Cleat Chaser Read online

  “Well, he ain’t a rookie so I’ll be less of a dick.”

  “Hah! Yeah, I’m sure we’ll still prank the fuck out of him.”

  “Well, of course. I would hate to deny him of our long-honored tradition. Would seem inhumane.”

  “Braden!” The voice came from beyond the outfield wall.

  Braden flipped his head in that direction. “Yeah?”

  “Stop fondling your goddamn lover and get to work!”

  “Jesus Christ.” There was a crack of the bat and I watched the ball soar over the left field wall and rattle in the empty bleachers.

  “But Coach, he says he’s almost there,” Braden called back.

  “Boy, quit fuckin’ around before I run your goddamn dick in the dirt!”

  “I don’t know, Coach. He’s bigger than you.”

  The players chuckled, including Coach. This was their thing. It always kept practice entertaining at the expense of my humility.

  “I don’t care how tall that big motherfucker is. I’m the boss around here.” The stadium acted like a microphone, amplifying their voices for everyone to hear.

  “I better get back before he has a stroke.” Braden made a jerk off motion with his hand that had me chortling before he started jogging back to the bullpen. “I wasn’t talking about his weight, Coach. I got a handful of cock over here!” He turned back and grinned at me.

  The whole field erupted, practice coming to a momentary halt as laughter rang out around the stadium.

  “Hey, we still on for drinks tonight?” My stomach tensed, even though I knew the answer. This fucker was right about her being in my head. I hadn’t felt this way about a first date in well, ever.

  “Yeah bro, be there at eight.”

  “You ladies make plans for your porn shoot on someone else’s time!” Coach continued admonishing us as practice started up again.

  I needed to get home before Kyrie’s face got me killed in the outfield.

  I pushed open the door to my high rise that overlooked downtown when a flash of yellow sent me tumbling to the floor. “Motherfucker!” I grabbed at my dick and tried not to puke on the cherry hardwood floors. The pain radiated from stomach to sack and back again.

  “I told your ass. You know the rules. Fighting on TV, putting my soy milk in your beefy ass protein shakes, or leaving a dirty dish in the sink is punishable by whiffle ball bat to the cock, son.”

  I looked up to meet my younger sister’s gaze while she wielded the yellow whiffle ball bat in a hitter’s stance. She was my roommate and best friend in the world. “He fucking started it, man. What the fuck?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “I hit you because of that dish in the sink. Did you fight too?” She reared back to hit me again.

  I held a hand up. “At least give me a clean death. A soldier’s death.”

  She paused mid-swing and started laughing. “Fine, pussy. Turn around.”

  I scooted around on my knees, looking fucking ridiculous doing so. I looked back at her with my fingers interlocked behind my head. She kept doing these little warm up swings and stopping the bat right next to my shoulders.

  “You gonna hit me anytime soon?”

  She nodded and took the bat all the way back behind her ear before belting out a roar and swinging hard and fast. I braced myself a little for the sting. She was a mean bitch and could swing hard.

  Kasey stopped the fucking bat right behind me again. I faced forward and heat seeped into my cheeks at her ridiculous antics.

  “Will you hurry the fuck up? Shit. My knees are starting to hurt.” I turned my head back to curse her some more when I saw another flash of yellow and this time felt the bat slap into the side of my face.

  “Ahh suck ass dick! What is wrong with you? I have a date tonight, you prick. That’s gonna leave a mark.” I pressed my palm to my cheek and glared at her.

  She flipped the bat like she hit a game-winning homerun and it rattled around on the floor, then she grabbed her crotch at me. “Think about that next time you leave your dishes in the sink, bitch.”

  My face and balls were still on fire as I worked up to my feet. “Good to see you too, sister.”

  “You really have a date?” Kasey flopped on the couch and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. Her head canted to the side as she stared at me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did I ruin your shot at a blowy?” She nodded at my crotch.

  I sank down into the couch, the pain finally subsiding a little. I shrugged. “Maybe, fuck man, I don’t know. It’s hard to think after a shot to the dick.”

  She flipped the TV on and turned it to SportsCenter. The fight was all over the screen.

  “Oh, what the fuck, Braden? What a pussy getting sucker punched like that.” She made a jerk off motion with her hand and tossed a load of phantom splooge at the screen. Apparently, it was becoming the gesture of choice amongst friends and family.

  “Well, I did have him in a half nelson at that point.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m beating his ass when I see him. No wonder you had to get involved. Pussy shit.”

  “See? Hitting me in the face was not justified.”

  “The fuck it wasn’t.” She backed up the video and showed me shaking off Braden’s signals. “Braden might be softer than a whore’s wet pussy, but he made the right pitch call before that sumbitch teed off on your curveball.”

  Usually I would’ve scoffed at some amateur trying to tell me about pitch selections, but Kasey knew her shit. She was a division one All American in softball; hence our mutual admiration for braids and a nice set of tits. Still, I couldn’t just roll over at her analysis. “Bullshit.”

  She paused right before the homerun and leaned forward, pointing her finger for emphasis. “Look at the hitter’s feet.”

  I squinted a bit and looked. Fuck. I sighed.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Admit it. Say me and Braden are right, you cocky little bitch. It’s written all over your stupid face, anyway.”

  The batter’s front foot was angled forward. He was waiting for the exact pitch I threw.

  I shook my head.

  “Come on now, say it. Say I’m right. Quit nibblin’ ya big gobbler.”

  My eyebrows raised. “Huh?”

  “You know, when a chick is supposed to be sucking dick, but she keeps licking the head? Nibbling around, and not giving you what you want? Tell me what I want to hear, cock maggot.”

  I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “You really are a man in a chick’s body. Fine. You were right.”

  “Truth. Now tell me about your date. How are the titties? No wait, let me guess. Last girl you dated had medium to small tits, so you should be due for a fat pair of fun bags. Am I right? Tell me!” She leaned forward, her eyes wide.

  I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know much other than she’s brunette, kind of tall, and reads her fucking Kindle during baseball games.”

  Kasey gasped. “My word, I do declare. Kindle during the game? We should burn her at the stake. We’ll pray over her while she’s on fire of course.”

  Kasey had a knack for taking a conversation in the worst possible direction.

  I glared at her as I stood. “I don’t know why I tell you anything.”

  “Because you love me!” She rose, walked over, and gave me a hug. “Good luck on your date, big brother. You know I love you.”

  “I know. Love you too, sis.”

  She leaned in closer to my ear. “I need you out of the house soon. I have an appointment with a bitch about a scissor banging sesh for an appetizer, and a late main course on the town.”

  “What an appetizing image.”

  “Oh, she’ll be dining for certain.” She held out her hand, waiting for a fist bump. “Right? C’mon. Give it up.”

  I stood there, shaking my head. “I need to shower and get ready.”

  I walked toward the bathroom.

  “You can’t leave me hanging, you prick. That shit was gold and
you know it.”

  I shot her the bird as I rounded the corner into the hallway.

  “It’s fine. I ain’t mad. I’ll give you all the details later. Licking the clitty and ass, your favorite.”

  I thought about vomming for a moment as I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. My sister’s conquests were legend, but I sure as hell didn’t want to hear about them. I shook off any unwanted mental images.

  I turned the knob on the shower before walking back to the mirror. Kyrie’s long legs and dark hair flashed through my mind. Would she be interested in me? “You got this shit, Easton.” Sometimes my pep talks to my own image helped. Not today.

  I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and yanked them down before pulling my shirt over my head. For some reason, I kept thinking about her reading her Kindle in the middle of the game and I noticed my fingers gripping the counter, hard. Hard enough to see the whites of my knuckles. Then I saw her weaving through the crowd, up the stairs, and onto the concourse.

  There was something about the way she looked at me when we first made eye contact. The expression on her face. Fear, excitement, anticipation—all rolled up into one look.

  My dick jutted against the counter through my boxer briefs, and all the feelings I imagined in her gaze were radiating straight down to my cock. When I raised my head, the mirror was fogging up, and the water was loud on the glass walls of the shower.

  I glanced back down to my growing situation. Maybe releasing a little tension would ease matters? It’s never hurt anything before.

  It didn’t take much to convince myself as I walked over to the shower. I pulled my briefs down, springing my now rock hard dick from captivity as it wobbled free for a moment. Then I stepped into the shower.

  The warm inviting water pelted my neck and shoulders before cascading down my body in smooth streams. I planted my left hand on the wall under the shower head and took my cock in my right.

  Closing my eyes, there she was once again.

  I couldn’t be long. Kasey had been making fun of how long my showers took since I was a teenager, and there would be a multitude of teasing to come if I didn’t make quick work. Still, I wanted to draw it out, fuck Kyrie in my mind for hours.

  I needed a scenario. I always needed some semblance of a plot in the land of jerk-off or it just wouldn’t do it for me.

  I pictured myself hopping the railing and chasing her up to the concourse, barreling through anyone who got in the way of what I wanted. I fisted my cock and started sliding my hand back and forth. The warm water would help with my time restraints.

  There was no time for dialogue in this fantasy, so I got to the concourse, but couldn’t see her. Then I caught a glimpse of her brunette hair and hauled ass in her direction.

  She turned around right as I came up behind her. She gasped. I palmed both of her cheeks and kissed her long and hard, thrusting up against her side.

  When our lips parted she started to say something and I picked her up by the waist as she wrapped her long, curvy legs around me. I eyed a maintenance closet and quickly carried her in that direction, head on a swivel to make sure nobody saw us. In reality, I’d have a swarm of fans on me and be wearing a cup, but there wasn’t time to deal with these types of issues when I was trying to make my dick explode.

  We burst through the door, and I pinned her up against the wall. She squealed. I yanked the Kindle from her hand and hurled it against the wall, shattering the screen. Good one, Easton.

  Her eyes grew wide as I watched her, showing her the naughty shit I was about to do to her with merely my gaze.

  My hand sped up on my cock under the water. Something about the anticipation before the fuck was almost as good as shoving my dick in something warm and wet.

  I stood her up for a moment to yank her jeans half down her ass, before doing the same with my baseball pants. Flipping her around, my chest to her back, I pulled her hips toward me. I bit down on her shoulder and thrust my cock up inside of her tight pussy. Everything in my fantasy grew brighter and more vivid as I felt her wrapped around me. At the same time in the shower, I thrust my cock into my hand and groaned. Fuck!

  I sped up the pace in my mind, fucking her against the wall to the sounds of her gasps as my hand kept time on my cock in reality. I did my best to imagine the warm friction of my soaked hand as Kyrie’s pussy clamped around my dick. My muscles tensed and my balls tightened.

  At this point, I snapped out of the daydream and imagined her in the shower with me, tits bouncing around and ass slapping against my thighs as I tried to hold my come back as long as possible.

  When I imagined her calling out my name as she came on my dick, I angled my hand down and shot into the tile floor of my shower. I exhaled a gigantic breath, then panted. “Holy shit.”

  Once my mind grew a little less fuzzy, I reached up and grabbed the shower head, maneuvering it around to wash some stray floaters down the drain.

  After thoroughly washing my cock, and the rest of me, I stepped from the shower. The cool air was frigid on my hot skin. I toweled off my body and walked back to the mirror, shifting the towel to my head and drying my hair.

  Reaching over with my palm, I cleared enough of the fog from it to see my face. “Don’t fuck this up.”

  Braden and I sat in a corner table of the restaurant. “Is Nik always late?” I glanced around at the mahogany woodwork that gave the place so much character. Someone a few tables over was eating a steak and my stomach growled at the smell.

  “Always, bro.”

  I kept running my hands down my pants. My palms were damp and my clothes seemed too tight, though I knew they weren’t.

  “What the hell takes them so long?”

  “They think they have to spend five hundred dollars and four hours getting ready for us. It really is a wasted effort. Hundred dollars worth of makeup, five hundred dollars worth of makeup.” He shrugged. “My cock doesn’t recognize the difference. He wants to park in the ‘v’ regardless.”

  I smirked. “Sure, sure. I like your logic, sir.”

  I pulled a highball glass up to my mouth. The Maker’s and Coke was a perfect combination of bitter and sweet. I usually drank whiskey straight, but I wanted some caffeine.

  Braden began to speak when suddenly all sounds, smells, tastes—everything faded away but my vision as Kyrie walked through the doors with Nik. My cock kicked in my pants and went from hanging to hard at a world record pace. “Down,” I mumbled toward my lap.

  “What’s up?” Braden hadn’t seen them yet.

  “They’re here. Look.” I gestured toward them. “And I just went from six to midnight under this table.”

  He started to chuckle.

  “You gotta run interference. This cannot be concealed.”

  “I’m on it.” He jumped up and ran over to Nik. Taking her in his arms, they reenacted a porn video with clothes on.

  I watched Kyrie out of the corner of my eye. Holy shit. She was curvy in every way I could dream—big perfect tits, long legs, shapely thighs—but her eyes and hair drew me more than anything. She had on more makeup than I thought she would, but I was ninety-nine percent sure that had Nikki written all over it.

  I turned to look at her head-on. Kyrie’s green eyes locked onto mine. Damn, I want this girl.

  KYRIE

  I’D FOOLISHLY ALLOWED Nikki to drive us to the restaurant. By the time we got there, I was a mix of car sick and terrified.

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” she said as I stepped on the curb and put my hands on my hips, breathing deeply to get myself under control.

  “You are insane. I almost stomped a hole through the floorboard trying to hit the imaginary brake.” A cool wind blew past, making me particularly aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. Warm days, cool nights. I should have worn a jacket.

  Delicious smells wafted from the fancy restaurant behind me—roasted meat and fresh bread. Despite my momentary bout of Nikki-induced nausea, the food lured me up the front steps a
nd through the heavy wooden doors.

  “Welcome.” A peppy maître d greeted us as a few of the men at the bar to our left turned and gawked.

  Nikki sidled up, swaying her hips for the audience. “We’re here with Braden Pearson.”

  “Ah, yes.” He smiled, fake but nice all the same. “I’ll show you to your table. Right this way.”

  I followed Nikki as we passed through a hall in the rear of the dining area. It was dimmer back here, the lights fading for the few tables situated along the back wall. I scanned the room for Braden, but there were no tables with a single man.

  “He must not be here yet,” I said.

  “Nikki!” A deep voice from the far corner—Braden. And he wasn’t alone.

  I stopped, almost tripping over my own feet. Easton, the pitcher, sat at the table. His eyes were on me, roving my body from my toes to the top of my head. He shifted in his seat and met my gaze. An easy smile spread across his angular face and heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks. The words “oh, fuck” played on repeat in my mind as Braden stood to greet us. Easton remained seated.

  Nikki looked over her shoulder at me. “Come on.”

  Maybe it’s time for second chances. Her earlier words played through my mind. Then I recalled how she’d twirled her hair. The classic sign of Nikki subterfuge. I’d been duped.

  Before I could flay her for tricking me into a double date, Braden wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a public display of affection that would have made a prostitute blush. I remained where I stood, trying to decide whether I should suffer through dinner or make my apologies and leave.

  I took a step back, preparing to turn on my heel and walk out.

  “Kyrie, is it?” Easton’s voice, a rich baritone with a Southern accent, lilted into my ears.

  He stood, holding his napkin in front of him at an odd angle. He wore a dark blazer, a light blue button down, open at the collar, and a pair of jeans—the perfect mix of dressy and casual.

  I glanced up to his eyes as Braden and Nikki finally ended their makeout session.