“What’s going on there?” he asks, grabbing my hand. “What happened?”
“Burnt it on some coffee, is all.”
“Jesus Christ, Wilde, why the hell didn’t you say something earlier?”
“It really doesn’t hurt. I’m fine.”
“Like hell. We can’t afford you having any injuries.”
He calls for one of the trainers. They examine it and recommend a wrap.
“How the hell can I pitch with it wrapped? I won’t be able to feel my grip on the ball.”
Coach gives me one of his are you shitting me looks. “You’re on rest days now anyway, so what difference does it make?”
When he puts it like that, he leaves without an argument.
“Keep it wrapped,” he tells the trainer. “And put something in there to make sure it heals fast.”
The trainer walks me over to the bench and puts some kind of goop on my hand. The problem is, it’s located between my thumb and index finger, making it difficult to open and close my hand. I should’ve taken better care of it after it happened and not let myself get so distracted by buying shit for Gina. The spa thing and then I went to that Lelo website and bought some couple’s vibrator I thought might send her a message.
“How’s that? I tried to keep it so your thumb and fingers are free, leaving you your dexterity.”
I flex my fingers and hand, and it doesn’t feel bad. “Hey, Coach, toss me a ball,” I yell. One comes flying and the trainer has to duck.
“Asshole,” he says.
“Yeah, he can’t throw worth a shit,” I say. I grab the ball, toss it in the air a bit, and add, “I think this might be okay.”
The coach says, “You have a couple of days off to rest that arm and hand.”
“But I wanna get in the pen and test drive this thing.” I hold up my hand and wiggle it around, knowing it will set him off. I love yanking his chain. His face gets as red as a tomato.
“Sit your ass back down. You’re out for the next five days. Maybe more if necessary.”
“Maybe I should just take an island vacation somewhere. You know, go and drink some fruity umbrella drinks and hang out on the beach.”
“I’ll give you fruity umbrella drinks. Right up your ass. Listen up, Wilde. I’d rather have you playing the rest of the month than for you to tear that hand up or your arm. So off your feet and on your ass. Now.”
In a characteristic coach’s move imitating him, I take my hat off and throw it on the dugout floor. He finally figures out that I’ve been playing him.
“You’re an asshole, Wilde.”
Unfortunately, we end up losing the game, which is no fault of mine, so the next two are crucial. When I get home, Riley is all about my hand.
“It’s that fucking coffee burn. I’m off for five days. I should be fine.”
“Shit, Ryder. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Apparently, it is. Look, I’m beat. We have a double-header tomorrow, so I need to crash. Even though I’ll be benching it, it’ll be a long day.”
“Not even one beer?”
“Okay. One.”
We shoot the breeze, and I hit the sack after our beer. In the morning, I’m afraid to look at my hand. The trainer wrapped it again after I showered and said to leave it until the morning. Now’s the big reveal. I take off the bandage, and it does look a lot better. It hurts a lot less, too.
After my shower, I head to the kitchen for a huge breakfast. I need all the calories I can get. Six eggs, four pieces of toast, a protein shake, two bananas, some coffee, and two giant glasses of milk later and I’m rubbing my stomach.
“Christ, Ryder. Won’t you puke with all that in you?” Riley asks.
“Huh-uh. This will hold me until the seventh inning stretch of game one, maybe. Then I have these to fill in. It’s a long day.” I hold up some gigantic protein bars Fletcher turned me onto because they’re high in calories and do the trick.
“But damn, it’s not like you’re expending a lot just sitting there. Baseball is like watching paint dry.”
“Maybe, but I’ll have a lot of nervous energy.”
“Yeah, okay. Keep eating like that and you’ll have to be getting a solid workout from nine to five every day to keep from going up ten sizes.”
“Whatever. I’ll worry about my body, and you worry about yours, big sis.”
I get ready, grab my bag, and go. Maybe Riley’s right. The last thing I want is to get fat for Gina. Pushing those thoughts aside, I focus on the game and hope we pull this one out. Luckily, whatever the trainer did and sitting out yesterday had really helped. My arm feels like I could pitch, and my hand feels good. It’s still wrapped, but it doesn’t bother me because my fingers and thumb are free. We go on to win both games, and I end my day on a high.
That night, I call Gina again, but no answer. She had to receive at least the spa gift, and it’s a little hurtful that she didn’t call or text me to express her thanks. I didn’t take her for that kind of girl. Since I have the next couple of nights free, I decide to chance it and go visit her.
I put a call into Fletcher to see if it’s okay if I stay at his place.
“Cassie won’t be there, so it’s fine. My only rule is to leave it like you found it.”
“No worries on that, man. Is there a key somewhere?”
“Yeah.” He tells me where they have one hidden by the back porch. “And I know you’re probably going to see Gina, so good luck with her. She’s slippery like an eel, Ryder.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Take care.”
When I get to Waynesville, it’s getting dark and close to seven. I head to Fletcher and Cassie’s, locate the key, and check the place out. It’s nice what they’ve done so far in the renovations. My next stop is the Dirty Hammer, hoping Gina will be working.
As soon as I walk in, I see Sam at the bar. This isn’t good.
“Hey, Ryder. You looking for Gina?”
“Yeah, she here?”
“No, she’s out to dinner. I’m not sure where, but there aren’t too many places in town. I’d start at the Chef’s Grill and work my way down if I were you.”
“Thanks, Sam. I will.” And I head down the street.
It’s Thursday, so not overly crowded, even though fall is hitting, when things will soon heat up in town. I walk in and scan the room. The place isn’t very big at all, so in no time I find her, but there’s a huge problem. She’s not alone. The someone with her is male and dark-haired, and she just laughed at something he said. Then her head tilts as I watch, and that’s when it happens. Our eyes connect, her face collapses, and I turn and walk away. Guess I know why she never returned my calls or texts now. This is not what I expected at all.
Retracing my steps, I head back to the Dirty Hammer. I need to get hammered in a bad way.
“Guess she wasn’t there, huh?” Sam asks.
“No, she was, but she had a date. Can you give me a shot of tequila? No, make that three.”
“Sorry, man, and I got you covered.”
Three shots appear before me, and I’m downing my third when a voice drifts over my shoulder. “Hey, Ryder.”
GINA
Dinner with the lawyer has been an eye-opening experience. I’m not sure what to do with the information he’s given me, but I’ve been thrown for a loop seeing Ryder walk in. When he walks out, I’m rattled, more so than the news I received.
“I have to go,” I say abruptly.
“Boyfriend?” the lawyer says, who on any other day might have been my next conquest.
“No. And thanks for dinner.”
I start to pull out my wallet, but he stops me. “I’ve got this.”
The accent rolls off his tongue in ways that are sinful, but he isn’t my baseball player. I leave and step outside to breathe. I’ve avoided all of Ryder’s calls. His gifts made me feel special, and I didn’t know how to handle it. He seems so genuine, but I’m a coward. The thought of heartbreak scares me more than death
.
Before I make up my mind on what I’m going to do, my dinner companion is by my side. I pretend as though I don’t notice and head to the bar. I need a drink. Here’s to hoping my silence sends a message that I want to be left alone.
Lost in my thoughts when I open the front door, I see Ryder, beautiful and everything a girl could want, sitting with a tumbler cradled in his hands. He’s staring at it as though it has all the answers in the world.
“Hey, Ryder,” I call out boldly. Bravado has been my shield. Hopefully, it will work tonight.
He turns, but that’s about the time the lawyer circles his hand around my arm, turning me to face him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again for dinner.”
His eyes are filled with desire, and I get the faintest hint he might quite possibly kiss me. I step out of his hold.
“I’ll let you know what I decide,” I say, then turn and walk over to Ryder.
“What’s shaking, Cowboy?”
The grin on my face is supposed to get him to forgive me of any sins he might think I’ve committed. Only he doesn’t speak to me. Instead, he drains his glass.
“What brings you to these parts?” I try again, nerves getting the best of me.
His silence makes me feel like a desperate teenage girl who drew hearts of her crush’s name in the margins of her notebook. That’s something I’ve never done.
“Oh, I don’t know. I came to see why I can’t get a response from a woman I’ve called a number of times. I guess I have my answer.”
“Ryder, it’s not—”
“Save it, Gina. I don’t chase after women. I don’t have to. The one time I try…”
He shrugs. From his back pocket he produces some bills he lays on the bar countertop. When he stands, I fight back a wave of unwelcome feelings … fear.
“Just give me a chance to explain,” I try.
His frosty eyes land on mine. “You don’t owe me anything. You made it clear from the start. I was the fool for thinking…”
Trailing off again, he doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Then let’s not talk,” I suggest.
In a risky move, I step forward, get on my toes, and plant my lips against his. His soft lips are hard and unyielding, before he finally relaxes. His arm coils around my waist, and his mouth parts. I snake my tongue inside, getting a taste of expensive whiskey tinged with tequila.
Pulling back, I let my hand slide down his arm and wrap it in his. Then I tug him forward and lead him through the private hallway for employees only. There, I find the back door. Outside again, I scurry up the steps to my apartment. Quickly, I unlock the door and yank him inside. His eyes take in the clutter-free space that still weirds me out, but I’ve done my best to maintain the calm and get over my issues. Although in a rebellious move known only to me, I toss my dirty clothes on the closet floor and not in the provided hamper.
He starts to speak, but I put a finger to his lips and force his back against the door. I slide to my knees and work at freeing his beautiful cock from his pants.
At half-mast, I take it in my hands and feel it grow. I lift my eyes to meet his as I open my mouth and suck him toward the back of my throat, while trying to get most of him inside without gagging.
His eyes change as if a fire burns in them. He takes his hand, threads it through my hair before pulling me forward and back to guide the pace he needs. I clamp my lips down hard, knowing men like a little more pressure.
Groaning, his cock swells and it’s becoming harder to get most of him in my mouth. I relax my throat and swallow, opening myself to take him deeper.
“That’s it, baby. Take it.”
His voice is husky, and a growing need bursts in my core.
“Touch yourself, Gina. Show me how wet you are,” he adds as if reading my thoughts.
I do as he bids and hold up two damp fingers in the way of a boy scout. A rumbling sound comes from him a second before he pulls me off. Then my wrist is in his hand as he draws me to a standing position. He sucks my fingers in his mouth and licks them clean. I have to say that shit is hot. I don’t have time to speak, when in a quick move he lifts me over his shoulder caveman style. When I give a little squeak, he slaps my ass hard. Then he’s holding his jeans with the other hand as we make the short walk to the bedroom.
Tossing me onto the bed, he gets right to it, tugging at my jeans. When I squirm, he flips me over and taps my ass. Not too hard, but the sting turns me on. I can tell he’s not used to it, but thinks maybe that’s what I want. I have to admit, his dominating me is a thrill, so I say nothing lest he stop.
He works my jeans over my hips and surprises me by taking a bite on my ass. I giggle, which gets me another love tap. Once my pants are off, he slides a hand underneath me to raise me up on my knees. Then his tongue is in my pussy. And fuck me if I don’t fly to the moon and back. Adding a finger, he’s expert enough to easily find the magic button. When I cry out, his mouth and finger are gone.
“Damn, Ryder. You’re being a tease.”
“And you made me wait for this.”
With my eyes closed and my cheek smashed in the mattress, I feel his cock glide between my lips back and forth, but never going inside.
I want to complain, but I sense he wants that, too. So I hold my lips shut. His dick is gone, but his magician fingers are back. Two or three, I’m not sure. Stuffed is how I feel. His other hand rubs circles around my clit, and I get closer to the prize on the other side.
Just as I feel the beginning of an orgasm, the SOB pulls his fingers free.
I can’t hold back a curse. “Fuck you, Ryder.” I begin to crawl away until he clamps a hand on my shoulder to stop me. Bending over me, his cock nestles between my legs, but not where I need him most.
“If you want me inside you, Gina, you’re going to have to beg.”
His hand on my chin excites me. I want to tell him what I crave in that second, but I’m afraid he’ll freak out over what I have in mind. Instead, I swallow my pride and beg.
“Please put that big cock of yours inside me, Cowboy.”
Playfully, he bites down on my ear and then angles his dick at my entrance and slams into me.
Lots of cuss words spill from my lips as I relish the feel of him stretching me. Then it’s the sounds of our slapping flesh as he thrusts that makes me get that much closer to the edge.
“Pull my hair,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Pull my hair.” Tentatively, he does it, but it’s not enough. “More,” I beg.
The pinpricks of pain heighten everything. The world starts to lose focus, and I’m about to come. Dumb me, I tell him. And my reward is him pulling out while releasing his hold on my hair.
Mad as hell, I flip over and glare at him. He strokes his cock, and I watch for a second, mesmerized. Then I remember where his dick should be. “Orgasm withholding. I didn’t think you had it in you. But that’s cool. I know how to get myself off.”
I draw a line down between my breasts and over the mound into my core. My back arches as I push two fingers inside myself and moan. His response? He yanks my hand free.
“Mine!”
“Who says?” I challenge.
“Me. And if you want me to fuck you, you’ll say it, too.”
He reaches up and gently but firmly squeezes my breast while tapping his other hand on my pussy. The tap reminds me I’m deadly close to orgasm. “Tell me whose pussy this is, Gina.”
Stubborn as I am, I close my lips together to silence the words from spilling free. His hand leaves my breast and flits across my stomach. His touch is so light, I quiver. Then he stops tapping and circles my nub, but doesn’t touch it.
“Fuck you, Ryder. It’s yours,” I spit.
His smirk precedes him hooking my leg at the knee and pulling me forward. He kneels before me, hiking my butt off the mattress as he plunges into me. A cry escapes my throat. The angle we are at is perfec
t. I’m so fucking close, I lock my eyes onto his, daring him to deny me again.
Just as things get to the verge of tumbling over, I issue another command as I guide his hand to my throat.
“Squeeze.”
His eyes widen in alarm. Just by that, I know he’s never done this before. But I need him to now.
“Just do it. I won’t die if you let go before I pass out.”
He shakes his head.
“Don’t be such a pansy. You’re going to make me lose it,” I complain.
The pansy comment did it. His fingers close around my throat, but not tight enough.
“Tighter, so I can’t speak.”
Hesitantly he does it, but he’s lost his rhythm some.
“Fuck me hard like a real man,” I manage to choke out.
His eyes darken, and his thrusts become punishing. His hand bears down and squeezes more to silence me. And not too much longer before stars burst into focus. I relish the leap over into the abyss. His hand leaves my throat, and I suck in air as he takes a few more strokes. Then he grunts his way over the finish line.
He collapses next to me. After catching my breath, I roll over to my side. I’m about to cup his face and kiss him, to say how incredible it was. But the look on his face stops me. My hand in midair drops to my side.
“What’s wrong?”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he says, “I don’t think I can do that again.”
I fall to my back and stare at the ceiling. “Why?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
“It felt wrong, like I was hurting you.”
Blowing air from my lungs, defeat consumes me. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I like it rough. I warned you from the beginning we weren’t compatible.”
“Maybe not,” he admits.
His words feel like a cleaver has been impaled in my chest. “Why do you need that anyway? Has someone hurt you in the past?”
Yes, but not in the ways he’s thinking. So why does his condemnation make me feel dirty?
Pissed off, I say smartly, “I just need it. You’ll never understand. And it’s cool if it’s not your thing.”
Fastball (Wilde Players Dirty Romance) Page 7
