“I’ll be right back,” you tell him, dropping a kiss on his forehead.
He yawns, but forces his eyes open. “You gonna go jerk off?”
You can feel yourself blushing. “Umm. I was going to, yeah. Nothing for you to worry about. I promise I’m good.”
He rolls on his side, facing you. “Mmm. There’s servicing your boyfriend, and there’s being a martyr,” he says sleepily. “Come on. I wanna watch.”
That’s about all the encouragement you need. You don’t even undress, just pull your pajamas down over your ass. The muffled sounds of the porn go a long way towards ensuring that it’s a brief performance. Kai’s eyes, sleepy and loving as they remain on your face, do the rest.
Chapter Twelve
Baby Bliss! QB #1, Wife, Introduce Newest Member of the Cyclones Family
A Special MiamiCyclones.com Report
Congratulations are in order for Sandro and Jamie Covelli! On September 10th, our superstar quarterback, 27, and his wife, 26, welcomed their first child, a son. Atlas Alessandro Covelli was born in Coral Gables at the couple’s home, where Jamie was attended by a team of certified midwives and delivered her son in an inflatable pool set up in the living room. Baby Atlas tipped the scales at 9 lbs, 8 oz, and was 23 inches long… a potential football champ in the making, perhaps?
Sandro Covelli was all smiles as he prepared to board the Cyclones plane en route to play the Philadelphia Raptors in Week 2, showing pictures on his phone to his teammates. “Obviously, it sucks to be leaving Jamie and the baby,” he told reporters, “but she’s in good hands. Both our moms are there with her. Plus, she’s just a natural. She looks great as a mom. I can’t believe it. Gotta go kick Philly’s a**, then it’s back to changing diapers.”
Sandro and Jamie Covelli, née Winston, met at the University of Alabama, where Sandro set NCAA D1 passing records and Jamie pledged Tri Delta while working on a psychology degree. Both hail from the South—Sandro from Durham, NorthCarolina, and Jamie from Meridian, Mississippi—but college athletics and geographic roots weren’t where the similarities ended. The two were introduced by mutual friends at the UA Miracle’s annual “Bamathon” dance marathon, where they spent the whole night talking. When the sun came up, Sandro likes to say, he couldn’t feel his feet, but he knew Jamie was the woman he was going to marry. It’s a sentiment that hasn’t changed in the seven years they’ve been together.
“Jamie… man, what even to say?” Sandro told YouTuber Dylann Christian in 2024. “That girl holds me down. She’s a real one. She’s put up with a lot from me. We got together when we were basically kids, and there’s a lot of growing up… a lot of mistakes that get made when you’re a dumb 21, 22-year-old playing college ball. There are some things I regret, you know. Ways I didn’t respect her like I should have; times I forgot that she’s the center of my world. But she never turned her back on me. She’s a good woman, and she keeps my head on straight.”
Jamie Covelli extensively documented her pregnancy journey on her Instagram and TikTok accounts, where the fitness influencer snapped OOTDs flaunting her maternity fashion and recommended workouts for expectant moms trying to stay strong and healthy. She shared her preparation for a home birth, clapping back at critics who suggested that her plans were selfish.
“Women labored at home for thousands of years before hospitals,” she said in an August post. “It’s only fear that holds us back.”
We grabbed a few fans buying merch at Hard Rock Stadium’s pro shop and asked them how they felt about the Covellis’ baby news.
“That’s going to be one attractive kid,” said Eli Calafiore of Homestead, who quickly corrected himself. “Genetically-gifted, I mean. Not to sound like a creep! Just that, two good-looking people probably made a pretty baby. Happy for them.”
“Congrats to the Covellis!” enthused Kayla Higgins, a local. “Don’t hurt your throwing shoulder again picking up that giant baby, Jamie.”
Another fan, who was browsing a rack of clearance t-shirts, asked to remain anonymous. “I don’t really like kids. Ha. Honestly, though, it’s just good to hear about someone other than the Train,” he opined. “Just kidding. Get well soon, bro. Enjoy the ball and chain, Covelli.”
Personally, we can’t wait for Sandro and Jamie to share more baby pictures! When they do, you can bet that we’ll be posting updates!
***
It’sweirdto be at a Cyclones game with Kai beside you.
First of all, it’s an away game, which you generally don’t attend. The good thing about that is that nobody’s really paying attention to Kai when he enters Lincoln Financial Field through a back entrance. The photographers aren’t expecting him. He’s just another traveling fan, albeit a really big one, dressed down in a Cyclones t-shirt and jeans. The lack of facial hair makes him hard to clock, too. Beside him, you’re trying to manifest invisible vibes. Honestly, wearing a bag over your head doesn’t sound too bad, these days. You manage to convince Cal and the other guys to hang back a little bit so it isn’tovertlyobvious that you and Kai have your own mini-army trailing you. Nobody screams your name on the way up to the suite, so that’s something, at least.
The VIP box is being hosted by Sheldon Cabot, who holds the title of arguably the biggest Philadelphia Raptors superfan in Hollywood. You’ve seen him in passing at red carpets over the last ten years, but he’s maybe even more handsome in person than on the big screen: a full head of dark-brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and a face that’s undoubtedly seen a bit of work—you’re pretty sure he’s about 50—but radiates rugged handsomeness. He greets you congenially, but his eyes really light up when he slaps Kai on the back.
“The Train!” he cries. “Damn, man, it’s good to see you moving around. How are you feeling? How’s that head doing? No offense, but I’m glad you’re hanging out with me instead of beating my guys up on the field.”
Kai, who is always a tiny bit awkward around famous people, gives Sheldon a half-smile. “Not too bad.”
That’s an enormous falsehood. It took maxing out the doses of two different OTC pain relievers and lying down in the bedroom of your jet with the lights off and an ice pack on his neck to get him to this game, and you’re not sure how long he’s realistically going to last. Sheldon is staring at Kai like the teenager in a princess dress who put in an appearance at a six-year-old girl’s birthday party.
“Soglad to have you!” he enthuses. It’s aimed at both of you, but mostly at Kai. “We’ve got food, drinks, the whole nine. Who’s ready to smoke Miami?”
The question elicits a loud cheer from the other 12–15 people in the box, all of whom are celebrities of varying prominence. Despite the fact that this should, in theory, be your comfort zone, you feel distinctly put out. You came here to support Kai watching his team, not to rub elbows with your peers. You don’tactually know how you ended up there—the invite had come through Kai’s team, and you accepted because he wanted to go to the game. In retrospect, you should have shelled out five figures and procured your own box. It would have been a small price to pay not to have to hug, smile at, and talk with what feels like every single person in the room before you two find your seats, right up against the glass.
“You want something to eat?” you ask him. “We haven’t had lunch.”
His eyes are already glued to the field, despite the fact that only the pre-game stuff is happening. They haven’t even sung the anthem.
