You love me too much
SHANE IS THROWING HIMSELF A GOODBYE PARTY. BUT I DON’T have time to dwell on how pathetic that is, because I’m busy banging my wife in the hall bathroom during said goodbye party.
She’s bent over the vanity, skirt bunched up around her waist, hands gripping the edge of the sink. I pump into her from behind and watch her in the mirror, enjoying the dreamy look on her face as I fuck her hard and fast.
“Jesus, you’re making my head spin,” she moans. “Keep doing that.”
“That good, huh?”
“So good.”
I slam into her eager pussy, bringing my lips to her ear. “You always get me so hard.”
I’m rewarded with another moan and her ass pushing into me to take me as deep as she can.
“You need to come,” she tells me, breathless.
“Want to get you off again first.”
“Someone will be pounding on that door any second.” She’s still rocking back against me, her face flushed.
“Fine,” I grumble, and her reflection smiles at me. Then she intentionally squeezes her pussy because she knows it’ll destroy me, and even if I wanted to hold out for longer, it’s not humanly possible.
I press myself inside her and groan as release shudders through me. Afterward, I grab some tissues and we clean each other up. While Gigi fixes her yellow sundress, I wipe down the sink, because I’m not a total asshole.
She smooths the bottom of her dress over her thighs. Turns to check her hair in the mirror, tucking it behind her ears. Then she examines me.
“You don’t look like you just got fucked,” she says, nodding in approval. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
She sighs.
I wrap my arms around her from behind and kiss her neck. “I love you, you know that?”
“Of course I know that. You tell me like every other second.”
Now I pinch her ass. “Don’t complain about my I-love-you frequency or I’ll crank it down to zero.”
“You would never.” She twists her head to smirk at me. “You love me too much.”
She’s not wrong about that.
“It’s okay,” Gigi consoles. She stands on her tiptoes, and even then, she can barely reach my lips. “I love you too much too.”
Finally that knock comes. The door rattles from the force of it.
“Seriously, assholes! People need to pee!” One of the female partygoers is not as happy with our quickie as we were.
We keep our expressions indifferent as we step out of the bathroom. But everyone out there knows what’s up.
Shane catches sight of us and wanders over. “You realize there are two bathrooms upstairs, along with three bedrooms. One of which is yours.”
I shrug. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Beckett overhears and nods in agreement. “Ryder gets it.”
The weather’s nice enough again to take the party outside, where one of my drunk teammates is barbecuing, and I pray to God he doesn’t burn the house down. At least wait till the lease is up. Although…Beckett is sticking around, so maybe no house fires. Will Larsen is moving in, claiming he’s sick of the dorms, so it’ll be just the two of them here unless they manage to find a third.
Shane, meanwhile, is moving into a condo his rich parents just bought him. Turns out it’s in the same complex as Gigi’s friend Diana. He’s raving about it now, telling us about all the renovations his dad did in preparation for Shane’s move-in date.
“Must be nice,” Gigi drawls.
“Oh shut up,” Shane tells her, grinning. “Your dad is rich and would buy you a fuckin’ mansion if you asked.”
He’s got her there. In fact, her father has already been threatening to do just that. We said no. We can wait until I officially sign my rookie contract with Dallas next year and buy it ourselves.
“Hey, off topic,” Shane says, sipping his beer. “You’ll like this, Gisele—last night TSBN was showing highlights from the women’s Worlds. They did a countdown of the top five plays. Four of the plays were Canada.” He snickers softly.
Gigi rolls her eyes at him. “I appreciate the solidarity, but don’t cheer for our country’s loss on my behalf.”
She and I watched the game together last month, though, and she was definitely throwing some shade. I don’t know if her presence on the roster would have altered the results of that game and given USA the gold instead of Canada. But it wouldn’t have hurt, that’s for sure.
“Anyway, there’s still a chance I’ll make that roster one day.” She shrugs. Unbothered. Which is a vast improvement from the night she sobbed about what a failure she was. But like me, she’s learning to accept her limitations while continuing to hone her strengths.
“And if I don’t,” she says with a grin, “I’ll just graduate from college and be Ryder’s agent and land us multimillion-dollar endorsements.”
“Solid plan,” I agree.
Will, Beckett, and Case drift toward us, and we chat over beers and drunk-boy-prepared burgers for a while. At one point, Diana wanders over in a tiny skirt that barely covers her thighs and a T-shirt with the neckline cut away so it drapes low on one shoulder.
“Lindley,” she says, eyes narrowed.
“Dixon,” he mimics.
“I just want it to be known that Meadow Hill was my turf first, and you are to stay away from me at all times. In fact, we can draw a line down the center of the pool and assign sides.”
“Well, that’s mean.” He feigns a pout. “Are you going to be rude to your own friends too? Because I plan on bringing a cheerleader or two over. Nightly.”
She glares at him and saunters off.
“Do you have any big plans this summer other than tormenting my best friend with your fuckboy antics?” Gigi asks pleasantly.
Shane grins. “Nah. I’ll probably split the time between here and my parents’ place. What about you guys?”
“I want a honeymoon,” she declares. Beaming.
He grins at me now. “Take the woman on a honeymoon, asshole.”
“I plan to,” I protest. “We’re going to fuckin’ Italy in August.”
“That was highly aggressive toward Italy, mate,” Beckett says, and Will and Colson laugh loudly. Case seems to have completely gotten over his issues with Gigi and me being together. He’s spent most of the night flirting with Gigi’s teammate Camila.
“He doesn’t think he’ll like it there,” Gigi explains.
“It feels like a very lackadaisical place,” I mutter.
Neither of us mention that we’re going to Arizona in July. Gigi and I discussed my dad’s parole hearing at length—Owen weighed in too—and eventually we decided the benefits to speaking at the hearing outweighed the costs. Owen and I would rather never see that man’s face for as long as we live, but fifteen years isn’t long enough. He deserves to rot in prison for what he did to our mother. And if there’s even the slightest risk the parole board would let him out if they don’t hear any dissenting voices, we can’t take that chance. So the three of us are flying down there next month. Gigi’s parents offered to come along too.
Life is…good.
That’s not a sentiment I’m used to expressing. Or experiencing. But it is. I’ve got my health, my friends, my brother. My wife. Neither of us have any idea what the future holds. Nobody does.
But I can’t imagine any future with Gigi not being bright.
