Thousand Yard Bride (23 page)

I
was wearing
nothing but boxers when the call came in.

Sitting up, I crushed the phone to my ear and hung on Marty's every word.

"Now," he said, "bear with me. The New York Krakens have had a rough few years."

"A few?" I chuckled, my excitement warring with my unease. "Their losing streak is laughable, no one takes them seriously anymore."

He groaned, long and low. "I know, kid. But listen. This year they’ve got a new coach, Carlton Smith. He’s a hotshot, been the team coach for his alma mater in Georgia for a few years."

"That's comforting," I mumbled.

"Let me level with you. It's not like you have any other options."

My attention wandered to the empty beer bottles around the room. "Good point."

Jo was seven and a half months pregnant, and I needed to support her. I also needed to get back on the field, even if that meant playing for the underdog.

I was lucky that the Krakens’ stadium in New York was just under two hours away. I tried to commute for a few days, but quickly realized I was so exhausted that I’d need to rent a place in the city after all.

Seeing the rent prices made me ill.

I knew what I had to do.

When Jo came home with groceries a few days later, she saw me in the driveway and promptly dropped everything. A head of lettuce rolled into my foot, her finger pointing at the red sedan. "What's that?" she asked.

"This?" Chuckling, I patted it on its roof. "I thought it was better for driving a baby around in than my McLaren." Until now, I’d only ever driven sports cars. At least I got the Sedan in red. That was something.

She came closer, her eyes wild and worried. "You sold your car? You loved that thing."

"I love not commuting two hours every day more," I chuckled.

The disbelief in her face unsettled me. I caught her touching her belly, eyeing the big sedan like it was a rabid rhinoceros. Maybe she thought I was mad that I'd had to settle for a family vehicle.

Drawing her to me, I kissed her cheek, her chin, then her mouth. "It's fine," I said seriously. "New things are good."

She softened for me, resting in my arms with a sigh. "You mean it?"

"Always," I whispered into her hair.

* * *

I
couldn't believe
that we would have a baby just around the time the season ended. It was crazy to think that I’d gone from partying hard to driving a sedan and worrying about my pregnant wife, all in less than a year.

I had a bad case of nerves walking into the locker room that first day. The team was relatively young, and the rookies outnumbered the veteran players. I wasn't sure how they’d respond to me.

I’d studied up on their roster. One of their starting wide receivers was injured and the other, Hank Hanson, had a tendency to drop the ball, which had earned him the moniker of “Slippery Hands.”

I felt bad for the kid because I’d had the same problem my first year at State.

I heard the usual sounds of locker room chatter as I approached the double doors. I’d missed that sound. I loved playing the game but I also enjoyed the comradery of being on a team. It took me losing my spot on the Hawks to realize that, so despite my apprehension I still felt invigorated as I walked into the locker room.

The room grew quiet. It was awkward, so I tried to break the silence. “Hey, team.”

Hank got up and said, “What are you guys doing? This is Hunter Fucking Daniels. He’s going to help us get into the playoffs this year. Let’s show the man some respect!”

There were a few cheers, enough that my ego bloomed a bit. I nodded as I looked around at my new teammates. “Are you ready to beat the Bandits next week?”

That got a half-hearted rise out of the room.

Summoning a burst of energy, I did my best to channel it at the room, egging them on. “I said are you ready to beat those
motherfucking Bandits?”

Hank screamed a “Hell yeah!!” and everyone else joined in. Just like that, I felt at home again.

“Ah, looks like the new guy’s here,” a voice said behind me. I recognized the southern drawl of the coach, Carlton Smith. “Turn around, boy, let me see what’s so special about Hunter Daniels. Don’t look like much from where I’m standin’.”

Fuck,
I thought to myself.
Not another asshole coach.

I turned around. Coach Smith put out his hand. “I’m just messin’ with ya. We're lucky to have ya, kid. Welcome to the Krakens.” Then he addressed the entire room. “All right, boys, let’s hit the field and show Daniels how we get ready to kick some ass!”

Setting foot on the turf felt so good. After stretches, I joined the offense and we ran a few plays. I could tell that while the Krakens had improved since last season, there was a lot they still needed to learn if they wanted to make it to the post-season.

I wasn't alone in this thinking, it turned out. After morning practice, Coach Smith pulled me aside. “Look, Daniels, I’ll be straight with you. I’m gonna need your help. I’ve brought these boys a long way, and they have a lot of potential, but they need more insight from the inside. They're green.”

“You got it, Coach. I’m your man. And, I just wanted to say thanks. It’s great to be playing ball again."

"Yeah?" he chuckled, gruff as sand. "What's it feel like?"

Smiling honestly, I shielded my eyes and looked to the sky. "Feels like coming home.”

* * *

W
e had
an away game in Texas on Sunday. I wanted to be as prepared as possible, so when I wasn't at the stadium, I was at my laptop studying footage. I wished Jo could be there with me, but she was too far along in her pregnancy for so much travel. She was also hard at work for SportsFire.

I couldn't stand not seeing her in some fashion, though, so I told her to video chat me on Saturday night before the game.

Her face glowed on the screen. Bits of hair framed her face, making me wish I could reach through and fix them for her. “You’re going to do amazing tomorrow,” Jo said. I could see that she was video chatting with me while she was in bed. It gave me some dirty ideas.

“I wish you were here,” I told her.

“I’ll be watching. I know you’re going to knock it out of the park.”

“That’s baseball,” I teased.

“Jackass.” She tapped her chin before saying, “Hmm. You’re going to score so hard. How about that?”

Flaring my nostrils, I shifted on the bed, letting her see me from above. I was in nothing but tight black briefs. "Speaking of, you could help me score right now."

I loved how she chewed her lower lip. "What do you want me to do?"

Jackpot. "Aim the phone so I can see your pussy," I said.

Her blush spread instantly. "Okay. Hold on." Fumbling, she set the phone lower, giving me a view men would kill for. She had on a long, silky night shirt, and beneath that, I saw the triangle of her tight black panties.

My mouth went all cotton as she tugged them upwards. "Yeah," I groaned. "Pull them right into your slit. Let me see how you get yourself off, babe."

I couldn't see her face; I heard her distant mewl. Jo did as I asked, pulling the fabric into her slit, showing me her pink and swollen vulva. A quick twist, and she exposed herself entirely, outlining her pussy with her fingers.

Grabbing my cock, I pumped myself slowly. I was straining into my palm, my head slick from pre-come. "More," I breathed. "Show me more. I need to see you make yourself come for me."

Her fingertips swirled over her clit, touching it softly—then firmer as she gasped. She dipped her fingers inside, her juices sticking and coming away in strands. I wanted to be there, tasting her, burying my face in her pussy.

"You now," she said, her voice catching. "I want to see you."

"You wanna see me jerking myself?" I growled, moving the phone. "This is what you do to me. You make me have to come, baby girl. I can't stop myself."

"
Hunter,"
she moaned. A spark went right through my cock because of how desperate she sounded.

Jo fingered herself, moaning obscenely—erotically. My cock was solid in my fist, the friction immense as I stroked myself faster. I needed to come, I needed release or I was going to explode. Or maybe I needed it so I
could
explode.

"Fuck—ah, fuck . . ." I whispered, the two of us no longer talking. We listened to the sounds we made, soaking up and reveling in our obsession with each other. She hadn't even finished yet when the heat started up in my belly.

Flexing my stomach muscles, I bent my hips higher. Furiously I jerked myself, my fingers working my swollen dick until the edge of climax rose up to let me take a dive. And fuck, did I fall.

With a low, throaty moan, I came. My cream went everywhere, hitting the phone screen, too. The buzzing in my cock went on forever, rolling deep into my bone marrow. Breathing heavily, I heard Jo whimper, then squeal.

Looking at my phone, I watched her piston her fingers frantically inside of her pussy. Her thighs shook, toes curling off screen—I knew, because they always curled when she came.

The view changed; she was looking at me, her lips red, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dancing with lingering lust. "How was it?" she asked, smiling. "Did you score?"

Laughing, I stretched out and held the phone above me so she could see the mess. "Babe, I'm pretty sure no one has scored that well in the history of football."

* * *

T
he morning of the game
, I headed to the stadium. Kickoff was at one. I wondered how the Krakens’ pregame rituals would differ from the Hawks’.

When I got to the stadium, some guys were showering, and some were in the training room getting their injuries taped up. It was pretty quiet until I heard music coming from a portable stereo.

“Welcome to game day," the quarter back, Josh, said. "We like to get hyped before hitting the field!”

Coach Bauer never allowed music in the Hawks’ locker room. He said it prevented us from keeping our minds clear. Looking around at all the guys getting pumped for the game reminded me that every team was different, and that every player had the right to own their adrenaline rush however they saw fit.

When it was time to hit the field, I felt better about my life than I had in ages. I had Jo, I still had football. I hoped my dad would watch me play, because I wanted to show him what a mistake he’d made in kicking me off the team.

I felt extra pressure, too, because I was the new guy, because I wanted to prove myself, and because I wanted to impress Jo. It was strange: I used to love winning just because it made me feel powerful. I liked the adoration that came with it.

I realized something as Josh took the snap, ran back a few feet, and catapulted the ball into the air. I realized it again as I lined myself up to catch, watching the Bandits players running toward me, and as I ran as fast as I could toward the end zone.

I realized it as I felt someone jump and tackle me as I just barely outran him, and as I scored the final touchdown of the game.

I was no longer playing for the fans. Barely even for myself.