The compliment should make my heart stammer in my chest; instead it makes me feel uneasy, even sick to my stomach. Should I just tell him the truth, let him know I’m a dropout? It takes me two seconds to drop that idea because it’s obvious how much he likes the fact that I’m smart, that I attend—technically attended—an Ivy League college.
“Psychology,” I answer, not really wanting to elaborate.
“Really? Huh, I would never have guessed that.” He really is surprised, it reads all over his face.
“Why not?”
Gah, Sadie. Don’t elaborate on the topic, you’re just asking for further in-depth conversations.
“Because you’re not what some would call a people person. You know, the whole I don’t need more friends than what I already have. It’s hard to imagine you actually want to sit down and listen to people talk about their problems.”
When he puts it that way, he’s right. I don’t want to sit and listen to people’s problems, that doesn’t interest me at all.
“Child psychology.” If there is a slight chance I can give kids a chance to heal, the chance I never got at a young age, then I would feel accomplished. Although, I guess it’s too late for that now.
He makes a knowing sound as his lips form an O in understanding, but then he pauses and tilts his head to the side, studying me. Normally his stare wouldn’t bother me, but in this moment, it makes me feel raw and exposed, as if I’m naked in front of thousands of people and they’re seeing the inner workings of my being.
I hate it.
“Sadie—”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “Don’t, okay? Don’t ask any more questions.”
Disappointment flashes over his features. This is just as hard on him as it is on me. “Can you just tell me one thing?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Were you ever abused as a kid?”
I shake my head and rest my hand on his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart against my palm. He’s worked up . . . on my behalf. “No, nothing like that.”
Although, sometimes I feel like I was abused as a kid, metaphorically kicked in the heart repeatedly by my mom. She was untrustworthy, manipulative, and selfish. She put our family through hell, adopting her own way of living, selling drugs, putting our family under the spotlight, only to have our house raided many times by drug lords and cops. She fucked with us, split our family apart, ruined my father—turning him into a puddle of a man—and destroyed any semblance of a normal childhood.
No, I wasn’t abused. I was mentally and emotionally fucked over. If there was one thing my mom taught me it was this: Never be vulnerable or give power to another human. Because they might try to decimate my life too.
Resigned, he pulls on my arms until I’m lying on top of him, my head against his shoulder. He holds me—tight—until we both fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter Eighteen
Andrew
“What are you doing, pretty girl?” I ask just as Sadie sits down at the little two-person table across from the counter of the fountain. My workspace is small but there is just enough room past the register for two tables in case customers wanted to sit down and eat their ice cream but not sit in the dining area.
Sadie places a plate on the table as well as a drink and sits down. “I’m eating my dinner, what does it look like?”
Even though it’s past five, the fountain area is slow, so I lean on the counter and talk to my girl. “Looks like you’re sticking close to me. Trying to get in some flirting on your break.”
She sticks a piece of broccoli in her mouth and shakes her head as she chews. “No, Michelle said there was a good show over here tonight so I thought I’d try to catch it. So far, the man candy is subpar.”
My eyebrows rise in question. “Subpar?” The printer goes off, indicating an incoming ticket. “Baby, there is nothing subpar about me.” I turn away, giving her the best view of my backside that I can.
Subpar, my ass. I’ll give her something to remember, something to carry on through the rest of the night. I snag the ticket from the printer and stick it in the ticket holder. A classic peanut butter cup sundae; easy. Knowing my arms are porn for Sadie, especially my forearms, I roll my short sleeves over my shoulders to show off my biceps, and then seductively snap on some sanitary gloves, making sure to exaggerate my movements.
“Oh my God.” Sadie giggles from the side. “What the hell are you trying to do?”
I turn my hat around so she can get a good look at my face, trying to give off bad-boy ice cream-scooper vibes and grab hold of an ice cream scoop. In the background, the classic song, “My Girl” is playing, giving me a good, slow base to work my moves with.
Really wanting to give her a show, I twist my feet together and then do a spin right in the middle of the fountain area, pulling out all the moves. When I face her again, I Magic Mike her ass and pelvic thrust in her direction while holding the scoop by my crotch. Her eyes grow wide with each movement, a smirk playing on her lips.
“You like that?” I ask, really feeling my groove.
“Oh yeah, you’ve got it going on, big boy.”
“I fucking know it.” I prop my arm up so she can see it over the counter and point my palm down while holding the ice cream scoop like I’m holding a weight. With the beat of the song, a little dance in my step, and a bob to my head, I start to do a reverse wrist curl, flexing every muscle in my arm with the lift. Oh yeah, this is doing the trick. Keep it up, Andrew, looking fucking good. I look over at Sadie, doing the perfect interpretation of the white man’s overbite and ask, “What do you think? Hot?”
Sadie goes to answer when a booming voice startles the fuck out of me, causing me to drop my ice cream scoop and cover my ears. “Andrew, what the hell are you doing? Scoop the damn ice cream.” Stuart stands angrily in the fountain area, his eyes staring me down.
Scrambling for the scoop, I pick it up and bring it to the sink to rinse. “Uh, yeah, just warming up for scooping. A proper warm-up is important, don’t want to kink my wrist out,” I mutter.
“Just scoop the damn ice cream,” he says and then walks away.
The minute he disappears, Sadie erupts in laughter, practically falling out of her chair.
“Yeah, laugh it up.” A wave of embarrassment snakes up my spine, sending my ears into what feels like a pit of fire.
“Oh . . . my . . . God.” She’s panting, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed, I might find it kind of hot, but I was past the point of being turned on given Stuart scared my penis into the wrinkles of my scrotum. She wipes at her eyes, legit tears leaking out of her. It wasn’t that fucking funny.
Making sure the coast is clear, I lean over the counter and hiss at her. “That was fucking terrifying. You could show me a little compassion.”
She shakes her head. More tears streaming down her face. “The look on your face.” She erupts in laughter. “Oh my God, that will forever be branded in my brain.”
“Maybe you should go eat your dinner somewhere else,” I suggest and then grab a sundae glass. The show is fucking over.
“Now why would I do that when I can stare at your ass for the next twenty minutes?”
I shake my head as I scoop ice cream into the glass, making sure to flare the bottom so it fits. “Don’t try to score brownie points now.”
Once I’m done scooping, I lean close to her and pause. “I have to know, though. That was hot, right? Seeing me flex that ice cream scoop like that?”
The smile on her face. Yep, the humiliation was all worth it. I’ve always been a prankster. Being the youngest son, it was my survival method with two older brothers. But this? Seeing Sadie smile and laugh so easily? So freely? Worth it. Might have to rein in the scoop flexing from now on though. I do want to keep my job, after all.
“I’ve never seen anything as sexy as you wrist curling that ice cream scoop.”
“Yeah?” I lift an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah. Like a flood in my panties,” she whispers, mirth i
n her voice.
“Hell, yeah. Sadie Tsunami Shorts, I like it.”
She swats in my direction. “Don’t call me that.”
I hold up my hands before pumping some peanut butter sauce on the sundae. “Hey, you were the one saying you were practically coming in your panties at work. I’m just making it sound prettier than lady jizzing.”
Shaking her head, she stands and grabs her plate. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I should go.” There is a light smirk on her face so I know she’s only teasing.
I top the sundae with whipped cream and a cherry and then set it on the counter with its ticket. I then turn to Sadie and point at her. “Sit that fine ass down or I will stand on this counter and helicopter my dick for the dining area to see while saying my penis belongs to you.” Please say no. Please say no. Cannon Cock was one thing. Helicopter Dick would ruin me. Well, unless Sadie was doing the riding . . .
Studying me for a second, she starts moving away from the table and says, “Now this I’ve got to see.”
Laughing, I point at the chair and say, “Just sit down, fucking sassy woman.”
***
“Aw, you’re so cute,” Sadie says as she walks into my house and takes in the living room.
I shrug my shoulders and pull her in for a kiss. “Cute is okay, sexy, hot, even boulder balls with the cobblestone cock are better.”
“I’m not calling you boulder balls.”
I kiss the top of her head and chuckle. “So does that mean I can’t call you bedrock boobies?”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “No. And what’s with the rock names? Did you read an article about the earth’s rubble or something?”
“Geological formations actually. National Geographic did an entire piece on it. Fascinating shit, I can send you the link if you want.”
She places her hand on my chest and shakes her head. “I’m good, but you’re sweet for asking.” I sniff the air, yeah, that’s sarcasm at its finest. She glances around again and asks, “Are those corn dogs?”
Taking in the spread below us on the coffee table, I nod. “Homemade, just for my baby.”
The look of shock on her face warms my heart. “Seriously? You made homemade corn dogs?”
“No.” I laugh, and she swats my chest. “But it was cute seeing your astonished face. Walmart was having a sale so I went big. Nothing is too much for my girl.” I gesture to the couch and join her, pulling out the cooler by the coffee table. “Beer?”
“Please.”
I dig into the cooler and pull out two beers, popping the tops off both bottles before I hand her one. “I think we’ve got everything.” I scan her up and down, taking in her Yankees apparel. Damn, she looks fine. The tight-fitting pinstripe jersey she has on is doing all kinds of funny things to my dick, as well as the incredibly revealing shorts she’s wearing. If I weren’t holding my beer right now, I would stand and slow-clap her outfit for all mankind. “You look good.”
“From the way your tongue is hanging out of your mouth, I could tell you thought so.” She giggles to herself which only makes my shorts grow tighter and tighter at the crotch.
Trying to distract myself from the—let’s be real, erection in the room—I say, “Our first Yankees game together. Granted it’s not in the stadium, but we have Derek Jeter with us,” I gesture to my life-size cut-out I brought downstairs for the occasion, “we have stadium-style food, and front-row seats to the TV. Plus, if we want to make this night really memorable, we can blindfold Derek, strip down, and watch the game naked. I have a bat and balls in my pants, and you have a glove, we could play our own little game of baseball.”
She twists in her seat. “Are you referring to my vagina as a glove?”
“It sucks objects in, doesn’t it? Pretty sure if I could stick my hand in it like a puppet, I could get it to catch a few things. Vagina glove.” The visual I’m developing in my head has me chuckling to myself. Vagina glove. All I can see are two flappy labia lips catching ball after ball. Classic.
“I suggest you say something other than vagina glove to keep me from walking out of this little date you planned.”
Shit, I’m losing her. Abort vagina glove.
“Err, your hair looks nice.”
Giving me a knowing side-eye look, she leans back on the sofa and takes a sip of her beer. “Decent save, but you still have some making up to do.”
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for that.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, which grants me a genuine eye-roll. Hey, she’s still sitting next to me, so I’ll take it.
I lean back on the sofa with her and link my hand with hers. She smiles up at me and leans her shoulder against mine. Fuck, I like this girl.
“Thanks for having me over.”
I kiss the side of her head. “Anytime, baby.”
As the players are introduced and we listen to the Yankees announcer, Michael Kay, talk about the starting line-up, we enjoy each other’s company, playfully feeding each other mini corn dogs and Cracker Jacks. It’s nauseating how cute we are together, but fuck if I’m complaining.
By the fourth inning, food has been eaten, beers have been consumed, and the Yankees are down by two. Sadie now sits on my lap, a little off to the side so I can wrap my arm around her waist and still see the TV.
“Gah, seriously, take him out already, Girardi,” Sadie yells at the TV. Is it weird that her passion turns me on? Fuck it, I don’t care. It’s rare I find someone as passionate about the Yankees as I am. “Mendez couldn’t find the strike zone if it was a foot away and he was trying to stick his dick in it.”
She’s so poetic. I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever sat and watched a baseball game with a girl before. Mae doesn’t count. Sadie just seems to speak my language. Gone is the girl with the darkened, broken heart. Gone is the girl with secrets. What I feel I have is the real Sadie. A girl who is vibrant, passionate, intelligent, and astute. She’s completely confident in this environment. At ease. And I really like that. Even though she’s made it clear we are just a fun time, it’s impossible to deny that kernel of desire that says, “I want to keep her.” But I’m not really sure she is someone who can be kept.
Oh, what the fuck was that pitch?
“Why is it the best team in baseball history can’t get their shit together when it comes to pitching? I swear it feels like every year we struggle on the mound. Oh sure, we have some heavy hitters, but the pitching . . . Christ.”
“I know,” Sadie says, snuggling in closer. “Brian Cashman should be fired. He’s been the Yankees General Manager for far too long. Time for some new blood.”
“You speak my language, baby.” I kiss her shoulder just as Mendez walks another batter.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She turns on my lap so we’re facing each other and without notice, starts unbuttoning her jersey. Her hips begin to rock back and forth. Well, that’s one way to create an erection in record time.
Her jersey hangs open as she pops the front clasp of her bra so her boobs are exposed, swaying inches from my face. Fuck, this is one awesome way to watch the game. Yep, I think it’s my favorite way now.
With zero finesse, she grips my head and starts kissing me, her tongue diving right in, showing no mercy in her anger against the Yankees.
“I hate when the Yankees lose,” she mutters.
I’ve been a Yankees fan my entire life, but if this is what happens to me when the Yankees are losing, then may they never win another fucking game ever again. If she wants to take it out on me, I’m more than happy to oblige.
I rest my hands on her hips to help her rock, loving how she has no shame in a little dry humping.
“Aren’t you mad?” she asks.
Mad? Uh, she’s riding my cock right now, how can I be mad . . .
Oh, the Yankees, right.
“Pissed,” I answer on a short breath, buying into her little tirade.
“Me too.” She kisses down my neck and starts scooting off my body until she’s between my leg
s and unbuckling my pants. My cock presses against the zipper, begging for release. From my seat on the couch, I watch in fascination as Sadie finally undoes my zipper and pulls out my hardened length. She gives me no chance to enjoy the moment, as she shoves my dick so fast in her mouth and starts sucking that I nearly leap off the couch.
Holy. Fuck.
She works her mouth back and forth, scraping her teeth along the skin, causing me to sweat. With one hand, she pulls on my balls just enough that I’m almost about to yelp and beg for more all at the same time.
Relentless. That’s what she is. Sucking so fucking hard, licking, nipping, scraping, pulling. She’s doing it all, and before I know it, my hips are flexing up toward her mouth, my mind starts to go blank, and my dick is throbbing so fucking hard I’m about to explode.
With her teeth, she lightly runs them along the head of my cock just as she presses a finger in that special spot. I black out as my legs seize on me, my hips losing all control as they pound toward Sadie’s face. Hot spurts spring free. Sadie pumps me until I’m completely spent. Fuck. Fucking hell, that was so beyond hot. I feel only two things: the light brush of Sadie’s hair against my thighs and the residual throbbing of my cock.
Leisurely, Sadie licks my cock while looking up at me. She leans forward and presses a kiss against my lips. “Mmm, I feel better now.” Meanwhile, I’m still completely speechless.
What just happened?
As if she didn’t just break my world in half with that orgasm, she sits next to me on the couch and takes a sip of her beer, her top half still exposed.
Uh . . .
Pants down, dong out, I look over at her, bewildered as to what just happened, and before I can ask, she glances down at her crotch and then back at me. “Do I need to ask?” She spreads her legs, indicating what she wants to happen next and I have no problem jumping on the invitation.
Table for one at Sadie’s pussy, don’t mind if I fucking do.
***
“I love it here.” Sadie leans back against my chest, my arms wrapped around her, and her head resting against my shoulder.