Text Me Baby One More Time - Teagan Hunter



Around these parts, I’m a king.

That’s not me being cocky; I’m just being realistic.

No matter where I go, people stare. They look at me like a fucking celebrity or some shit. Pictures, my autograph—begged for. People go out of their way to gain my attention, even if only for a moment—especially women.

In fact, it’s about to happen right now.

At 10:30 PM on a Wednesday night in the middle of Smart Shoppe, aisle three.

I see the thirst in her eyes the moment I turn the corner. Her back snaps up straight when she notices me, a hungry grin stretching across her red-painted lips. She tosses her perfectly curled, long locks over her shoulder as she forms her plan of attack.

She’s hot as fuck, I’ll give her that. She’s not quite what I normally go for in a girl, but I’m not one to say no to pussy.

It doesn’t hurt that she knows how to wear a pair of jeans like a second skin.

I bet her legs would look pretty damn great wrapped around me.

My lips—and dick—twitch at the thought.

She thinks that’s her cue and begins her approach, taking long, exaggerated steps toward me, her hips swaying back and forth as she moves closer.

“Hi.” Translation: You’re hot. “I’m Brandi, with an I.” Stripper name. “You’re Shep Clark, right?”

I try not to snort at her I’m so innocent act. She knows exactly who I am—everyone does.

Just like I know she wants me to take her back to my apartment and fuck her until the sun comes up.

Though I’ve sworn off meaningless flings, I’m considering it. It’s been over a month since I acquainted myself with anything other than my hand, and it’s getting old—quick.

“I watch all your games—you’re good.”

“I know.”

She takes a step closer and laughs. It’s one of those playful, slightly husky laughs girls do that don’t sound genuine.

Another step closer, our feet now touching.

Her fingers trail along the arm I have outstretched against the shelving. “I haven’t seen you on the field lately, though.” Her lips jut out in a frown. “What gives?”

I gnash my teeth together, jaw clenching tightly at the inquisition.

It’s true, I’m taking some time off from the game—but not by choice, just so we’re clear.

You get into one little bar fight, cause a measly couple thousand dollars’ worth of damage, and suddenly you’re “troubled” and “need a break”.

It’s bullshit.

“None of your business.”

She either doesn’t hear the bite in my tone or chooses to ignore it.

“It’s a shame, so much talent being wasted. But…” Her eyes flick to mine, another grin dancing on her lips.

They’re plump, kissable. I bet they’d look even better wrapped around my cock.

Based off the pulsing Shep Jr. does at the idea, I’d say he agrees.

She pushes onto her tiptoes, bringing her mouth to my ear. “Baseball isn’t the only thing you’re talented at, right?”

Fuck no, it isn’t.

I slide an arm around her waist, pulling her tight little body against mine.

She purrs—literally fucking purrs like a cat—at the move. I want to shove her away for that alone, but honestly, my dick is lonely.

“How about we get out of here?”

She giggles. “I’d like that, baby.”


I stifle my groan at the pet name. I fucking hate pet names. To try to get myself in the mood a little more, I run my nose along her jaw, and she giggles.

I also hate giggling.

Good thing sex doesn’t have to involve talking. It’ll be a whole lot of moaning and orgasms, just like I like it.

“I know a—”

“Really, universe? Really?”

The words are muttered, but there’s no denying who is standing behind me, her cart mere inches from ramming into