Baseball Bride

by Penny Wylder

  A shiver runs down her body, and I feel it in my fingertips as she smiles against my lips.

  “Fuck, I haven’t done that in a long time,” she laughs, looking a little bashful.

  “Oh baby, we’re not done. Not by a longshot.”

  Gillian grins, lowering her hands to my fly. She rubs her flattened palm up and down my shaft, firmly, and I can’t help but jut my hips up, looking for more contact. A harder touch. She smirks at me in the sexiest way and then drags her fingernails up and down the bulge in my jeans. I’m so hard you can see the outline of my dick through my pants, and she runs a single finger around the crown, making me hiss, it feels so good.

  She starts to lower my fly, but I stop her. There’s a moment of confusion in her eyes, when I know she’s wondering why I would stop her.

  “Grab a condom from my backpack.”

  Relief floods her body and her muscles loosen as she leans over and reaches into my bag. She finds it quickly, and when she hands it to me, her hands are shaking. She lifts herself up a bit and I take down my pants. When I get them past my hips, she greedily reaches for my cock while I tear the condom wrapper with my teeth. There’s an urgency we both feel. I roll the condom down my cock and look up at her. She’s looking down as the thin material sheaths my cock.

  As if remembering what we’re about to do, she gets up on her knees and unbuttons her shorts. We’re elbows and knees knocking into each other as she takes off her shorts and panties. It takes some maneuvering, but finally she tosses them into the passenger seat and she’s back on my lap. Her mound is shaved and I can see her pussy lips are glistening. She’s so wet and ready. We just stare at each other. The condom’s on, she’s naked from the waist down. It’s a foregone conclusion what’s happening here, yet neither of us move. Finally, I make a move. I take her chin and pull her face toward me.

  “You want me?” she asks, cupping her mound and dragging her finger up and down her wet seam.

  “Yes, of course I fucking want you,” I say, pointing at my cock that’s jutting up straight as a rod. “Look how hard you make me. I’m so fucking hard it’s painful.”

  Gil smirks as she massages her pussy, playing with her folds. She glides her fingers up her slit, then circles her clit with the pad of her finger. Using her free hand she squeezes her tit, pinching her nipple beneath the fabric.

  “Good, because I’ve thought about fucking you for some time now. I’ve imagined it. I’ve gotten off to it in bed at night when I was all alone, wishing you would show up at my door.”

  “That’s so fucking hot,” I say, digging my fingertips into her hips and pulling her forward. “Then make it reality. Fuck me, Gil.”

  She kisses me, her tongue snaking past my lips, and then she slides across my cock. Not letting me inside, but so close. I can tell how wet she is by the way her pussy glides across me. She’s so hot between her legs it practically burns, and my balls draw tight to my body, anticipating what it will feel like to finally sink into her. Back and forth she slides over me, and I try to angle myself so I can get in her tight pussy, but she’s playing with me. Drawing it out.

  She breaks the kiss and stays seated in my lap. Her pussy lips wrapped around my cock and the head rests just below her swollen clit. I bounce her once in my lap and watch my cock nudge at her clit. The sexiest noise escapes from her throat, so I do it again.

  I can’t wait another second longer, so I hold my dick with one hand and push her down, watching as I disappear inside her, only looking up because I can’t resist seeing her face the first moments I fill her up, stretch her to her limit. Her mouth opens but she doesn’t make a sound as she sinks onto me. I can’t hold in my moan. She’s so fucking warm, so damn tight, I can’t stop my eyes from snapping shut and my head from falling back.

  Reaching down, I pull the lever and recline the seat. She throws her body forward and grips the head rest as she begins to ride me. She moves so slowly, so I can feel every inch of her as she raises off me, and then again as she lowers herself. Her hips move back and forth, her skin flawless and her thigh muscles taut as I watch her fuck me. I watch her take what she wants. I slip a hand under her shirt, roughly pulling down her bra cup and grabbing her tit.

  Gil moans loud as her shoulders roll forward and she drives her face into the crook of my neck. The sharp edges of her teeth dig into the muscle of my shoulder as her hips move faster and faster.

  She’s getting close again, and I’m right there with her. My balls draw up tight, and my stomach clenches as my skin turns hot. Gil presses up a little, her tits rubbing my face as she fucks me.

  Biting on one of her nipples behind the fabric of her shirt, I grunt as I jerk my hips when she slams down. With one final thrust, her body goes stiff and mine shakes as we come together. Hot cum explodes from my dick, filling the condom in her pussy.

  Her walls clench around my cock, pulsing and throbbing as she straightens her back, dropping her head back and releasing a moan that’s music to my ears.

  It’s perfect. Everything about this woman is perfect.

  “Wow,” I say, reaching up to her hair and pulling her face back down to mine. I give her kisses on her lips, inhale the amazing fragrance of her hair, and look her right in the eyes. “That was incredible, I’m speechless.” I press her forehead against mine and I grin. “My wife,” I say playfully, like I did before. It’s kind of crazy we’re doing this. What we just did and what we’re about to do when we get to Las Vegas.

  Gillian eyes me, her cheeks flush, her breathing ragged. But the look in her eyes is different. . .

  Uncertainty. Confusion. Doubt.

  Everything I don’t want to see, but it’s right there at the surface and I can’t ignore it.

  And it hurts me to see it.

  6

  Gillian

  What now?

  The words ricochet inside my head like a pinball machine. Relentless. Unanswerable. How do I explain to him that I’m afraid of losing my job? I left my last job because I was accused of unprofessional behavior; I know that accusation was bullshit, but still. If any were to find out what just happened between Ryon and me, and I had to look for a new job again, well people would definitely start to see a pattern, regardless of the facts.

  But more urgently, how do I control the growing lust that I can feel building inside me?

  All of it is too much for me to deal with at one time, and in the same breath, I’m realizing that I don’t really care. That the old me, the one who played it safe, is being replaced by a newer version who’s screaming, Don’t I deserve to have a little fun? Pursue something that I want?

  So, why can’t I have both?

  This isn’t fair. . .

  I shouldn’t have to worry about who I sleep with, and how it might affect my job. Except, he’s isn’t just anyone, he’s Ryon Daniels, my client. Probably the clinic’s most important patient right now. There’s a difference between him and some random person I meet in a bar.

  It’s also unethical. I could lose my license.

  The thought makes me nauseous instantly. I slept with my client. What the hell am I thinking?

  Shit. What if my ex-boss really did what he said he would? What if he told everyone I’m easy, and Ryon is just taking advantage of what he thinks is a sure thing?

  I feel sick to my stomach. Clutching my belly, my shoulders roll forward, and acid rises in the back of my throat.

  “You all right?” he asks as we get back on the road. “You’re looking a little pale.”

  “I need you to promise me something,” I say, slowly turning my head to look at him.

  “Sure. Anything you want and it’s yours. I should probably get used to doing what the wife wants.” He laughs jokingly, and I realize he has no idea how serious of a situation this is for me.

  My entire livelihood is at stake. I’m putting everything on the line for this man. I need to know I can trust him.

  “I need you to promise me this will stay between us. Especially this.�
�� Drawing a line between us, I want him to know this goes far beyond just casual sex. This is about my life, and my life isn’t his to play with.

  Ryon steals my hand from the air, bending my fingers over his as he kisses the top of my hand. His eyes turn to metal as his face transforms into an earnest expression. I’m struck by an intense warmth that triggers my whole body to ripple from head to toe.

  “I promise, Gillian. This stays between us.”

  He lets out a warm breath across the back of my hand, and it spreads up my arm, making my stomach twirl like it’s filled with butterflies.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Smiling, I squeeze his hand. “You’re different, Ryon. You’re not like the other guys I see on a daily basis.”

  “Oh yeah? How so? Because I’m so damn sexy?”

  Giggling, I nod as I speak, “Yes, that’s it. You’ve hit the nail on the head. How’d you guess?”

  “I’m sexy and intuitive. I just knew it,” he grins and winks.

  “Seriously though, you’ve got something special. A real natural talent that most players wish they had. And you really want it, you want to succeed, you want to be great. That’s what it takes to excel. Not just in sports, in anything, really.”

  He eyes me softly, crooking his jaw to one side. “You know you’re the first one to ever say something like that to me. Ever. Even my own father never told me I had talent. The coaches either. They tend to see the player, rather than the person.” His thumb swirls over the nub on my wrist and he pulls my hand in to kiss it again. “I will keep my promise, Gil.”

  We drive the rest of the way to Vegas hand in hand. Our fingers tangle tightly, and loosen, they twist and play, but not once does he release my hand.

  The lights off the strip are blinding as we drive into town. I press my face to the window and look out in awe at the brightly lit casinos, the roaring fountains, and neon explosions. It’s incredible.

  We drive beyond the brightly lit strip to a small suburban strip mall. Everything is shuttered and the lights are out, except for one storefront where a sign flashes “Chapel of Love.” Ryon pulls into a spot by the entrance and shuts off the car. “I, uh,” he starts to say as he rubs his jaw. “I figured we’d just go get it done. In and out. Does that work for you?”

  “That’s the only reason we’re here, isn’t it?” He nods, releasing my hand for the first time to grab the steering wheel. “But if you’re having second thoughts—”

  “No,” he says loudly, jerking his body to face me. “I’m not having second thoughts. I’m actually worried you might leave me at the altar.”

  “I gave you my word I would help you. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not backing out. No cold feet here.”

  “Good. Then let’s get this show on the road. Ready to get hitched?”

  “Ready.”

  We climb out of the car, and I grab my bag. Once we’re inside, it’s an explosion of hot pink and white tulle. There doesn’t seem to be a single solid or not shimmering surface in the chapel. Elvis Presley blares from the speakers singing “Viva Las Vegas,” and the air is thick with decades of cigarette smoke and also an overly smell I can’t put my finger on.

  We approach the check in desk and a bored looking teenager barely looks up when we approach. “Ahem,” Ryon coughs, to get her attention. When she finally takes her eyes off her phone, she puts on a surely phony megawatt smile and says, “Welcome to the Chapel of Love where we can make you happily ever after in an hour or less, guaranteed, or we give you a ten percent discount. Are you the happy couple?” Her words come out in a quick stream as if she says this hundreds of times a day, and it take Ryon and me a few beats to process and respond.

  “Yup,” Ryon says, gesturing between the two of us. “Happy couple. Happily ever after.”

  “Ok then, let’s get started. Licenses?” she says as she quickly starts grabbing papers from under the counter. Ryon goes into his back pocket and hands over the marriage license he applied for online. While he pays, I sit down on a hot pink vinyl couch and start filling out the paperwork. Of course there’s lots to fill out about Ryon that I simply don’t know because . . . well, because I don’t really know the man I’m about to marry. “Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog” starts playing and Ryon sits beside me. I hand him the clipboard.

  “You’ll have to fill in some of these questions,” I say, handing him the pen. “I don’t know what your permanent address is or your mother’s maiden name.”

  “Sure,” he says, and starts filling in the missing fields on the forms. We sit there staring at our feet for a few minutes until our names are called by another woman.

  “Right this way,” she says, walking toward us. We follow her down a long hallway and into a smaller room with racks of clothes. There are suits and dresses, fancy hats, and bouquets. You could wear a florescent orange tux if you choose, or purple or yellow, there’s literally every color under the sun. You can dress up like Elvis too if that’s what you’re into, but we didn’t come for the novelty of a Vegas wedding, we came with an agenda.

  “Did you want to pick out something? It comes with the package you chose,” the woman says, popping her gum as she speaks and looking at the forms we filled out.

  “Oh, no thank you. I’ll be fine in my own clothes.” I say.

  “How about you?” she asks Ryon.

  “Nope, I’m good too.”

  “Suit yourselves,” she laughs, then stares at us. “Get it? Suit yourselves.” She shakes her head when we don’t join in on her laughter. “Shorts it is then.”

  She nods her head to follow, and we do, trailing her heels like a couple of puppy dogs. She stops us at big white doors decorating in golden hearts and cupids. “You wait here. When this couple comes out, you’re up,” she says, chirpily. “And over there is the bowl of rice if you want to throw some at the newlyweds. It’s fun!”

  “Okay, I think we got it,” Ryon says, tipping his head to let her know she can go.

  As she’s walking away, he leans into my ear and whispers. “Someone likes their job a little too much.” We both laugh, but the laughter is cut short as the double chapel doors fly open, hitting us where we stand.

  A couple comes busting through, arm in arm, and one of the doors hits Ryon in his ass. Jumping to the side, he quickly starts to clap. The newlyweds stop and stare at him, and he keeps clapping. Then he reaches into the bowls of rice and flings some at them, whooping and laughing.

  They were already beaming, but now with this gesture of celebration for their union, they’re smiles broaden. Ryon claps louder, and his enthusiasm is contagious. I grab a handful of rice and toss it into the air, too. I clap along with him.

  The couple kisses again, and the bride throws her hand up and yells with us. The way these two strangers are smiling is invigorating. I’m happy for them. I want that happiness. I want that smile, that touch, that kind of overwhelming love.

  Ryon pokes his head into the chapel and an older man waves us forward. “I think they’re ready for us,” he says shyly to me.

  The music starts. It’s a traditional wedding march, and I’m surprised to see an older woman playing a real organ in the corner of the chapel. Cheesy, that’s all I think. This place looks like it hasn’t been updated since the early eighties. Red velvet carpet, wallpapered walls, deep mahogany pews, and obnoxious gold décor all over the place.

  “Come on down, come on down here,” the man guides with a few flips of his fingers. “Dolores can’t play forever. She has arthritis, you know?”

  Ryon and I look at each other, and he braids our fingers together. “This is it. Last chance to run.”

  “I’m only running forward if that’s the way you’re running.”

  Ryon gives me a caring smile, and I can see the appreciation in his eyes. This means something to him, and I’m happy to help him. Maybe I’m being stupid and naive. Maybe this is the biggest mistake I’ll ever make in my life, but for now, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

  We w
alk down the aisle, hand in hand, my nerves are going crazy, and my veins getting hot under my skin. I’m not sure why I’m so freaking nervous.

  None of this is real, it’s all a show, I tell myself. But deep inside, there’s a small piece of me that wishes it was real.

  What is wrong with you?

  This is just to help keep him in the country so he can play ball. Period.

  “Hello and welcome. I’m Joseph Herring, and I want to thank you for coming here and letting us share in this special day with you. . .” He goes on, talking about love and faith, recites a little scripture about marriage, but I tune most of it out.

  His speech lasts a few more minutes before he directs his focus back to us completely. “And now, your vows.”

  We look at each other dumbly. It hadn’t occurred to us that we’d need to say anything during this service. We both shake our heads. “We couldn’t have said it better than you, sir. We’re good.” Mr. Herring looks down at both of us with a thin smile. “All right, then, the rings please.”

  Shit. “We’re going to skip those too,” I say, looking over at Ryon, my eyes wide.

  “Darling.” He draws out the word and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small black box. “She’s been so excited about today she must have forgotten we already chose our rings.”

  He opens the box, pulling out a solid gold ring, and a double silver band, covered in diamonds, with a giant diamond set in the center. I am shocked. When? Where? Did his agent buy those for him?

  “Great,” the justice of the peace says, flipping the page in his small book. “Do you, Gillian Sannow, take Ryon Daniels to be your husband?”

  “I do,” I say as Ryon slips the ring onto my finger.

  “And do you, Ryon Daniels, take Gillian Sannow to be your wife?”

  “I absolutely do.” He passes me the ring and I slide it on his finger.

  “By the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I pronounce you to each other, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”