Page 5 of My First and Only Crush

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how she took it. Why she took it, why her Instagram is so private and moody when Sinclaire is sunshine personified in person.

As always when I’m getting close, I push the scene I’m looking at into a fantasy that matches the one real moment I have—her throwing herself into my arms.

I stare at the dark room where she recorded the podcast. Imagine sitting in the shadows, waiting for my girl to be done with her interview.

Watching her disconnect, then push away from wherever she’s sitting—a desk? A counter?—and twisting around, beaming at me.

All done.

That’s my girl. Come here and Daddy will give you a reward.

She flies across the dimly lit room, bringing her light and sweetness with her. I get all warm inside as I feel her soft weight land against me, arms going around my neck, breasts against my chest.

I take her mouth fiercely, giving her my tongue, showing her how to give me hers right back.

God, the things I want to do to her. My fantasies are chaotic fever dreams of primal impulses.

I want to kiss her like I want to fuck her, with everything I have. A bull finally let loose in a sunny pasture.

I want to climb on top of the most off-limits girl in the world and seed her over and over again..

Fuck, I shouldn’t even have that thought about the daughter of my current manager, my former teammate, my once and always mentor.

On the other hand—probably the same fist choking the base of my cock with the same strength that will send me to the Hall of Fame on the first ballot—I’ve made it to the final game of the World Fucking Series, having one of the best seasons of my entire career, jacking it the thought of putting a baby in the coach’s very grown up girl.

So while I can’t ever tell Jeff what changed this year, I’m not going to stop.

Yeah, that’s why your balls are heavy and aching. Because ofsport.

I groan and close my eyes, my phone falling to my chest. I drag that hand down to my sac and squeeze.

No, it’s not because of some superstitious winning hope. I make myself come for Sinclaire because all it took was a single, haunting glance and I knew she was the only girl I’d ever want.

The universe is fucking cruel, delivering me my soul mate in the form of the little girl who I once taught to ride a horse—dropping her back into my life a twenty-four-year-old bombshell.

Twenty-five, now. Sixteen years younger than me.

Today is her birthday.

Seed slicks the crown of my erection and I swipe my thumb through it, circling it to the stretched lip of my foreskin and the sensitive ridge of flesh just beneath that.

Happy birthday, Sinclaire. I’m gonna win you the World Series tonight. Then I’m going to track you down and find out how to make you less sad.

CHAPTER4

SINCLAIRE

There are fifty thousand people in this stadium. Nine players on the other team, spread out across the diamond, all focused on getting one more out.

One more out and our team will win the World Series. We have a runner on second base. He is the tying run, if the man at bat can drive him home.

Andthatman is my entire world, not that he knows it.

My heart is in my throat as Trick settles into his batting stance. He’s built like a majestic oak, with heavy thighs and a thick core, taller than everyone else around him, even on a baseball diamond.

I tug my hat low over my eyes, trying to block everyone else out. All I want to see is him, which is hard when I’m sitting all the way up in the nosebleed section and there are thousands of people in my line of sight.

The last eight months have been a deeply chaotic, emotional ride. Staying away from the team has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I can’t even pretend that I’m not obsessed with the star slugger on my father’s baseball team. It became a running joke during my internship, how I’d find a way to work Trick into way too many conversations.

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