Page 52 of Sideline Play

“Kid, you’ve known me for how many years now? When have I ever talked to Scarlet like that or acted as if she’s incapable of making her own choices? But good on you for sticking to your guns and not hesitating when it came to picking her. I came to terms with the fact that she would end up with one of my players long ago. Realistically speaking, where was she going to meet someone if not at The Nest? And of all the players I’ve had as teammates or coached, there hasn’t been one I have felt could be more worthy of her love than you. You’re a good man, Remington. Your mama would be proud of you.”

Clearing his throat, Remi says, “Thanks… that uh… excuse me,” he coughs. “That means a lot to me.”

With the cat out of the bag, I scoot myself into Remington’s lap, his arm coming around my hip as he stoops himself to rest his chin on my shoulder.

“Okay, but how did you know?”

Laughing he asks, “Are you serious? Did you two honestly think you were keeping things secret? I’m not blind. I’ve been watching this slowly unfold since May—probably longer. When the two of you are in the vicinity of each other, it’s like nothing and no one else exists. It’s all blushing cheeks and dopey eyes. Fuck, Remington can’t even bat anymore without first looking to where you are, which made roadgames hell when you went back to school in August. Not to mention, you’ve literally become his whole pregame ritual. He can’t take the field until he’s talked to you. That boy’s entire world has been revolving around you for months.

“As for you, Princess, there’s no other word for it. You glow when he’s around. You’re always happy, but with his eyes on you, you’re like the fucking sun. I don’t know how else to explain it, but he makes you come alive in a way I haven’t seen in years.

“But aside from that, let’s see,” he says, lifting his fingers as he begins to tick things off. “Both sides of the bed have clearly been slept in, your lips look swollen, you have a hickey on your neck, one of yourtoysis sitting out on the nightstand, and that’s just off the top of my head and from today alone. So again I ask, are you keeping up with your birth control and do you have enough packs to last until you return to Nashville, or should I have Watson send a script?”

“We’re not even having sex!” I shout, my face flush with embarrassment. “But yes, I take it every night and still have two unopened cycles. Believe me, Dad, there are no plans for me to actually get pregnant yet.”

Raising his hands up in surrender, Dad says, “You know what? I don’t even wanna know. Scarlet, I love you, and I’ll see you at Thanksgiving. Remington, you’re as good as family at this point, so welcome to the chaos, son.” Then before either of us can respond, the call ends.

Tossing my phone to the side, I groan, “What is wrong with me?” flopping forward.

“You just have sex on the brain is all, baby girl.”

Hands on my back, he pushes my shirt up, pulling it over my head so I’m naked once more. Massaging my breasts and down my sides, he grips my hips and flips me over, my legs immediately falling open for him.

Reaching into the night stand, he grabs a toy at random and says, “Let’s see what one of my new best friends and I can do to help you with that,” playing with my body until I’m squirting for him all over again.

TWENTY-TWO

REMINGTON

I’ve heardthe guys on the team talk about how much of a beast Scarlet is. How, for someone so tiny, she packs a serious punch and will have you crawling by the end of a session. Her reputation amongst the players as a take no prisoner sort of trainer is a large part of how I knew she was holding back with my recovery. But as another drop of sweat falls from my face to join the pool on the mat in front of me, my breath all but gone, and muscles screaming at me as I continue to hold my position, I have to agree with her brother—she's an angel crafted in Lucifer’s image. Long gone is my sweet and dirty girl who calls me Daddy and begs so prettily for my cum. In her place is a she-demon who’s currently taunting me from her perch on my back as she sips her coffee.

“Tate, baby,” she coos, the demon in her masquerading as the woman I love. “I thought you said you bench more than I weigh. Why are you beginning to shake?” Rattling her tumbler as all she gets on her next sip is ice, she leans over my shoulders and kisses my drenched temple, instructing, “Rest. I’m going to get more.”

Pride is the only thing keeping me in position as she gets up and leaves, but the second I hear her pink sneakers hit the stairs,I collapse. When I said this woman would be the death of me, I had thought sexually because, for the first time in my life, I have someone with a drive as high as mine and whose mind is as open. But no, she’s going to kill me, literally, through training.

Rolling onto my back, I lift my arm up and tap the screen of my watch, groaning at how much time is left in our session. Bringing up my messages, I dictate, “Roman, how do you feel about exorcism? Because your sister is clearly possessed.”

Today 11:25 AM

Gatekeeper

????????????

Pussy

Remington

????????????

I’m coming back from surgery. What’s your excuse?

Gatekeeper

Boohoo ?? I fucked up my hip and now I’m getting my ass kicked by a little girl who wears glitter sneakers ??????

Remington

Imma tell her you said that ??

---