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Abbi kept pushing me to call my mom. Why couldn’t Mom call me? Was it that hard to pick up the phone and call your only son? She never cared when I was a kid so why would she start now?
I didn’t need anyone. Just someone occasionally to suck me off and that wouldn’t be Emmy. At least, I didn’t think it would be her.
Until she texted me.
As much as I wanted to ignore her—I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t stop myself.
After heading back to my seat and sitting quietly for the rest of the flight, we land just before midday. It doesn’t go as smooth as I would like after being spotted by some fans in LAX where we are asked for some pics. Being that they’re girls, Ash laps it up and grabs the number of the blonde with the bouncing tits.
Personally, all I want is to make a quick dash to the hotel to shower, get the grime and grease off me, then meet with the officials and definitely not think about pussy.
“You want the blonde’s number?” Ash hands the paper over in the limo.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you score a blowey off any of the girls at the apartment last week?”
The girls who hang around our apartment are the same old leeches who follow us at each game and hover around the entrance of the locker rooms hoping to score some dick. The older one, a Scandinavian woman, sucked me off once with no happy ending. I wasn’t into it. When I started to chafe I politely asked her to leave. It was the oddest thing ever. Typically I’d be pulling her hair tight and watching her eyes bulge from my cock going down her throat.
“Yeah, I did,” I say, to shut him up.
He doesn’t press any further, busying himself with his cell.
“Emmy is taking us out for a late lunch after the meeting. You got plans?”
It catches my attention, yet I’m quick to keep my smile hidden. “Nope, where at?”
“Hold on…” He types quickly and responds a couple of seconds later, “Some Indian place near Melrose.”
I hide the grin trying to appear by grabbing my cell and typing a message to her.
Me: Indian? You know what happens to Ash when he eats Indian? Burning assholes.
I see the bubble bouncing before her response appears on the screen. Ash has taken the moment to call Alessandra, and already they’ve gotten into a fight over him being photographed with his arm around some woman at Heathrow.
Emerson: Burning assholes. Great visual yet funny at the same time. I’ll make sure I order him the vindaloo.
I sit back in the chair and stare out the window. Emmy was never on my mind before our trip back home, I guess since she’s announced her engagement on television I figured she’d forever be gone from our lives. We rarely see each other, and every time we do it stirs this weird emotion—like nostalgia. She was always around us as kids, annoying the fuck out of Ash and me. Third wheel as I liked to call her. It wasn’t until we left to train for the league did I think, thank God, we’ve finally gotten rid of her.
“Fucking ball breaker. Did you see me fuck that woman in Heathrow? No. But Sandy seems to think so,” he yells into the air as I purposely ignore him.
What the fuck’s new anyway?
***
“Hey, lil’ sis.” Ash places his arm on her shoulder, pulling her in roughly for a hug.
“Little? We’re twins. Granted, you came first but I slid out of Mom’s vagina right after you did.”
Ash scowls. “Oh... hey ... thanks for that visual.”
She’s still in his arms, watching me with a smile planted on her face. She looks so goddamn cute in this tight black bodysuit
and skinny blue jeans. It shows every curve. And when I say cute, I mean fuck. I could just eat her.
She plays with her hair, moving it to the side and exposing her skin. Untangling herself from his embrace, she moves closer to me and wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. The familiar scent—something sweet—tickles my senses leaving me holding on to her longer than I should. Remembering that Ash is standing next to us, I let her go and pretend as if that means nothing whatsoever. And that my dick doesn’t stir at the feel of her tits being pushed up against my chest.
