Sweet moans echoed from the shower walls, and a sensual slapping announced our rhythm as I continued to rock my hips to push in and out of her, my thumb fucking her ass in the opposite rhythm.
I watched her fingers curl around the bench, and she rose up as her toes curled beneath her feet, and I knew she was ready to come. I braced myself for the sweet contractions that would soon surround my cock. Her moans grew louder, and I felt the first pulse of her insides bearing down, first soft and then harder until that sweet massage of pulsating spasms brought us both to a powerfully sweet climax.
“I really want a shower like this,” she gasped and then turned, a soft smile brightening her features.
As our bodies separated, I promised, “I’ll give you anything you want.”
The smile grew wider. “You better be careful, Mr. Millionaire,” she teased, then grew serious. “You. All I really want is you.”
I kissed the very tip of her nose. “I’m all yours.”
***
Just my luck.
I pulled into the players’ parking area just as Ace was getting out of his car. It pissed me off, but I didn’t delay getting out and grabbing my bag. I belonged here just as much as he did, and I wouldn’t let anything or anyone take my focus from the job I needed to do today.
My rotation was up. Today was my day to take the mound and no way in hell would I let this asshole get in my way.
“Big game today, kid,” Ace said, holding the door for me as I entered the long corridor. It was the first words he’d said to me since I’d picked up Whitney’s luggage a couple days ago.
I smiled politely. “Yep. Let’s kick some ass.”
He grinned and clapped a hand down on my shoulder. “Uh, I need to say something,” he said, and I exhaled loudly but stopped and turned to face him.
“What?”
He looked down at his shoes, then back up at me. “Sorry, man. I’ve been a real dick.”
I couldn’t disagree, so I said nothing.
He blew out a breath and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I was pissed when I got traded. Pissed at the world in general. You just got in the line of fire.”
Wow.
That had never occurred to me. I thought he’d been excited to move to the new team, a new city. Knowing it was against his will changed my perspective. It didn’t excuse his assholeness, but it went a long way toward my being able to forgive him.
I stuck out a hand. He smiled and shook it, then clapped me on the back again as we headed to the locker room. I doubted that we’d ever be best friends, and I certainly didn’t want to hang out with him, but we were teammates, and on the field, we needed to stick up for each other.
“Good luck today,” he said.
“Yeah, you too.”
And that was it. He went his way, and I went mine, then we both headed outside to get ready for the big game.
Hours later, Coach gave one of his powerful pep talks and got the team riled up as we all rushed out to the field. I felt like myself as my feet hit the green grass and the screams of the crowd turned into a roar.
The Beasts were back, and I’d do every damn thing I could to not let these people down.
On the mound, the first thing I did was look for Whitney. Holly was sitting next to her, gabbing away. Whitney smiled as our eyes met and she blew me a kiss. I blew her one back and then stepped into the dugout for the coach to give us his game plan.
St. Louis was a tough team, one of the toughest in the league this season. When we played on their home turf a few weeks ago, they shut us out. I vaguely heard the coach as he gave stats, updated us with player information, and shared a few additional insider tips. I already had that information locked and loaded in my head. I spent most of my free time memorizing player stats and researching their playing techniques. I had since I was a kid, but once in the minors, I got serious knowing that one day I would be playing against and alongside many of my favorites. Like Ace Newman, my hero, the badass of baseball who I’d almost let destroy my life.
My plan was simple. When I felt myself losing focus, I’d look to Whitney and regain my composure.
“Let’s play ball!” Coach yelled out, and we filed out of the dugout onto the field one by one.
I’d been studying these boys pretty hard since our last loss, so I felt confident I could keep them from scoring any more than a few runs.
The first inning was smooth, only two base hits and no one reached home.
Ace hit a home run so loud, people a mile away could’ve probably heard that crack. Of course being the showman that he is, he danced, ran backwards, and played it up for the crowd while we all waited for him to make his way around the bases and back to home.
By the fourth inning, we were up 5-2. Todd Morris took his position at the plate, staring me down. I didn’t mind; I knew Whitney wasn’t interested in him anymore. He was just another man for me to strike out.
I smiled up at Whitney, who was waving and cheering me on. I had a plan for Morris, knowing his weakness was to lose track of a slow ball. I found my seams and let it go. It looked like a fastball out of my hand. I watched it spin, then drop and lose speed.
Morris swung.
Strike one!
His eyes were locked onto mine, and I winked at him, laughing when his frown grew even deeper. It was like he wasn’t even trying to watch the ball, which was alright by me. I threw another pitch, similar, but slowing much earlier before reaching him.
Strike two!
He looked like a volcano about to explode as I wound up for the next throw. I tried again, this time returning to the first pitch.
Strike three!
Bye bye, you bastard.
He just stood there, glaring at me, a wild look in his eyes. For a moment, I wondered if he was going to rush me, and hoped he would. My fist on his jaw would feel pretty good right now.
The ump finally made him go sit his ass down, his walk of shame even greater as our fans booed him off the field.
I was pumped when the next man took the plate. A few more pitches, and I was headed for the dugout. Ace high fived me. I fist bumped him back. Damn, it felt good to not have so much tension between us.
My luck wasn’t just on the mound that day. I knocked the shit out of the first pitch thrown at me, a slow roller with a twist similar to mine. Sorry pal, nice try though. It was almost out of the park, but fell a couple inches short way back in left field. My hit brought two more players home, then I stole third, dusting myself off after barely sliding in under the throw. I never made it off third, but that was okay. It was a good inning, and I had contributed my share.
The game became a battle, but I held my own and my team backed me up. By the end of the seventh, my arm was struggling, but I was giving it everything I had when Morris stepped back to the plate.
Morris stared me down again, but this time, his eyes dropped to my hand. Finally, he was ready to play. A little late in the last game when you’re down by six.