Spring Training

by Roz Lee

  Holding Brooke tight against his chest, he was torn. If he was going to lose her, then staying in Dallas would be unbearable for him. He might as well take the Waves up on their offer. Maybe in a few years, he could return to Dallas and resume his life there without thinking about all he’d lost every waking minute. Or not.

  All he had to do was say no, and the Mustangs would make a counter offer. That’s what they expected him to do, what he’d told Doyle he would do. The Waves needed a third baseman, and hell, Chip wanted a starting position—let him go to San Diego. Idiot that the man was, he did know how to play the game. If he could keep his mouth shut, he’d be an asset to the Waves. The Mustangs might have to throw in a few rookies, maybe throw in some cash, but they would still get their pitcher. Another possible win-win scenario—if Todd insisted on staying.

  And that was a big if.

  “Master.”

  Her sweet voice, her warm breath against his shoulder, undid him. The honor he wasn’t sure he ever deserved, lodged like a tumbleweed in his throat.

  “Slave.” The endearment rolled off his tongue. No matter who she knelt for, in his heart, she’d always be his.

  “When did you arrive?”

  He kissed the top of her head, stroking his hands over her back. “A while ago. You didn’t know?”

  “I thought maybe I dreamed you.”

  “I’ll always be here for you, babe.” He meant it. She could call him in ten years, and he’d take her in his arms. She was it for him. There would be no others.

  “I’m glad you came.” She snuggled impossibly closer, and his body instantly came to life. Sometimes it was enough to just hold her while she came back to earth, but then he’d been the one to satisfy her.

  “You were having too much fun. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Will you make love to me, Sir? I need you.”

  God, would he ever live if he couldn’t hear those words from her lips? “Babe, you must be sore.”

  Her hair tickled his chest as she shook her head. “Aching, Sir. For you.”

  No one would ever call him a saint. He rolled her onto her back and, spreading her thighs with his knees, he entered her as slowly as his desperation allowed. Her soft sigh when he ground as deeply as possible inside her was nearly his undoing.

  “Don’t do that, babe, or this will be over before it’s begun.”

  “I’ve needed you so badly, Sir. I love to feel you inside me.”

  “There’s nowhere else I want to be, ever, girl. Remember that.”

  With another sigh, she closed her eyes and raised her arms over her head in complete surrender. Her hair sprawled out around her head in a tangled halo in contrast to her flawless face. He moved, flexing his hips, withdrawing then invading again in slow motion.

  He memorized everything. The way her breasts pillowed his chest, the hard stab of her nipples against his heated skin, the sheen of sweat on her chest, the pulse ticking in the long column of her throat, the soft scent of wild rose that fit her so well. He catalogued every sigh, every smile, and every plea to go faster. He wanted forever with her, but if this was all he had, it would have to last a lifetime, and, for that, he needed to prolong the pleasure for both of them.

  She must be running on pure adrenaline. He knew from experience just how long the drug could carry her once it coursed through her veins. He saw the moment her energy began to flag.

  Bracing on his elbows, he cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “Stay with me, babe. I don’t want this to end.”

  “Master.” The word was no more than a whisper, yet it carved a gash in his heart he knew would never mend.

  “Slave,” he corrected her. Their roles were reversed, though she did not see it. “Come for me, Brooke, baby. One more time, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes drifted softly closed. He continued to stroke in and out until she arched her back. A cry escaped her throat. She bit down on her lower lip as an orgasm rolled through her, pulling him with it. He spilled his seed inside her, savoring the wash of warmth, his and hers mingled together. Tangible manifestations of love, lust, and passion.

  The scent of their lovemaking permeated the air. Todd breathed deeply, committing the fragrance to memory. Nothing would ever smell as sweet.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Something had changed, but Brooke didn’t have a clue what it was. Todd told her it was nearing time to go back to Dallas. Spring Training was coming to a close for the Mustangs and for them.

  In passing, she mentioned leaving the things she purchased for the kitchen, so they’d be there next year when they returned, but he said to pack and ship them. She knew better than to argue with a direct order even if it made no sense. She’d just have to purchase the expensive baking utensils again when they returned.

  They had one more session with Mistress Lola. It was to be goodbye. With a little luck, Brooke would take some visible reminders with her. It had been nearly four weeks since she’d first tasted the lash of the Domme’s whip and found the place deep inside herself where her subservient calling originated. She longed to go there again. Master Todd could be stern, but he couldn’t bring himself to apply the level of pain she required to find that place. Only Mistress Lola had ever taken her there. And only one more opportunity remained to experience that rush of awareness she craved.

  Seeing the woman in her thoughts approaching on the sidewalk, Brooke smiled. She needed to talk to her about everything—Todd’s strange behavior since their session the week before and her need to look her subservience in the face again.

  “Diane,” she said, engulfing her friend with a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Brooke.” They broke apart. “I still can’t get used to you calling me by my real name.”

  “Me either. You’ll always be Mistress Lola to me.”

  “I’m glad.” They linked arms, heading toward the park that had become their favorite meeting place. “I hope I’ve helped you these last few weeks.”

  “You have, more than you can ever know. I’m going to miss you.” They sat on their favorite bench. As usual, in the midday heat, they had the entire park to themselves. Brooke looked down at her bare legs, tanned from the desert sun. “I wish you could come with us.”

  Her companion was quiet so long, Brooke was sure she’d overstepped propriety.

  “You know I can’t,” Diane said at last, her voice tinged with regret. “You have a Master, one who loves you very much. And you love him just as much.”

  “I know.” The silence between them this time was easier, though Brooke was tense, working up the nerve to confide in her friend. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. The words came then. “Something’s wrong, and I have no clue what it is.”

  Her friend listened while she related the incident over the kitchen utensils. “I can’t make sense of it.” She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice or stop the moisture from forming in her eyes.

  “I don’t have a clue what to tell you, Brooke. He was so relieved when he found you on his doorstep. Being away from you was killing him. I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want you to come back next year. Unless he thinks you wouldn’t want to?”

  “He knows I want to. He’s expressed concern over my business, but my mother has been checking in on it every few days, and from the reports coming from my manager, everything is running smoothly without me. If things are going as well as I think they are, I’m thinking of cutting my hours back to almost nothing when I get back so I can devote more time to being Todd’s slave. He’s never expected me to do household things, to care for him personally, but I did much more for Frank than I’ve ever done for Todd, and I liked it. I liked fixing him meals, offering my body as comfort when he’d had a long day at work. In the past, I’ve been too tired to do that. Todd…Master…understood, and he never pressed for more.”

  “But you want more.”

  “I do. I always did, but we’d lost our way. Between you and Frank guiding
us, I think we’ve found what works for us. But something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones. It’s like Todd is pulling away from me, and, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

  “You have to talk to him, Brooke. Ask to speak frankly and tell him how you’re feeling.”

  Brooke nodded. Fighting for control, she wiped tears from her eyes with her fingertips. “I know, I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.” She took a shuddering breath and continued. “There’s more.”

  “I’m here to listen.” Diane stretched her arm across the back of the bench and began to rub big circles on Brooke’s back between her shoulder blades. The contact was welcome, soothing in the same way she’d come to expect when she submitted to this woman. Brooke took comfort in the gesture.

  “You remember the first night we met?”

  “I’ll never forget it. You are one of the most responsive people I’ve ever had the pleasure to whip.”

  Brooke’s smile felt brittle. “I’ll never forget it either. I think watching you whip me almost killed Master.”

  “I sense a but coming.”

  “But I loved it. I needed it. I’ve told Master how you took me so deep within myself that I finally saw the real me, the core of me that is subservient. I was more in touch with my slavery that night than I had ever been or have been since. I want to go there again. I need to go there again.”

  “But….”

  “But you and I both know Master will never inflict that much pain. Doing so would destroy him.”

  “You want me to do it.”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid to ask Master for permission. The last time wrecked him, and there’s the thing with the utensils…. I’m lost, Mistress.” Brooke didn’t question that, somewhere in her confession, she quit seeing this woman as her friend, elevating her to Mistress almost subconsciously.

  “You have the heart and soul of a slave, Brooke. You can’t doubt that.”

  “I don’t, but being in that place…. It was so peaceful. There were no doubts, no internal arguments, only acceptance. I’ve kept the feeling in my heart, but I long to go back there again. I think if I did, the feeling…the rightness…of being a slave would grow stronger.”

  Mistress Lola’s hand cupped Brooke’s nape. “Put your head down, slave.” Brooke obediently bowed her head. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

  Long minutes went by while they sat in silence. A calm stole over Brooke as she ceded control to the other woman. The hand on the back of her neck felt as binding as a collar. When did she begin to see Mistress Lola in that light?

  From the beginning. She owns you every bit as much as Master Todd owns you.

  Brooke gulped in air. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

  “Shh, slave. Keep your head down and breathe. We’ll work this out.”

  “I’m Master Todd’s slave.”

  “But you feel a connection to me, too. Am I right?”

  Her skin felt as if ants were crawling all over her. “I can’t be slave to two.” She shook her head. “I can’t be.”

  “But you feel as if you are. Perhaps your Master picked up on those feelings.”

  Strong fingers massaged Brooke’s neck. She concentrated on breathing in and out. The compulsion to get on her knees, to acknowledge this woman’s words with actions almost overwhelmed her. “He thinks he’s lost me. That’s why he wants me to pack the kitchen utensils.”

  “I suspect you’re right. We’ll have to set him straight in that regard.” Mistress Lola dropped her hand. “Look at me, slave.”

  Brooke wiped fresh tears from her eyes then looked at the compassionate woman beside her.

  “You can’t serve two Masters, Brooke.”

  Brooke sniffed back tears as she assimilated the woman’s words. Mistress Lola and Master Todd were two sides of the same coin. I need both. I love both of them. God help me.

  Her chin trembled as she struggled to hold back the flood of tears threatening to burst through the damn of her emotions. “I…I lo…I love bo…both of you.” The confession felt as if it ripped her heart out of her chest. She collapsed face first in Mistress Lola’s lap, tears flowing unchecked.

  ***

  "Doyle." Todd took the open office door as an invitation to enter.

  “Come in, come in.” The Mustangs’ manager stood, waving Todd inside.

  “You got a minute?”

  “Several. Shut the door and have a seat.” He opened a small refrigerator. “Water?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Todd took the cold bottle then settled into one of the hard plastic chairs situated in front of the man’s desk. The team had everything they needed here, but luxuries were in short supply—not that he cared about any of that. The locker room was top notch, the support facilities as modern as they came.

  “Want to talk about the trade agreement?” Leave it to Doyle Walker to cut right to the chase.

  “Yeah.” Todd drank down half his water bottle, stalling for time as much as hydrating. He’d been too distracted this morning to do more than shag a few fly balls during batting practice.

  “It’s a good offer, for you and for the Mustangs.”

  “That’s what my agent said, too.”

  “Are you considering it?”

  “Maybe.”

  The team manager rocked back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he assessed Todd.

  “We’ve been over this. The Mustangs do not want you to accept the offer. This is a starting point in the negotiations, not the end point. The Waves will settle for less than the best third baseman in the League.”

  Todd sat up straighter at the praise, his lips involuntarily curving up. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Doyle. I’m not sure it’s true, but I’m not here to argue with you.”

  “Want to tell me why you are here?”

  Taking a deep breath, Todd searched for the right words and the courage to say them. Doyle waited, not pressing him. All the pressure came from within. He’d thought he knew exactly what to do—say no to the Waves and finish out his Major League career with the Mustangs. But after the other night, nothing was clear. Perhaps he should consider the offer.

  “Look, Todd, this should be easy for you. Remember a few years ago when you asked to be traded. You were a free agent then, so we had no choice. If an offer was made, and you accepted, we had to let you go. You could have left then, but you chose to stay even with terms that were less than what you deserved. Your teammates were grateful, and, hell, I thought the owners were going to stroke out they were so happy you stayed and that they didn’t have to sell their first-born to keep you.”

  “You’re still in the driver’s seat. If you want to accept the Waves’ offer, then there isn’t much we can do to stop you.” He sat up. Leaning across his desk, his gaze was stern. “But we will do everything in our power to keep you.”

  Relaxing back in his chair, he continued, “So are you going to tell me what the hell this is about?”

  Todd shook his head. “No. I don’t believe I will.” He stood. “Thanks, though. I appreciate your time.”

  Judging from the look on Walker’s face, the man had no idea what he’d said or done. Hell, Todd wasn’t sure which of the things the man had said was the right one, but somewhere in his speech, Doyle had said exactly what Todd needed to hear. He left without another word.

  No way in hell was he leaving Dallas or Brooke. Not willingly, anyway. The offer from the Waves was a good one, and who couldn’t use a few million extra tacked on to the end of their career? Cash was cold.

  When he’d signed his first Major League contract, playing for the League minimum, he thought more money would make him happier. A few years in and he’d signed a bigger contract, one that set him up for life. By the time that one was up, he’d figured out money didn’t buy happiness. After he’d sent his agent on a fishing trip for a new team in a new city, something totally unexpected and amazing happened to him. He’d met Brooke.

  She changed his life. Instead of a fat c
ontract with a new team, he’d signed one with her and stayed in Dallas. Sure, he’d taken less than he deserved to remain on the Mustangs’ roster, but he got more than he deserved in his sub.

  His slave now. That change in status had thrown him for a loop. No sense glossing it over. He hadn’t been prepared to be a slave owner, and, like any rookie, he made mistakes. If he signed with the Waves, he’d be making the biggest mistake of his life.

  The money didn’t matter. He had plenty. He’d invested wisely, and he had no need to live extravagantly. Even if it was all gone tomorrow, he wouldn’t miss it. He could always get another job, earn a living doing something. He wasn’t too proud to work construction, or he could make use of his degree in architecture.

  Doyle had reminded him of a time in his life when he didn’t have a clue what he’d wanted. That was then. This was now, and he damned sure knew what he wanted. Brooke.

  The hell with the rest of it. He could live without baseball. He could live without a big house and fancy cars. He could live without fame. What he couldn’t live without was Brooke.

  I’m not letting her go.

  He refused to accept that he might be too late, that he might have lost her to someone else. Maybe Brooke had feelings for Mistress Lola, but it wasn’t unheard of for a sub to become attached to a temporary playmate. She’d get over it. If his slave wanted a woman to play with, he’d find her one in Dallas. As long as he could watch, he didn’t mind if she found pleasure with a woman.

  Images of Brooke and Mistress Lola together made him ache with need. Damn, those two were hot together. He could see why Brooke might think she was in love with the Domme. He was half in love with her himself. She had a way of cutting right to the core of a person in order to make him face his true self. God knew she’d brought him to his knees a time or two.