice. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay with me when I’m going to be out of sight.”
He placed his right hand on my chest, where my heart beat to the same rhythm as his, “Bridge, I’ll be sad that you won’t be here, that you won’t be able to be free with your schedule as you are now. But don’t you see? I love you. That’s not going to change. I love you enough to wait for you, knowing that you’re out there, getting ready to achieve your dreams. And when you’re out there in space, I expect a call now and again.”
I laughed at his attempt at humor. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
“You silly woman, don’t you know how hard it is to find another Bridgette?”
“I don’t know,” I said, thanking him for providing a reprieve to what’s been troubling me since my advisor brought it up. “There’re a lot of Bridgettes’ out there.”
“Not with the same hazel eyes and dimples that always bring me to my knees.” He said, slowly closing the distance between our lips, “Not with the same fine ass that you have and let me tell you about the great rack that I love –“
I clamped my mouth to his, stifling a giggle while tears still rolled down from my ducts, “Thank you.”
“You better tell those astronauts that you have me as a boyfriend, and I will kick their asses from here to the Milky Way if they flirt with you.”
“They’re not astronauts. Not yet. And I don’t think there are cute astronauts anyways,” I chuckled as his lips lingered on my mouth.
He lowered his forehead to touch mine, “There better not be. You’re going to be sexiest astronaut out there. I’m gonna have a hard time keeping those men at bay when they see you.”
“You’re crazy.” My shoulders racked from laughter and in a serious voice I said, “I had a dream. Now I have two. You wanna know what my other one is?”
“Tell me it’s me making love to you.” He said, his ego knew no bounds, “Because, babe, I gotta tell you, you won’t find anyone like me even out there in space.”
A burst of giggles emerged from my mouth. Again, because Scott was too funny. He was always so intense that when he was being funny, it was such a treat. And it was much needed in a conversation like the one we were having now.
I looked deep into his eyes and said, “You. You’re my other dream. I want to get to space, but coming back to you is my tether to this world. It’s going to be crazy challenging, more than what both of us can probably handle, but knowing that you’re right here, waiting for me, winning Super Bowls – I’ll always come back to you.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, tapped his fingers on my cheek, and when he spoke he said, “Shit babe. If words had jizz, it would be floating everywhere right now. God, you make me so fucking hot.”
My eyes widened and I couldn’t believe he was joking when I was being completely serious.
He laughed and said, “Calm down, astronaut girl. I know what you’re saying and I understand.”
He guided my body down to the seat of the sofa, my back touching the soft cushion, and when he added two pillows to rest my head, I tried to get out from under him because I had to pee.
And if he was going to start this, I’d be peeing in my underwear.
“Lemme go.” I said in a stern voice, “Scott, lemme go now.”
His legs locked me in place, caging me in with his strength, and I let out another order, hoping he would listen this time, “Scott. No.”
I felt the first attack on my feet.
They were light touches, but I let out a shriek, “Stop! I gotta pee!”
His booming laugh was not a good sign, he was on his game. And he was in it to win it.
I tried to fight my way out of it, but he benched two seventy on a slow day and his mind worked strategically, “No I can’t –“
“You can’t pee on my couch, babe, it was hard to pick it out,” he said in a maniacal voice, his arms ready to deliver more torture.
I struggled to say the words as he started attacking my waist with the light tickles, tickles that would become harder and more frequent in a few seconds, “Liar! Your designer picked it out.”
“Now you’re calling me a liar – “ He was full-on laughing and the tears of sadness in my eyes were now replaced with tears of torture. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
His mouth covered my stomach and as he blew big bubbles of air on it, synchronized with the torturous tickles on the back of my legs, I screamed in surrender.
Scott didn’t heed my pleas though, he kept on and on and finally when we were both panting with exertion, his body hovered over mine and his cheeks were faint with a blush when he said, “When you said Super Bowls, not singular but plural, I just got really hard and I can’t help it that I may have wet my boxers with pre-cum.”
This man.
He was everything to me.