Forced Play for Libby (Men of Baseball #3)

by Hayley Faiman

“Well, I couldn’t possibly come up with time for any of that. I meet with my personal trainer five days a week and my tennis instructor three days a week as it is. I’m just far too busy with that; plus, all of the committees I’m serving on. I barely have time for Christopher these days, and I know he’s been feeling neglected as of late,” my sister chimes in, making herself sound oh-so-important.

  “I’ve been spending so much time at the office, I haven’t even noticed, darling,” Christopher says. Pete stops caressing me to chuckle. I narrow my eyes and turn to him, but he avoids me like the plague.

  “I’ve just been doing it at home, mom. I usually do it around ten in the morning, after Pete’s gone for the day. Come over any day. You too, Grammy.” They both smile and nod, and I wonder if they’ll come over. Maybe we’ll make it a ritual. It would be nice to spend some alone time with my mom and Grammy.

  “It’s hippy bullshit, you’re just wasting your time. What you need to do is get with Annette’s trainer, now he’ll get you back to skinny again, Elizabeth,” my father barks. I flinch at his words.

  I’ve gained some weight, but only about ten pounds. When I look in the mirror, I am in love with the new little curves I have. I am actually hoping to gain another ten or fifteen pounds so that I have a more voluptuous body, with hips, an ass, and some thighs, instead of the waif thin body I have been sporting the past few years.

  “Libby looks gorgeous, Joseph. I actually prefer a woman who has some meat on her bones so I don’t feel like I’m going to break her hip when I’m pounding inside of her pussy,” Pete barks, making the entire table gasp—except for Grammy Lillian. She is smiling.

  Crazy old lady.

  “Peter,” my sister rasps in shock.

  “You can’t possibly believe that a man wants to fuck a bag of bones, can you? I need something to hold onto, and Libby’s finally getting there. Am I right, Christopher? I mean, you must love my wife’s tits, considering you’ve been staring at them all night.

  “I’m not going to have any of you tell her she looks anything less than perfect. I’m not the only reason Libby’s been depressed all these years. We all need to take blame for our part, and this is a part. This bullshit about perfection, being perfect all the goddamned time—it would drive somebody else completely fucking insane; but Libby has endured it for so fucking long, she probably thinks it’s normal.” He pauses before standing and turning to Grammy Lillian and my mother.

  “I’m sorry, Grammy, but I’m taking my wife away from this toxic environment. You and Mrs. Montgomery are always welcome in our home. The rest of you can fuck off,” Pete roars.

  “Just wait a goddamned minute, Peter. You have a lot of fucking nerve, talking to me this way. After all, I made you what you are today. Without me, you wouldn’t be a Yankee; you wouldn’t have the fame and money you do now. How dare you disrespect me,” my father roars from his seat, his eyes coldly pinned on Pete.

  “I probably wouldn’t have been a Yankee without you, you’re right. But I would have still married Libby, and we would have been a lot happier a lot earlier, so fuck off, Joseph,” Pete states calmly.

  “Good boy. See you later,” my mother whispers. I don’t miss the approving look Grammy Lillian shoots me as Pete drags me toward the door.

  “We’re going dancing, baby,” Pete mumbles as he quickly grabs our coats and rushes us toward his car.

  ONE OF THE PERKS OF being famous in this city, is that you don’t have to stand in the long lines at any of the trendy clubs. Pete and I walk right inside without paying a cover, and without a second glance. The beat of the music is loud and deep, pumping heavily through the atmosphere as we walk inside of the dark club.

  There are people everywhere, grinding on each other, talking, drinking, laughing and just watching the crowd around them. Without even stopping, Pete drags me toward the VIP section. He doesn’t want to be stopped, or even seen. It’s obvious by his quick steps. He needs to decompress, the fury is rolling off of him in waves from his anger at my family. I don’t blame him in the slightest.

  Once we are settled at our hidden table, away from the crowds, a perky blonde waitress comes to us and takes our orders, leaning over a bit too far, giving Pete a show. I watch him for his reaction, and to his credit, he doesn’t even look. I know Pete, he’s a tit-man, so the fact that he didn’t even look has a flash of doubt come over me. Is all of this between us is in fact genuine, completely, and totally genuine? Then in almost the same thought I curse myself for thinking that, after his ring and his countless confessions of love how can this be anything but genuine?

  “Checking to see if I’d take the bait?” He asks with a smirk after she leaves. My eyes widen and I press my lips together, refusing to answer.

  “These big tits right here,” he growls, grabbing a handful of one of my boobs and gently squeezing. “These are the only tits I want to see, Libby. You know why that is?”

  I shake my head, unable to speak as he tweaks my nipple, sending a bolt of desire straight to my pussy.

  “Because these big beautiful tits are all mine, my sweet baby,” he says softly. He leans over and presses a warm kiss right below my ear and then licks the entire column of my neck.

  “H-here - here’s your drinks,” the waitress stammers, eyes wide and focused on Pete’s hand still grabbing a handful of my breast.

  “Thanks,” he grunts before returning to my neck. With my eyes locked on hers, I watch as she takes in the scene again, unable to leave for whatever reason. Hell, maybe she likes to watch. People are freaky these days.

  Either Pete is giving her a show purposely, or he doesn’t even realize she’s there, because his hand slides from my breast to between my legs. In one swift motion, two of his fingers are inside of me. The young girl gasps and her face turns pink.

  I smirk at her while Pete feasts on my neck, his fingers sliding in and out of me while his thumb presses against my clit. I close my eyes for a moment before I open them again. I watch her as she narrows her eyes before turning and stomping off. Chuckling at the girl, I let my head fall back against the sofa and allow my husband to touch me—like only he can.

  “You like showing her who my queen is, baby?” Pete murmurs against my neck. I can’t help but laugh.

  “Bitch,” I moan when he curls his fingers inside of me.

  “I need to fuck you,” he growls, his voice vibrating against my skin.

  “Someone will see,” I say worriedly as Pete nips the skin of my neck.

  “Turns me on when you get all bitchy and jealous. I need my come leaking from between your legs, so none of these assholes forget whose woman you are.”

  I shove him off of me, or at least I try, but he doesn’t move.

  “That’s gross, Pete. Besides, I think this giant ass ring accomplishes that,” I say with my hand pressed against his shoulder.

  “No, baby, all that ring states is that you’re married. I want all these assholes to know that you’re taken and happily. You think I didn’t notice how they all watched you walking in here with me?”

  “How’s that?” I ask and mewl when Pete slides his fingers out of my body.

  I watch with curiosity as he dips his fingers, the same ones that were inside of me, into his whiskey glass and grabs a pieces of ice.

  “Like if I gave an inch, they’d be trying to get inside of you without hesitation,” he mutters, sliding the ice cube around my pussy lips and pressing it against my hot clit.

  I gasp at the sensation of the ice against my heated core; and when he slides it inside of me, I groan at the odd, cool, feeling. Pete kisses my lips softly as he massages my now cool clit with his thumb. My whole body is tingling from the mixture of the cold ice, my hot body, and Pete’s warm touch.

  “I’m going to fuck this sweet pussy, Libby Baby. Then tonight, I’m going to play with your ass. Fuck, I need it. I need to own every piece of you,” he groans, making me shake with excitement.

  Without a word, Pete grabs me by my waist and set
s me on his lap. He moves so that his back is to the entrance of the little alcove we are in as he fumbles with his belt. I’m facing away from him, looking den on all of the people dancing. He shifts the skirt of my dress up and over my hips before adjusting my body, so that the head of his cock is pressed to my entrance. I gasp and grab onto the banister in front of me.

  Below, people are dancing, practically having sex on the dance floor, unaware that we are about to do the real thing right above them.

  “I love you, Libby,” he whispers against my neck. He slowly shifts my hair to the side, his lips brushing my skin.

  “I love you, too, baby,” I whisper back as he slowly lowers me onto his already hard cock.

  Pete’s cock fills me, stretches me, and just plain fucking owns me. I gasp when I am fully seated down on his lap. His hand slides from my hip and his fingers press against my clit again, slowly caressing me. His touch is gentle, soft, and so fucking beautiful.

  “Pete,” I gasp.

  “Sshh, sweet baby. Just ride me. Look out at all of those people. They have no clue that I’m fucking you, that you’re going to come soon. When you do, it’s going to be beautiful, just like it always is. Every man out there would kill to be right where I am, Libby. Do you realize that? How fucking desirable you are?” he growls.

  I wrap one of my hands around the back of his neck, digging my nails into his skin, holding on for dear life as I begin to really grind and ride his big, beautiful cock. Nothing else matters, nothing else surrounds us in this moment. It is just Pete and me, connected and loving each other.

  “You’re the desirable one,” I say breathlessly. I moan as his fingers press a little harder against my clit.

  “Shut up. Shut up with that shit and take my fuckin’ cock, gorgeous,” he rasps as his free hand slides from my hip to my shoulder and he pulls me down—hard—as his hips shift up.

  God, it hurts, too.

  So. Fucking. Good.

  I whimper as I climb, rising toward my release. Fuck, I’m going to scream. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard, I can taste the metallic flavor of blood when my body tightens and I come. Pinching my eyes closed and holding one hand onto the banister, the other behind his neck, I grip so tightly, I vaguely wonder if I’ll bend the steel and make him bleed all at the same time.

  “Oh, fuck, yeah, so tight,” Pete mumbles behind me. Then I feel his muscles strain and his cock twitches with his release, filling me like he promised just moments ago.

  Pete pulls me into his chest, his semi-hard cock still buried inside of me, and my skirt still hiked up my thighs. His lips slowly pepper the side of my neck with kisses before his teeth tug on my earlobe.

  “You didn’t scream my name,” he whispers.

  “I didn’t want anybody to hear me or see me,” I murmur, keeping my eyes forward, watching the crowd ahead of us.

  “Let them see. Let them wish they were us.”

  “You’re fucking crazy, you know that, don’t you? I don’t want anybody to see me with you, Pete. Is that what you want? Other people to watch us?” I finally ask. I have been wondering it for a while, but never had enough nerve to ask him.

  He pulls out of me and spins my body around to straddle him face-to-face, with a shocked look. My entire ass is hanging out, but his hands wrap around my flesh, shielding me from anybody that might care to look up here.

  “Fuck no, I don’t want anybody to watch us. Hear us, shit yeah, but watch? I’m not into that shit. The only thing that any of those assholes down there could see would be you sitting on me. I’m not Jackson, I don’t get off on that kinky scene. This, this was about the excitement of getting caught. Do you think that I would really allow another man to see my fucking gorgeous wife—chance another man seeing your fucking perfect cunt?” Pete practically yells.

  I open and close my mouth a few times before I wrap my hands around his neck, sinking my fingers into the hair at the nape. I crash my lips to his - brutally. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, taking control and initiative. It feels so fucking good; and when Pete’s hands start to massage my ass, I moan and press my breasts against his chest as I push my ass into his hands.

  Fuck, this man makes me so goddamned fucking hot.

  “Let’s go home, Libby Baby. I want to play with this sweet little asshole of yours,” he moans, nipping my lips before I attempt to slide off of his lap, straightening my dress as I go. Pete is zipping his fly just as the little waitress walks in. Of course, her eyes widen as she takes in his disheveled appearance.

  “Can I… uh… get you anything else?” She asks, her eyes still staring right at his crotch. Pete pulls his wallet out and tosses some money on the table. I can’t help myself, and I walk right up to the little flirt.

  “No thanks, honey. I believe we’re both completely satisfied,” I whisper, waiting for Pete to join me at the exit.

  “Come on, Libby Baby. I need to taste that sweet pussy,” Pete growls. The girl gasps beside me. I turn and wink as Pete’s hand grabs a handful of my ass before we walk away from her.

  It’s probably a bitch move, what I just pulled, and immature at the same time, but I really can’t seem to care. Pete’s finally all mine and I’m enjoying flaunting him around a little bit. I totally see why old dudes get young, hot arm candy and flaunt them around like an adoration on their old wrinkly junk. It’s titillating.

  We arrive back at the apartment and I’m sucking on Pete’s neck like I’m a fucking leech attached to his pretty, brightly colored neck. My hands wrap around his waist, and I’m fucking drunk in love. It’s new and exciting, and just thinking about Pete fucking me until I scream again makes me wet and boneless.

  “Well, isn’t this cute?” She says with a scowl on her ugly fucking face.

  It dawns on me that I don’t even know this bitch’s name. How fucking sad is that?

  “What are you doing here, Michelle?” Pete sighs, keeping his arm firmly wrapped around my waist.

  “I-I miss you, sweetie,” she whines in a fake, little girl, high pitched voice. I almost gag at her word choice. Sweetie? Seriously?

  “You don’t miss shit. You’re being a manipulative bitch and you need to leave before I press charges against you for harassment.”

  I watch as she blinks several times, probably willing tears to come. She can’t do it, though, and I almost laugh. Every girl learns how to pull the tears to get what she wants by the age of three. I figured that shit out at two. With Pete, I haven’t ever tried to use the tactic. Honestly, he has never seemed like the type of man to buy into the tears, anyway. In the beginning, I figured out fairly early he wasn’t going to give me dick, literally and figuratively. Now, I don’t even need to fake cry.

  Pete gives me whatever I need, which is more than I have ever wanted.

  “Just go. You’re embarrassing yourself,” I say softly. Her eyes turn to stone as she stares at me with disgust.

  “You’re nothing. He never wanted you. He’s just biding his time, you stupid bitch.” She spews her shit, and I let her before I offer her a shrug.

  “I’m getting his fantastic, fat cock anytime I want, so I seem to be pretty much everything from where I’m standing. Don’t get all crazy because a man doesn’t want you. Pathetic isn’t good for your complexion, and trust me, you need all the help you can get in that area,” I say, loud enough for her to hear but not screaming like a madwoman the way I want to.

  “Libby Baby,” Pete whispers on a chuckle. I watch Michelle jerk back as if I’ve hit her, and maybe I have. Good. She needs to disappear.

  “This isn’t over,” she screams.

  “Yeah, bitch, it is. Your brand of crazy isn’t appealing, and even if I wasn’t madly in love with my gorgeous wife, I wouldn’t be calling you at all—ever.”

  Pete delivers his final blow, making her shoulders shake. Then he slides his key in our door and unlocks it. Turning around, he faces her. She’s crying now, and I don’t think it’s fake. If she wasn’t such a fucking bitch, I might fee
l badly for her, but I don’t. I kind of want to punch her again.

  “Have some dignity. Have some self-respect, Michelle. Go home and forget you ever met me. I’m not going to be your knight in shining armor. I’m way too fucked up for that, anyway. I love my wife and I regret everything I did to hurt her, and you were something I did to hurt her. I’m sorry,” Pete say quietly.

  I think it works; because, without a word, she turns and leaves. I want to feel badly. I mean, neither Pete, nor I, were that nice to her. But come on, when a man doesn’t want you, showing up at his house and acting like a loon isn’t going to make him realize what he’s missing. He’s just going to see that he dodged a fucking bullet.

  “Can we still play?” I ask once we’re inside. Pete’s head whips up as his mouth widens slightly and his jaw goes slack.

  “After that you want to play?” His husky voice fills the otherwise quiet apartment.

  “You promised ass playfulness. Not going to lie, I was pretty excited for all that entailed,” I grin.

  Pete doesn’t say a word. Instead, he wraps his big arms around the backs of my thighs and carries me to our bedroom. Our bed. He then slowly strips the dress and the bra off of my body before lying me down in the middle of the soft bed we now share.

  “Roll over, I need to taste you,” he growls.

  “I should clean up. I still have your cum inside of me,” I whisper breathlessly, looking back at him with my ass up and head down, just as he instructed.

  “Oh fuck, yeah, I bet that tastes fucking phenomenal. My cum mixed with your sweet pussy,” he groans before his tongue swipes my core from behind.

  I take in a ragged breath, shifting my hips behind me so that I'm closer to him, and spread my thighs a little further apart. Pete rolls to his back and wraps his hands around my hips, roughly pulling my hot, wet, core against his mouth. Fuck, I’m sitting on his fucking face and… I love it.

  Pete’s fingers dig into the flesh of my ass and pull my cheeks apart as he feasts on my pussy—teeth and tongue working double time. I ride his face without giving a flying fuck about dignity or self-consciousness; it feels too fucking good to think about anything else. When one of his fingers slides into my ass, I squeak with surprise.