Page 150 of Off Season

I pull the ring box out of my pocket. I open it in such a manner that the giant ring inside will be easily photographed, which it immediately is. “You are the peanut butter to my jelly. The salt to my pepper. The root beer to my float. The Mary Kate to my Ashley. The Bert to my Ernie. The Thelma to my Louise. The Cagney to my Lacey. The Joey to my Chandler. The Rose to my Jack. And the delicious cream in my morning coffee.” She bites back her smile as I plead, “Please do me the honor of being my forever partner. Marry me.”

She pretends to examine the ring and then yells out, “Is that a Francisco Lane ring?”

I loudly reply, “Why yes, it is. It’s six-point-five carats. Perfect clarity. Princess cut. One of a kind.”

She brings her lips into a tight O as sheanswers, “Ooh. So tempting, only because of this spectacular ring. And I do love being the Cagney to your Lacey.”

We both smile at each other before she continues, “But no. My answer is still no. I’m more of a loner, like Albert Einstein or Edward Scissorhands. Maybe try again…tomorrow.”

And that’s what happens for the next three months. Every single day that we’re both in the same city, which is just about half the time, I find elaborate, outrageously worded ways to publicly propose to Kamryn. Always with a different Francisco Lane ring and always with an inevitable response of no from Kamryn.

It took less than a week for everyone to assume the first proposal was a huge publicity stunt to set up this marketing campaign for Francisco Lane Jewelry. Analysts are calling it the greatest marketing ploy of all time.

Kam and I have actually been having a blast coming up with crazy ways for me to propose. It’s become a social media phenomenon for people to both catch videos of my multiple public proposals per week and for people to come up with even crazier proposals than the ones we come up with and tag us on their social media. It’s always met by a clever denial from the woman.#ProposeLikeCheetahand#DenyLikeKamare the top two trending hashtags.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHEETAH

Ilift my head from between Kamryn’s legs just before her orgasm is about to crest. With a face full of her juices, I ask, “Will you marry me?”

She groans out, “Ahhh. I hate you. Finish the job, dickhead.”

I chuckle as she pushes my head down and get back to business.

What turned into a three-month contract with Francisco Lane Jewelry ended two weeks ago, but I keep asking her to marry me every single day. At least now I can do it in private. I try to find the most inopportune or random times just to drive her crazy.

The originally planned first month of our constant fake proposals was so outrageously successful that Francisco Lane Jewelry ended up paying Kam and me a small fortune to continue the charade. I’m not sure I would have wanted to accept their proposal, but it was huge money for Kam, and I didn’t want her to miss out on the opportunity.Unfortunately, softball players make a lot less money than baseball players.

The Cougars lost in the National League Championship Series. We were one win away from making it back to the World Series, but our bullpen buckled under the pressure. Not Quincy. He had two wins in the series and might very well win his first Cy Young Award this year, awarded to the best pitcher in each of the two leagues. It was our relief pitchers who let us down.

The silver lining was that I got to watch all of Kamryn’s championship series games. The Anacondas swept the best-of-five series, winning in only three games. Kamryn hit seven home runs in that stretch and was awarded the championship’s Most Valuable Player. I rewarded her by marching out onto the field and dropping to my knee for our final public proposal. By that point, the crowds simply laughed when I did it and then cheered her on as she rejected me in glorious fashion. They often encouraged her to reject me.

Somehow the whole marketing ploy not only helped the jeweler and Kam’s momentarily damaged reputation, but it also helped the Anacondas and Kam from a marketing perspective. The Anacondas are getting more attention than ever. Kam is now the poster child for girl power. Daily rejections of a professional baseball player apparently make you a bit of a cult hero. Modeling and endorsement offers are pouring in for her. She’s going to have a very busy off-season this year.

After she orgasms, I slide up her body and immediately enter her. I grab a pillow and shove it under her hips. The angle makes my tip hit directly into her G-spot. It drives her wild.

My mouth captures hers in a searing kiss as our tongues tangle with need. I grab her feet, spread her wide open, and run my fingers through her toes as I pound into her.

She breaks the kiss. “What in the fresh fuck is this move?”

I smile into her mouth. “It feels good, doesn’t it? It’s intimate.”

“I swear to god, you have more tools in your tool bag than any man on this planet.”

“Por eso tu coño me pertenece.”That is why your pussy belongs to me.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her back arches, and she yells out, “Ahh, here I go again.”

Once we both come, I fall back onto the bed. She moans out, “Fuck, that was good.”

I nod in agreement. “It was. It always is.” And I love coming inside her. I’m slightly obsessed with knowing she’s full of my come. I’ve never considered myself to be an overly possessive man, but I suppose that’s because there’s never been anyone I wanted to possess until now. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She turns her head until our eyes meet. “I’ll miss you tonight.” That’s her way of telling me she can’t get enough of me either. I’ve learned to speak Kamrynese.

Our relationship isn’t perfect, but we’re navigating these unchartered waters together. I’m trying to better communicate my needs, and she’s trying to give a little when she can. She indulges me in one Indian dinner a month. I know she hates it, but it makes me love her all the more for trying. And we’ve watched all the Star Wars movies. All twelve of them.

Tomorrow is Arizona and Layton’s wedding. The girls are all staying in a hotel suite together tonight, meaning we won’t sleep together, something we now do almost every night.

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