“You can be my breakfast,” I say, helping her take the bacon out of the frying pan and placing it on the plate with the eggs.
“I think your coach would kill me if you left home with an empty stomach,” she laughs, sitting on the stools by the side of the counter. I sit across her, taking a distracted bite out of a piece of toast as my eyes wander to her breasts. The shirt she has on is too big for her and the top buttons are undone, so I have a nice view of the upper curves of her breasts. I have no idea how I’m going to eat with her looking like this in front of me.
“You know, this is the first time I’m having breakfast like this,” I say, having no idea about why I’m telling her this.
“And by ‘like this’ you mean…?”
“I usually don’t hang around women after fucking them,” I tell her bluntly. Sometimes it’s better to not be a pussy and just call things by their names.
“Uh, I’ll take it as a good sign the fact that you still haven’t kicked me out,” she says with a soft smile. Somehow she knows I won’t do that. Fuck, just look at her; what a change. When she got to the restaurant yesterday she was so nervous I actually thought she might pass out; and now here she is, having breakfast in my kitchen as if she owns the place. She’s a box full of surprises, that’s for sure.
“I might change my mind, you know,” I shoot back at her, but she remains unfazed. She thinks she has me hooked, and fuck, I think I really am hooked.
“That’d be a shame. Last night was really great,” she takes a bite out of her toast, acting so casually it almost seems like she has guys like me banging on her door. I mean, she deserves it, but I seriously doubt there are enough real men to go around.
“It was,” I agree, thinking back to how amazing it felt to have her naked body pressed against mine. “And I can’t wait to repeat it.”
“Well, if you want more of me, you better win your next game.” What’s this? Is she bribing me with sex? I like this;
I like a lot. We’re playing the Chicago Pounders next Sunday and, after what Fiona just said, they don’t have a chance. They’re to be steamrolled, even if I have to do it just by myself.
“You have a deal,” I tell her with a smile. Standing up, I go around the counter and grab her by the hand; I pull her into me, and the moment she’s in my arms I just pick her up from the floor.
“I guess that deal can be delayed for a couple more hours,” she says, still smiling.
“I was thinking the same,” I reply, carrying her toward the stairs. I make the climb toward the upper floor and there I go straight for my bedroom. Once inside, I close the door with my feet and then lay Fiona down on the bed, my lips locked on hers.
I don’t know exactly what it is about her, but I’m starting to think that I don’t want to let go of her.
29
Fiona
“No way!” the girls cry out in unison, and Cody just sneers.
“That’s right,” I flash them a victorious smile. “I told him that if he wanted some more, he had to dominate today.”
“From what you’ve told us, it looks like he has already dominated you pretty good,” Cody grins, his sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I blush, not really knowing what to say, but the girls just ignore Cody, Kim’s stepbrother—or should I say Kim’s man?
“And, you know, how big is he?” Ashley asks me, leaning into me with hungry eyes.
“He’s big. Like, really big,” I tell her, and Cody just sighs heavily, placing his arm over Kim and leaning back in his seat.
“It’s not fair, Ashley,” Becca protests mockingly, “Fee didn’t even want to go the game. Why did Danny ask her out? I’m the die hard Nailers fan, not Fiona.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why he didn’t ask you, have you ever thought about that?” Ashley teases her.
It feels good to be in the Nailers’ stadium again, and surrounded with most of my close friends—Kim and Cody, Ashley, and Becca. Today, instead of the 50-yard-line, we’re sitting in one of the luxury skyboxes up above, a courtesy from Danny. I guess it pays off to be dating the team’s quarterback. Wait—did I really just say we’re dating? Because I’m not sure if we’re exactly dating. I mean, we went on a date and we fucked … It’s probably going to happen again, but I’m not sure if this is all going to blossom into something more. Right now, though, I can’t be bothered to think about the future. It feels good to be here and now.
Down below, the Nailers are kicking ass, again. After massacring the Miami MILFs last week, everyone’s expecting them to repeat that feat with the Chicago Pounders. Even though I’ve never been a big football fan, today I let the ‘game fever’ overtake me. I guess part of it has to do with the promise I made Danny; if he wins today, he’s going to get some. And I think I’m going to have a little surprise for him.
“It seems what you’ve told him is really working…” Becca says, looking down at the field as Danny makes another wild pass from behind the 50-yard-line, sending the ball straight into the hands of the receiver just a few feet shy of the end zone.
“If he keeps playing like this, he’s going to be the MVP this year,” Cody says offhandedly, barely blinking as he watches the game. “I don’t remember the Nailers ever having a season as good as this.”
“Watch out, Fiona,” Kim punches me in the arm playfully, “the league might consider you a performance enhancer.” Yeah, sure, like Danny needs any kind of performance enhancer. Still, I gotta give it to Becca; he’s really crushing it on the field. Is it because of what I’ve told him…? Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is.
“Fuck, he’s on fire,” Cody breathes out, talking to himself, his eyes following Danny as he dashes down the field with the ball clutched against his chest. He runs past a small army of defensive linemen, brushing off whoever tries to hold him down, and then dives head first into the end zone. 23-0 for the Nailers; good luck trying to come back from this, Pounders.