Hothead (Irresistible 4)

If just the hard-ons Evie gave me felt this good then I needed to know what it was like to be inside her. I needed to feel her all wet and warm and stretched tight around my cock. I had already felt the heat of her pussy near my fingertips yesterday when I was squeezing her ass – and considering the pure torture that had been, I didn’t know why I was reliving the moment on repeat this morning. Though if it wasn’t that, it was the cute little look on her face when s

he stared at my hard-on like she’d never seen a dick before in her life.

Long story short, I wanted to fuck her over every surface of my house, and I seriously couldn’t imagine having to goddamned live with her soon. Just the thought of waking up this hard and knowing she was in some nightie down the hall made me want to quit this whole deal on the spot.

Of course, just thinking the word “quit” made the fucking Nike brain kick in and instantly hammer a million motivational quotes into my head. Never quit. No pain, no gain. You are your own limit.

So I jacked off.

I replayed the image of the sun beaming through her skirt and showing me the shape of her thighs. I remembered the softness of her skin as I was squeezing her knee. I pictured those perky tits bouncing in my face as she rode the hell out of my cock. I wound up coming faster than I probably ever had, but even after that, I was wound tight.

Still thinking of her.

You’re a fucking madman.

I was convinced I’d be fine if she was just some knockout I met at a bar on the road. I could force myself to forget her. But I was stuck with Evie for the next three months, and it made me irrationally annoyed with her. I was legitimately bitter and pissed at her as I lay in bed fantasizing about what she looked like in her hotel room right now.

I imagined that tight body sleeping naked on a big bed. I imagined that tanned skin glowing against the white sheets she was probably tangled in.

The second I started fantasizing about that pussy again, I grabbed my phone.

ME: Remind me why I can’t sleep with her

I sent the text to Iain before thinking it through. I didn’t have the ability to think anyway. The blood was taking its time to return to my head.

IAIN: Aside from the fact that contracts are binding you promised me as both a client and a friend.

ME: We’re friends?

IAIN: Ha.

IAIN: In case you forgot I was literally your only friend four years ago when you decided to wage a war against the whole league.

We were delving into subject matter I generally avoided or flat-out ignored when brought up, but I went for it today. At least it was making my dick go down.

ME: To be fair the war was with just my team. I only wanted to see Los Angeles burn.

IAIN: Yeah well it doesn’t look great for the league when you’re trying to file a lawsuit against your own team. AFTER missing a five weeks of your season with them because of the whole Lillard incident.

Fuck. I tossed my phone aside at the mention of Tim Lillard. There was my limit.

I couldn’t think about Tim or any of the Lillards right now. It was a sore subject on a regular basis but my fight against L.A was still fresh in my mind, and it had started because of Cody Bryce taunting me about skipping Pattie’s funeral.

Breathe, I told myself. Staring at the ceiling, I inhaled, exhaled and tried my best to remember all the shit Diaz said when he tried teaching me meditation.

It didn’t work but on the bright side, I’d officially gone soft.

So there was that.

There was also the fact that I was three days from my next start. That meant that I had a bullpen session today with my pitching coach Lou Dickerson, and anytime I was on the mound, I wasn’t thinking about anything but my delivery.

So I focused on that.

I got to the stadium and managed to clear my mind during stretches, which was followed by some good throwing in the bullpen, then shagging flies during BP. By the time the game started, I felt like myself again. I had some actual peace of mind, and it was a huge fucking relief.

Of course, that relief didn’t last long because somewhere between the fifth and sixth innings, the sidewalk dick pics from yesterday’s date hit the Internet.

I knew something was up when a couple of drunk girls sitting over the dugout got booted for yelling at me to fuck them with that big dick. Just minutes after that, Ty pointed at the curvy blonde along the first base line that all the guys had been staring at all game. Apparently she had written a new message on the back of her sign. Originally, it had been “MARRY ME MADDOX.” Now it was “WOW DREW!!! SHOW ME THAT BIG BAT!”