Page 166 of Curveball

Michel fixes my lipstick for the tenth time, and we finally make our way out of the dressing room and into the studio. A middle-aged man with a camera around his neck throws his hands in the air. In French-accented English, he shouts, “Finally. Ballplayers are the worst.” He eyes Quincy. “With Abbotts being the most difficult of them all.”

Quincy raises an eyebrow, but the man simply smiles at him. “I’m Francois. I’ve photographed your sister in the past.”

I can’t help but be excited. “I’ve heard of you. You photographed theirSports Illustratedcover last year.”

He enthusiastically nods. “I did, and they, too, couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I expect better behavior from you two.”

Quincy winks. “Unlikely. My wife is hot.”

“Ex-wife,” I correct.

He mumbles, “We’ll see about that.”

Francois smiles at me. “Tu es belle.”You are beautiful.

I smile in gratitude, remembering a little bit of French.

I step on a green carpet area with a green screen. I learned last time that they can practically superimpose any backdrop they want. The wonders of modern technology.

The photo session begins, and Francois snaps away. This doesn’t come naturally to me, but I’m doing my best to channel my inner sex goddess. The bulge in Quincy’s pants and his twitching fingers only serve to embolden me further.

They’ve got me holding my glove and a softball all while wearing the lingerie. It’s kind of a ridiculous combination, but it’s not my shoot to run. They’re paying me an insane amount of money to do it. I’m their puppet for the next few hours.

After a while, Francois tells me that he’s changing cameras and to have a sip of water as he does so. As soon as his assistant takes one step in my direction with a bottle, Quincy snatches it away from him and walks my way.

He stalks at me before unscrewing the top, slipping in a straw, and handing me the bottle for a sip.

“Let’s get out of here. I want you.”

Before I can bother to respond, Francois shouts, “No, no, no. I know where this is headed. Step away from le belle femme.”

An idea occurs to me. “Francois, Quincy is wearing the brand underneath his clothes.” I know he wears their boxer briefs. “Why don’t we do this together? I can’t imagine they’ll be upset to have Quincy Abbott model the brand.”

I make eye contact with the company representative standing in the wings. There’s no way he’ll pass up on this.

Francois turns to him, and he enthusiastically nods.

Quincy gives me his crooked smile. “Was this your plan all along?”

I bite my lip. “Maybe.” Placing the glove and ball down, I run my hands up his chest. “Let’s show Layton and Arizona that they’re not the only hot ticket in town.”

Quincy’s blue eyes light up. “I like the way you think, Shortcake. Undress me.”

I nod toward Francois, letting him know he should start shooting, which he immediately does. I slowly remove Quincy’s T-shirt before running my hands down his chest and abs until they reach his belt buckle.

I’m aware of flashes going off, but I’m lost in the lust of this moment. I can feel my body flushing with desire.

Once his jeans are removed, Quincy stands in front of me in nothing but his boxer briefs, a smile, and a giant boner.

I can’t help but giggle. “You better keep your back to the camera, Abbott.”

He nods as he slowly kisses his way down my body until he’s on his knees in front of me, kissing my hips and stomach over and over again. An assistant hands me my glove and a softball again.

I take in the scene before me. The teenage Ripley would laugh at this, never believing it could be my reality. I’m modeling sexy lingerie. My forever dream man is on his knees in front of me, worshiping my body. All while dozens of people run around fiddling with lighting, taking photos, and making this day just plain perfect.

Francois showed us some of the photos on his computer before we left for the day. I couldn’t get over them. I’ve never felt sexier or more desired.

And the way Quincy attacked me when we got home. I can’t help but audibly moan at the memories of our evening. He was like an animal.

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