Hittin' It Out the Park (31 page)

“Hey, I got an idea. Why don't you fly out tomorrow and spend some time with me? You know how much I hate sleeping in those lonely hotel rooms all by myself.”

Sexy became pensive. It surprised her that a tough athlete like Randy could be so needy and childlike at times. The thought of spending time in Minnesota made her want to puke, but with Cheryl lurking in the shadows, wanting to get her hooks back into her husband, Sexy thought it wise to cater to any request that Randy made, no matter how absurd.

Her face lit with feigned delight. “Honey, it's so sweet of you to invite me. I'd love to join you in Minnesota, but are you sure I won't be in the way?”

“In the way?” he scoffed. “If anything, your presence is gonna help my game.”

“Okay, if you insist,” she said with forced cheerfulness.
Geez, I bet the night life sucks in Minnesota. The boredom will be so unbearable, I'll probably want to slit my wrists.

Pleased by Sexy's seeming eagerness to join him out of town, Randy opened his arms, inviting her into them. When she stepped inside his embrace, he squeezed her tight and lifted her off the floor. “That's why I dig you, girl. You really know how to take care of your man, and I want you to know that I'm all in.”

“You're my knight in shining armor, Big Daddy. And don't you ever forget it,” she said as she rested her head against his chest. She'd discovered that calling him “Big Daddy” was a surefire way to get him aroused. Despite the fact that the team's plane was scheduled to take off in the next hour, Randy began tugging on the hem of her sundress, lifting it up.

“You're gonna be late,” she whispered in a tone of concern, though she secretly enjoyed the idea of him wanting her so badly, he was willing to risk being late.

“I don't care,” he murmured as he pushed her hair over her shoulder and peppered her neck with kisses. “That plane ain't leaving without me.”

She held up her hand. “But babe—”

He grasped her wrist and kissed her hand, silencing her protests. He then licked the center of her palm as though it were coated with sugar. Sexy released a sigh and lifted her head to kiss him. Randy gripped her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, exploring relentlessly. His hands roamed freely over her body before resting on her ass. He lifted her sundress and squeezed her ass cheeks that were exposed in a skimpy thong.

He squeezed them, gently at first, and then with more force. Sexy rubbed Randy's crotch, urging him to get rid of his pants, and he quickly unbuttoned them, allowing them to drop. His black briefs could not conceal his obvious erection, and she slipped her hand inside and grasped his dick and slowly stroked it up and down, eliciting moans of appreciation from Randy.

Feeling his hard and heavily veined dick inside her fist aroused Sexy. Her nipples hardened and her breathing quickened, letting Randy know that her desire matched his, and that she was ready for him. In fact, judging by the dampened strip of cotton between her legs, Sexy was beyond ready.

Randy's hand wandered down to the elastic band of her satin thong. She gazed at him and recognized the intense yearning in his eyes. Randy formed a fist around the delicate fabric and tugged at it.

“Rip it off,” she said in a rough voice, and as soon as she'd given the command, he tore the lingerie away from her body with one strong, sudden pull. She flinched as the elastic snapped, stinging her skin. Randy backed up and pushed his open suitcase out of the way and sat on the side of the bed. Slowly, seductively, Sexy removed her bra and then glided toward him. Naked, her pert breasts jutted outward. Her long legs, smooth as silk and athletically muscled, were made to wrap tightly around Randy's waist.

She straddled him, wriggling and moaning as she felt his dick brushing against her folds, the head parting them as it pushed inside, penetrating her slowly, giving her one exquisite inch at a time.

She gasped with pleasure. “Fuck me,” she demanded, growing impatient. Giving Sexy what she wanted, Randy slammed into her, filling her completely and stretching out her pussy walls. The moment it felt as if it was deeply embedded inside her, he suddenly withdrew and then jammed his dick back in, giving her several more magnificent inches.

In a display of sheer strength and physicality, Randy delivered thrust after hard thrust into Sexy's drenched pussy, lifting her up a little and then proceeding to ram her with stroke after stroke of granite-like hardness. Sexy rode his dick, her hips swiveling in a manner that caused her clit to rub against his pubic bone. The pleasure was so intense, causing her to squeeze her eyes closed, causing her juices to pour out and trickle down his shaft. On the verge of an orgasm, she could feel her pussy walls begin to tighten.

“I'm cumming, Randy,” she whimpered out the warning.

“Me, too, baby. I am, too,” Randy grunted. His dick throbbed and twitched as he quickened his pace. His dick began to pulsate as Sexy's orgasm rocketed through her body. Joining her, he bellowed as his creamy liquid exploded inside her.

For a moment or two, Sexy felt lost in the cosmos, overcome by so much pleasure, she was barely cognizant. “Randy,” she murmured as awareness slowly returned. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I want to get married,” she purred while he was caught in a moment of weakness.

“We will.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as Cheryl signs the divorce papers.”

“She's never going to sign them, Randy. You're gonna have to force her by taking her to court if necessary. You have to do something. I don't like being referred to as a home wrecker and a side chick. It's not fair.”

Randy stroked her hair and tried to console her by suggesting she take his Black Card and go buy herself something nice at Tiffany & Co. And while Randy was in a giving mood, Sexy figured it was the perfect time to let him know about the party she planned to throw on the yacht to showcase an up-and-coming young rap artist.

“Yeah, baby, that's fine with me. What's the rapper's name?”

“Lil' Sizzler.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Not yet, but you will. I'm gonna help him make a name for himself.”

“When you get to Minnesota, we can talk about some possible dates when we can host the showcase for the young rapper.”

Sexy eased off Randy's lap. “You'd better get washed up so you can catch your flight on time.”

Randy glanced at his watch. “Damn!”

Before he could rush to the master bathroom, Sexy grabbed his wrist. “By the way, I've already set the date for the showcase. It's at the end of the month.” Her forehead creased with worry. “I'm so sorry, Randy. I made a mistake and planned the showcase during the week that you'll be in California. Several music industry executives have already confirmed the invitation to come and listen to Lil' Sizzler, and I can't ask them to change the date. So, is it okay if I throw the party while you're away?” She had Randy's back against the wall. He couldn't deny her, not when she was forced to play mistress while his conniving wife deliberately delayed their divorce.

Randy paused for a beat and then smiled at Sexy. “I don't have a problem with you having a yacht party while I'm away. That boat belongs to both of us and you don't ever have to ask permission to enjoy it.”

“Thanks, honey.”

He cradled her chin, lifting her head until their eyes met. “Cheryl is having a hard time accepting that our marriage is over.”

“But she's the one who ruined the marriage,” Sexy blurted with a great deal of hostility.

“I know, I know. But can you be a little more patient with her? Do it for me and I promise when we do get married, it's gonna be the wedding of the century.”

Sexy nodded, but her mind had already strayed to a different topic. “Do I have to fly commercial to Minnesota?” she whined.

“No, of course not. Go ahead and charter a plane.”

She broke into a big smile. “Aw, you're so sweet and you're so good to me, Randy.”

“You may not be Mrs. Randall Alston yet, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna do everything in my power to spoil you and show you how much I love you.”

Sexy gave him a quick kiss on the lips and when he hurried to the bathroom, she mentally began planning her wardrobe for the rap artist's showcase. She'd probably change two or three times during the evening, and hopefully her hookup at Prada would send her everything she needed. If not, she'd reach out to Stella McCartney, who'd been dying for Sexy to wear her clothes.

It was too much trouble having to worry about her own glamour requirements while also planning a party. It was clearly time for Randy to let her hire a personal assistant. She needed someone who could help with nuisance details like contacting caterers and . . . hell, come to think about it, she could use an assistant at that very moment to take care of chartering the plane for her stupid trip to boring Minnesota.

“Babe, I just remembered something,” Randy said as he picked up an invitation inside his luggage. “There's some kind of charity event in Saint Paul, Minnesota. My agent wants me to attend, so I need you to bring my tux with you and make sure you buy yourself a beautiful gown.”

“What kind of gala?” Sexy inquired, dreading the idea of spending an evening with a bunch of stuffy, old fogies.

Randy read from the invitation. “It's sponsored by the Starkey Foundation.”

“Let me see.” Sexy reached for the invitation and perused it. “So The World May Hear Awards Gala? What's that about?”

“I think they provide hearing aids to deaf kids all over the world.”

“Good cause, but it sounds kind of boring. Do we have to go?” She wrinkled her nose.

“I've already contributed some big bucks, so I might as well attend. There'll be a lot of A-list celebrities and the big bonus is that I'll get to show you off on the red carpet. With your fashion sense, you'll probably end up on the best dressed list featured on E! News.”

Red carpet. E! News. A-list celebs!
Okay, making a pit stop to the sleepy town of St. Paul, Minnesota was beginning to sound a lot more exciting. “Okay,” Sexy agreed with feigned reluctance. “I'll go. But honey, I'm gonna need an assistant to help me juggle all these extra responsibilities.”

Randy grabbed the handle of his luggage. “That's not a problem, Sexy. You can get all the extra help you need to make your life easier.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a quick kiss and escorted him to the door, where they kissed once more before Randy trotted down the corridor toward the elevator.

Smiling and waving goodbye to Randy, Sexy closed the door and rushed to her iPad to look for an agency that could quickly send over applicants to be interviewed for the position of personal assistant.

A top requirement of the applicants would be the ability to maneuver through Manhattan's crazy traffic while chauffeuring Sexy around in her Phantom.

Sexy had no intention of relying on Randy's handouts forever. She needed her own money, and representing desperate young artists seemed like an easy way to begin earning her own money. Who knew? Perhaps one day she'd become a powerhouse in the entertainment industry—a force to be reckoned with.

“Yes, Stephen, I saw it,” Cheryl said wearily into the telephone.

“I'm only saying, that little skank has probably spent more of young country boy's money in a month than you spent in the eight months you were married.”

“We're still married, Stephen, remember?”

“I'm not the one who needs to be reminded, honey,” Stephen said with an attitude. “Someone should let young country boy know married men shouldn't be going around buying yachts, and naming them after their girlfriends.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, too,” Cheryl admitted.

“I bet you did. Especially since it was splashed all over Page Six of
The New York Post
when Sexy hosted a birthday party for some no-name rapper and the police had to be called because someone started shooting off more than their mouths.” Stephen laughed. “Can you believe they're going to have to start putting metal detectors on yachts now?”

“Only yachts that Sexy gives parties on.” Cheryl sighed and added: “Mila told me she ran into the little skank at Tiffany's. She was trying on a diamond necklace, but as soon as she saw Mila, she made a point of loudly telling the clerk that her fiancé would be stopping by in a few weeks to pick out an engagement ring.”

“No!” Stephen exclaimed.

“Oh, yes.” Cheryl examined her fingernails, noting it was time for another manicure. “Then she set aside five rings to show ‘Mr. Randall Alston, the famous third baseman for the New York Yankees,' and then sashayed out the door without saying a word to Mila.”

“Well, one thing you've got to give her, the girl got swag.” Stephen laughed.

“Shit, the one thing I want to give her is a good swift kick in the ass,” Cheryl retorted.

“But really, Cheryl, on a serious tip—what exactly do you think you'll get in the divorce settlement? You said there's no pre-nup in place, so I'm going to assume you're going to take him to the cleaners. The idiot is making it quite easy for you to do so, with him flaunting Sexy all over the place.”

“Who said there's going to be a divorce settlement?” Cheryl said nonchalantly.

“What? Girl, don't make me run over there and slap you,” Stephen said indignantly. “You are not telling me you're not going to get even a little something out this deal. You gotta get at least a couple of million. Shit, he signed that big endorsement deal with Coke, and then the Nike thirty-five-million-dollar deal. Don't be stupid!”

“Girl, please. If there's one thing I'm not, it's stupid.” Cheryl rolled her eyes. “But I'm only saying there may not be a divorce settlement, because there might not be a divorce.”