Bad Boy Prospect (Alpha Bad Boy Book 2) (2 page)

GAVIN

I've managed to calm myself a little and my knuckles are swollen and red. I should've used my left hand. I hit that son of a bitch pretty hard. Lesson learned.

A roar rings out above me and I can practically feel people stomping on the ceiling as the walls shake around me.
Must've pulled it out.

Jackson comes through the clubhouse first, a giant smile plastered on his face until he sees me. I start to say something and he shakes his head. I find out why two seconds later.

"Markoff! In my goddamn office, now!" Coach looks like a fireball as his short pudgy frame barrels through the locker room and into his office. I follow behind at his heels, ducking through the door. "Shut the fucking door."

I do as he says and he turns around, staring daggers into my eyes.

" Coach—"

He holds up his right hand and wipes his brow with his left. "Just save it, okay? Look son, you are the most remarkable, dominating goddamned pitcher I have ever coached—"

"Coach—"

"I said save it, goddamn it!"

I can't stop thinking about how many times he says goddamn in one day. It has to be at least five an hour, meaning one hundred and twenty give or take ten either way. I think about adjusting for while he sleeps, but he probably says it in his dreams so I count those too. It makes me chuckle on the inside before I snap out of it.

"Son," he flashes a smile, "look, I get it. It's tough to get mad at you. I admire your intensity. Fuck. You would have fit in perfectly on my team when I played. You play old school, and it makes me nostalgic. But shit fucking shit, you cannot do that nowadays. You can't lay a motherfucker out in the infield. You can't throw at people the way we did back then. The sport has become pussified."

Is pussified a word? I don't know, but I like it.

"You will get sued. You will get arrested. There is no room for it in today's game." He points his finger at me and shakes it up and down. "You most of all. Millions of dollars in your right arm. They will hit you the hardest."

"Coach, I don't know how to play any other way. It's how I was taught. I'm the closer. People have to fear me. It's my role."

His head is shaking and I can see the wheels spinning in his head, the conflict in his mind. He has to know I'm right. He might be a prick, but he's a smart one, a fair one. He holds his hand up over his mouth for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. A smile spreads across his face. "I know how to deal with this. I'll be in touch."

I stand there, unsure how to take the news. I could tell him to fuck off, that I'll be doing as I please. But I do respect the man. It better not be some bullshit though. And I won't apologize for what those cunt weasels pulled on the field.

His grin turns into a hard stare. "Well go on. Get the fuck outta my sight."

I'd usually tell him to eat shit, but I can't get out of his office fast enough. There are a couple of girls that need my attention.

***

Jackson is down to his sliders as I sit down on the bench in front of our lockers. He gives me a hard glare for a second and I return it. We both break out into laughter.

"Jesus Christ, bro. Did you have to snap his finger? I heard that shit from home plate."

I shrug and grin. "Shouldn't be pulling that bush league bullshit."

"Oh, I agree. He had it coming. But fuck, bro. Sometimes I think you forget how big you are."

I roll my eyes. "Let's get out of here. Blow off some steam. It's Saturday night. We ain't got practice tomorrow."

"No, no, no. I am not going out drinking with your Andre the Giant ass again. Nuh uh, sir. Bad news."

"C'mon. I need to drink."

"You need to fuck. That's what this is all about."

"I need both, like right now." I jump up from the bench and start dry humping his leg.

"What the fuck, man? You are out of control." He laughs.

"Imma toss your shit up like an episode of
Oz
if you don't say yes."

"Fine, yes. Just stop. I'm begging you."

I fist my hand over my cup and make a gesture that suggests I'm coming all over his ass. I throw some toward his chest and face for good measure, complete with splooge sound effects.

I nod toward his towel. "Clean yourself up with that come rag and I'll meet you out front."

I walk toward the shower to the sound of him snickering.

***

Jackson and I walk into the local bar where all the players hang out. It's dark and the jukebox is going, but not so loud we can't hear ourselves talk. It's why I like it here. When I go out I want to sit down and have a conversation, not scream over music. There is a cornucopia of pussy here tonight, but I still have my mind on the two girls from the game.

They didn't look twenty-one, so I doubt they are here. But who knows these days. I'm only twenty, but then again at 6'6" 265, most bouncers just get out of the way. Nobody says shit to a number one draft pick either. In fact, they practically throw everything I could ever want at me.

Jackson walks over to the bar and returns with a bucket of beers as we take a seat at a pub table with four tall chairs around it. The place is pretty dark, and the bar runs the entire length of one wall, backlit with purple and green neon to make the liquor bottles stand out. I reach into the ice bucket for a beer and leave my hand submerged for a second, welcoming the chill on my swollen hand.

"Gonna take more than a bucket of beer to make that shit feel normal."

I like Jackson. He's good people. He's twenty-six, which is practically ancient in AA ball. He's always been on the verge of making it to the show. The timing just never works out. I feel bad about it. He wouldn't be an all-star, but he's a grinder. It'd help him make enough coin to be set up for life. Nothing is certain in professional sports. He could blow his knees out tomorrow and be a Walmart greeter the rest of his life.

"Ahh, it'll be alright. Just need to rub some dirt on it."

"Where did you come from, man? You are like a different breed. I've never seen anyone play the way you do." His brow wrinkles with his smile. "Just fuckin'
raw
, bro."

"My dad taught me. It's how he played I guess. And when you're a closer, you have to bring the pain. Know what I mean?"

We clink the neck of our beer bottles together.

"Indeed."

I'm waiting for it. He's buttering me up. It means he's about to give me some pointers, or point out the error of my ways. He could be a goddamn diplomat at the UN he's such a likable dude. But he's not fooling me.

"Just get it out of your system, man. It's okay. Really."

"I ain't even know what you're talkin' about, Gavin."

My lips push together in a thin line, and I sit there, staring.

"Fine, man. Look...you can't be doing this shit."

"Heard from Coach. Next." My head is on a swivel. I might as well be honing in on some pussy while I hear a slightly different version of Coach's advice.

"Motherfucker, I ain't Coach. You gotta take it easy though. That's all I'm sayin'."

"You done?"

He nods and grins. "Yeah, bitch. I'm done. Be right back, I gotta get us something."

"Okay."

I hear some giggling and I turn around. Right in front of me are the two asses I was admiring earlier in the evening. 'Gavin' on one ass, and sure as shit there it is, 'Markoff' on the other. There is just something sexy about a woman wearing my name.

They are practically squealing, so I hope Jackson was going to retrieve shots. Otherwise these two will get annoying fast.

"Didn't know if you girls would show up here. Are you old enough to be in this place?"

They spin around to face me after they're done showing me how to spell my name. One is blonde with blue eyes, petite. She has a firm ass and medium-sized tits. The other is a bit taller. She has brunette hair and green eyes with a pair of tits that have the head of my dick going to war with my zipper. I adjust my cock and smile as Jackson shows back up with a couple of shot glasses.

I can see the defeat in his face already. He's lost me. I'm enamored with the pussy. It happens. He hands me a shot glass and we raise them up before I put the whiskey to my lips and toss it back, my head tilting up to the ceiling. It burns so fucking good on the way down.

"So I'll see you at practice Monday?" he asks.

"What the fuck? You leaving?"

He stares at me, then to the girls, then back at me. "Unless you're feeling generous."

"Well, I mean I would and all, but—" I grip each one of the girls by the hip and spin them around, my palm up as I move it next to their asses like one of the models on The Price is Right. "—I do not seem to see 'Jackson' anywhere."

It seems like a dickish move, but he knows I'd gladly give him a shot at one of them if he wanted. It's not really the kind of guy he is, despite his jokes.

"It's cool. I'll holler at you tomorrow. Y'all kids have fun now."

"Oh, we will, sir."

I watch him leave and remember I have forgotten my manners. "What's your names?"

"Tiffany," says the brunette.

"Amber," says the other.

If there is one thing I know with perfect clarity right now, it's that I will not be remembering that tomorrow. I look around and it's kind of dead in the bar for a Saturday night. When I turn around I notice that Titties (that's how I'll remember Tiffany) has taken a shine to the bulge in my pants, and licks her lips before biting on the lower one. She's a wildcard. She looks like she can fuck, but we'll just have to find out.

Nice Ass (Amber) has gorgeous blue eyes, and is staring at my face. I want to say that she's gorgeous, but I can't make an accurate assessment because I'm picturing my cock fucking her mouth while she stares at me with those eyes, smearing her sparkly lip gloss up and down my shaft. It's definitely time to get the fuck out of here and get balls deep into these two.

***

It took no effort to get these girls to my apartment. It pretty much consisted of me mentioning the bar wasn't much fun, and they asked to come here. What can I say? I turn the knob to the front door and we stroll in. It's nothing fancy, but enough to not send female companions sprinting for their cars. It's a two bedroom on the first floor, one room for fucking and my baseball gear, the other acts as my master bedroom.

The floors are all hardwood with throw rugs. It's easier to clean that way in case I have parties. Neutral walls, stainless appliances, leather couches, flat screen — a regular, modern apartment.

I'm horny as fuck and not in the mood to tease around or have to work for anything. Titties has been eyeing me with a certain level of intensity all evening, and I would be lying if I didn't say I was more anxious to pound away on her cunt. Not that Nice Ass is a throwaway. I'm just a tit man, and I can't wait to watch hers bounce in time with my thrusts.

"You two get warmed up. I'm gonna be ready to fuck after I get something to drink."

The girls giggle before meeting my serious stare. I see the spark of arousal in both of their eyes. They've never fucked a guy who knows what he's doing. Most guys my age, their age, are still figuring out what they're doing, but I've had pussy thrown at me for years. Perks of being a world class athlete, and looking much older than my age.

Their faces are bright pink. Nice Ass smooths her palms down her shorts. I don't have time for them to figure this shit out on their own.

"Kiss her."

They both turn a brighter shade of pink and turn to stare at each other. They're taking way longer than I want them to, and it doesn't make me happy.

"Now!"

They both freeze up for a brief moment, before Titties puts her palm on Nice Ass's cheek and moves in for the mouth. That's right. Titties wants to please me. She has that crazed look in her eye, like she wants it hard.

"Better." My voice is loud and dominates the room. "I'm going to the kitchen. When I get back I better not see you wearing any fucking clothes and those pussies better be wet. Understand?"

Their tongues are in each other's mouths as they both nod, mouths still locked on one another.

I walk to the fridge and get my Gatorade on, strawberry lemonade as usual. I chug the whole bottle without stopping. A man needs his electrolytes before he blows his load on two sets of tits.

As I round the corner, these girls are licking each other in a position that can be represented mathematically. I marvel at the sight, but I'm a bit bummed that I didn't get to watch Titties take her top off. There is something about the moment when the breasts are set free, and a woman's arms are stretched over her head, wrapped in her shirt still that just fucking does it for me. I usually make it a point to be behind them so my hands have immediate access, but apparently I'm just completely off both my games tonight.

My analysis of the tit release situation is cut short when I focus my eyes on the two hot co-eds moaning into each other's cunts. My cock is rock hard and it should already be in someone's mouth. Now, I want Titties more, but Blondie looks like she can suck a fucking dick off and those eyes are going to make the perfect backdrop for a blowjob.