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I don’t know how to respond without giving anything away. “You kiss your mother with that filthy mouth, asshole?” I scowl. All three of them surrender, watching me with wary expressions.
“Fuck,” Fletch whispers, “she’s still here, isn’t she?” He’s pointing to my bedroom door when Paris steps out dressed in nothing but my team jacket.
All eyes land on her standing sheepishly in my doorway. Thank fuck she thought to zip up the jacket.
“Fuuuck, bro. You didn’t.”
Seriously. The way they’re all reacting you’d think I invited Satan in.
“I guess I should cut my nails next time?” She grins playfully, and I stifle a chuckle with my closed fist.
“Next time?” Wheeler chokes.
Kennedy whips around. “You’re laughing about this?”
“Wheeler, Fletch, Kennedy, let me introduce you to…”
Shocked expressions meet my attempt at an introduction. “We know who the fuck it is, she’s the coach’s daughter,” Wheeler yells.
“Pull your fucking head in and learn some manners. Her name is Paris, she has her own fucking identity.”
“Whoa, shit.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
Fletch is the first to step forward and offer his hand. They’ve all met her or at least seen her at events before. But she’s here today as…I don’t know what she is.
Last night’s fun.
A new fling or something more?
I’m hoping for the latter, whatever that might look like.
“This doesn’t travel outside this apartment, you hear me?” I unleash my devil eyes on the three gobsmacked asshats in the room and wait for them all to agree. “Coach can not find out about this.”
CHAPTER 5
Magik
“Magik, I didn’t know we were expecting you.”
Coach Weston walks in with a spring in his step. You’d never know he’s fifty-two years old today. “Oh hey, Coach.” I greet him with a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. “Mrs. Weston invited me to join in your birthday celebrations. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Never, son. You’re family.” He grins, returning my handshake.
He kisses his wife and daughter hello before he excuses himself to go and clean up before dinner.
“Magik, I’ve told you, please call me Elaine.” She winks. There’s something different about her tonight, but I can’t place it exactly. Paris is her usual perky self as we help to set the dinner table while her mom adds the finishing touches to the roast.
Once we’re seated, I accept the honor of raising a toast after Elaine offers up a prayer. I never had the family environment where sit-down dinners were a thing. Hell, if we had dinner at all it was considered a blessing.
Dinner is delicious, as expected. The company is brilliant, but the situation is nothing short of awkward. Paris insists on rubbing my thigh beneath the table. Each light stroke of her fingers, the higher up my leg they travel, have my cock pulsing and rising to attention.
When her hands are above the table, she takes every opportunity she can to sneak me a flirty look or brush my arm when reaching for the condiments. She’s having way too much fun with this.
“Relax,” she whispers while her parents are talking about the coming weekend.
“Paris,” her mom interrupts.
