Page 27

I haven’t been this drunk in a long time.

We’ve been drinking straight whiskey all night while I’ve been on a beer kick the last couple years, and we’ve eaten our weight in finger foods and appetizers. We’ve moved onto playing poker, the other guys are smoking cigars, something that never appealed to me, and we’re laughing. Loudly and heartily.

I’d estimate there are around fifteen or twenty guys here, some who I’ve met before and others who I haven’t, and we’re already building the sort of brotherhood that comes with working together for a common goal.

Most of the men here are from either the coaching staff or the front office staff. While our team draft isn’t for another two months, Troy has already managed to sign a bunch of free agents, a couple who showed up tonight. I know most of the coaches here from when I played, so the majority of the night has been spent really just catching up with old friends.

It feels good. It feels right , like I’ve landed in the place where I’m supposed to be…like it doesn’t matter that I haven’t played in the last three years. It’ll all come back exactly as it’s meant to, and that’s been a big theme of my night here.

Guys head in and out as they go outside to smoke cigars, the heat of Vegas swooping in every time the door opens or closes. I’m facing away from the door, too wrapped up in my poker game to worry about who’s walking in or out, but by midnight most of the guys have left and the last of the poker tournament is down to Troy, Aaron Jacobs, Holden Thatcher, and Jeremy Bardot, three of the free agents Troy already signed.

Holden goes all in, and that’s when my cockiness rears its head. I feel good about my pair of queens, so I call him even though it’ll wipe me out if I lose.

He flips his cards, and he’s got a full house.

My queens look weak in comparison, but I laugh it off, pay the man the money I owe him, and call it a night.

I have phone sex to get to, after all.

I stumble up to my room, trying to remember which one’s mine, and I set my hand on a doorknob before I remember that was the daughter’s room. I move to the next door, open it, and I’m elated to find I chose the right door.

I leap onto my bed and grab my phone.

She answers on the first ring. “Hey, Captain.”

“God, you sound sexy. You should come over right now.”

She giggles. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Ooh, this’ll be fun.” She giggles. “I’ve never had phone sex with a drunk Cooper before.”

“Are you drunk?” I demand.

“No. Mia had a boy over so I ducked out early and snuck back home even though my dad’s got some friends over. I snatched a seltzer from a big tub of alcohol and snuck up to my room, but I’m definitely not drunk.”

“Was it boat boy?” I ask, and she giggles.

“It was boat boy. I felt like a third wheel, so I bolted early. My dad’s old friends are still downstairs, so I put on my earbuds to drown them out and now I have you in stereo in my head.”

“That’s hot. But now you’re home, so my fantasies of you fingering yourself in the front of your truck will have to live on in my imagination.”

“Correct. But I’m open to doing it in person for you if it’s really a fantasy.” Her tone is sly and sexy and Jesus Christ, when did I get in so deep with her?

Oh, right. The moment I met her.

“You’d do that?”

“I’d do anything for you,” she breathes.

Her words speak directly to my cock once again.

“Where are you now?” I ask.

“My bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“You want the truth or the fantasy?”

I laugh. “Whatever story you want to tell.”

“Black lingerie with a garter belt and straps holding up my thigh-highs. But I’m not wearing any panties under the garter belt.”

My cock strains painfully against my jeans as I close my eyes and picture it in my mind.

“What are you wearing?” she asks.

I glance down at my faded jeans and plain Under Armour shirt. “No shirt, just for you, and gray sweatpants you can definitely see the Captain through.”

“Oh, God,” she whimpers as she pictures it. I love that I do to her the same thing she does to me.

“Since you’re not wearing any panties, slide your finger through your pussy for me, baby,” I murmur.

She must do it, because I hear her soft moan over the line. “Reach into your gray sweatpants and play with your balls,” she demands, and she’s no longer tentative when she issues instructions over the phone.

Fuck, that’s hot.

I touch my nuts, and then I stroke myself. “I can’t help it,” I say. “I’m fisting my cock now as I imagine your hot little mouth.”

“Mm,” she groans.

I hear a knock on the wall beside me. I guess Troy’s daughter’s back home. It takes me out of the moment for a beat, and I move away from the wall and over to the desk chair just in case someone’s in the room next door.

“Take off your bra and touch your nipple,” I demand. “Pretend it’s my hands on your body.”

I hear some rustling through the line, and then a soft moan.

I love the sound of her moans. I love knowing that she can touch herself and imagine me doing it. I love that she can be so completely herself with me. I love her . “Now finger yourself while I jerk off, and let me know how good it feels.”

“Oh, God, Cooper,” she moans. “I wish it was you. God, I wish you were here.”

“So do I, baby.” I fist my cock and squeeze the head before pumping the shaft. “So do I.” I pick up speed, listening to her soft sighs and moans as she does the same thing to herself, as we listen to each other move toward the brink of climax.

“Faster,” I say, and we both pick up the speed even more. “I’m close. Rub your clit for me.”

“Oh God!” she practically yells, the sound forcing my orgasm to wash over me way too soon. The white jets stream onto my hand as I think about her touching herself and picturing me.

I grunt through my climax as I listen for her moans through the line, and when we’re both finished and panting slightly, neither of us says anything for a few beats.

“Damn,” I eventually say, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I can’t wait to do that in person.”

“Neither can I. I need to go wash my hands. Are we still on for breakfast?”

“Absolutely. Let’s meet at Kings Diner at nine, okay?” she asks.

“I’ll see you then. Sweet dreams.”

“Same to you,” she says, and we end the call.

I sag back into the chair for a beat, but then I really do need to wash my hands.

The hangover that hits me in the morning is accompanied by slight regret, but I’m seeing Gabby for breakfast, and that’s enough of a motivator to get me out of bed.

Damn. I can’t drink like I used to.

I fumble my way over to the shower, and I feel a little better after breathing in the steam. If I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late for breakfast.

I run a hand through my wet hair after my shower, grab a pair of athletic shorts and another Under Armour tee, and head down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before I run out the door to meet my girl.

When I get down to the kitchen, a young woman is bending down as she looks in the bottom drawer of the fridge, which I assume is the freezer. Her ass is sticking up in the air, and I assume this is Troy’s daughter. Out of respect for both my girlfriend who I’m meeting shortly and Troy, I glance away.

“Dad? Is that you?” she yells from its depths.

“No,” I say tentatively, my mouth dry from the hangover. “It’s your dad’s houseguest.”

She straightens and whirls around to look at the stranger in her kitchen, and when she does, she gasps as a hand moves to her chest. I suck in a sharp breath as a shot of disbelief darts through my chest.

My wide eyes meet her even wider eyes.

“What are you doing here?” we say at the exact same time.

“Oh good, you two have met,” Troy says as he saunters into the room. “Cooper, this is my daughter, Gabriella.”

Oh fuck.

This has to be some sort of joke…or some sort of nightmare.

It can’t be true.

Gabby is Troy’s daughter?

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2, FASTBALL.