Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball)

by Roz Lee

  It was past midnight when he ushered her into his Manhattan apartment. If what they’d done on the plane to Colorado hadn’t qualified her for the Mile High Club, what they’d done on the flight to New York certainly had. Private planes were a lot more conducive to sexual activity than commercial flights, but so were cars. If his plan didn’t work, then there would be a lot less private planes in their future and a lot more four-wheel road trips.

  “You live here?” she asked, seeing the stark bachelor pad for the first time.

  “Used to. Almost ten years.”

  She walked around the room, looking for anything that would indicate a human lived in the apartment. Three apartments the size of hers would fit in the living room alone. “Decorator?”

  “How can you tell?”

  “There’s not a single thing in this room that looks like something you would pick out for yourself, and there aren’t any pictures.”

  “She told me I couldn’t mess up her work of art with my junk.” He shrugged. “I have some stuff in my office, down the hall.” He pointed.

  “I’d like to see that but later. I’m exhausted.”

  He smiled and pulled her close for a kiss. “I’ll never get enough of you, but you need your rest. You know, you don’t have to do this. The guys will go along with anything I want. Jessica would never know one way or the other.”

  “I want to do it. But if you would rather I didn’t….”

  His hands roamed from the small of her back to her hips and up to massage her breasts. “You know I would love to see you go through with it, but it’s totally up to you. I’m okay with whatever you decide.”

  She kissed him, letting him know how much it meant that he insisted the decision be hers. “I want to do it. For you, for me. For us. Besides, I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to pull your plan off otherwise.”

  “I understand that. You won’t get any argument from me. I’m through pretending I don’t want you to run the bases. I’m so hard right now, I could go for a swim in the Hudson, and the cold wouldn’t faze me.”

  “No swims tonight. Let’s go to bed.”

  The following day, she woke alone in Antonio’s bedroom. Like the living room she’d seen the night before, the bedroom was as impersonal as a luxury hotel room. To say it was uncomfortable would be wrong. The bed was like sleeping on a cloud, and the furnishing were, if not what she would have chosen for him, beautifully sleek, modern, and expensive.

  He’d told her to sleep as late as she wanted, explaining he would be gone most of the day, finalizing the arrangements for tonight, and staying away so he wouldn’t be tempted to get a head start on the evening’s activities. As much as she would have loved to spend the day with him, he was right. She needed to rest.

  After a light lunch, she used the spa appointment Antonio had thoughtfully made for her. When she left three hours later, her skin was soft as silk, her nails—all twenty of them—sparkled, and her hair gleamed, bouncing in fat curls around her shoulders. Her makeup was perfection. She’d even swallowed her embarrassment and allowed the esthetician to tidy her pubic hair. She now sported a neat triangle pointing the way to her secrets. She couldn’t wait for Antonio to see it.

  Back at the apartment, she undressed and slipped into the one garment she was allowed tonight—Antonio’s Mustangs jersey. She’d brought along a pair of high-heeled sandals in case they went some place dressy before they returned to Dallas. She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on.

  Standing, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the back of the open closet door.

  Sin.

  She swept a dark curl over each shoulder and cocked one hip so her knee peeked out from between the tails of the shirt. Pursing her lips, she made kissing sounds at her reflection.

  Switching sides, she hitched her other hip out and fluffed her hair at her nape in an effort to find the inner vixen she felt sure was hiding somewhere inside her. Wherever it was, it was trembling like a leaf.

  Would they take her wearing Antonio’s jersey? That would be hot. He would like that, and so would she.

  With one hand on her leg, she scooted the shirt hem up an inch. An inch more. She couldn’t wait to feel Antonio’s hands on her, slowly creeping beneath the fabric to find her naked bottom.

  His eyes would go dark like they always did when he wanted her. He would back her against the wall, and his hands would find all her lady parts while his lips kissed her senseless. Then he would hand her over to the others.

  He’ll be here, she reminded herself. Antonio will be here.

  She took a deep breath and forced her reflection to smile back at her.

  Relax. You can do this.

  “Clare?” Antonio called from the living room.

  “I’ll be right there.” She dried her sweaty palms on the jersey and said to the woman in the mirror. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “No jersey has ever looked better.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice at the door. He wore a black suit coat with a white shirt tucked into faded jeans. The shirt was open at the collar, revealing a hint of bronze skin that made her mouth water.

  “I feel….”

  “Sexy?” he supplied. “Because you look good enough to eat.” The gleam in his eye told her he wasn’t kidding.

  “Antonio,” she warned.

  “No worries. It’s all part of the game.” He took her hand in his and drew her to him. “The guys are waiting for us in the living room.”

  “Oh.” Reality hit. The game wasn’t hypothetical any longer. There were three men in the other room prepared to spend an entire evening, or as long as it took, to fuck her senseless.

  “You can still say no,” he reminded her. He nibbled her neck while his hands found her bare ass beneath the heavy game jersey.

  “No. I mean, yes. I want to do this.”

  He lifted his head, and his gaze met hers. “You trust me?”

  She nodded.

  “If you are uncomfortable at any time, physically or otherwise, you have to say something. We can’t feel what you’re feeling, and we don’t read minds.”

  “I understand.”

  “We’ll do our best to make sure you’re aroused and ready, and we’ll use plenty of lube. We don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve talked with them. They have my permission to touch you, but your permission is the only one that counts.”

  She nodded again, afraid to try to form words. Her legs were shaking so badly she was afraid she might topple off her high heels.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.” He stepped back, and the jersey fell into place over her ass. Looking her up and down, his eyes blazed. “Nice shoes.”

  If he hadn’t supported her with an arm around her waist, she might not have made it to the living room without tripping. Her legs were jelly. Couple that with the heels and nearly ankle-deep carpet and unsteady was an understatement.

  They paused inside the living room. Three of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen in her life stood in a line with their backs to the gas fireplace.

  “Clare Kincaid,” he said. “May I introduce your team?” He swept a hand toward the man to his left. “You know Keith O’Brian. We played on the Marauders together.”

  Keith smiled. “Clare. Good to see you again. I’m looking forward to this.”

  Her skin prickled, and her face flushed.

  “This is Mike Waverly from the Sidewinders.” Antonio indicated the man in the middle. He was the shortest of the three, but he still had several inches on her. His hair wasn’t as light as Keith’s or as dark as Antonio’s.

  “Clare,” Mike said with a half smile that would have made her swoon if she’d been capable of reacting, but she was a ball of fire on the inside and frozen solid at the same time. “You’re more beautiful than Tony said.”

  She nodded. Or at least, she thought she did.

  “Last, but not least,” Antonio said, “is Conner O
stenhouse from the Claimjumpers.”

  She shifted her attention to the last man. Conner was perhaps the youngest of the four men, but it was difficult to tell. Norse gods didn’t age, did they? They were all big men. Not fat. No. There didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat between them. They were all shoulders, and legs, and rock-hard muscle. Athletes in their prime.

  “Pleased to meet you, Clare,” Conner said. “That jersey will have to go. It’s criminal to cover a work of art.”

  Could she possibly blush any brighter? She nodded, accepting the compliment. This is what she’d wanted for so long, for men to look at her and tell her she was beautiful, find her desirable. Their approval satisfied the deep-seated insecurity that had plagued her since her teenage years when her body had shown signs of being curvy instead of fashionably thin.

  As flattering as it was to be desired by strangers, the reality of what was about to take place scared the living daylights out of her. All she had to do was say the word, and it would end here.

  She tried to swallow, but her mouth felt like it was filled with sand. She turned to Antonio. He smiled, squeezed her hand reassuringly, and all thoughts of ending the game evaporated in the heat of his desire.

  “Rules of the game,” he said. “Three on base, one plate umpire. The plate umpire can touch Clare anywhere, with any part of his body he chooses, as long as he doesn’t interfere with the players. All four men have to come each inning. We play four innings instead of the usual three, with an hour break in between each one. Longer if Clare needs more time. I’ll umpire first. If Clare also comes all four innings, she earns not only the clit charm, but the diamond necklace as well. That’s our goal, team. She needs that necklace.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Conner said.

  “Not a problem, Tony,” Keith said.

  “Ditto. What they said,” Mike added.

  Antonio turned to her. He still held her hand in his, and the heat of the connection steadied her. “Your word is Miners. Say it and we stop. We end it. If you need a minute to adjust, cross your fingers,” he said, demonstrating the universal sign for luck, “and wave your hand in front of someone’s face. You may not be capable of speech, but your hands will be free. You may touch any of us, anywhere, or yourself at any time.”

  Her brain was on overload, but she managed a nod.

  “Do you understand and consent to having sex multiple times tonight with these men?” He squeezed her hand again. “We need a verbal response, Clare.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Get her a glass of water,” he said.

  Keith broke away from the group and returned with a filled tumbler he pressed into her hand. He held the glass steady while she sipped the cool liquid.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I…. Yes, I want to do this.”

  Antonio squeezed her fingers again. She squeezed his in return. If he was touching her, she could do anything. His strength was her strength.

  Keith smiled at her response then rejoined the others, setting the water glass on the fireplace mantle behind him.

  Antonio put himself between them and her. With one more reassuring squeeze, he released her. “As Mike said, this has to go.”

  He slipped the first button on her jersey free, then the next. His gaze held hers until the last button came loose. He kissed her while his hands pushed the shirt open, using her breasts to hold the two sides apart. Cool air brushed her exposed skin, but soon his hands warmed her, sweeping across her sensitized flesh, arousing and teasing. Her nipples peaked beneath his palms. She almost forgot the others were there, but then he ended the kiss, gave her one long, assessing look, and stepped away.

  Three sets of eyes blazing with desire took in her body framed by Antonio’s jersey. The scarlet fabric should contrast nicely with her cream skin, but she feared her entire body was an embarrassing shade of puce.

  “Holy shit,” Conner said. “I knew she was a work of art.”

  “Oh, man,” Mike chimed in. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Tony.”

  Keith smiled and chuckled beneath his breath. “Clare.” He waited until she looked directly at him. “We are honored to be of service to you tonight.”

  Memories of his gentle, caring touch allowed her to return his smile. Antonio urged her forward. She followed him to the large, square ottoman that was both a footrest and a coffee table for the sectional sofa. When she was seated on the edge, he went to his knees in front of her and spread her legs.

  Her breath caught, knowing four men were now privy to her most intimate secrets. He stroked along the tops of her thighs, comforting her. She focused on him, and only him.

  “Lie back,” he said, “and let us love you.”

  Her gaze locked with his, and the storm of passion in his eyes fueled a fire within her. His hands on her legs were her lifelines. She lay back, raising her arms over her head, offering herself to them.

  “Players.” Antonio called his friends to the field. “Let’s play ball.”

  His hands slid beneath her thighs, lifting and parting her. Fingers closed over her ankles, and she looked up to see Mike standing over Antonio, holding her legs aloft. Keith and Conner knelt on either side of the ottoman. They reached for her breasts, and she closed her eyes as they caressed her. She tilted her head and arched her back, inviting them to taste her. A heated mouth closed over each aching nipple, forcing a moan from her throat. Then Antonio claimed her pussy. Claimed her. Her brain short-circuited. She lost the ability to think, leaving herself at the mercy of her senses.

  She was on fire. Her skin burned, and the blood racing through her system felt like molten lava, searing everything it touched. Nerve endings fired like a pyrotechnics show gone wrong, haphazard, random, wherever her lovers touched her. Between her legs, Antonio detonated one explosive after another, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. Mike cradled her left leg between his shoulder and his neck, kissing anywhere he could reach while holding her right leg aloft, stroking fire from the back of her knee to her ankle.

  Her head rolled from side to side, one moan after another falling from her lips. It wasn’t long before tension coiled tight and low inside her. She was vaguely aware of all the hands on her—everywhere. From the top of her head to the arch of her feet, rough palms and fingers explored her every curve and found secret places where a touch could drive her insane with need.

  The tension built one caress, one questing tongue flick at a time until she couldn’t stop the inevitable. Like a pebble dropped in still water, shock waves radiated out from her pussy, along her legs and torso all the way to her toes and fingertips. Even the tops of her ears tingled as her first orgasm of the night unleashed its power in a shower of light and moments of complete and utter darkness, catapulting her from one to the other so fast she could do nothing but ride the waves of pleasure like a rubber raft adrift in a hurricane.

  The storm seemed to go on forever, but slowly her body calmed, and feeling as if she’d drowned and washed up on shore, she became aware of being lifted by strong arms and held.

  Safe.

  Her mind drifted in her post-orgasm haze. Around her, she sensed activity, others, but she couldn’t make it all out. Voices, soft but firm. Then she was being passed from her safe cocoon to another place of safety. How she knew she was in no danger she didn’t understand. She just was.

  Time meant nothing. Her lovers positioned her boneless body, stroked, and molded.

  “Clare, baby. Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and was face to face with Keith. He smiled, and she smiled back, too happy and sated to do anything else.

  “That’s our girl. Hold onto my shoulders.” Someone helped her lift her arms, curved her fingers over Keith’s shoulders. “Here we go. Remember to cross your fingers if we’re going too fast.”

  Hands on her ass, from somewhere behind, lifted her. The pressure between her legs was like a jolt of electricity to her brain. Suddenly, she was alert and complet
ely aware of her surroundings. A quick glance around confirmed the tidbits of sensory information coalescing into reality in the fogged recesses of her mind.

  Her lovers had shed their clothes. She still wore Antonio’s jersey, but instead of lying on the ottoman, she sat astride Keith’s lap. Over her shoulder stood Mike. Conner and Antonio stood on either side of her.

  “Take me in, baby,” Keith crooned.

  Her mouth form an O as Keith’s cock impaled her in one slow but steady slide.

  “She’s so damned wet. Tight and hot,” he said to their audience. Then to her, “Christ, baby. I don’t know how long I can last.”

  “Lie back,” Mike said.

  “Come with me.” Keith wrapped his arms around her and with incredible abdominal control, lowered his back to the ottoman, taking her with him so her breasts flattened against his rock-hard chest.

  Fingers probed her ass, gentle but firm. “Oh, man. This is going to feel so good.”

  “Use this.” Antonio’s voice.

  “Thanks,” Mike said.

  She bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes, embarrassed and anticipating what she knew was coming. The lube wasn’t as cold as she expected, but Mike’s fingers slathered it on and in her with quick efficiency that left her little time to react.

  “Ready, Clare?” Antonio asked.

  She nodded, and instantaneously Mike pressed against her. With one hand at the small of her back, he breached her barrier, filling her completely. Clare crossed her fingers and waved her hand around.

  “Slow down,” Antonio warned. His face filled her vision.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  Her head spun, and she quickly realized it was because she was holding her breath. She exhaled and dared to draw in another breath. She nodded. “Forgot to breathe.”

  Antonio smiled, and she gave him a weak one in return.

  “You’re doing fine. Conner is ready whenever you are, babe.” He stroked her cheek, his thumb hanging on her lower lip for a second. “Raise up on your elbows when you’re ready to take him in. Everything okay below?”

  “Yes. It feels good.”

  “For them, too. Mike is turning purple trying to keep from coming.”