Page 76 of Headed for Home

Somehow, his speed increases. “Never.”

“Please, please,” I chant.

“Come on my cock. I need it, beauty. Now!” Drake shouts.

A demanding thrust pushes me over the edge. Heat rushes over me in an outward ripple. My vision swims while I’msubmerged in pleasure. Trophies and awards line the walls but the real victory is building inside of me. Tingles spread until I’m shaking. Drake’s steady rhythm becomes disjointed as he follows me into release.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans while redecorating my vagina.

I feel him flood me with passion. That burst triggers another from me. Trembles rack my limbs as I stumble through a third or fourth wave. I’ve lost count at this point. The peak of ecstasy explodes between us, thrumming at where we’re joined until nothing exists but this moment.

A clamp from my inner walls latches us together while relief flows between us. We float in our shared bliss, labored breaths the only sound in this serenity. His body slumps over mine, but he props himself slightly to avoid crushing me. I’m still quaking when his face nuzzles into the crook of my neck.

“And that”—Drake’s exhale smiles against my skin—“is how my tack earns a permanent place in your room.”

My grin spreads as I study the young minds looking to me for knowledge. “We’re going to focus on basics today. How does a game of catch sound?”

“Yay!” The team of ten T-ballers shout and stomp their feet.

“That’s the spirit. Pick a partner and practice tossing the ball.” I mimic the action.

They nod in tandem while glancing at each other, already moving as a cohesive unit. Pride warms my chest. Cassidy thought this would be difficult. I scoff. This will teach her to underestimate me.

“And don’t forget you have to earn that aqua shirt,” I remind before setting them loose.

“Yes, Rake,” they recite.

I chuckle and wag my finger at Charlie. “Didn’t we already go over this? That’s a special nickname.”

“Like Pinkie Pie.”

Kenzie pauses her doodles in the dirt to offer that tidbit. The little girl didn’t want to play, but she volunteered to be my assistant. So far, she’s great at delivering comedic relief. Giggles erupt and the kids begin chanting the fluffy title she’s shared.

“Just call me Coach,” I tell the team.

But they aren’t listening. Two start poking each other. That encourages three of them to roll on the ground, knocking into their neighbors. Another gets distracted by a plane flying overhead. Those remaining are still repeating ‘Pinkie Pie’ like a mantra.

I clap my palms together. “Settle down or we don’t get to play.”

That gets their attention. “Yes, Coach.”

The strain whooshes from me. Just a minor hiccup. I inhale the scent of freshly cut grass and budding talent. This is going to be a huge success.

My hands get parked on my hips. “Okay, what are you going to do?”

Wide eyes bounce from left to right in search of the answer. Almost every expression turns blank.

“Catch balls,” Charlie says.

“That’s right.” I bend to give him a high-five. “Are we ready?”

The kids jump to their feet in a collective motion. “Yes!”

“Who are we?”

Tiny fists pump in the air. “The Colts!”

“Go, go, go!” I roll my wrists, sending them onto the field.

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