Sacking The Player

“Well, let’s get on home, your dad is starving. And you know what he’s like when he gets hungry. It’s not a pretty sight.” Mom releases Tate with a tight smile.

“You think I’m nuts with my food, you just wait,” I whisper to Tate as we follow my mom to the car. My dad is literally a beast when he’s hungry. I remember once he was starving and he kicked everyone out of the kitchen. The people who were actually cooking food, because he needed something right then and there. Slamming pans, swearing at the fridge. He’s nuts. Just nuts. He is the reason the word hangry exists. And if he doesn’t get his way, he will put himself to bed. I swear, he’s four years old most days.

When we get to the house, Mom is in super annoying mode. We haven’t even gotten our bags to our rooms and she is pulling out her ridiculous sweaters. “Sweetheart,” she says, smiling. “I got your new sweater.”

Tate busts out laughing as she holds the disaster up. Every year my mom has these ugly ass Christmas sweaters made for us to take family photos in for the next year’s holiday cards. I groan. It looks like an elf puked on it. In the center is a puffy painted Christmas tree with presents under it. There’s even sequins and gemstones on it.

My dad grins and wipes Tate’s smile off his face when he holds up an even uglier one and says, “Don’t worry, Tate. I got you covered.”

“Go on, let us see, put them on now,” Mom orders.

I smile at Tate and he looks frozen in horror.

“Told you,” I singsong, taking his sweater from Dad and shoving it into his chest. “Put it on, hotshot.”

He shakes his head with a low growl, and I keep smiling at him. He goes to put it over his tee and it’s so tight, like at least a size too small. I bet my dad did this on purpose. Tate flexes his bicep and the sweater rips as his muscles bulge.

I lose it. I can’t stop laughing and all Mom can say is, “Oh dear.”

**

Dinner is bad. Well to me, Tate is amused by it all. Dad has been quiet, thoughtful throughout our meal, but my mom won’t shut up. I swear if she tries to give me blow job techniques one more time, I’m going to shove the butter knife through my eye.

“Please someone, just kill me,” I mutter. Tate squeezes my leg under the table and chuckles.

“You have to relax the throat, but no matter how many times I tell Amaya this, it doesn’t work. Have you seen her try to take a pill? Not even one of those pills that you can barely see. She gags. Just awful at it.” Mom continues, “I really hope she doesn’t gag when she’s doing the business, because that would be a turn off.”

“Mom please, please, please, shut up!” I snap. “I don’t need to get blow job advice, or any other sexual advice from you. Nasty. Just nasty. Do you want me to disappear to some uncharted island and never speak or see you ever again? Because, I will do it. I swear.”

“I was just trying to help,” she grumbles, glaring at me.

“Well, I don’t need your help. Trust me.”

Wrong thing to say obviously, because her face lights up again. Sighing I stand up from my chair, so over trying to finish eating. “I’m going to watch TV, if you want to save yourself from the nutcase that is my mother, you need to come with me, now,” I say to Tate, holding my hand out to him, hoping he’ll come along.

“Dinner was informative,” he says, grinning like an idiot. “Thank you,” he tells my crazy mother and takes my hand.

“You two don’t do anything we wouldn’t,” my mom calls out, and I roll my eyes, pulling Tate to the TV room.

**

My parents went to bed an hour ago, and I’m enjoying having Tate to myself in the hot tub. We haven’t gotten much alone time since we arrived. My mom seems love Tate even more than me. She has been hogging him, showing him off to her friends. She even took him to work with her this morning to show him off to her colleagues. My dad even loves him, and he doesn’t ever think any guy is good enough for me. I am in shock, well, not because of Tate. He is sort of perfect, but my parents it’s just all crazy to me that they have gone gaga for him.

We exchanged gifts earlier today. I bought Tate a smart watch and he bought me a matching infinity bracelet and necklace. My parents surprised us with tickets for a cruise scheduled during our spring break. I was excited for the trip, until I found out they were going with us. Even that isn’t enough to ruin this perfect day for me though.

“This is the best Christmas,” I tell him, truly meaning it. Tate has been so amazing and just going along with whatever my parents throw his way. He has taken it all in stride. Things are moving along great and Keith has left me alone ever since Tate sent him that text message at dinner after my performance.

“I love you, Amaya,” he whispers against my lips, his thumb pushing at my bikini top. My nipple pops out and he growls. “Fuck, I want you.”

I slide into his lap, straddling him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

I can feel his erection, and I grind against him, craving the friction as he thrusts his hips up, giving me what I want.

“Oh, yes,” I cry out, as he slides a finger inside me. “I need you, Tate.”

“You want me, you have me.” His forehead is resting against mine as I ride his hand.

“You aren’t supposed to do that in the hot tub, you can get chemical burns on your privates.” My mom.