Chapter 5
Antonio
“Leaving so soon?” Traci kisses up my back.
It’s cold as hell in here, and she expects some parting dick?
She drapes her arms around my neck and presses her perky breasts into my skin. “I can change my flight to this evening.” A hand snakes around my torso to grab my morning wood, which is doing its daily stretch. “Stay. We’ll order breakfast. Keep each other warm.”
I huff at the last part. We had no choice but to fuck for half the night or risk hypothermia. It’s not below freezing in here like it is outside, but it’s cold enough for my nuts to look like they belong in somebody’s Raisin Bran. The tissue they called a comforter did us no favors, which meant relying on body heat or triggering the fire department by setting the furniture on fire. In truth, I was ready to try it. I hate cuddling, but I bit the bullet to avoid frostbite on my extremities. Penis included.
Waking up to head usually guarantees a smile on my face. Except this morning, I was praying that Traci’s saliva wouldn’tcrystallize on my shaft for the rest of the day. ERs and I don’t get along.
An image of Miriam with her hands over her face to hide the embarrassment of her wig being stuck to my watch draws a laugh. It was a painful night, but it was one of the best of my life. I make a mental note to text her later. She’s been quieter than usual.
“What’s so funny?” Traci asks, her brows creased.
“This cold-ass room,” I say. “What sports organization rakes in billions and picks a hotel with tiny beds that’s stingy with the heat and extra blankets?” Professional rugby in the US pulls nowhere near the revenue football does, but at least we manage better rooms than this.
“So stay and let me keep you warm,” she purrs.
“Next time. I have an event this morning.” I kiss her frown and slip into my jeans, which are colder than the thin sheets that forced me to cocoon around the Baltimore cheerleader who mistook my hands around her waist and leg draped over her body as a declaration of love.
Traci is cool people, the spitting image of Janet during herControlera, and she puts her flexibility to good use. The rugby season doesn’t start until next month, but we link up—once, maybe twice a year—during football playoffs, whenever Baltimore plays against Buffalo. She’s five-four and a buck thirty wet but has a mean grip—hands, mouth, and pussy. I appreciate the time we spend together, but she knows what it is.
I lean over for a hug. “Safe travels back. We should’ve won last night. Tell your people to come up earlier. Buffalo winters are nothing to play with.” They were slipping and sliding left and right, giving up plays.
Traci hooked me up with a box seat. I would’ve shown my ass and gone home otherwise, cold as it was. I should’ve talked her into coming home with me, but wrestling her out of my crib wasnot how I planned to start my day. Checkout time is at eight for all guests. No exceptions.
“More time for us,” she says, digging her nails into the marks she carved into my skin last night. “Call me next time you’re in DC.” She pulls me into a kiss and wraps around me like a boa constrictor. “There’s still time for a quick shower.”
“Yo, chill,” I chuckle while unraveling her limbs, thankful I met her at this freezing-ass hotel. I grab my phone off the nightstand and peck her mouth. “I’ll take one at home before I scoop up the boys. There are no washcloths here, and the one small piece of soap looks like a shank. Save yourself and leave early. A duck bath in the airport is probably safer.”
Traci’s laugh gives me enough time to slip off the bed and put on my hoodie and coat. “Go, Antonio.”
“Come lock up.”
She pulls a sweatshirt over her petite frame and meets me at the door. “One of these days, someone will lock you down. You can’t run forever.”
I smirk. “Watch me.”
“How much longer are we here? I’m not trying to be around no loud kids on my day off.”
“Chill,Bailey,” I say, telling Bread and his bottom lip to shut up. “We just got here.” I’m not rushing back outside to dismount the car off the pyramid of snow we parked it on.
The Buffalo Steel is only in its second year, and the team needs all the publicity it can get to convert more fans from football to rugby. Our seasons don’t conflict, and we leave it all on the field without pads or helmets. Last night’s football division victory will hog up every news station from here to Long Island for at least a week. Coach is hopeful that smiling and playing with kidswill earn us some airtime outside of the shadow of professional football. I doubt it, but I’ll do my part.
“I want to get back into some pussy, not play with orphans.” Bread sucks his teeth at the kids sprinting past us down the hall.
“Aren’t you from this neighborhood? These kids aren’t orphans, and they deserve a good time regardless.” Kenneth, or Kendrick, as we call him, for his cadence and likeness to the rapper, is a man of few words when he’s not leading the back line on the pitch. “Too bad you can’t drill sense into hard heads.”
Bread shoulder-checks Kendrick, who cuts a smile that dares him to try it.
Their tenacity during games is where their similarities end. Bread is stocky and built like M’Baku fromBlack Panther, with a drop fade and no common sense. As a tighthead prop, Bread is physically imposing and dominates the scrum. Kendrick keeps his tiny braids pulled into a small bun. He isn’t bulky, but he is quick on his feet and good under pressure as our fly half, who controls the back line. It’s hard to rattle him, but play around, and he’ll go full Gemini with his disrespect.
“Why are we the only ones here?” Bread complains like the big kid he is.
“Shins is somewhere with his girl since we’re off. D is with his daughter. Cho, Connor, and Logan are out of town until later tonight. Half the backs are in a PT session, and everybody else is hungover or didn’t make it home from Buffalo’s playoff celebration,” I say.
