by Ward,Alice
He grinned. “That sounds like a very grown up thing to do.”
I grinned back, running my fingers through his shaggy hair again, pushing stray strands back from his forehead. “I’m going to act better, Calvin. I promise. If I ever start turning into that bitchy person again, you have to let me know. I want to be my best self with you. Give you the good that’s inside me.”
He searched my face, his eyes going from my hair to my nose, then to my mouth and back to my eyes. “You know, if I tell you that you’re acting bitchy one day… that, um, won’t end well for me.”
I laughed. He was right. I kissed his nose. “Then let’s make a pact to do our best every day, and if we notice the other not laughing at least five times a day, we work harder to make them happy.”
“I like that. A five-laughs-a-day rule.” He rolled on top of me, pressing me into the thick rug in front of his fireplace. “And how many orgasms a day?” he asked, his voice growing deeper, sexier, and my breathing began to quicken.
“There can be no limits on that, Mr. Hot Shot Baseball Star,” I said, wrapping my legs around his hips, pulling him closer.
Our lips touched, then his mouth invaded mine, exploring until I couldn’t breathe. When he broke our kiss and skimmed my jaw with his teeth, I sighed in pleasure. God, I’d missed this. Him. No other man could ever make me feel like this.
My skin was on fire, and his lips were making it worse, causing the ache deep in my belly to verge on painful. I needed him to soothe it, take the pain away.
I moaned as his mouth met the skin of my throat. I worked at his pants while he licked his way down my neck to my cleavage.
I was frantic now, wanting nothing more than to find oblivion in his arms. I didn’t want to think, or worry. I just wanted this. To feel good. To feel powerful and needed and wanted… and wanting.
He pulled down the top of the sundress I was wearing, then the cup of my bra to expose my breast to his greedy mouth. I cried out as he consumed my puckered flesh, biting and sucking as though he was starving and I was his only source of nourishment.
Hiking my dress to my waist, his hand roamed my heated skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. I cried out, running my fingers through his thick hair, wrapping my legs around him, arching up, searching for friction to sooth the heat between my thighs.
“Please,” I begged, and he moaned, the vibration of the sound against my nipple going straight to my core as I pleaded for him to be inside me. Warmth spread from between my legs through my entire body. I whimpered, undone by him.
He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, then his pants and boxers were kicked into a pile. He was back, pulling me until I was sitting. In one quick movement, my dress was over my head, then my bra gone. Our eyes never left each other as he undressed me.
“So beautiful.”
I flushed under the intensity of his gaze, believing his words.
“What do you want, Whitney?” he asked, a familiar question between us.
What did I want?
I smiled. “I want everything.”
He growled low in his chest, then was on me again.
I writhed beneath him, clawing at his shoulders as he explored every bit of me, re-familiarizing the terrain of my body. He kissed and caressed my legs, my stomach, my hips. When he tongued my naval, I was lost in pleasure, every touch of his lips bringing me closer to my peak.
“Yes…” I moaned, encouraging him. He skimmed my skin with his teeth, just at the curve above my upper thigh, and I nearly screamed in pleasure.
“You’re killing me,” I cried when he spread my legs wide, settling between them, his hands moving under my ass to lift me up to his waiting mouth.
The first touch of his tongue was a jolt, an electric fire that turned heavenly.
I gripped his head and pulled him closer, grinding myself into his mouth, but he pulled back, intent on pleasuring me at his own pace, licking up and down my slit, going no deeper.
I begged and he relented, sliding his tongue deep inside, his eyes meeting mine over the length of my body. He pulled my lips into his mouth, sucking the sensitive flesh. When his teeth scraped my clit, I exploded, shaking, screaming softly. The speed and force of my orgasm surprised us both.
He didn’t give me time to recover, sliding his fingers into my waiting depths. I arched into his hand, moving my hips in rhythm with his fingers. When he found that place inside me, he pressed his tongue against my clit, and his fingers and tongue moved as one until I shattered.
It hit me like a train, almost painful with its intensity. Strangely enough, I wanted more.
When he climbed up my body, his thick cock nudging my entrance, I clung to him, pulling him close.
“Open your eyes.”
When I did, his were only inches from my own and I nearly wept from the love I saw in them.
“I love you,” he said, and pushed his hips forward, barely entering me, spreading me wide.
I lifted my hips, taking him deeper. “I love you too.”
It was so good, being filled by him again. He had me pressed into the rug, and I was unable to do anything but take what he was giving me. He moved slow at first, giving my body time to accept and stretch around him. Then he quickened the pace as our lips and tongues clashed together, my cries captured by his mouth.
I dug my fingers into his shoulders as he made love to me slow and easy, then hard and fast, changing the angle until his pubic bone pressed against my clit.
I pulled my mouth from his, needing to breathe, needing to scream. He moved faster, harder, holding me in place as our bodies’ pounded together, the music of our joining echoing through the room. I nearly wept when the orgasm hit me. I screamed into his shoulder, my nails biting his skin.
He waited, kissing my forehead, my temple, holding me until I’d stopped shaking, stopped crying. When I was still gasping for air, he drove into me again. This time, he was focused on his own pleasure, using my body for what he needed. I gladly gave it to him. I wrapped my legs around him tighter as he went faster, harder, deeper.
His head dipped to mine again, our mouths warring in time to our bodies. He growled, grunting something I couldn’t understand against my lips, slamming over and over and over… until he came, his head thrown back as his warmth flooded inside of me.
The room was silent for a while, the only sound our heavy breathing as he nestled onto me, our bodies still connected.
As soon as I caught my breath, a soft laugh escaped me. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to look down at me.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, his chest still heaving from his exertions.
I looked up into his beautiful eyes. “You. Me. Us. The crazy path that led us back to each other.”
He kissed me, long and deep, then raised his head, waiting until I opened my eyes again. “Our path is solid now, Whitney. Sometimes you might walk a little ahead of me, or a little behind me, but I’ll never leave it again.”
I lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I’ll never leave it either. I swear it.”
Whitney and Calvin.
We were back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
e
Calvin
My eyes wouldn’t open yet, they wanted more sleep, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate as thoughts continued to patrol my mind. My hand was on something soft, warm, and round. I squeezed, and Whitney grumbled in her sleep.
It wasn’t a dream; she was really here.
I rolled towards her body, curling myself around her, my hand sliding back to the ass cheek that had kept it so nice and warm just moments earlier. I kissed her shoulder, blew her hair gently from her skin, leaving more kisses up her throat.
“Gud moorig,” she grumbled, her face in the pillow. I laughed, my eyes finally cooperating, opening so I could watch her in amusement. Her head rolled, and she turned towards me, her eyes still closed, her mouth smiling.
“Gud moorig,” I mocked her playfully. There were t
hose beautiful green eyes. It always amazed me how bright her eyes were, even first thing in the morning when most peoples’ were glazed or reddened. She was absolutely beautiful.
I lifted my hand from her ass cheek and then dropped it again, creating a small smacking noise on impact. She squealed as if she were in pain and then laughed because she wasn’t. “I’m making coffee. Keep my side of the bed warm,” I instructed.
“Then my side will get cold,” she mumbled and lifted her head from the pillow to watch me back out of the room. We smiled at each other like fools.
“Why’s that my problem?” I teased and rolled my eyes at her like she was being impossible and left her to rest while I made coffee. Our game was early today, and I’d need to leave soon for our pre-game routine. She could sleep a while longer, and I needed to remember to give her my credit card so she could catch a cab to the game. I’d need to buy her a car of her own soon.
I scooped the coffee into the filter and filled the pot with water. Soon, the scent was filling the air around me. I propped my elbows on the counter, my chin resting on my fists. Whitney used to tease me about this stance. She said I looked like The Thinker, the sculpture by Auguste Rodin. Now, nude with my dick shriveled into itself, I thought she would really find a resemblance if she could see me now.
The only reason I knew that Auguste Rodin was a French sculptor was because of Whitney. She had a thirst for knowledge and loved the arts. Her tastes were broad and her mind open. I loved that about her, more than she probably knew. I skated through school only doing what I had to and never developed an interest in culture or history. Whitney always told me I should broaden my mind, expand my horizons.
“What if you don’t make it to the big leagues?” she’d ask. That was high school, before college. Once I made it into my short stint in the minors she’d hadn’t asked that question again. Instead, she would ask, “What if, once you make it, you decide you don’t like it?” That question always made me laugh.
Until now.
Now, I knew there was more than the love of the game. I’d learned the hard way about the sinister part of being in the limelight, the fame that went to my head so quickly. The undercurrents of jealousy that hid beneath the surface.
I still loved the game. Now I had to learn to live with the bad side of it. I wondered if I could.
The coffee machine beeped three times to let me know it was done. I grabbed two cups and poured them full before dumping French Vanilla creamer into both. Upstairs, Whitney was still curled onto the bed but sat up when she smelled the coffee.
“Gimme, gimme,” she pleaded, her arms outstretched, lust shining in her eyes.
I laughed and gave her the warm mug. “You don’t want to sleep a little longer?” I asked. “You don’t need to leave for another five hours or so.”
Whitney took a long sip of the coffee, her eyes rolling back in her head. “That’s good,” she said. “Did you use a new creamer?”
“Nope, same one,” I said and then chuckled. “Maybe I dipped my finger into it to make it extra sweet.”
She wrinkled her nose again and laughed, taking another sip. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes turning serious.
I sat down on the bed next to her. “Thank you, Whit.” I pushed her hair back from her face. “I’ve never been happier than I am right now. Or grateful.”
As we gazed at each other, the alarm on my phone went off, reminding me I didn’t have much time to make it to the field. “I better hit the shower, then head out. I’ll see you there?”
Her smile was gorgeous. “Yes. I’ll be there, cheering you on.”
Leaning in, I gave her a quick kiss, not letting it linger into something longer. Groaning, I headed to the bathroom and turned the shower on hot.
I turned when the door opened behind me. “I do like this shower,” she said as she pressed against me. “So our new house has to have one just like it, okay?”
Jets blasted from every direction and at different pressures. It felt amazing on my sore muscles to back up against the pulsating ones. As I watched Whitney stand under the main shower head, water cascading down her body in streams, I pulled her to me and adjusted one of the nozzles on the wall. I also adjusted the pressure, making the water pulsate.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but I said nothing, simply turned her until her back was against my chest. The water jetted between her thighs and she squealed, then moaned as I maneuvered her just right. She cried out when I lifted her leg, exposing her fully to the pulsating stream.
She leaned hard against me, her head falling onto my shoulder as I trailed a hand down her body, shoving two fingers inside her. She wailed, shaking through an orgasm.
“So, you want this shower at the new house?” I whispered in her ear.
She nodded against my chest as she worked to catch her breath.
Turning her, I pushed her forward until her hands were on the bench, her ass high for my viewing pleasure. With a foot, I spread her legs open more, then a little more until I could see the water rolling between the crease of her backside and down between her legs. My eyes followed the water, and I backed up enough to watch it drip from her pussy lips and onto the floor.
“Beautiful,” I murmured.
She jumped when I touched her exhausted and still sensitive clit. She jumped even more when I pressed my thumb against her anus, the tight ring of muscle contracting as I attempted to breach it.
“Calvin,” she cried as it slipped inside her, then she pushed back, wanting more. I gave her what she wanted, what she needed, before sliding my cock into her pussy, filling her everywhere.
Sweet moans echoed from the shower walls, and a sensual slapping announced our rhythm as I continued to rock my hips to push in and out of her, my thumb fucking her ass in the opposite rhythm.
I watched her fingers curl around the bench, and she rose up as her toes curled beneath her feet, and I knew she was ready to come. I braced myself for the sweet contractions that would soon surround my cock. Her moans grew louder, and I felt the first pulse of her insides bearing down, first soft and then harder until that sweet massage of pulsating spasms brought us both to a powerfully sweet climax.
“I really want a shower like this,” she gasped and then turned, a soft smile brightening her features.
As our bodies separated, I promised, “I’ll give you anything you want.”
The smile grew wider. “You better be careful, Mr. Millionaire,” she teased, then grew serious. “You. All I really want is you.”
I kissed the very tip of her nose. “I’m all yours.”
***
Just my luck.
I pulled into the players’ parking area just as Ace was getting out of his car. It pissed me off, but I didn’t delay getting out and grabbing my bag. I belonged here just as much as he did, and I wouldn’t let anything or anyone take my focus from the job I needed to do today.
My rotation was up. Today was my day to take the mound and no way in hell would I let this asshole get in my way.
“Big game today, kid,” Ace said, holding the door for me as I entered the long corridor. It was the first words he’d said to me since I’d picked up Whitney’s luggage a couple days ago.
I smiled politely. “Yep. Let’s kick some ass.”
He grinned and clapped a hand down on my shoulder. “Uh, I need to say something,” he said, and I exhaled loudly but stopped and turned to face him.
“What?”
He looked down at his shoes, then back up at me. “Sorry, man. I’ve been a real dick.”
I couldn’t disagree, so I said nothing.
He blew out a breath and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I was pissed when I got traded. Pissed at the world in general. You just got in the line of fire.”
Wow.
That had never occurred to me. I thought he’d been excited to move to the new team, a new city. Knowing it was against his will changed my perspective. It didn’t excuse his assholeness, but it went a
long way toward my being able to forgive him.
I stuck out a hand. He smiled and shook it, then clapped me on the back again as we headed to the locker room. I doubted that we’d ever be best friends, and I certainly didn’t want to hang out with him, but we were teammates, and on the field, we needed to stick up for each other.
“Good luck today,” he said.
“Yeah, you too.”
And that was it. He went his way, and I went mine, then we both headed outside to get ready for the big game.
Hours later, Coach gave one of his powerful pep talks and got the team riled up as we all rushed out to the field. I felt like myself as my feet hit the green grass and the screams of the crowd turned into a roar.
The Beasts were back, and I’d do every damn thing I could to not let these people down.
On the mound, the first thing I did was look for Whitney. Holly was sitting next to her, gabbing away. Whitney smiled as our eyes met and she blew me a kiss. I blew her one back and then stepped into the dugout for the coach to give us his game plan.
St. Louis was a tough team, one of the toughest in the league this season. When we played on their home turf a few weeks ago, they shut us out. I vaguely heard the coach as he gave stats, updated us with player information, and shared a few additional insider tips. I already had that information locked and loaded in my head. I spent most of my free time memorizing player stats and researching their playing techniques. I had since I was a kid, but once in the minors, I got serious knowing that one day I would be playing against and alongside many of my favorites. Like Ace Newman, my hero, the badass of baseball who I’d almost let destroy my life.
My plan was simple. When I felt myself losing focus, I’d look to Whitney and regain my composure.
“Let’s play ball!” Coach yelled out, and we filed out of the dugout onto the field one by one.
I’d been studying these boys pretty hard since our last loss, so I felt confident I could keep them from scoring any more than a few runs.
The first inning was smooth, only two base hits and no one reached home.
