Hittin' It Out the Park (5 page)

“And it turns out that all of a sudden he's being courted by a big-name sports agent.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Stephen said eagerly. “And?”

“And did I mention that he asked me to marry him?”

“Girl, stop!” Stephen jumped off the couch, spilling his coffee onto the hardwood floor. “Oh, now look what you've made me do. Please don't tell me he was serious, and you better not be telling me that if he was serious that you're considering doing it. And puleeze don't tell me you're marrying the next Alex Rodriguez.” Stephen stopped abruptly, as if a thought suddenly hit him. “Girl, young country bumpkin is a might too ugly to be replacing that handsome-ass Alex.”

“If he makes it to the majors—even if he only makes the league minimum of four hundred thousand—he can afford to get a good haircut, and a whole bunch of Proactiv.” Cheryl leaned back, and crossed her legs; a satisfied smile on her face. “But let's see what happens in the next few months before we start shopping for a wedding dress.”

July 2013

S
exy Sanchez sent an alluring smile in the direction of the tall guy with the intense blue eyes and the interesting tats on his arms, signaling him to follow her. He looked like a hot rocker type with his five o'clock shadow and carefully tousled, golden hair, molded into disarray with hair product.

For most of the evening, he'd been on lockdown with his girlfriend's arms wrapped possessively around his waist. When nature called, and the clingy chick had finally disentangled herself and gone downstairs with one of her tipsy friends to use the restroom, Sexy was ready to make her move.

All the restrooms in the house were crowded, and Sexy banked on having sufficient time to snag the hot rocker. Growing impatient when the guy didn't budge from the door frame he was leaning against, she beckoned him by crooking her finger.

Me?
he pantomimed, pointing to his chest.

She nodded, turned around, and pranced along the corridor.

It was typical July weather, and despite the air conditioning, the body heat inside the overcrowded party had the temperature soaring. Sexy decided to leave the confines of the crowded frat house where the rowdy celebration was being held and relocate to the quiet and spacious rooftop.

As she headed for the backstairs that led to the roof deck, she bypassed a twerk contest between three white girls who should have been ashamed to bring attention to their deficient derrieres, but were too intoxicated to care. When white girls competed in impromptu twerk-offs, there was always an overabundance of alcohol involved.

Continuing her trek down the hallway, she looked over her shoulder and couldn't hold back a smug smile. As expected, the hot rocker dude was following her like an obedient sheep.

Upon closer inspection, he was dreamier looking than she'd realized with fine-boned features and sensual lips. He seemed like the overly confident type who could have his pick of women, and she'd observed numerous girls shamelessly trying to divert his attention away from his girlfriend throughout the night.

But Sexy wasn't merely
any
woman. Among her group of friends, she was the only ethnic chick, and she was often referred to as being uncommonly good looking—an exotic beauty with an olive skin tone, large doe-shaped eyes, and dark flowing hair.

Tonight, Sexy looked extra-hot in a crop top embellished with beads and sequins and she was rocking a teeny-tiny pair of denim, cut-off shorts and ankle-strap stilettos that showcased her perfect pair of long, shapely legs. People often mistook her for a runway model, which she thought was hilarious. Becoming a brainless model was not the occupation she aspired toward. When the day came that she had to consider employment options, she was certain she'd lean toward a career in the CIA or some sort of corporate espionage. In the meantime, she'd continue living off handouts from her parents and the kindness of strangers.

A slew of bangles and bracelets decorated both her wrists and jangled musically as she sauntered along and turned a corner, striding past a room that was crammed with kids gathered around a giant bong. One girl was bent at the waist, her long hair nearly sweeping the floor as she giggled at a private joke that only she could hear. Another moron with orange crumbs around his mouth was digging his orange-tinted fingers inside a bag of Cheetos, his jaws working overtime as he crunched on the snack while waiting for his turn to hit the bong.

Drugs had never interested Sexy. She preferred being clear-headed when manipulating and outmaneuvering her idiot friends, her stupid family, and brain-dead society in general. No one was shrewder than Sexy, and she delighted in proving that fact at every opportunity.

Excitement coursed through her as she heard his footsteps climbing the stairs behind her. She pushed the door to the rooftop open and the evening breeze blew through her hair.

Holding a frosty bottle of Coors Light, Hot Rocker was right behind her. “Wow! This is so cool,” he uttered, looking around and then staring up at the star-filled sky.

“It's an amazing view; I figured you'd enjoy it,” she said, taking his hand and leading him over to the lawn furniture. She plopped down on a wicker loveseat and motioned for him to have a seat next to her. “My name is Sexy.”

“Perfect name for you.”

“Sexy Sanchez,” she added with a provocative smile.

“Cool name. Are you Puerto Rican??”

“No.” She gave a shrug. “I'm strictly African American, as far as I know.”

“You have an exotic look, like you could be mixed with Middle Eastern blood.”

“So I've been told. And what's your name?” she asked, abruptly changing the uncomfortable subject regarding her heritage.

“Ryan Bellevue.” He looked around. “You must party here a lot.”

“What makes you say that?”

“How'd you know about the secret stairway leading to the rooftop?”

“I make it my business to know a lot of things,” she said in a mysterious tone.

“I've sort of had my eye on you all night,” Ryan confessed.

“I know. That's why I lured you away from your girlfriend.”

His blue eyes sparkled in amusement. “You didn't have to lure me. You could have asked.”

“That wouldn't have been any fun,” she replied, reaching out and examining the bronze, medieval pendant that hung from a leather cord. “Interesting piece of jewelry,” she commented.

“I'm a history buff and rabid collector of historical artifacts.”

Sexy groaned inwardly. Ryan was providing too much information. She couldn't have cared less about his personal interests. She let out a sigh of indifference as she released the pendant.

“Want a sip?” Ryan slanted the beer bottle toward Sexy.

“Sure, if I can sip it from your finger,” she said in a sultry tone of voice.

“Oh, wow!” He chuckled nervously, and then inserted his index finger into the mouth of the bottle.

Grasping his hand, Sexy guided his dripping finger to her mouth and drew it inside, closing her eyes and murmuring, “Mmm.”

“Damn! You're wild! Who are you and where have you been all my life?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the ground. Snuggling close, she looped her arms around Ryan's neck and pressed her lips against his. As her tongue snaked inside his mouth, her hand slid between his legs. She caressed the erection that strained against his jeans.

He broke the kiss and stared at her through eyes that were heavily lidded with lust. “You're so beautiful. Man, I want you so bad,” he said hoarsely.

“What would you like to do to me?” she whispered, her lips curved in a taunting smile.

“Make love to you,” he whispered.

“Make love? You can do that some other time.”

Panic surfaced in Ryan's blue eyes. His forehead creased. “Why not now?”

“No time for lovemaking, I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh, yeah! That's exactly what I want to do.” He groped her, hastily feeling her breasts and rubbing her inner thigh.

The wicker loveseat was too small and wasn't sturdy enough. They'd have to get down on the dirty floor of the roof or stand up. Opting to stand, Sexy rose and Ryan immediately leapt to his feet. Sexy led him to the concrete ledge that bordered the roof. She stepped out of her shorts, and he dropped his jeans.

Already wet with anticipation, Sexy didn't require any foreplay. She grasped Ryan's hand and guided his fingers to the warm, sticky moisture between her legs. “See what you do to me?”

“Oh, damn.” His chest heaved as he struggled to penetrate her in the awkward standing position.

Actually, it wasn't Ryan who had her so hot and bothered. It was the idea that she'd snagged another woman's man with hardly any effort. Ryan's girlfriend was probably looking for him at that very moment.
Your man is preoccupied, dumb bitch, so stop trying to hunt him down!
The idea of the girlfriend searching the frat house in vain filled Sexy with so much excitement, goose bumps began to spread up and down her arms. And her pussy reacted by going from slightly moist to heavily drenched.

“Ooh! You're so wet,” Ryan said between gasping breaths.

“Don't talk. All I want you to do is fuck me,” she urged with a note of steel in her voice.

Backing her against the concrete wall, he thrust himself deeply, grunting as he slammed into her. Sexy clung to him as he rammed her over and over. A sly smile formed on her lips. She'd won the bet she'd made with her roommate, Arielle, who claimed Ryan was known to be unreasonably faithful and would never cheat on his girlfriend.

As Ryan grunted and groaned, Sexy thought about the hundred bucks and lunch at Chipotle that Arielle owed her. Her nitwit roommate could have saved herself some money had she listened when Sexy told her that no man remained faithful once she'd set her sights on him.

*  *  *

Fussing with his hair, trying to get it back to its original windswept look, Ryan asked Sexy if she had a mirror.

“Sorry. No,” she replied as she dug around in her clutch, fingers deliberately glossing over her compact mirror. She wanted Ryan to look disheveled, as if he'd been fucking on the sly, and she wasn't about to assist him in making himself presentable.

“There isn't any lipstick on my face, is it?” he asked, wiping at imaginary red streaks.

“You look fine,” she assured him. “You should go down first and I'll stay up here for like, another five or ten minutes,” she suggested, pretending to be helpful.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” The lust that had been in Ryan's eyes was now replaced with guilt. “My girl is probably looking for me, so I'd better get back to the party. I, uh, suppose I'll see you later,” he said sheepishly.

“Yep. See you later,” she said nonchalantly, fluttering her fingers.

Sexy had heard that Ryan's girlfriend was a jealous bitch who was known for creating scenes even when there was no reason for her to be suspicious of Ryan. Eager to witness the big blowup, Sexy didn't plan on waiting around on the rooftop—not even for two extra minutes. As soon as she heard the door to the stairs open and close, she checked her reflection in her compact mirror. She reapplied lip gloss, brushed her hair, and then bounded down the stairs while simultaneously texting Arielle:
Cough up my money and meet me in the kitchen.

Beer was stocked inside the fridge as well as multiple coolers in the frat house kitchen. There were so many people jam-packed inside the room, Sexy was only able to distinguish Arielle by her ghastly, purple-tinted hair.

“Pay up, bitch,” Sexy demanded with laughter when Arielle approached her.

“Where's the proof, whore?” Arielle retorted.

With a smirk on her face, Sexy searched through her purse and pulled out Ryan's medieval pendant. “What do you think about this?” Sexy taunted, holding the pendant by the leather cord.

“Wow, I'm impressed.”

“As you should be. Now, hand over the dough, and don't forget lunch tomorrow.”

“I don't have any cash on me, but we'll stop at the ATM tomorrow—on our way to Chipotle.” Arielle eyed Sexy with admiration. “How was he?” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Quick.” Sexy and Arielle burst out laughing. “There was nothing spectacular about him. Ryan's merely another notch on my bedpost.” Sexy pulled out her phone and took a picture of the pendant and then began tapping the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Tweeting about my conquest and posting the evidence on Instagram.”

“Ohmigod, you're so malicious.”

“I know.” Sexy smiled and returned her attention to the screen of her phone.

From the corridor, Sexy and Arielle could hear Ryan's jealous girlfriend accusing him of cheating, while Ryan proclaimed his innocence.

“What's that insecure bitch's name?” Sexy asked Arielle.

“Cyndi Waters.”

“Thanks.” Sexy tapped the screen a few more times. “She'll find out that I fucked her man when she follows me back on Instagram.”

Valentine's Day – 2014

“Oh, my God, you are unbelievable.”

Randy had been saying it all morning, but Cheryl couldn't hear it enough. After all, she agreed with her new husband. So, once again she leaned over in their king-size bed and rewarded him with a kiss and a “Thanks, babe.”

“Uh-uh, thank you!” Randy said, running his fingers through her disheveled hair. “I thought my Valentine's Day present to you couldn't be topped. But, boy, was I wrong.”

Cheryl glanced over at the five-carat pink diamond ring lying on the night table beside the bed. She had expected jewelry—most husbands gave their wives jewelry for Valentine's—but the trinket had exceeded all of her expectations. “Honey, believe me, I'm not complaining.” She moved closer so that their naked bodies melded into each other, then wrapped her arms around his neck for an even more soulful kiss, when her Valentine's Day present to him popped up from under the sheets.