“Love you. You going to see anyone tomorrow?”
I’d been invited to my buddy Cole’s place with his girlfriend, Eden, and Cole’s son, Jasper. Cole was our quarterback, and he’d taken me under his wing, even letting me stay with him for a couple weeks when I first moved to town. He lived in his hometown, a small town north of Nashville, and I usually loved going there. Our tight end, Dawson, had mentioned us getting together and hanging out, and having some drinks, and Yeets, one of our wide receivers, invited me over to his family’s cookout. He had his entire family visiting from Alabama and one more mouth to feed out of the thirty who’d been in the stands earlier would be nothing. The idea of Yeets’s cookout made my mouth water at the mere thought. His Southern mama could cook.
“I’ve got places I can go.”
Outside the food, I wasn’t feeling any of them though. All that love and mushiness and familial drama. Something had been missing lately, and it’d all started that night in October….
Probably had to do with this being my first year not making it home for Christmas or being around family at all.
Or could be…
No. Maggie was a great time. I’d enjoyed her. Had I thought about her and the sounds she made when I slid deep inside her since? When I wrapped my hand around her hair when she was on her knees at the edge of my bed? What man wouldn’t? She’d been short and curvy with massive tits I could have played with for hours. I hated she’d walked out when I’d wanted her to stay. The sting of that hadn’t quite left me.
It was one night of fun. Great fun. I needed to remember that—and soon, go find someone else.
It’d be easier if I could stop thinking of her.
“Okay. We’ll call you tomorrow once we unbury ourselves from the mountains of presents sitting in Annie’s garage.”
“Love you, Mom.”
My dad’s voice came through, muffled from a distance. I didn’t need to hear him to know what he said. “And tell Dad I’ll go soak in the hot tub.”
“Love you, too. Davis. Sleep well, and Merry Christmas.”
I shoved off the couch and was careful as I made my way to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the freezer, because I might have been a fully grown adult, but my dad’s advice was always sound. My shoulder and ankle, and lower back were sore as hell. College football never did me dirty like this.
My phone rang as I went over to the freezer, digging through frozen vegetables, looking for ice packs, and I didn’t bother glancing at the screen first.
It was Christmas Eve. My phone had been ringing off the hook with invites to head to other player’s houses or Coach’s.
“Yeah?”
“Mr. Hall, sir, it’s Roger at the front desk. I have a young woman here to see you.”
I mean… could make for a great Christmas gift from one of my friends on the team, but not really my style.
I gave up on finding the ice pack and grabbed a bag of peas, closing the freezer door. “Not expecting anyone, Roger.”
“That’s what I told her, sir, but she’s insistent you’d want to see her.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Davis.”
“Can’t do that, Mr. Hall.”
Mr. Hall was my father, a great man. I could only hope to someday live up to half of his awesomeness. I was only twenty-three years old. I wasn’t Mr. Anything except maybe Mister-Great at running forty yards in four point two four seconds.
Thank God I chose a secure building, especially if she wasn’t a gift from a player but a fan. “What’s her name?”
“Maggie, sir.”
Maggie. It couldn’t be. And after I’d just been thinking about her? After she vanished? No way.
More memories flashed. Her plump ass in my hands while she sat on my face. Her breasts bouncing, visible in the mirror above my dresser while I took her from behind. Her mouth on my —
“You sure?”
“That’s what she says, sir.”
“She look like someone who has an ass you want bent over your kitchen table?”
We hadn’t done that, but I’d wanted it.
A cough sputtered through the line. Might have given dear old Roger a heart attack. Oops. My bad.
“Sir—“
“Davis.”
“Um. Davis. I’m not sure…”
“Just tell me, Roger. Yes or no.” Because if it was her, we had a lot to talk about.
“Uh. Well, yes, sir. If I was thirty years young and hadn’t had that hip surgery…”
Perfect. “I knew you were a dirty old man. Send her on up.”
Well, hot damn.
Merry Christmas to me, after all.
Bag of peas forgotten, I hurried to the bathroom. I’d had to dress in a suit before heading to the field this morning from the hotel the team stayed in before game nights. Lucky for me, the hotel we used for the season was only two blocks away, so it wasn’t really an inconvenience. I’d walked over to the hotel in athletic wear yesterday, my suit in a hanging bag draped over my shoulder. After I got home from the game today, I’d tossed my suit and overnight bag in my laundry room and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and black Steel T-shirt. Our logo, a red outline of a football with flames wrapped around it, was stamped across my chest, and a quick look at my hair showed I wasn’t looking too shabby at all.
A normal guy who had a house of his own.
Sure, if normal guy meant I was the first-round draft pick, and I lived in a penthouse with my own private rooftop deck with a pool and hot tub on the thirty-eighth floor of a downtown Nashville apartment building overlooking Broadway and our stadium. But what really was normal, anyway?
When a quiet knock came from my front door, I was pacing back and forth in front of the entryway, waiting, worrying.
I’d wanted her to stay, thought about going to Franco’s, the bar she said she’d been fired from to see if they’d give me her last name and look her up on Instagram or something but hadn’t.
She’d left. We’d only agreed to one night. So why was she here…
My hand shook as I opened the door. A number one high school recruit and a first-round draft pick, and I got nervous around beautiful girls. If only the media could see that side of me—on second thought…
Nope.
I opened the door and stood in the doorway, and there she was.
Maggie.
Thick head of shining chocolate-brown hair. Completely natural with a curvy body and those tits….
Damn, those suckers were otherworldly. So full. Round. Plump.
“Snickers,” I choked out. And made sure I hadn’t actually been saying hello to the girls but to the girl…
Well… the girls. “You are?”
The blonde standing off to Maggie’s side shrugged. “Moral support.”
“Hello, moral support.” The new blonde rolled her eyes.
I dismissed her for the girl who’d appeared in more than one dream in the last two months.
As our eyes met again, Maggie shuffled on her feet. Not exactly the excited look of what I would have preferred. “How are you?”
“Can we talk?” she asked, and I was pretty sure those light-blue eyes of hers had a sheen of wetness in them.