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I play with her pussy just because I can. It comes naturally to me. I’m making up for all the lost time. She writhes and moans for me. I let her come as often as she pleases. Halftime comes and goes. Meanwhile, Ivy doesn’t even try to look like she’s invested in the game.
“These are the finals. It’s a special occasion,” I explain. “You should watch.”
She shakes her head playfully. “Alex won’t mind. He likes me because I help his wife and his best friend feel better.”
Fuck. I nod, and I focus on the rest of the game. Ivy Lin isn’t a random girl I’m fucking. This is a woman that is intricately connected to my family. What am I doing?
I like how this place makes me feel. My dick’s harder than it’s been in years when in Ivy’s presence. I can pause and live my life while I’m with myobjectof two days.
“When can I sit on your cock?” she asks, rubbing herself against my crotch. She feels my erection, and she leans into it. She’s a feisty little tease. “I want to play. I’ve been good.”
“Debatable,” I say, keeping my eyes on the screen. It’s the final quarter, and I finally grow some sense. Ivy’s pussy is good, and she almost managed to get me to fuck her while my son played one of the most important games of his career.
My phone rings. It’s Kamila. I pick up instantly.
“What’s happening?” she asks before I can talk. I hear the babies in the background. They’re not sleeping. I see the image in my head, and I yearn for it. I chose to come to Ivy’s because here, I have the illusion of less responsibility. It’s easy, being anowner. These four walls contain our little kingdom. I give her pleasure, and she swallows my come. That’s that.
Out there in the palace?
How did Travis pull it off for a decade? I’ve been in his role for five years, and I’m almost at the end of my energy. I tell Kamila, “Nothing. Everything’s as it should be. It’s a strategy. Don’t worry about it. He’s going to win.”
“If he doesn’t win, it’s going to be an awful summer,” Kamila whines dramatically. “You should be here with us. I don’t know what’s more important to you right now.”
Ivy can’t hear what Kamila’s saying. I glance at Ivy, and she’s gazing at me. She knows.
“Give the babies a squeeze from their favorite grandpa. I’m going to be there once I’m done with my work,” I tell Kamila. Ivy flinches at my words. I put the phone away. I feel the shame Kamila casts upon me for missing the game.
On the screen, my son has picked up his game, and he’s shooting back to back threes.
“If you want to cry for me some more, little doe, now’s a perfect time.” I inhale sharply. I stop playing with her pussy, and she removes herself from my lap. She sits down next to me, hugging a pillow to her chest. Her pretty pussy is still visible to me, but I force myself to look away.
She doesn’t cry.
I clench and unclench my fists. My fingers smell like her, her scent dominating my senses. The game is on my mind. I know my son’s coach and all his strategies. Alex discusses them with me every other week.
Our defense is lacking today. I want to pick up my phone and fuck that bitch of a coach up. They’re losing rebounds that should be theirs.
“Relax,” Ivy says. She’s naked, blushing, and pouty. Yet, her voice is professional. “It’s a game. You can’t control it. It’s not your job to micromanage Alex’s life.”
I’m projecting my failures upon my son. I can’t let go of him. Kamila thinks I’m hurting because I’m far away from my son, stuck on an island with sexed-up people. The truth is, I never left my son. I’m involved in all aspects of his life. I won’t abandon him. I did it before. He must hate me for it.I learned from the best.
It’s the guilt that drives me.
Only three seconds are left on the clock. The sun’s out, and I’ve got a beautiful woman next to me, but I’ve got tunnel vision on the game. I feel nauseated and exhausted. My lack of sleep creeps up on me. I’m counting and scheming, trying to think of the outcome.
It’s a tie right now.
Ivy grabs my hand, and I finally look at her. Can she hear my treacherous heart? I feel like it’s me on that court, fighting for my dream to come true.
She yelps, jumping up from the couch. The pillow drops from her body.
And I’m momentarily lost.
What happened?
I look at the score.
Indianapolis won.
