by Alice Ward
I was impressed at how everyone seemed to fawn over Ace. It was like he was a local legend, a hero, or at the very least, a celebrity. A beautiful blonde wearing a short black skirt and low-cut top took Ace’s hand, leading him to a table up a small set of steps. I followed behind, feeling slightly rejected as all attention focused on the shortstop. I watched as his hand slid around her waist and over her ass. He gave her a squeeze and a none too gentle pat as he slid into the circular booth.
“Grab us a bottle, darlin’,” he said to the woman, giving her a long wink. She didn’t ask what kind of bottle. She just giggled and rushed off to follow her orders. “You’ll get used to this, kid.”
Before I could even get situated in the booth, the blonde had returned with a bottle of Jack Daniels on ice with two glasses, then surprised me by sliding into the booth next to Ace. “Why haven’t you called me?” she whined. Her voice was squeaky, and her pouting lips were over exaggerated as she leaned in towards Ace.
“Oh, darlin’, you know spring training started. I’ve been a busy man,” Ace replied, his hand sliding over her leg. I couldn’t help but watch his movements; they were so smooth, so precise. She giggled again as his hand slid even higher up her skirt, then disappeared. Her face went soft and her eyes closed, her tongue sliding slowly across her top lip as she let out a long moan.
What the fuck?
I looked around, but no one was paying attention as Ace’s hand started to move and the girl’s moans grew louder. Ace looked at me and winked.
Holy shit. Was this seriously happening?
The waitress’ head fell back, and she gripped his arm, biting her lower lip to stifle a cry. Ace’s hand returned to view and her eyes slowly opened. She smiled and leaned over to give his cheek a quick kiss. She seemed to be satisfied. At least for now.
“I’ll bring you some appetizers,” she said cheerfully and scooted out of the booth.
Ace lifted his fingers to his nose and closed his eyes as he smiled. “Oh, that’s sweet,” he said, drawing out the words. “You wanna know what success smells like, kid?” He pushed his hand towards my face.
“No, thanks,” I replied, pulling away quickly.
He laughed and poured us both a drink.
“I see you’re getting the royal treatment,” Marty said as he and Frank slid into the booth with us.
“Only the best for the best,” Ace boasted, motioning for the young blonde to return to the table. “We’re gonna need a few more glasses. sweetie.”
“You have an incredible arm,” Marty said as he gave my back a few hard thumps. “Not bad at the plate either.”
“Thanks,” I replied and tossed back half of my drink. Most pitchers couldn’t bat for shit, but I could hold my own, which I knew made me an even bigger asset.
The blonde showed back up with two more glasses and a basket of chicken wings. She smiled at Ace as he ran his hand up her thigh.
“Aw, man, don’t shit where you eat,” Frank said, finally speaking.
Ace grinned and turned to watch the young blonde’s ass as she walked away. He picked up the bottle, poured Marty and Frank a drink before topping off mine and his. He held the glass up high.
“Here’s to the Beast’s first kickass season.”
We clinked glasses, and I tossed my drink back. All of it this time.
CHAPTER TWO
Calvin
“See those honeys over there?” Ace asked, wrapping an arm around my neck, strong-arming me into looking in their direction.
“Yeah.”
Where in the hell was he going with this?
“You can have any one of them. Ya know why?” He went on without giving me a chance to answer. “I’ll tell ya why. Cause you’re a starting pitcher for the best damn team in the league.” He mussed my hair and finally released me from his grip.
Trying not to act like a loser, I told him, “I have the only girl I need.”
Oh shit! Whitney!
The bottle of Jack was half empty, that was more than just one drink. I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone – four missed calls and several texts. “I have to make a phone call,” I said, excusing myself from the table. Marty and Frank were arguing over who the better player was, Babe Ruth or Willie Mays.
No brainer, Babe Ruth for sure!
Ace had moved on from the blonde waitress to a tall brunette with legs that you could climb for days. “You’re not leaving?” Ace asked, gripping my arm as I walked by.
“No,” I assured him, jerking away. “I’ll be right back.”
I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and with the loud music in the club, I didn’t hear my ringer. Dread clawed at my stomach as I dialed Whitney’s number. “Hey, babe!” I said, overly cheerful as she answered.
“Where are you?” she asked. God, it felt good to hear her voice. Even her pissed off worried voice.
“Some of the guys wanted me to have a drink with them here at Home Plate,” I explained, hoping my enthusiasm would be contagious, and she’d lighten up a little. “Ace Newman is on my team, babe, Ace motherfucking Newman!” My enthusiasm was met with silence from the other end. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m at your apartment,” she snapped. She wasn’t pleased.
“Our temporary apartment,” I corrected her. “So you found the key okay then?”
“Yes. But Calvin, I thought you’d be here.” Her voice was full of disappointment.
“Sorry, babe. Time just got away from me. It’s loud in the club and the excitement of my first practice just… I fucked up, babe.” I looked around, making sure no one witnessed me sounding like a pussy. “I’m sorry,” I pleaded for her forgiveness.
She exhaled loudly, and her voice shifted. I smiled into the phone, knowing I’d been forgiven.
“I’ve just missed you, Cal. I want to see you. Are you coming home soon?” Her tone was purring through the phone like a little kitten. Yes, I was coming home. I couldn’t wait to hold her in my arms, smell her perfume, and taste the sweetness of her nectar.
“I’ll tell them I’m leaving now. I love you,” I said, dropping my voice, arranging my jeans and the instant hard on she always gave me.
“I love you too.”
“Everything good?” Ace asked with a wink.
“Yeah, but I gotta take off,” I explained. “Whitney’s been waiting on me for a while.”
The brunette was on his lap, her arm around him, her head leaning on his shoulder. I glanced at his hand; it was just above knee level. I wondered if he had already given her a hand job or if he was just working up to it.
“No way, we were just getting ready for shots,” Ace argued and boosted the girl from his lap. “Baby, go get us five shots of Patrón.” He handed her a hundred-dollar bill. “One shot, then you can go.”
His smirk told me there was no getting out of this. Practice proved he could be a real hard ass, and the last thing I needed was to be on Ace Newman’s bad side. Besides, I’d just had my first ever practice as a professional major league baseball player. Didn’t I deserve a little celebration?
“One shot,” I agreed.
Two blondes, both wearing skirts so short and tight you could almost see their pussies, pushed their way through the crowd and towards our table. I had refused to sit down, knowing that Ace would convince me to stay longer if I did, so one grabbed me around the waist, sidling close behind me. Her hands slid across my abs and up to my chest.
“You’re the new pitcher. Calvin Malone, right?” she whispered against my shoulder. Her friend giggled and stared at Ace with batting eyelashes and pouty red lips.
“Yes,” I said, pulling her hands away from my body and turning to face her. She was beautiful. Young and tan with a pair of lips that looked capable of sucking the peel right off a banana.
“You’re much cuter than your picture,” she said, flirting in the same way her friend was with Ace.
Ace pulled the blonde onto his lap and began whispering something in her ear th
at made her giggle and blush. He was smooth, that was for sure. Women seemed to flock to him like bees to honey. The brunette returned with a tray of shots, setting them on the table. She glared at the blonde. If looks could kill, that girl would’ve been a goner for sure.
“There’s plenty of room,” Ace said smugly and patted his left knee. I was waiting for the brunette to sling a drink in his face, or at the very least tell him to fuck off, but no. She sat right down on his knee, smiled, and seemed happy enough to share his attention.
“To a fucking kickass season!” Ace shouted and held up one of the shot glasses. We each grabbed ours, repeated his chant, and downed the liquor. It was hot, my throat instantly swelling from the burn. My nostrils widened as I shuddered to push away the pain. Ace laughed. “I’ll turn you into a man yet, hot shot,” he boasted.
“Are you married?” the blonde asked, looking up at me through her mascaraed lashes. She was beside me now, her hands still roaming my chest and stomach.
“No, but I have a girlfriend,” I replied and took a step back.
She followed, moving so close her breasts pushed into my chest, her hands moving up to my shoulders. She lifted onto her toes. “No ring, then it’s not cheating,” she whispered in my ear.
I pried her off of me once again. “I’m not interested.”
I shot a look at Ace, who was now staring daggers through me. “You need to lighten up, hot shot,” he said, his lip curled in disgust. “These are your fans.”
“I just need to get home.” I set my glass down on the table and turned to leave. I almost bumped chests with a tall man with slicked back black hair. He wore an expensive designer suit, one that looked custom made, and smiled with a sincerity mixed with mischievousness that left me slightly intimidated.
“You mean you can’t stay and have a drink with the man who gave you this incredible opportunity?” He spoke with authority.
Shit, shit. Fucking shit.
Immediately, my palms began to sweat. I’d seen pictures of our owner, but never actually met him. “Rhett Hamilton,” he said, extending his hand to mine. His handshake was firm and as confident as his presence.
“Calvin Malone,” I said and felt immediately stupid. Of course he knew my damn name. “Glad to meet you, sir.”
“Sir? No, you call me Rhett, and I know who you are, boy,” he said with a chuckle.
The blonde who had been all over me earlier now seemed more interested in the owner of the team. I was relieved for that but felt panic as he insisted I stay and share a drink with him.
Whitney was going to be pissed.
“What are you drinking, Ace?” Rhett asked. “Patrón?”
“Oh, you know it,” Ace replied, seeming very comfortable around the man. “Shots all around,” he announced as he motioned the blonde waitress back to the table. She seemed irritated that Ace had found not only one woman to replace her, but two. “Right away,” she said with full female sarcasm.
“So, what do you think of the new team?” Rhett asked, directing his question to me. I was dumbfounded, a little star struck, and still nervous that I wasn’t on my way to Whitney.
“It looks like a great bunch of guys,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll take the league by storm.”
“I like your attitude,” Rhett said as he pulled a chair from the table behind him and pushed it towards the booth. “Have a seat.” It didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I did.
Our shots arrived, and we all cheered before pouring them down our throats. It was smoother that time, not nearly as difficult to swallow.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew Whitney was becoming angrier by the minute. “I really need to go,” I told Ace.
“Rhett showing up and asking you to stay is not something you blow off,” Ace said sternly. “Especially for some girl.”
“She just moved here, and she isn’t just some girl.” My tongue felt thick, and the words started to slur from my lips. I was lightheaded, my stomach was churning, and the heat in my throat from the last shot was burning its way through my gut.
“Rookies with relationships never work,” Ace snarled. “One of two things happen. They dump the chick and go on to be amazing players, or they keep the girl and end up pumping gas at Sunoco.”
“You’re full of shit,” I argued. “It’s not like that.”
“Well, then, you need to break her in right, so sit, have another drink with your teammates and the man who signs your paycheck,” Ace insisted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I was being so stupid. “She’s gonna have to get used to sharing you.”
I looked around the table, at the expectations staring back at me, and knew he was right. I was here because of Rhett Hamilton. The least I could do was give him a few minutes of my time. Whitney would just need to understand.
Rhett complimented me on my pre-season training. Apparently, he had been watching from the sidelines and through videos sent to him by the coaches. It felt good to hear him praise my efforts and even say he was lucky to have me on his team. Another shot was pushed in front of me, and then another.
It was getting late, but Ace kept insisting that Whitney was pissed already, so why not stay and make it worth it. The more shots I drank, the more sense Ace made.
I watched Ace’s hands, both of them traveling up the girls’ skirts. He pushed open the blonde’s legs, giving me a clear view of her shaved pussy before sliding his finger inside her. “Nice, huh?” he smirked.
Her hips rocked back and forth against his finger, her eyes closed. Her breathing became rapid, and she acted as if she would orgasm right there at the table while we all watched.
“You’ve always been a wild man, Ace.” Rhett laughed, watching the show. The brunette’s lips were suctioned to Ace’s neck as he continued finger fucking the blonde.
This guy acts like a rock star. It’s incredible.
Ace whispered something to the blonde, and she giggled. His finger slid out from between her legs, and she stood from his lap. Her eyes lingered on mine as she moved slowly toward me.
Fuck, no. Oh shit.
Before I could protest, she straddled me, grinding her sex into mine. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, she held onto my shoulders as she leaned back to give me a peek at the pink pussy Ace had just been teasing. Her flesh was smooth and pink, not a trace of hair anywhere. My cock hardened as her ass cheeks ground into my shaft. My eyes lifted from between her legs and focused on the large breasts that almost burst from her top.
Alcohol flowed through my veins, more prevalent than blood, and when she pulled my head down into the softness of her ample cleavage, I didn’t fight her as hard as I should have.
Shit. What the hell am I doing?
Unwinding her arms from around my neck, I lifted my face from her breasts, getting ready to pull her off me.
Slap!
The sharp sting on my cheek surprised the hell out of me. I looked at the blonde, thinking it had to have been delivered by her, but she was staring wide eyed at someone beside me.
As if in slow motion, my head turned, and fuck, fuck, fuck, Whitney was standing there, glaring down at me.
“Whitney,” I murmured, still in shock that she was truly there.
Her eyes were wild, her lips pursed tightly together, and her fists clenched by her sides making me think she was coming in for another swing. I pushed the blonde off my lap, stood and tried to reach for her.
She turned quickly, mumbled something that sounded like “fuck you,” and stormed toward the front door.
CHAPTER THREE
Whitney
My nails dug into my clenched fists, and I could still feel the burn on my palm where it planted hard against Calvin’s cheek. This blonde, whoever she was, obviously didn’t care that I’d arrived. Her skirt was still hiked up showing her pink slit not only to Calvin but to anyone nearby.
What was I thinking? I should have never come here.
I couldn’t think in that moment, and I certainly couldn’
t stand to listen to Calvin’s apologies. I pushed my way through the crowded bar and out the front door. “Whitney, wait!” Calvin’s voice called out as I hailed a cab. My arm was gripped, and I spun towards the man who was supposed to love me. The man I’d given up everything for.
“Don’t—” I started, trying to jerk away from his grip.
“Please, Whitney, forgive me!” he pleaded, louder than I would have liked. People passed us by, staring at our openly displayed drama and offering up looks of pity, disgust, and some of amusement.
I just want to go home. Not to Calvin’s, but home to Indiana.
“I told them I had to go. I promise I tried to leave,” he said, his words slurring together as he drooled and spoke at the same time. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair sticking up all over his head.
This was not the boy I fell in love with in high school, not the one who played college baseball and winked at me from the pitcher’s mound, and he was certainly not the one who promised to love me forever.
A yellow cab pulled to the curb, and the driver leaned towards his open passenger window. “You need a ride or what?”
“Yes,” I said, moving to the back door. Before my hand could reach the handle, Calvin had me by the waist, crying and begging for me to listen and not to leave him. “Get in the car, Calvin,” I ordered. “You’re gonna be arrested for public intoxication.”
I opened the back door and guided Calvin inside the cab. My fingers smashed against the metal frame as I created the barrier to stop his head from slamming into it. Once he was safely inside, I thought about sending him home alone, but where would I go? All my clothes were at Calvin’s, so I climbed into the back seat next to him.
“I’m so sorry, Whitney. Please forgive me,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t how it looked. I… she… it wasn’t how it looked.”
I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say in that moment. I was pissed. I had no idea who that girl was, or why she was spreading her legs for my man, or why he allowed it. He was drunk, useless right now, and I just wanted to get him to bed.
The cab pulled up in front of Calvin’s apartment building. He was nearly passed out, leaning heavily against the window, and had drool falling from the side of his mouth. I reached into my purse and handed the cab driver a twenty.
