“Pretty much. Ready to start the season.”
I chuckle. Oh to be young and gung-ho again. “That’s what I like to hear,” I tell him, giving him a quick clap on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything or need help settling in.”
“Will do, Coach.”
I nod and move on to Johnson, our conversation much the same. Satisfied for now, I make my way over to a weight bench and start my workout. These guys may be younger than me, but they will never be more fit than me.
By the end of my workout, I’m drenched in sweat and feeling good, my muscles loose and slightly tired. Since I work out regularly, I don’t need to push it to the max every single day. I’m more in maintenance-mode than build-mode. All in all, it’s been a good day. And it’s about to get even better. Because tonight, Layla is going to FaceTime around 9:00 p.m. It’s kind of sad that we have to schedule time for each other, but if that’s what we need to do, then we’ll do it.
I’m lying in bed, in just my boxer briefs, when my phone alerts me to a FaceTime. It’s Layla.
“Hello, beautiful,” I say after I pick up.
“Hello, handsome.”
“How was your day?”
“Busy. Long. How about you?”
“Pretty much the same. It was an off day, but I worked out with the players, getting to know the newest ones a little more.”
She nods.
“How are Cora and Chris?”
“They’re good. They asked when you’ll be back in town.”
I know exactly when I’ll be back. “April 18th.”
“That long?” Layla gasps softly, her phone slipping a bit, showing more of her. What is she wearing?
I grimace a bit. It’s a long time. “That long. Say, what are you wearing?”
She grins, then pulls her arm back, showing me her top.
“Fuuuck, woman,” I grind out, my dick instantly hard. She’s wearing the jersey I gave her for Christmas. The one that has my name on the back.
“I thought you might like that.”
“I more than like it,” I growl, pushing on my painfully hard dick, now almost busting out of my boxer briefs. “Have anything on underneath my jersey?” I grate out, my throat tight.
She bats her eyelashes at me, shaking her head.
“Nothing? Not even…” I start to say, my words stuck in my throat. Layla pans down and shows me my jersey, unbuttoned and perfectly framed between her legs. Fuck. Me. This woman…
“Layla,” I growl, pushing down my boxer briefs. “As much as I love seeing you in my jersey, for the love of God, woman. Take it off!”
She smirks and grasps each side of the jersey, shrugging it off, revealing her glorious breasts and dark nipples. Taking my dick in my hand, I squeeze and stroke down the shaft, pleasuring myself.
“Play with your tits,” I grunt, my strokes getting rougher.
Her hands fly to her breasts, cupping each one. She then plucks her nipples, making them stand at attention. God, what I wouldn’t give to be there, so I could suck each hard pebble into my mouth.
“Gabe,” she moans, leaning back. Good thing she already has the camera sitting up, or she’d be out of shot.
“Now play with that pretty pussy. Are you wet?”
“Yes,” she moans, her fingers between her legs.
