Pitching to Win (Over the Fence #1)

by Carrie Aarons

  "That's it baby, let me hear how good I make you feel."

  His dirty words sends a shiver through my body. Switching breasts, he kneads the right one while rubbing my clit at just the right pressure and speed. I can’t help but squirm.

  "Shit, Minka, yes. Ride my hand."

  I’m burning up from the inside out, and the cold pool water burns my skin when the ripples hit me. Between the contrasting temperatures and Owen's ministrations, I feel like my body is a grenade, seconds away from detonating.

  Right as I feel the white hot pleasure spike low in my core, about to send me tumbling over the edge, Owen stops.

  "Wha...what are you doing?" I’m greedy and breathless, so pissed that he has left me teetering on the cliff.

  I get my answer when Owen scoops me up, supporting my back with one hand and using his other to wrap my legs around his waist. Immediately, my body goes rigid with understanding. It's not that I wasn't ready for sex with him, but he hadn't even asked. An alarm sounds somewhere in the back of my mind as Gregory's eyes loom in front of my face.

  "Minka, relax. Look at me." Owen says sharply but softly. It was a command, but not a gentle one. "I would never take something without asking. You tell me when you're ready for that. I just...I wanted to try something that I think you are really going to like. So just...trust me?"

  My body relaxes fractionally, and he pulls me closer. I’m now all but straddling his lap in a standing position.

  He brings my arms around his neck, gently instructing me, and bends his head to kiss me gently but thoroughly. His tongue sweeps over mine, coaxing soft, needy sounds from my mouth to his. Just as the last of my tensions melt away, he brings our groins together, my clit lined up on his still bulging dick.

  Pulling away from our kiss, Owen rests his forward against mine and stares deep into my eyes. In an almost imperceptible movement, he lifts me an inch, maybe two, and then brings me down just as slowly.

  The feeling it creates makes every hair on my body stand on end. I feel the tiny motion from my toes to the top of my head, both of which were now tingling with jolts of pleasure.

  He does it again, mimicking the motions of sex without being inside me. He uses his cock to massage my most sensitive part through my underwear, the rough lace adding to the pressure and torture.

  His hands grip my ass, digging in enough that I’m sure there will be bruises there for days. We both sigh into the other's mouth each and every time he moves me, and his eyes are like a mirror for mine. They are hooded, drunk with passion.

  But what I hope he can’t see in mine, what I hope I can conceal even while he’s unraveling my body, is the well of emotion appreciation and feelings for him firmly cemented in my chest. I feel my heart crack under the pressure with every move, humbled that he would wait until I said okay to sex. Cherished that he wanted to find and introduce me to new experiences, both sexual and not. I was in grave danger of falling in love with him, and I had to hide it as best as I could. Especially from myself.

  Owen's breathing becomes more labored, his motions with me more jerky. I can tell he’s close, and I’m not far off myself. I can feel the heat from his rigid tool grinding onto my clit, and I begin to move back, squirming for that release.

  Sensing my need to come, Owen readjusts, scooping my ass up in one hand and gripping me hard by the hair, pulling my mouth to his. The little bite of pain is all I need to start fucking him, over my underwear, back.

  My senses go into overdrive, my brain hyper aware of Owen rubbing against me and claiming my mouth in dirty, savage kisses. I break away to scream out as my orgasm breaks over me, exploding from within me and rippling through my body like the water in the pool.

  A moment or two later, Owen lets out a deep groan followed by a string of curses as he shoots hot, thin strands of come onto my stomach and his.

  We’re both silent for what seems like minutes. I can’t even find the energy to push away from the concrete wall he’s backed me up against, which is now cutting into my back.

  When Owen finally speaks, he can’t even form a full sentence. "You...that...Jesus."

  I chuckle, and mentally pat myself on the back for rendering him speechless.

  He swoops down to place a gentle peck on my mouth. "Let's clean you up."

  Moving us out into the open water of the deep end, he washes evidence of his pleasure away from our stomachs, and then proceeds to dunk me.

  Cold water hits my lungs as I am pushed under, and come up sputtering. "You really know how to charm the ladies, huh Axel?" I cough.

  "Just filling my daily asshole-jock quota for the day. Wouldn't want to give you any less ammo in your assault on my personality, you know?" He grins that devilish smile.

  "Go find my bra. Some jerk took it from me and I need it back."

  "Lucky jerk. But honey, you don't need to cover any of that up." Owen winks and dives head first down into the deep end, presumably looking for the scrap of lace laying at the bottom.

  I sigh and float onto my back, staring up at the moon in my afterglow of bliss. I'd never known it could be like this.

  In the dozen or more times I'd been with Gregory, he'd never once given me an orgasm. Which wasn't fine, but could have been semi-overlooked if he'd been decent afterwards. Usually, he'd carry on about how good it felt for him, and then immediately get up to put his clothes back on. Then he'd either rush me out of his house, or quickly exit mine.

  I had entered new and uncharted territory. Physically, things with Owen were amazing. Extraordinary. As good as they could get, and more.

  But we also had a friendship, an easy banter and an understanding of the other's problems.

  I'd never known what people meant when they said the full package, but I got it now. And it would be extremely hard to let go of when the time came.

  And that time would come, but right now, I wanted to live for myself. In this moment. No regrets or fears or doubts.

  I hear Owen's body break the surface of the water, and am aware of his proximity to me. Right before he can grab me and do god know's what, I sink under and push away from him, swimming into the shallow end and making a break for the stairs.

  I amble up onto the stoned patio surrounding the pool, and stand in the moonlight, facing the pool in nothing but my tiny thong.

  Owen remains in the shallow end, frozen in place holding my bra.

  He stares, his eyes raking over my body like laser beams, hot and greedy, pinpointing my naked breasts, stomach and legs. I see him begin to harden again, his semi-erect cock rising above the shallow water.

  "What the fuck did I do to deserve being here with you right now?" His gaze flicks up to my eyes, as if he was seriously asking me, expecting an answer. "You're so fucking beautiful, Minka. Everything about you."

  His words stroke my heart, causing me to go a bit weak in the knees. I don’t think before I ask.

  "Will you take me to your bed tonight?"

  * * *

  He led me up the stairs, holding tight and firm to my hand as we went. When we made it the third floor, he stood toe-to-toe with me. Sweeping me into a hug, he began to move, slowly, like we were dancing. His fingers were like flower petals, brushing gently up and down my body.

  "We don't have to do this if you're not sure. You say how far and how fast."

  I nod to his statement. It’s all I can do, not sure what words might come out if I speak. I was sure about this, but I didn't want to get in my own way.

  Owen, still hugging me to his chest, backs me up into his room. The moonlight streams through the big bay windows, illuminating his large body.

  Still naked, with water droplets clinging to his hair and chest, he looks like a Roman statue come to life. He took my breath away.

  "Come here, beautiful." He demands quietly, giving me a look full of lust and warmth.

  One big hand frames my face, the other presses into my lower back as he takes my lips up. Taking his time, swiping his tongue in and out of my mouth, he back
s us up toward the bed and gently lays us down.

  We just kiss for a while, so much so that I am trembling from the intensity and care he is putting into this moment. This was nothing like the pool, where we'd taken each other hot and fast. Owen was seducing me now, slowly and tenderly. It felt important. Deep. The connection he was carefully building caused my heart to melt.

  Moving his thigh out from between my legs, he begins to kiss slowly down my body, and I feel myself start to shake more.

  "Calm down. I'm going to make you feel good." Owen smiles up at me, and I relax a little.

  And then his tongue is there, and I am shaking like my body is going through a seizure.

  He is lighting me on fire from the inside out, my body feeling like it was going to combust at any minute. Owen uses his tongue and his hands, building up slowly to the very peak of my orgasm, and then slowing down right before I shatter.

  "Owen..."I croak, and my voice sounds so far away, like I’m not even hearing it from inside the room.

  He looks up, his eyes burning blue flames, just like the hottest tip of the fire. I see him reach into his suitcase at the foot of the bed, and come up with a condom.

  Laying down next to me, I rub his chest impatiently as he rolls the rubber skin onto himself. His cock is pulsing, engorged to the point that I don’t think it will fit inside me.

  Owen positions himself on top of me, staring into my eyes.

  "I know you haven't...in a while. This might hurt. Just talk to me, ok?"

  I nod, not even able to speak I'm so far gone at the moment.

  And then he's pushing into me.

  He wasn't kidding about the hurt part. I don't remember much of the sex Gregory and I had, but I do know that Owen is way bigger than him.

  There is a pinching sensation as he slides in.

  "Ok?" He looks worried. A vein in his neck is popping out, and I can tell he's trying to keep his desires in check.

  "Yeah." I whisper, canting my hips. I know that it will feel better once he starts to move.

  Owen strokes once, twice, slow and testing. A moan rips out of me as he pushes in to the hilt.

  "Yesss..." he growls at the noises coming from my mouth.

  I think I might explode at any moment. My body knows exactly what to do as Owen coaxes unintelligible sounds from my mouth. I’m so full of him that I’m afraid every next move will shatter me entirely.

  He takes my hands, lacing his fingers through mine and pinning them to the back of the bed near my head.

  “I want to see you.” He shudders, and I can tell that we are both so close but trying to prolong this.

  We stare into each other’s eyes as he rocks into me, the pressure oh so good when he fills me up. I let out a soft whine each time he retreats, as if my body won’t function properly without him inside me.

  I’m not sure how I got so close so fast, but before I know it, the first signs of orgasm are sending electrical pulses through my nerve endings, pooling low in my belly and then exploding out as the full force of it overtakes me.

  I’m moaning and mewling into Owen’s chest as he barricades me to the bed, picking up speed to get himself there and keep my orgasm going. Shudders and aftershocks wrack my body, and I feel myself hurdling toward the peak again as he pounds into me.

  “Shit, baby, oh my god. I’m gonna…” Owen can’t even get the last word out as he stares into my face, letting out the sexiest growl I’ve ever heard as he jerks into my body. Then he stills completelys, and I can feel his release pouring out, the veins in his cock milking every last drop.

  He lowers onto me carefully, kissing my neck, my collarbone, and finally my lips.

  “You’re perfect.” He looks at me in awe, and I can’t wipe the goofy grin off of my face.

  My body was in pure bliss, riding high from my orgasm. And I was happy. Really happy. I’d been brave enough to give myself to another boy, to try and erase the bad memories that this intimate act held for me.

  Owen hadn’t just erased them. He’d obliterated them.

  “Give me a second, I’ll be ready for round two in just a minute.” Owen breathed sarcastically, heavily rolling off of me and pulling me to him.

  My eyes widen at his dick, which is still rock hard.

  “Remember the first time we met, when you said you wouldn’t take your thong off for me…”

  “You’re a jerk.” I laugh, knowing exactly where he is going with that one.

  “But I’m your jerk.” He eyes me greedily, rolling me onto my back.

  And my smart mouth doesn’t protest one bit.

  21

  Owen

  My mother, while she loved me and doted on me non-stop, hadn't done my laundry in years. After a few baseball games where I'd come home covered in dirt, sweat, or worse, blood, she'd gotten the hell out of Dodge. Her message to me? If I wanted to continue with baseball, I'd have to wash my own vile uniforms.

  While it sucked those first few years, I didn't mind it so much now. Plus, it had prepared my spoiled ass for college, where there is no mommy and no maids.

  The rest of the weekend with Minka had gone perfectly. Fucking perfectly. We spent most of it in bed, naked, and that was just fine for me. After a short beach excursion the next morning, we’d headed home on Sunday. I’d left her blushing on her front steps after a very long makeout session.

  I couldn’t get enough of her. What she gave to me, not only her body, but her complete trust? I felt like locking it up and eating the key. I was going to protect her and it with everything I had.

  Folding another practice jersey and placing it to the side, I glance up to make eye contact with none other than my dad, standing in the door frame.

  I regard him silently. I haven’t spoken to him since our blow up when I'd gotten back from the clinic almost a month ago, and had seen him just about as much as that.

  "Just wait until you're in the majors and someone does that for you. Major perk." He gives me a thumbs up in his lame attempt to start this conversation. The fact that he starts off with mention of the majors only ticks me off more.

  "Is there something you needed?" I disjointedly begin whipping clothes out of the basket and folding them haphazardly. If I can just finish, it means being able to leave this room and walk out on any talk with my dear old dad.

  When he doesn’t say anything for several seconds, I’m forced to look back up. And have to mentally check myself to not let my jaw hit the floor. My father actually looks nervous.

  I'd seen him arrogant, cocky, and on the certain occasion happy. But never have I seen him nervous.

  "I know you're mother talked to you about sitting down with me. I was wondering if we could do that now."

  "Sure, I'm sitting." I am a prick, but doing it on purpose. Let him grovel a bit more.

  "This is probably a talk I should have had with you a long time ago...." He starts in, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows, visibly shaken. What the hell has him so on edge?

  “My childhood, it wasn’t an easy one, Owen. You know I grew up poor, but you don’t know the circumstances of it. I never talked about it, and there is virtually no one left from my past, so nothing has ever come out.”

  I knew he was poor growing up, it was actually one of the things that connected my parents. The other was that they worked their way to the top from nothing, which I respected immensely.

  He keeps going. “I grew up in this shit poor town in Arkansas. My dad…he was a drunk, a total loser. I never met my mother, she either took off or died before I could remember her.”

  Shock overtakes my system…I can’t ever imagine my powerful, arrogant father in a situation like the one he’s describing.

  “This house, yes its a mansion by any standards. But my childhood home? It makes this place look like a fucking castle. I grew up in a one bedroom trailer. The water tank would go out every other day, I slept on the couch for fifteen years. Fifteen years, Owen. I didn’t have a bed until I joined the minors.”


  His eyes dart around the room. I can feel the angst and pain pouring off of him, this being a topic he obviously never wanted to address again.

  “Dad, you don’t…we don’t have to talk about this…” I say cautiously. I suddenly feel very young sitting next to my father, who is close to tears.

  “No, I need to tell you this. We weren’t just poor, Owen. That would have been bearable. But no. That bastard couldn’t just live with that. He had to abuse me on top of everything else.” He whispers out these last words, as if saying them quietly means he’s not really putting them out into the world. “He kicked the living shit out of me on a daily basis since I can remember. He would have friends, girlfriends, drug dealers over.”

  Rolling up his sleeve and turning his arm over, I see dozens of tiny scars I’ve never bothered to look at before. “They would slap me, kick me, and even put out cigarettes on me.”

  A tiny tear slips out of his eye, rolling down to his sturdy jaw. I have never in my life seen my father cry. It makes me feel incredibly helpless and small, like the world is closing in on me.

  “Dad, I’m sorry…I didn’t know—” I’m nearly choking on the words now.

  “No. I’m sorry.” He sighs, rolling down his sleeves and checking his emotions. “I didn’t know what my place as a father was. One minute I didn’t want to be anything like my father, and the next I thought that his rough treatment of me got me to where I was. And maybe it would make you a star, too. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to achieve your dreams. And ever since you were little, you wanted to play ball. I just wanted to help you get there.”

  He looks at me then, regret and apology in his eyes. The same color as mine. “And now I fear that I’ve done it all wrong. I thought being a hardass was what was best. But its not how I feel. I am so goddamn proud of you, Owen. You are ten times the player that I ever was, and you are destined for the history books.”