The Sweet Spot (All About the Diamond #1)

by Naomi Springthorp

  “Did you make me cum in your mouth and swallow?” he asks.

  “Twice.” I answer. “Am I a bad girl?”

  “Fuck, more like amazing,” he says in a guttural tone. “Now what should I do to you?” and his grin turns dirty. He slowly sucks and licks my clit over and over repeatedly. It goes on forever and feels spectacular. We fall asleep naked in each others arms and somehow manage to not actually have sex.

  Chapter Nine

  Waking up with Rick Seno wrapped around me buck-naked has got to be one of the best things on earth. Scratch that—it’s the best thing in the universe. He has his arm around me, holding me close to him, legs entwined with mine. Somehow during the night he pulls me in so close, all I can hear is his heartbeat, he’s better than white noise and the sound of the ocean put together. He becomes my blanket and my pillow. Then it hits me. He’s still here. He’s not leaving. Two nights in a row. We didn’t have sex last night, at least we didn’t do the deed. I have a date with him on Saturday after the game and of course, Sunday is a get-away day. Reality can be a confusing bitch, happy, shocked, and sad—all at the same time. For now, he’s not awake yet and I’m going to soak in as much of him as I can. I’m going to commit this to memory, so I can have him in my dreams. I’m also going to change his pillow case when he leaves, so I can have two with his scent to get me through the ten day road trip.

  Somebody should market pillow cases scented as your favorite professional athlete, actor, musician. Fantasy Pillow Cases. They could have the athlete’s picture printed on them. Maybe even matching sheets with full body photos and body pillow cases, too. Then buyers would have to order scent replacement for when they washed the sheets. This is the crazy that runs through my head when I’m in bed with my athlete. I want to share the euphoria, but not the man.

  Bitter, chocolaty notes of my coffee brewing reach my nose and it means I should get up. But, it’s a game day and I don’t want to disturb whatever mojo he has going on. My team needs to win and maybe I don’t want to leave his arms. He’s awake because his morning wood is after my ass. He squeezes me tight and holds me.

  “I know you’re not a baseball player with me, but I’d like to know what your pre-work ritual is on game days. Coffee or no coffee? Do you always eat the same thing on game days? Are there any rules? Is sex banned on certain game days? Stuff like that.” I ask because I want to make sure I have the right supplies available and don’t plan a meal he can’t eat or something.

  “I’m not as superstitious as many of the guys I’ve played with. I wear clean socks every day and don’t recycle the same dirty ones until I strike out or anything. I don’t drink more than one cup of coffee per day unless I’m recovering from too much alcohol. Coach doesn’t like it when we have sex on game days, but he knows most of us do it anyway. I try to only have sex after the game. I need a lot of protein and calories just to be me, but especially on game days. I try to stay away from too much fat and sugar. Sugar is a big one today, because I ate a lot of sugar last night with the cake and whipped cream.” He stops and gazes into my eyes. “Do you remember the whipped cream?” He gets a happy, sexy expression on his face and I feel his cock get harder against me.

  “Of course,” I smile uncontrollably. “We ran out of whipped cream and I’ve already mentally added it to my shopping list. I’m going to buy two cans,” I reply happily. “What can I do for you this morning?” I ask.

  “I’d like to stay in bed until I have to get up and go to the park. Can we do that? Will you stay in bed with me?” he requests.

  I snuggle back into him and do as he asks. There’s nothing that can’t wait a couple hours.

  When Rick finally climbs out of bed, he’s in a hurry to get ready and go to work. I stay in bed and out of his way. I watch and listen as he gets ready to leave. He’ll be back. He’s only going to work, but the mere loss of his body near mine hurts. I don’t understand what he’s done to me. I’m not a wussy girl. I’m typically relieved when a guy leaves. Okay, so I haven’t had a guy over in months. Fine, years. That doesn’t change anything. I enjoy the warmth of my bed and hold the pillow he was using, taking in his scent.

  Rick sits on the bed next to me to put his shoes on, “Are you going to the game tonight?”

  “Yes,” I reply, “I’m going to the next three games. The whole Colorado series.”

  “Do you have any plans for later, after the game?”

  “Actually, I do. I’m dating this great guy who said he’s spending the weekend with me and I’m hoping he’ll be back when he gets done with work tonight.”

  “Do you want him to come back tonight?” Rick asks.

  “Yea, I can hardly wait,” I reply anxiously with a smile.

  “What are you going to do if he comes back tonight?”

  “I’m going to make him a sandwich in case he’s hungry after work. Then we’re going to lie in bed together, holding each other and watch a movie. We’ll probably make out and strip each other naked. Honestly, as long as he’s here with me I’ll be happy. It doesn’t matter what we do. He does give sex that’s off the charts explosive, best I’ve ever had.”

  Rick leans over and gives me one of his amazing kisses. He lingers with his lips to mine and runs his hands along my outline under the blankets, remembering I’m still naked. He makes a low groan, “If I had the option of calling in sick, I’d do it today. I could stay here with you naked and we could just be us with no world out there.”

  I have no words. He makes me believe I’m important to him, and not just another girl.

  “I’ll see you later, babe.” He says with a smile as he leaves for work.

  Now, I could stay in bed and hide under the covers. Eventually, he’ll come back and find me here waiting for him. Or, I’ll die of starvation. The smell of coffee wins, even though it’s gotten bitterer, and I roll out of bed. If only I could stay in my Rick Seno haze all day, every day. The world would definitely be a better place.

  I turn the shower on and let it heat up while I get my coffee. I’m a bit sticky all over and I need to get on with my day. I shower and talk to myself… Okay, I know last night was real and I know the night before was real and I know he’s real and I know I need a reality check. First, this has gotten deep faster than I thought possible. Second, I haven’t made a pros and cons comparison for or against dating him. Third, I stayed in bed instead of getting up to work and that doesn’t keep me in business, pay my bills, support my baseball habit or keep me in cake. I need to settle this here and now. I get out of the shower and with a towel wrapped around me sit down to make a list. I write “Pros” draw a line down the middle of the paper, then I write “Cons”. It goes like this:

  Pros

  He’s a baseball player

  He doesn’t want me to think of him as a baseball player

  Best sex ever

  He isn’t leaving

  He can’t keep his hands off me

  He’s still here in the morning

  I like him

  I want to keep him

  Cons

  He’s a baseball player

  He doesn’t want me to think of him as a baseball player

  He travels for work

  Trade deadline

  His rules

  His presence causes me to go brain dead

  He makes me think silly girl things

  Boys are stupid

  My coffee is gone and I start another list. A list I never considered before…

  Reasons Not to Date a Baseball Player

  Travels for work

  They get traded

  Other women are after them

  They get traded

  Gone half the time

  They get traded

  They get hurt

  They get traded

  The facts are a slap in the face. He could get traded and the trade deadline is coming. Fantasy baseball boyfriends can get traded, which is a huge downer. But, having my own baseball player boyfriend, live and in person—
well, add a few complications and multiply by infinity. Technically, he’s not my boyfriend, that’s just another girly fabrication in my head. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be a baseball player to me. He wants a woman to want him for him and not his money, notoriety, status. Baseball player reality.

  I look at the clock and it’s almost 3pm! I haven’t gotten any work done, and I’m not even dressed! Add he’s a distraction to the cons list. I’m meeting my section peeps for our pre-game pow-wow at 6:30 and I still need to replenish the whipped cream supply. I have to be waiting at the trolley stop no later than 5:30.

  I manage to get everything done, and to book another vacation client. I grab my Seno jersey and put it on over a strappy tank with my blue jeans. I drive to the trolley station, and get to the platform in time to watch my trolley roll away. I’m stuck waiting fifteen minutes for the next one. The trolley is crowded with commuters, standing room only and the funky smells are in full force. The combination of body odor and skunk weed is nauseating. I wander through the sea of people to get away from the stench. I end up standing near an older woman wearing dark glasses and a wide brimmed floppy hat, she appears to be talking to herself. I eavesdrop on her conversation…

  “In your heart you love him. He’s a good man. Don’t let your brain ruin it. Trust your heart over your eyes. You will want him in the end.” She turns to me, “Good luck with your man,” as she gets off the trolley at the next stop.

  What the hell? Public transportation can be an adventure.

  I get off the trolley and get a text message from my section peeps, meeting at the lounge pre-game. That’s code for $5 beer and free popcorn, which is fine with me because I’m not going to have time to get food and meet them in time. Beer and popcorn wins.

  It’s Friday night and that makes the stadium full of energy. “My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark” by Fall Out Boy is blaring throughout the park and it’s a party atmosphere. I get to the lounge right on time and find my peeps with beers in hands. Yes, they’re two fisting. Tonight is obviously about the beer and not the pre-game conversation. That’s probably good, I’m not ready to be questioned about Seno yet. We each get round two and walk to our section in time to watch the players stretch and warm up for the game. Ed the usher, waves as we go to our seats. I can’t remember the last time he checked our tickets. Sandy and his wife are already in their seats waiting for the game, as always. We all comment and share our opinions on the recent trades, review the players on the disabled list and recap any shifting between the Seals and their farm teams. Nothing too crazy going on right now, feels like the calm before the storm—the trade deadline.

  Seno is already out in the bullpen helping the starting pitcher, Corey Grace, warm up. Grace the Ace starting tonight should lead to a victory. I always enjoy the process of a game. Everything from the pre-game with friends and the National Anthem to the fireworks when we get a home run and the post-game interviews—even the occasional Gatorade baths. Tonight it all seems to hang out in the background because I’m focused on Rick Seno. His deliberate, catlike moves behind the plate. The control he has over the whole event, calling the pitches and leading his team. The crouched position he spends most of the night in while balanced on the balls of his feet and ready to throw anybody out that tries to steal second. His sheer overall strength and ability. He was my fantasy, but now he’s real and he makes me proud of him. My desire to be with him is greater now than it’s ever been.

  The game was going well. We had a couple of home runs and had taken control of the bases early, Cross and Martin had been stealing bases all night. The opposing team scored three in the top of the ninth inning and tied the game. Bottom of the ninth inning with one out and nobody on, Seno steps up to the plate. First pitch: Ball. Second pitch: Ball. Third pitch: Grounded foul down the right field line. Fourth pitch: Strike. Fifth pitch: Smack! Straight out to Center Field, home run. Walk-off! Seals win! Rick doesn’t dally, he rounds the bases at a good trot and meets his teammates at home plate for their winning celebration scrum. I’m standing and cheering and yelling and clapping. My peeps stare at me like I’m crazy. I don’t get it, we always cheer our team on. When Sandy turns to me, “Did you just say That’s my man?”

  I can’t contain my happiness as I see Seno searching the stands and finally pointing at me. I make my way down to the autograph wall to watch Hannah interview him, all the while he’s focused on me. He finishes the quick interview, walks over to me, grabs my hands and leans in to whisper in my ear, “I heard you yelling for me through the whole game and I love it, my own cheering section.” He kisses me at my ear. “The guys want to go drink, but I like your plan better. I’ll be at your place in less than an hour to celebrate the win with you.”

  “It takes me longer to get home after the game. I wait for the third trolley, so it’s not packed and standing room only.”

  “I’ll be ready in less than thirty minutes. Hang out and go to the team store or something. Meet me at the employee garage entrance and you can ride with me. I don’t want you on the trolley,” it was more a command than anything else. He planted one of those crazy don’t-forget-me kisses on me and took off into the dugout.

  My peeps are usually gone by now, but apparently decided to stay for the show tonight. I walk up the stairs to my section and let the questioning begin. They all want to know what’s going on with me and Seno. Who could blame them? I’d like to know, too!

  “He’s a great kisser and we’re kind of dating,” Giving them somewhere to start.

  Sandy starts in, “You’re dating a baseball player? You should know better than that.”

  “I’m dating Rick Seno, not a baseball player,” I reply. “I’ve got to get moving, he’s giving me a ride home.” I excuse myself from the questioning with looks of awe following after me.

  Chapter Ten

  I walk up to the employee garage entrance and some of the players are wandering out into the garage to find their rides. Taking in my surroundings, there are quite a few people hanging around, mostly women. Baseball skanks. This is uncomfortable.

  Text to Rick - Not comfortable out here with all the baseball skanks. Taking the trolley.

  I wait for a reply and as I start to walk off I get a text:

  Text from Rick - Chill thirty seconds

  Cross comes out to get me, puts his arm around me and says, “How are you doing, baby?” loud enough for everyone around us to hear. Nasty remarks and pure jealousy from the skanks ensue as Cross leads me into the stadium. He has a way of making a scene and making me smile while he’s at it. Such a good kid.

  “Seno was in the showers and I saw your text, so I went for the assist.”

  “It seems to be your calling.” We stand and talk for a few minutes inside the stadium, until Seno walks out of the clubhouse.

  “Hands off my woman. I’ve got it from here. Thank you.” He says, not really joking. He picks me up, and kisses me stupid.

  “Dude, you’ve got it bad…” I hear trailing down the hallway as Cross makes his way back to the clubhouse.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says and basically drags me to his car. I didn’t notice the limo tint on his windows before. Nobody can see in, complete privacy, and I decide to take advantage. I love how his car has a bench seat. I scoot over next to him, and run my hand up and down his thigh. I move up his leg and find he’s very happy to see me. I unbutton and unzip his pants, safely releasing his cock to come out and play.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I must be doing it wrong, if you have to ask,” I reply as I grasp his hard length in my hand and begin to stroke him. I lean over between him and the steering wheel to kiss his tip and lick the bit of moisture off. I drag my tongue around his tip and shaft as I go down on him, taking him completely in my mouth.

  “I’m trying to drive here,” he says and hesitates. “But, it’s a short drive. You keep doing what you want with me.”

  I hum, intensifying the affect of my lips and tongu
e on him. I feel the reaction in his body, his heart beating fast and hard. He pulls over to the side of the freeway and slides over to the passenger side, where I quickly mount him to take a ride. He’s so hard he fills me completely and I have to work my way down on him the last couple of inches. Stretching me to make room for all of him. Not much time when it comes to freeway quickies, the police could stop to check the car at any time. Rick smells yummy and I want to eat him up. I ride him hard like the rocket he is, ready to shoot me off into space. Grinding against him and getting off on the whole situation. He thrusts up meeting me in time. The windows fog. Harder and faster we pound together. He kisses me deep and pinches my nipples. He gets harder inside me, and we both explode carelessly. His name on my lips and mine on his. He quickly gets back to the driver side and drives off toward my place.

  The last few miles of the nine-mile drive from the stadium, “I’m going to make you a sandwich and I bought more whipped cream, just in case.” I ask him to pick a movie to watch when we get back to my place, while I make us some sandwiches. French rolls layered with ham, prosciutto, hot capicola, pepperoni, provolone, Italian herbs, black pepper and a drizzle of olive oil, then placed in the oven for a few minutes to toast up. I sliced the two sandwiches into thirds and arranged the pieces on a plate with some pickles and raw baby carrots.