He smiles and holds up the T-shirt. “Umm P, I don’t think this is gonna fit anymore.”
“Well that’s all I have so put it on. If not, you’re welcome to spend the night in your room with the clothes that fit you properly. He grips the hem of his sopping wet shirt and begins to lift it over his stomach. One, two, three abs appear before I shake my head and rid myself of the lust filled thoughts swimming around my head. “Not in here. Bathroom.”
“Come on Pres. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.” He smirks, but the realization is, the last time I truly saw him, he was a nineteen-year old kid. I could vaguely make out his Adonis-like body in the dark a few weeks ago and now the idea of seeing him intimidated me.
We both had changed. I was curvier now than I was back then, larger breast, rounder, fuller ass, thighs you could actually dig your hands into and slightly squishy around the middle. Long gone were the days of my size two jeans, and a very large part of me worried he wouldn’t find me attractive if he saw me completely naked.
“Bathroom.” He rolls his eyes at me and disappears giving me a moment to quickly change into my pajamas. A couple minutes later he knocks on the bathroom door before opening it, his arms raised above his head gripping the door frame as he rocked his body backwards and forwards in a sexy fashion.
I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
“Laugh all you want to princess.”
“I must say…the banana boxers really do something for you,” I snort through my laughter, “but the crop top…” I wipe the tears away as Robert takes a running leap before pouncing on my bed eliciting a giddy squeal of laughter.
“It’s a medium and it's cutting off circulation to my arms.” He sits on what used to be his side of the bed, leaned against the headboard, and I have a hard time pulling my eyes away from him. “So what are we watching?”
I pull a pillow over me and shrug, “I don’t care.”
“Good.” He turns off the television and sets the remote on the nightstand before raking his eyes over my body. “Let’s not pretend that we’re actually going to watch something. Your legs haven’t quit rubbing together in some form or fashion since I’ve come out here, and I can tell each time you clench yourself. I’m serious Presley. I’m going to follow your lead tonight. If you want me to stop you’re going to have to tell me, otherwise this is happening.”
I nod my head and bite my bottom lip before crawling on top of him, my sex settling against his firm erection. I rock forward to feel his length. He brings my mouth to his, taking full advantage of my willingness. He bites my bottom lip, eliciting a small moan. His tongue slips past my lips as I slide my hands down his muscular chest, gripping the hem of his shirt.
“This has got to go. I don’t want it cutting off circulation to your arms. It could cause severe damage to your range of motion.”
He looks at me quizzically, “Is that so?”
“Mmhmm,” I blush back.
I firmly pull on the shirt, but it barely moves. “Oh my gosh! You weren’t joking.”
“I told you,” he chuckles.
“Then why did you put it on?” I know why, and it warms my heart, but I want to hear him say it.
“Because I wanted you to be comfortable.” He smiles at me and I smile back.
“Well enough is enough.”
I reach over to my nightstand and grab a pair of scissors from the drawer.
“Whoa!” His eyes widen and a look of fright over comes him. “What are you planning on doing with those things?”
“I was planning on cutting you out of the shirt unless you want to stay in it all night.”
He smirks and pulls my hips hard against him creating a pleasurable tingling sensation between my legs. “I have a better idea.” He grips the collar and pulls. The fabric strains against his force and slowly gives way, ripping halfway down his chest. If I wasn’t wet before, that hulk-like move just ensured I was.
I place my hands on his and look up at him through my lashes, “Let me.” I finish tearing his shirt apart and then slide it off of his shoulders.
“Presley,” he whispers.
“Please.”
Both our breaths are heavy with desire and anticipation. He shifts me off of him, placing me on the mattress, he rolls his body on top of mine, supporting his weight with his forearm so as not to crush me. His mouth finds my neck and his hand slides under my top, grabbing at my breast as I arch into him. His calloused hands a delicious contradiction to my smooth skin. I let out a tiny whimper and open my legs wider to him.
“You okay?”
“Please don’t stop.” I beg while pulling my top off. He takes each aroused bud in his mouth with fervor. I move against his hips and he quickly sits back on his heels. His fingers grip my waist band as he begins to pull my bottoms off, my hips raising slightly and soon they are discarded in a pile on the floor with my shirt.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Presley. Absolutely gorgeous.” Gone are my insecurities, replaced instead with a new confidence.
He goes to touch me, but I stop his hand. “I just want you inside of me tonight. Everything else can wait.” He pulls down his boxers, unsheathing his swollen cock.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mind waiting, Presley.”
I wrap my hand around him, stroking him twice. Pre cum glistens on his head as I guide him to my entrance. “I’ve waited five years. I’m done waiting.”
“Still IUD?”
“Yes.”
As soon as the word slips out he slides into me, inch by glorious inch, stretching me to his size. I feel every spasm, every twitch, every stroke filled with desire and need. His body heavy on mine as sweat covers our skin. His kiss capturing every moan as he presses into me. My legs wrap tight around his thighs demanding he move deeper as my nails rake across his back. I tense around him as his trust become erratic and fiercer. Each one penetrating deeper than the last. I grind against him, riding his cock as I’m thrust into absolute euphoria. Wave after wave washes over me. I can feel him swell inside of me, each thrust coming harder and faster. He raises my hips to move even deeper and as I delight in my second orgasm, warm jets fill me as he collapses against me, panting in satisfaction. His skin on me, in me, I’ve missed him. I’ve missed this.
“My God Presley. You. You feel. Like. Home.” He nuzzles into my neck, turning my head to meet his lips he languidly sips at them. “I’m so glad to finally be home.”
I close my eyes at the onslaught of tears, brushing back his sweat laced hair as he slowly pulls out from me and repositions me on my side, pulling me back close to him. Our bodies intertwined so tightly there’s no telling where one of us ends and the other begins.
He kisses my shoulder, my neck and my lips, “I love you Presley. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Robert.”
Chapter Twenty-three
I open my eyes against the neon turquoise of my bedside clock. Five thirty. The house is quiet in the early morning hour as I roll over and stare at the man beside me, an overwhelming feeling of dread settling in my stomach.
He was beginning to think of others and not just himself, he was starting to discover what made him happy, and by helping Kevin, he was realizing the kind of model he could be for younger athletes.
After a few weeks on the ranch, I was semi-happy with where Robert was headed. He was turning back into a decent human being instead of being the self-absorbed jerk that stormed in here the first day.
Now it was time to work on getting his game to where it needed to be, and that meant working on his pitching. Coach had agreed to let me use the field after practice. The distance from the mound to bat was about twenty-five percent shorter which would allow him to work up to the speed and power the league needed him at.
I ran a finger gingerly along his hair line, down his jaw and placed my lips on his. “Hey sleepy head.”
He mumbles out an exhausted mmm which b
rought a smile to my face, a smile I assumed was long gone.
“You’ve got to get up.”
“I don’t want to,” he mumbled out and pulled me closer to him, his scruff tickling my neck as he buried his face in my hair.
“Come on. You’ve still got a barn to scoop.”
His eyes widen and his voice clear, “Still?”
“I let you sleep in today. It’s almost six.”
“Gee, you’re such an angel.”
I snicker at his dissatisfaction. “I told you, you were still scooping shit today.”
“You gonna help me?”
“Nope, but if you do a good job I’ll make you breakfast.”
“How much longer?”
“That’s up to you. It’s more about seeing a certain action, not so much as fitting into a time frame.”
“And you’re not gonna tell me what that action is, are you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re an evil woman, Presley Donovan.” He smiles and rolls on top of me. His harden member brushing against me, tempting me to play.
“That’s not gonna happen either, so get your butt out of bed.”
He does as he’s told and a couple minutes later I hear the front door open and close and I watch out my bedroom window as he makes his way down to the cattle barn. I get up and throw on some clothes before heading into the kitchen to make breakfast. What once took Robert hours to clean now only takes him about forty-five minutes. I make some bacon and eggs and fresh orange juice. Just as I’m finishing up I can smell him come inside.
“Don’t you dare step foot in this kitchen until after you’re washed up.”
“Ugh. Fine. Shower with me?”
“No.”
* * *
She said she was looking for a certain action before she would let me off of shit shoveling duties. I don’t have any clue why I’m doing this.
Last night was amazing. I had forgotten how good she felt, the way her body responded to—
“Morning boy. You’re late.” Gramps startles me and halts my daydreaming.
“Sorry about that.”
“Are you really? Or is that just something you say because you think it’s what people want to hear. Sorry don’t mean shit if your actions don’t change.”
Well Gramps seems grumpier than his usual self. I wonder who pissed in his Cheerios. “Excuse me?”
“Your actions boy. You say one thing and do another. You’ve been shoveling shit for weeks and still don’t get it. You must have shit for brains. Now get back to work.”
I had won Presley over, so why was Gramps being so hard on me?
I finished cleaning out the barn and headed back into the house. Presley looked so damn cute dancing in front of the stove. I was overcome with a desire to wrap my arms around her and dance right along beside her.
“Don’t you dare step foot in this kitchen. Go clean up.”
I swear it must be a woman trait. They know all, and somehow see all. I take a shower alone and when I come back to the kitchen Presley and her mom are sitting at the table talking about something.
“I just don’t know what we’re gonna do sweetie. It’s just so unexpected. You always plan for it and you know it’s coming, but then it happens and your faced with a new reality.”
“Did you tell her about us babe?”
Presley shoots daggers at me with her eyes while Tina’s head pivots back and forth between me and Presley. “Us? Babe? Presley, what’s going on?”
If Presley’s eyes could kill I would be a dead man. Never flinching. Never moving.
“Nothing Mother. Our guest here just misspoke. I guess he still hasn’t figured out that the world doesn’t revolve around him.” She gets up from the table and puts her plate in the sink before turning to face me, “After you’re done with Kevin today, stay at the field. You’re starting pitching practice today.”
Her words are cold as ice and I feel as if I’ve been left out of something big. “Do you want to ride out there together?”
“No. You’re gonna want your own car.”
Tina looks back and forth between us and Presley storms out the front door.
I’m at a loss as to what just happened. “Where’s she going?”
“If I had to guess, I would say away from you.”
* * *
Too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours and I feel completely out of control. I pull up to the field house just before practice and make my way onto the baseball field. “Hey Coach!”
“Hey Donovan.”
“Got a second?”
“For you? Always my dear. Is this about your pitcher?”
My pitcher? He said he wanted to be mine, but was he telling the truth or was he just saying what he thought I wanted to hear? Saying anything that might lessen his sentence with me. Was I just dumb enough to play into the façade? The reality was that the changes I saw were small, sure they were there, but again small. If he was any other player I would say he hadn’t changed at all. Was I moving him along too quickly? Was I letting my personal feeling cloud my judgement of Robert’s progress? I still had plenty of time left with him, why was I in a hurry to rush my own process?
“It’s about a pitcher, yes. Tell me about Robert’s early games? When did you know he was gonna be a knockout pitcher? What was his underlying force?”
“Oh gosh D. You’re really putting me on the spot.”
“Did he always throw with such speed and accuracy?”
“I would say it was probably the year his dad died. He came in one day to my office and said he just wanted to hit something. I guess some kid had said something to set him off. I took him out to the field and just let him throw pitch after pitch. His form was decent, and it was easy to see, with a little bit of work he would be unstoppable. It’s anger that fuels him.”
“But there’s gotta be something else. He’s been angry the last five years, but his stats have constantly dropped.”
“Because he’s not being honest about who or what he’s truly angry at. Something tells me he’ll say he was angry at you, but if you dig deeper you’ll uncover the real reason for his anger.”
We sit there in silence as I process what coach has told me. “Would you mind staying and helping me with Robert today? Just for a little bit? I’m gonna need someone to call out speeds.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks.”
Coach and I sit in the stands and watch Kevin’s and Robert’s practice. I can tell Kevin really looks up to him and for the first time I see Robert smile as he pitches. I watch the rest of their practice before heading out to my car to grab my gear and make my way to home plate.
“What’s all that?”
I carry a bucket of balls out to Robert and throw him a glove. “Put it on. You’re pitching to me today.”
I can hear him laugh as I walk away.
“Come on Presley. I’ll break—”
I whip around and stare him dead in the eye, “Finish that sentence and you’ll be the only one around here with a broken hand,” I say as I march back up to him. “This is my fucking job. Trust me, your sixty-five mile per hour balls aren’t gonna do shit to me. Now throw me the damn ball.”
He laughs in my face, “You want me to throw you the ball?”
“Yes! That’s why I’m here! Now let’s go!”
I make my way back to the catcher’s box, pull my face mask on and get ready in my stance, glove out front and I brace myself for his pitch.
“Here it comes, princess. You sure you’re ready?”
He laughs and I flick him off. I know he doesn’t take me seriously right now. They never do. He gets ready and releases the first ball. I catch it clean and Robert stands there in shock. The smile wiped clean from his face. It’s one of my favorite looks on a man.
“Speed?”
“Sixty-five.”
I smirk back at Robert, “Again.”
He gets ready and releases the ball.
&nbs
p; “Speed?”
“Sixty-three.”
“Not the right direction. Again.”
The ball flies towards me. “Speed?”
“Sixty-eight.”
We do this for the next hour and Robert doesn’t throw anything higher than a seventy-one. My hand is beginning to sting, but I won't tell him that. I get up from my position and jog out to him.
“I can do this all night, and I know you can throw for at least another hour and a half, so why don’t you cut the bullshit and throw me the real stuff.” He rolls his eyes at me and I once again take my position. “Now throw me the ball.”
He lines up and releases. I know the second it hits my glove that it was harder, and I swear under my breath.
Coach quietly checks on me. He would never put me in a position to appear weak in front of a client. Being the only woman in the field my reputation means everything to me. The minute they think you’re weak you lose the badass label. “You okay D? Want me to take over?”
“No. I have to do this. I’ll ice it tonight. Speed?”
“Eighty-three.”
“Not bad.” I make my way out to Robert who shuffles his weight back and forth while chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I guess I said something to make you mad. We’ll do this again tomorrow. Charley’s waiting at the bar with a beer for you. Be home by ten.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I wasn’t expecting him to. But I can see hurt behind his eyes. I take his glove and watch him exit the field before I pack up my equipment and Coach wraps an ice pack around my hand for the drive home.
“I can see why they call you the best.”
“Thanks Coach. See you tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Chapter Twenty-four
I sit outside the only bar in town, I look up at that worn frontage sign, the painted wood, chipped and flaked, paint chips falling off with each passing year. It’s nothing spectacular. The muted yellow brick hasn’t aged well, but the lights are still on and the liquor is still being poured. I sit down at the bar, my reflection staring back at me. Taunting me. Forcing me to really look at myself and who I’ve become.
Tag Forever Mine Page 22
