Hittin' It Out the Park (24 page)

Randy squeezed Sexy's hand. “You won't have to. I'm free for the rest of the day, so let's go pick out your bedroom furniture.”

Our bedroom furniture,
Sexy was tempted to correct, but she restrained herself. Sexy smiled as she told herself that the day was fast approaching when Randy would realize that Cheryl was a has-been who deserved to be left in the past, while she was the present and the future, the chick with that bomb-pussy that he couldn't get enough of.

In the furniture store, Randy stood back while Sexy examined mattresses and headboards. Wanting to include Randy in the selection process, Sexy continually asked his opinion and before long, Randy became a full participant, going so far as to stretch out on one of the beds that they both admired.

The manager of the store promised to deliver the selected furniture in two hours. After plunking down $11,000 without blinking an eye, Randy escorted Sexy out of the high-end store.

“What are your plans in life?” Randy asked, striking up a conversation during the drive back to the new apartment.

“I'm interested in a career in sports medicine,” she said off the top of her head. “I injured my knee while at gymnastics practice when I was a kid, and I hated being out of commission for so long. But getting treatment for the injury was the catalyst for my interest in becoming a sports medicine physician.” She exhaled, pleased with how convincing she sounded.

“I'm surprised that you want to become a doctor. I thought most girls as pretty as you want to be a model or an actress or be involved in some kind of glamorous field.”

“No, that's not me at all. I'm not that shallow. Beauty eventually fades, so I prefer to rely on my brain instead of my looks,” she said, making a sneaky dig at Cheryl. “I want to do something that makes a difference in someone's life. The idea of practicing a medical specialty concerned with the prevention, diagnosis, treatment, and rehabilitation of injuries due to athletic activity is thrilling to me. It's a booming business, and I plan to eventually own a state-of-the-art facility.”

“There's a lot more to you than meets the eye,” Randy remarked, sounding impressed.

“I don't usually admit to people that I'm actually a math and science geek, but that's the real me; a nerdy girl with a business plan and a desire to heal. I probably didn't mention that I'm going to start college at Columbia University next year,” she said, continuing the big lie.

Randy looked worried. “Where's that? Is it far away?”

Sexy smiled indulgently. “No, Columbia is right here in New York.”
Boy, Randy really is a hick. How do you live in America without knowing the whereabouts of one of the country's top universities?

As they neared the apartment building, Sexy asked Randy to make a stop at a liquor store. “I'd like a couple bottles of champagne to celebrate my new home.”

Inside the store, Sexy picked up two plastic flutes and set them next to the chilled bottles of Moët on the counter. While Randy paid for the purchases, Sexy sneakily stuffed her handbag with mini bottles of vodka and gin and simply for the hell of it, she also stole a couple small bags of cashews and peanuts.

*  *  *

Randy had been a perfect gentleman all day, but after downing his first glass of champagne, he became extremely complimentary and somewhat touchy-feely. “You sure are a beautiful girl,” he commented, staring in her eyes. “And your hair smells like green apples,” he said, taking a deep sniff as he stroked her tresses.

“Thanks, Randy. More champagne?”

“I try not to drink too much during the season, but since we're celebrating, why not?”

As she refilled his glass, the doorman called to let her know that her furniture had arrived. Twenty minutes later, the deliverymen were assembling the furniture and Randy pitched in, speeding up the process and delighting the men with his down-to-earth attitude. They left with hefty tips and autographs from the Yankees' star player.

*  *  *

After the bed was made, Sexy asked Randy to get the other bottle of Moët out of the fridge, but the moment he turned around, she jumped on his back, insisting that he take her with him, piggyback style. Randy laughed uproariously as he carted Sexy off to the kitchen.

While riding his back, Sexy rested her head on Randy's shoulder. He smelled faintly of cologne and clean male sweat, and the combined scents aroused her. She covered his neck with kisses, and smiled with satisfaction when Randy emitted a soft moan.

He positioned her on the island and embraced her. His strong arms felt hard and protective, and there wasn't a chance in hell that Sexy was going to let Randy get away. She stared up at him, willing him to kiss her. He hesitated briefly, and then leaned downward. His lips were soft and his searching tongue tasted like champagne. With her palms cupping his face, she pulled him closer as she kissed him slowly and gently.

The soft, throaty sounds he made let her know that she was getting to him, breaking his gentlemanly resolve.

“No, I can't,” he whispered, pulling away.

“Why not? No one needs to know except us. It's our secret.” She began working on his zipper.

“It's not right,” he protested.

“I want to taste you, baby,” she cajoled, slipping her hand inside his briefs. “Can I suck your dick, Randy? Please? One last time?” she asked, her hands running over the swell in his crotch, touching him intimately.

Randy released a groan that was a mixture of defeat and raw passion. Sexy hopped off the island and dropped down to her knees.

Randy stepped closer and lowered his jeans, the bulge in his cotton briefs creating a huge dick print, sending hot coils of need throughout Sexy's body. He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat as she guided the smooth head of his dick to her eager lips.

A pure wave of lust ran through her. “Mmm,” she moaned as he pushed inside her moist mouth.

“Mmm,” he responded, his dick smoothly gliding along her champagne-coated tongue, and then plunging deeply in the back of her throat. “Oh, God!” Randy trembled and moaned. Her hands moved to his firm ass, which she cupped, holding him securely in place.

With his dick imprisoned inside Sexy's hot mouth, Randy was a willing captive. She gripped his ass and he gripped her head while thrusting in and out of her mouth. Damp heat blossomed between her thighs, and Sexy was nearly hyperventilating, panting with need.

She pulled back, allowing his dick to slip away from her lips. Randy gave a small cry of protest, but she stroked and appeased his slippery dick for a few moments and then flung off her top and wriggled out of her skirt. Clad in only pink lace panties and bra, she began rubbing her breasts and stroking her moist crotch with her middle finger. Her long fingers unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. Next she stepped out of her panties, and kicked them on top of the mound of clothes on the kitchen floor.

Fingering herself, she kept her eyes on Randy, who watched through half-lidded eyes that were glazed over with lust. “You want to taste this pussy, Randy?” she asked softly.

Mesmerized by the wanton display, Randy bit his bottom lip, and then nodded his head helplessly. Sexy stuck out her middle finger, and Randy unreservedly slurped on her finger.

“My pussy needs some tongue, baby,” she cooed. And now it was Randy's turn to lower himself down to his knees. Sexy gasped in shock as his hot fingers parted her sex while his tongue ran up and down the soft slit. Her head tilted backward when she felt his plump lips pulling on her swollen clit. He tongue-fucked her so thoroughly, she gapped her legs open and squatted over his face, urging him to probe even deeper. Randy dipped his tongue in to the hilt, slurping loudly as he drank her honeyed juices.

With Randy's head locked between her thighs, Sexy realized she'd never experienced anything as wonderful as the way Randy gave head. Suddenly, lightning bolts blasted through the core of her being, causing her to shudder violently. She didn't try to hold back; she wanted to fill his mouth with her passion. And when she felt his throat constricting as he swallowed her sweetness, she smiled with the knowledge that a part of her very essence had been released inside his body.

Randy licked every drop of dewy stickiness from her vaginal lips and her clit. He then carried her to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed.

Randy, the gentleman, had vacated the premises. On top of Sexy was a growling sex fiend, who was grunting as he rammed hard dick inside her. “Fuck me, Big Daddy,” she urged. “Beat this pussy up; split my shit in two.”

Spurred on by Sexy's raunchy dialogue, Randy drove himself inside her with a vengeance, drilling inside her body as if his dick were a power tool.

“After you finish tearing up this pussy, I'm gonna need you to fuck me in the ass. You want some ass, baby. Huh? Do you?”

In the midst of a down stroke, Randy's knees gave out. “Yeah, I want some ass,” he admitted in a growl—and then he came with a roar.

The combination of champagne and wanton sex in the kitchen, bedroom, and more sex in the bathroom had Randy out for the count. Sprawled out and sleeping with his mouth open, the man was dead to the world. Triumphant in the knowledge that Randy wouldn't be leaving her bed until morning, Sexy smiled down at Randy and kissed him on the cheek.

Now, it was time for payback. Grinning devilishly, she slid Randy's phone out of his pants pocket and called his bitch of a wife.

“Randy! I've been so worried, baby. Where are you?” Cheryl asked frantically.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Cheryl. This isn't Randy; it's none other than your girl, Sexy,” she said in a saccharine-sweet tone of voice.

“What are you doing calling me from Randy's phone? Where is he?”

“He's right here lying beside me. But he's knocked out and can't come to the phone right now. Yeah, I fucked your husband to sleep; do you wanna hear my man snore?”

While Cheryl hissed and hurled a string of profanities, Sexy held the phone up to Randy's mouth and the unmistakable sound of his snoring rumbled into the phone.

“I'm gonna beat your ass, you trifling little hooker,” Cheryl raged.

“Whatever,” Sexy said, sounding bored. “Anyway, I'm gonna let my baby sleep for another hour or so, and then I'm gonna wake him up so he can give me some more of that big, juicy dick. By the way, there's no point in waiting up for him because Randy won't be coming home tonight—he's staying right here in bed with me, fucking and sucking until the sun comes up and the birds start chirping.”

“STEPHEN! STEPHEN,” Cheryl shouted at the top of her lungs while banging on the apartment door. “STEPHEN!”

“Cheryl, what the hell is wrong?” Stephen said, after opening the door.

“Get dressed. We've got to go.” Cheryl charged into the apartment, clad only in slippers, a flimsy nightgown, and an unbuttoned, ankle-length sable coat which flared out behind her as she flew into Stephen's bedroom.

“Where we gotta go? It's three o'clock in the morning,” Stephen said, following behind her. “And why are you wearing a fur coat in this weather?”

Cheryl shrugged and said, “Here,” as she flung a pair of pants that were hanging on the back of a chair at him. “Put these on. And this.” She threw him a shirt, and then headed toward the door. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Stephen was hopping on one foot, trying to put on his pants as he walked. “What's going on?”

“You're going to take me to that bitch so I can kill her!” Cheryl screamed, beckoning him to hurry and get dressed.

“What bitch?” Stephen said, slipping his shirt on and closing the apartment door.

“That skank, Sexy!” Cheryl shouted as she raced down the hall. At the elevator, she jabbed her finger against the button. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she headed for the stairs with Stephen trying to keep up. “Can you believe that bitch is somewhere fucking my husband?” Cheryl broke into a trot when she reached the ground level.

“Cheryl, wait for me, honey!” Stephen cried out.

The midnight air hit Cheryl in the face as she flung the building door open and stomped out into the street, but she took no more notice of it than she did the tears and snot running down her face. Her nostrils flared as she approached her Maybach haphazardly parked in the middle of the street, holding up traffic. She jumped in the car, and pulled off before Stephen even had time to properly close his door.

“So, okay,” he said, exhaling loudly, “where are we going?”

“You tell me,” Cheryl answered as she peeled around the corner on two wheels.

“How the hell do I know?”

“You've got to know!” Cheryl pounded on the dashboard with one hand while steering with the other. “Someone's got to know. I've called everyone. Where the fuck is that bitch?”

“Wait, who did you call?”

“Everyone. All management. The players. Their wives—”

“You've got to be kidding!”

“And I went to Brent and Mila and kicked Mila's ass. Do you know that bitch, who's supposed to be MY friend, was covering for him?”

“You've got to be kidding!” Stephen repeated.

“DO I LOOK LIKE I'M KIDDING?” Cheryl hollered, fully turning in her seat to face Stephen.

“My God, Cheryl! Look out!” Stephen grabbed the steering wheel, swerving the car moments before it hit a fire hydrant. “Put your foot on the brakes.”

Cheryl swiped a hand over her face, and then wiped it on her fur coat, before grabbing the wheel again. “We're gonna find that bitch, Stephen, and then we're going to kill her.”

“Okay, honey, we'll do that.” Stephen opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a tissue and started dabbing at Cheryl's face as she drove. Her eyes were red, and would likely be near swollen shut if she weren't so wide-eyed with fury. Stephen used his fingers to gently pull the strands of hair plastered onto Cheryl's face. “Sweetie, you do realize it's too hot for that fur coat, don't you?”