Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball)

by Roz Lee

  Antonio trapped her cries, swallowing them with a kiss that demanded she surrender everything. As if she had a choice.

  She drifted back to earth in a haze. Tiny aftershocks rocked her pussy, reminding her of his solid presence still inside her.

  “You slay me.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and, propped on his forearms, thrust hard into her.

  This was the power she craved, had sensed he’d reined in, but with her, like this, he let go of the reins. It felt wonderful, primitive, exciting. Each stroke caused her ass to scoot on the carpet until her head bumped the caster on her desk chair.

  He hissed through clenched teeth then cursed. “Ah, sweet, Jesus!”

  He ground into her in short, hard thrusts, his cock pulsing with life. Clare dug her fingers into his ass cheeks and held on. If she could make him stay inside her even a few more seconds….

  He collapsed on top of her, sucking in gulps of air. She didn’t even care every breath he took smashed her body between his and the floor. So what if she had a few broken ribs? It was a small price to pay.

  Holy shit. He was in trouble.

  Tony tried to roll to his right, but there was no room between Clare and the desk. Taking care to bring her with him, he rolled to the other side. His back came to a stop up against the cold metal of a filing cabinet. His dick throbbed, still inside her.

  After an orgasm that felt like his guts had been ripped out, he shouldn’t be thinking about doing it again, but he was. He felt like a fucking superman. His heart raced like he’d downed a five-hour energy drink, and instead of getting soft, he was rising to the occasion—again.

  He held her close, loving the feel of her skin against his. A man could get high on her natural scent mingled with the heady musk of sex. He glanced at the goddess lying on the floor next to him and silently cursed himself for an idiot.

  He hadn’t even bothered to take her clothes off. He was a world-class shit, coming into her office and taking her to the floor without so much as a sweet word. He’d make it up to her soon. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get her out of his system—ever—so there would be plenty of time for sweet words and romance later. Right now, he had to have her, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass there wasn’t a bed or so much as a soft surface in sight.

  “We’ve got to get your clothes all the way off next time,” he said.

  “Next time?”

  Was that surprise in her voice, or was she trying to be subtle about telling him there wouldn’t be a next time? Good God, no. He rocked his hips against her. “Like, as soon as I can put on another condom, next time.”

  He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

  “You want to do it again? Now?”

  “Hell, yes.” He rocked harder, so she couldn’t mistake his state of arousal. “If you’re okay with that. I’ll take it slower, I promise.”

  “I thought…you would be done. Over it.”

  Damn. Was it that bad for her? He’d never had complaints before, but then again he wasn’t in the habit of barging into women’s offices and practically demanding sex either. It was a first for him, but she had seemed as eager as he was in the beginning. He needed to set her straight.

  He reluctantly pulled out of her and sat up. While he peeled off and disposed of the spent condom, he said, “I’m far from done, and as for over it, I don’t have a clue what you mean by that.” He reached for his jeans and found the condom he kept in his wallet for emergencies. If this wasn’t a five-alarm, call up the Reserves emergency, he didn’t know what was. He rolled the condom on while he talked. “Babe, I want to be over you, under you, in you. Anything but out of you.” He reached for her. “Here, let me help you out of those clothes then I think maybe we’ll try the desk this time. My legs might hold out long enough to do it standing up.”

  He helped her to her feet. “Ever done it on a desk before?”

  “Uh…no.” She eyed the surface in question. “Really, Antonio, you don’t have to do this.”

  She made no protest when he slid her blouse off her shoulders and tossed it on her chair. “You are so wrong about that. Not only do I have to do this, I want to do this.” He flicked the back closure on her bra then spun her around to face him, yanking the garment off in the process. “I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but I can assure you, I need to be inside you in the next five seconds or I’m going to explode.”

  He pulled her close, and when she opened her mouth, probably to spout out some more nonsense, he covered it with his. Blood rushed south, making him painfully aroused. Kissing had never been like this before—exciting and promising. In fact, he rarely kissed the women he bedded, but he could kiss Clare all day long and never get enough of her taste. That was a conundrum he would have to sort out later. His first order of business was getting her skirt off.

  It took some groping, but he found the zipper. More fancy handwork and the fastener slid down, allowing the skirt to fall to the floor. He broke the kiss and stepped back to get a better look at what he had unwrapped.

  He gripped her waist and lifted her to sit on the desk. “I need you so damned bad.” He stepped between her splayed legs, forcing them farther apart. “Tell me this is what you want, too, Clare. Tell me you want me.”

  She reached between them and wrapped her hand around his throbbing dick. Dear God. He was going to die, right here, right now. He sucked in a harsh breath and tightened every muscle in his body in an effort to keep from shoving her back and slamming into her, or at the very least from collapsing at her feet.

  “I want you, Antonio.”

  He slid her ass, desk blotter and all, to the edge of the desk. “Guide me in.”

  Their heads bumped as they both bent to watch his cock slide in. His heart skipped a beat. Heaven. He had died and gone to Heaven. Nothing on Earth could feel so good, and Christ Almighty, nothing could be more beautiful than this woman. His dick slowly disappeared inside her. She gave a little gasp when his pubic bone met her clit.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Mmm.”

  She leaned back, placing her hands flat on the desk behind her. Her head fell between her shoulders, allowing him an unfettered view from her upturned chin all the way to her womanhood. Her breasts were twin mounds of erotic fantasy he was dying to explore thoroughly. He couldn’t resist. He touched them, flattening them with his palms. The sound that escaped her lips came from deep inside and told him she liked what he was doing. Her nipples poked his palms. Rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, he wrenched another strangled sound from her.

  He bent and tasted her, sucking hard on one distended bud, keeping the other occupied with his fingers until she writhed beneath him, offering him everything and begging for more.

  “I’m going to move now.”

  “Mmm.”

  Returning his hands to her hips to hold her steady, he pulled almost all the way out and slid back in as slow as his out of control libido would allow. A half-gasp, half-moan escaped her lips.

  “Harder.”

  The word, directed at the ceiling, was more of a growl, but the request suited his needs. He pulled back again and this time, the slide back in was faster. Her breasts bobbed with the force of their bodies meeting.

  Suddenly, Clare sat up. Her arms came around his neck, and she looked him straight in the eye. “Harder,” she said. “I need it fast and hard, Antonio.”

  Who was this woman? He’d promised her slow and sweet, thinking that was what she needed, but looking into her eyes, he could see she meant what she said. He’d be damned if he wasn’t the man to give her what she wanted.

  “Hang on.”

  He slid out, flexed his hips, and drove into her hard. The metronome on the corner of her desk swung into action.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  Her head fell back again, her silken hair brushing the backs of his hands at her waist. The moan/groan that escaped her lips was unmistakable. He repeated the process, and her hands
fell from his neck. She slipped to her back on the desk, wrapped her legs around his waist, and raised her arms over her head in complete surrender.

  “Faster.”

  Hell, yeah! He dug his fingers into her hips and gave her what she asked for. Each hard thrust elicited a guttural response from her throat fueling his need even more. Her breasts bounced and jiggled. The metronome kept time. The roller coaster had come completely off the rails. He couldn’t stop the wild ride even if the plunge at the end meant sure death.

  “Sooo good,” she moaned. She moved one hand to her clit and worked the small nub with her fingers. “Oh, God, Antonio.”

  Shit. He couldn’t take his eyes off her hand, the way she touched herself, taking what she wanted, needed. “Babe. That’s so fuckin’ hot!”

  He wouldn’t last much longer, and he prayed she wouldn’t either. It was a crapshoot as to which would go first, his legs or his cock. He prayed both would last long enough for her to find pleasure.

  “Come for me.”

  He felt it begin—the way her body went rigid, the way her breath caught then exploded out of her on a long, drawn out, primal utterance. Her pussy clenched around his cock in an age-old rhythm that made him want to howl at the moon. He continued to plunge into her, savoring the tight fist drawing his manhood from him.

  His climax began as a fireball in the small of his back then like an exploding sunspot, shot to his groin, down his legs, and out to the tips of his ears. His cock rivaled granite on the hardness scale. His release, when it came, was liquid fire. He pressed his palms flat on the desk and ground into her in short, powerful thrusts until his body ceased to spasm.

  Heaven.

  Clare moaned, and her legs fell away from his waist. Christ. He needed to take care of her. He opened his eyes. Her body was flushed with passion, her chest still heaving with exertion. Her hair fanned out over the desk, her head lolled to one side. There was a smile on her lips. God, he’d just fucked an angel.

  “Tell me about Bases Loaded,” she said.

  Hell.

  Chapter Nine

  Tick. Tock.

  Little hammers in his brain counted off the seconds to self-destruct.

  What was that saying? The best defense is a good offense? Please, God, let it be true.

  “You really want me to explain baseball to you? Right now?” He poured every ounce of incredulity he could muster into his response and waited. For the love of all that was holy, his dick still throbbed inside her. And he was supposed to think?

  Clare used her elbows to prop up, looked at him with a smirk that said she wasn’t the idiot he hoped she was at that moment, and said, “No. That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I want to know about the secret club you belong to.”

  Well, shit. There is no God.

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he hedged. He flexed his hips and his dick slid free. He peeled the slick condom off and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her desk. “You might want to take your own trash out today.”

  She glanced at the waste receptacle, and her face turned crimson, but only for a moment. She sat upright and looked him in the eye. “I saw the tattoo on your ass, Antonio.”

  Distraction and misdirection, the only tricks at his disposal, weren’t going to work. Not with a woman as intelligent as Clare. Time for outright lying. “I play baseball for a living. What else would I have tattooed on my ass besides a baseball diamond?”

  She raised her heels to the edge of the desk, exposing her glistening pussy to his view. He completely lost track of their conversation. Blood rushed south, and his cock responded to the stimulus. She kicked him in the stomach.

  “Huh?”

  “I said, open the drawer.”

  “Okay, okay.” He stepped back and slid the center drawer open. He stared at the small, jeweled charm laying right there for anyone to see, and his erection withered instantly.

  There were only a handful of those charms in existence, and she owned one.

  It wasn’t hers, he was certain of that. So…where did she get it? Did she know what it represented? If he lied to her now, would he ever see her again? If he told her the truth, would he ever see her again?

  It was a cluster-fuck of epic proportions, and he was caught in the middle with no acceptable way out.

  “What do you need out of here?”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Antonio.” She scooted back on the desk and reached between her legs to retrieve the damning charm from her drawer. She used her heel to kick the drawer shut then dropped her thighs to the desktop.

  “Tell me about Bases Loaded.”

  “It’s a baseball term that means there’s a man on all three bases.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the piece of jewelry lying in the palm of her hand. A ray of failing light shone through the window behind her desk and winked off the diamond chip representing home plate.

  “We aren’t talking about those square white things on a baseball field, are we?”

  He couldn’t speak past the lump of dread in his throat. He shook his head. Lying wouldn’t work. She clearly knew more than she should already.

  “That’s what I thought.” She curled her fingers inward and the damning charm disappeared inside her fist. Rocking side to side, she scooted to the edge of the desk and hopped off, forcing him to take another step back. She reached for her skirt and stepped into it. Tony followed her lead, sorting through their discarded clothes, passing hers to her and putting his back on. The small, overly warm room smelled of sex. The metronome on the corner of her desk had been set in motion sometime during their encounter. The steady clicking measured the human silence, broken only by the whisper of clothing and zippers. Muted voices and footsteps sounded in the hallway. Neither one of them had been especially reserved. Chances were someone had heard them. Clare might have some explaining to do.

  How in hell he was going to explain Bases Loaded he didn’t have a clue, but he needed to come up with something fast. Clare was buttoning her blouse, and she still had the charm clenched in her fist.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “The charm?” She arched an eyebrow at him then turned to straighten the things on her desk. She stopped the arm of the metronome with her index finger, silencing it. “I found it in an antique mall in Plano. I contacted the owner of the booth to see if she could tell me where she acquired it, but she couldn’t remember. She said it was in a box of costume jewelry she picked up somewhere—probably at Canton Trade Days.”

  “What the hell is a Canton Trade Day?” He raised a hand to stop her from speaking. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You obviously thought there was more to it than being an interesting piece of jewelry. So, why don’t you tell me why you bought it?”

  Clare leaned against her desk and crossed her arms over her midsection. “Sit down, Antonio. I want to tell you a story. Then you’re going to tell me one, too.”

  Running sounded better, but that wasn’t an option, so he sat in her desk chair and looked up at her. “I’m listening.”

  “I was at a fundraiser. One of those events like the one where we met. Lots of people were invited. Players past and present. Anyone who might have a few dollars to contribute to the cause. It boggles my mind why they always invite me, but they do, so I go. Anyway, I was in a stall in the ladies room and a group of women came in. I think they’d had too much champagne because their conversation was loud and inappropriate for…well, anywhere. I could see them through the crack around the stall door. I was just about to leave the stall when one of them hopped up on the counter and spread her legs. She wasn’t wearing panties, but she was wearing one of these.”

  She opened her fist, and the charm winked in the harsh fluorescent overhead lights.

  Shit.

  “I was intrigued, so I kept quiet and listened. Needless to say, the explanation as to how she had earned it was informative. She was quite proud of it.”

  Clare nudged the tiny charm with the index finger of
her other hand. “So…when I saw this one in the antique mall, I instantly knew what it was. I bought it, thinking if I was going to have one, that was the only way I would get it. Earning one wasn’t an option.”

  “Damn right it’s not an option.” He placed a hand on her thigh and slid it beneath her skirt. “No one touches you but me.”

  If her metronome had still been going, it would have kept time with the one word mantra playing on an endless loop in his brain. Liar. Liar. Liar. He did want her all to himself, but damn it, he couldn’t stop thinking about how lovely she would be—

  He derailed that train of thought and tried to focus on what she was saying.

  “I have to admit, at first I thought I was just something you wanted to check off your bucket list. Fuck a fatty. Some guys do. But after what we just did, I’m beginning to believe you really might find me attractive. But I’m a realist. I’m not the kind of woman men invite to do the things that woman described. I just want to know if what she said was true. So spill, Antonio. Tell me what she did to earn her charm.”

  He’d deal with the fact she thought she was fat another time. At the moment, he needed to get her mind off that charm. Once she knew the particulars, no way would she want to earn one.

  “Fuck.” He stood and paced the two steps to the bookcase against the far wall. He turned to face Clare. “She got fucked. A lot.”

  “How much is a lot?”

  “The charm is only awarded for home runs. If they quit before, they get nothing.”

  “Go on,” she said.

  “It’s the same as in baseball. You’ve got to have a man on all three bases at the same time. It’s three men and one woman. Do I have to tell you what the bases are?”

  “No. I think I can figure that out on my own.”

  “Okay then. The woman has to…well, the men…take turns on all the bases. If they all come, in all three bases, she’s hit a home run, and she gets the charm.”

  She pursed those wicked lips that could drive him insane. While she thought about what he’d said, he imagined how those lips would look wrapped around his cock and almost missed her next question.