Ace's Wild: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (The Beasts of Baseball Book 2)

by Alice Ward

  “Gorgeous,” I muttered and fell to my knees in front of her. Sliding my tongue up her thigh, I stopped at the apex, breathing her in. My nose rested on her clit, inhaling the scent of her sex while my cock hardened in my jeans. She cried out as I wrapped my lips around her clit, sucking it hard into my mouth. She moaned and fell back onto the desk; her legs wide open for me to play as I wished. I spent a few minutes getting acquainted with her while she moaned and squirmed. Slipping two fingers inside, I twisted them, finding her g-spot while I tongued and sucked her clit. When she exploded, she clamped a hand over her mouth to silence the screams ripping from her throat. I knew she was fully satisfied and ready to return the favor.

  I stood, unzipped my pants, unleashing my cock. Her eyes widened in full approval as she slid from the desk and to her knees in front of me. She stroked me slowly at first and then picked up the pace, my hips thrusting to show her the speed I wanted.

  “Wrap those beautiful lips around that, darlin’.”

  Her dark green eyes looked up at me as her lips parted and her tongue snuck out to taste the tip of my erection, wiping away the drop of pre-cum.

  My head fell back on my shoulders, and a long sigh of satisfaction escaped me as her mouth closed down and slid along my shaft. It was wet and tight, her tongue stroking even as she sucked me into her throat.

  Sweet ecstasy, I was going to come.

  I gripped her hair and pulled her face from my erection in warning. Instead of letting go, she suctioned her mouth around me and latched on tight, determined to finish the job she’d started.

  Spots exploded in front of my eyes as I exploded into her mouth, and I clutched onto her head for balance, the fucking pleasure ripping a growl from my chest. Vibrations shot through my groin and down my leg as she sucked every last drop.

  A sound penetrated the roaring of blood in my ears, and I slowly opened my eyes to locate it. Belinda beat me to it.

  “Your phone,” she said as she handed me the black device that had fallen from my pocket. Shit, it was Holly, probably to talk about the dates. When I reached for it, ready to cancel the call, Belinda’s thumb slid over the screen, answering the call prematurely.

  “Oops,” she giggled. “Sorry.”

  Why the hell did I care that Holly probably heard that?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Holly

  I pulled the last cake from the oven for my three-tiered creation and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for it to cool. Business was booming, and I was taking a few classes at night to learn new techniques for my decorating. Everything was great. Almost everything.

  “Holly!”

  I closed my eyes as Dad’s voice boomed through the house, and released a long, pent-up breath. He was drunk again, on a rampage of course, and since I was home, I was the lucky recipient of his rage.

  I didn’t answer him right away, hopeful that he’d pass out or give up. No such luck.

  “Holly!” His voice grew louder and angrier, and the longer it took for me to answer, the worse he’d get.

  “I’m in here.”

  He pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen so hard it almost came back and hit him in the face. I struggled not to giggle; I didn’t dare let it show on my face. Unfortunately, the humor didn’t get to last long.

  The yellow t-shirt he wore was stained, most likely white at one time. His arms were covered in thick black hair, his eyebrows dark and bushy, while the top of his head was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. I was thankful that I inherited my mother’s long blonde locks and not his curly black ones. Well, the ones he used to have.

  “Why don’t ya do something useful with that oven?” he snarled.

  “I am.”

  “Ohhh, bullshit. You have a Holly Hobby oven to bake those fucking cakes in.” He moved closer, and I held my breath. His was saturated in alcohol as it spewed out drops of spit in my direction. “You should be in here makin’ dinner.”

  I honestly didn’t understand what my mother had seen in this man.

  He was a mean man, a drunk, and after years of mental and verbal abuse, Mom finally escaped — to heaven. Not to a free life like I wished for her. That left my sister and me with our dad, an angry man who only wanted to crush our dreams and control every aspect of our lives, especially mine.

  It was sickening how self-satisfied he would appear whenever he saw me cry. So I learned to hide my feelings at a pretty early age. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

  Hannah, my younger sister, didn’t seem to get as much of the old man’s wrath as I did. But that was okay. I didn’t want her to feel the pain I felt. So I let him use me as a verbal punching bag, just as long as he left her alone.

  “You’ll never be anything more than a maid to some man who keeps you pregnant,” he said to me one night not long ago. He laughed and then snorted as he continued his insults with, “Damn, you’re gonna look awful all fat, and your body’s gonna get all stretched out and ugly.”

  I didn’t understand why he wanted to hurt me so bad. I always just told myself it was the alcohol, that it wasn’t me. He was a drunk, and drunks usually drank to mask their pain, although I couldn’t exactly see what he had to be unhappy or in pain about.

  My mother was a beautiful woman, kind, and extremely patient. She worshiped him, even though he was so hateful and acted as if he despised her. “You don’t know the sweet man hiding underneath that tough exterior,” she told me one night as I cried on her bed. Her hands wrapped around me and pulled me close. I could still feel her warmth and smell her perfume when I closed my eyes and thought about that moment. “He’s a good man, Holly. He’s just troubled.”

  I remembered hating her in that moment. How could she excuse the way he acted and how he treated her and her children? Now, as an adult, I understood her heart was pure, probably purer than most, and that she’d seen something in him we didn’t, and possibly never could. And she never stopped wishing he’d turn into a better man.

  My baking kept me busy, and even though I finished a four-year degree at the community college in business economics, my heart longed for the peace I experienced when creating confections that always made people smile. It didn’t take long for our small town to spread the word of my delicious treats. With word of mouth, I was baking five to ten cakes a week. In the kitchen, my dad didn’t seem to bother me as much. He had a fridge beside his recliner where he kept his beer, and Hannah brought him dinner from the steakhouse she waitressed, so he had no real reason to venture into the small room that smelled of vanilla and cocoa.

  “Hannah will be home soon,” I assured him.

  “Ugh, another fucking baked potato,” he grumbled, his face curling into a snarl.

  My heart raced as I stared into the eyes of the man who helped create me and wondered how he had become so ungrateful, or if he’d always been that way.

  Was it really pain he tried to drown with alcohol or was he just a dick?

  “I can make you something else.” I caved, realizing that he was only after a fight and not willing to give it to him.

  “Don’t fucking bother. You’d probably burn it anyway.”

  Relief fell over me when he finally turned and ambled from the room. Seconds later, I heard the familiar squeak of his recliner leaning back just before the television boomed to life. The recliner had been nice once, soft brown leather that was now ripped and faded. My mother had begged him to get rid of it, promising to buy him a new one. I remembered that fight and how angry he had grown at her suggestion. He told her she was an ungrateful bitch that didn’t know how to manage money. That was the night her sewing chair flew through the front window. It was brutally cold, and after he passed out from his raging fit, I stood in the snow with her, nailing plywood over the hole that leaked the harsh winter into our small home.

  I need to get out of here!

  I pulled my phone from my purse and stared at it, wondering who to call. I opened my contacts, and alphabetical order dictated that Ace b
e at the very top. I immediately smiled.

  Damn, the man was fun to be around. And I could use a little fun right about now.

  My thumb hovered over the call button, but I hesitated. We didn’t have the kind of relationship where I just called him up. He was my one big sin. My naughty not-so-secret secret. Never in my life had I just thrown myself at a man without some sort of commitment in place, and I still couldn’t believe how okay I was with only being fuck buddies with him.

  It had been months since I’d seen him, not since the end of last season. Although I’d been to New York to visit Whitney a couple time since then, our timing hadn’t worked out to hook up. Not that I could blame anyone for living it up in Hawaii. Ace Newman had the life!

  I looked around the small kitchen of my childhood home and knew these four walls were crowding me to the point of strangulation. I needed to get away. If not to see Ace, then to check on Whitney.

  To escape this place.

  In the back of my head, knowing Ace would be in New York had a big appeal on my timing. And the timing was right. I just might be able to catch him before the Beasts headed south for spring training.

  Whitney’s number was my last call, so I hit redial and waited for her to pick up.

  “Holly!” Her voice was so welcoming it warmed my heart.

  “Hey, lady, how are you?” I asked, trying my best to mask the pain in my voice.

  “Having a cocktail. I wish you were here with me.”

  I wished I was too. Oh, how I wished I was there and not here. Anywhere but here really.

  “Me too.”

  “Come see me!”

  “Well, that’s kinda why I was calling,” I admitted, feeling my heart already begin to lighten.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I took a deep breath, fighting off the tears working hard to escape. Whitney was the only one who truly knew how hard my relationship was with my father. She’d been around my house growing up and had witnessed my father’s temper. After my mom passed away, she watched his rage turn towards me.

  My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard before answering. “I just need outta here.”

  “Today or tomorrow?”

  I peeked in the oven and tried to estimate how much time I’d need to finish. “Tomorrow. I’m finishing up a cake for Mrs. Maples but can have Hannah deliver it in the morning, so any time will be fine.”

  “Okay, let me take care of everything. I’ll send the info as soon as I have it.”

  “Thank you, Whitney.”

  I hung up the phone and felt a ton of weight lift from my shoulders. I would finish this cake, and start packing, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

  Hannah came through the back door just as I was finishing up the last fondant ribbon, her arms laden with our father’s dinner. “Oh, Holly, it’s beautiful!”

  It was. I was proud of my creation. I was certainly getting better.

  “You need to open up your own place,” she insisted. It was a suggestion I’d heard many times before and thought about nearly every day. I smiled but didn’t feel the need to get into a full discussion about what I felt was a pipe dream at this point. I was broke, or at least pretty damn close to it, and opening up a bakery took money, lots of it.

  My phone beeped, and I picked it up, pleased to see the message was from Whitney. I was booked on a flight leaving at noon the next day.

  “Can you deliver this in the morning?” I asked Hannah after sending Whit a quick thank you.

  She cocked one of her ridiculously perfect brows at me. “Yes, but why?”

  “I’m going back to New York for a while.”

  “To see Ace?” she teased, those perfect brows now bobbing up and down.

  “No. Whitney, thank you very much.”

  She rolled her eyes and smirked a little at my response. I knew she didn’t believe me. Hell, I didn’t believe me either. I knew I wanted to see him.

  “Hannah!”

  We met each other’s eyes as Dad’s voice echoed through the house. She sighed and picked up the Styrofoam box, rushing it to the living room before he had time to call her name twice.

  While she was gone, I texted Ace to see if he wanted to hook up while I was in town, then began boxing up the cake. I was writing down the address where it was to be delivered when Hannah came back in.

  “Crisis averted,” she muttered.

  Stopping what I was doing, I gave her a serious look. “You sure you’ll be okay with me gone?”

  We both knew she would. For some reason, I was the only one with a target on my back. “Don’t worry about anything, just have some fun.” She smiled at me warmly.

  “Thanks, I will.”

  She gave me a hug and headed toward her room.

  My phone dinged. It was Ace, telling me to let him know the dates.

  No time like the present.

  While Dad was busy consuming his baked potato and steak tips, I sneaked through the living room and out onto the front porch. I tapped his name on my phone and watched the screen bring up his face.

  He answered, but didn’t speak. Instead, a woman said, “Oops, sorry,” through a flurry of giggles.

  Jealousy struck me like a wave, but I pushed it back. No, not jealousy exactly, more like an intense desire to be the one with him, not the giggler whose soft laugh was still coming through the phone. I wanted to be the one carefree and laughing. Because I always felt that way when I was with Ace.

  I was about to hang up when his long sexy drawl came over the line. “Hey, darlin’.” He sounded winded, confirming what I already suspected.

  “Hey. It sounds like I caught you at a bad time. Want to call me back?” I was proud of how light my voice appeared.

  “Uh, yeah. No. It’s all good. What’s up?”

  “I’m headed to New York in the morning and thought you’d like to see me,” I teased, settling solidly into my role as fuck buddy.

  He loved when I used the same cockiness he did. I knew it was a huge turn on for him and probably why he still even had my number stored in his phone.

  “Of course,” he chuckled. It was obvious he found my humor amusing. “How long are you staying?”

  “Not sure yet. Nothing set in stone.” I lowered my voice, making it sexy and deep. “Call me when you’re ready for me to rock your world.”

  I didn’t give him a chance to respond, just ended the call.

  Damn, that man had my panties wet just from thinking about a night with him. He was a freaking machine in bed.

  That reminded me of the giggler. Okay, so maybe the thought of him with another woman struck a nerve, but not enough that I’d give up my turn at bat with the bad boy of baseball. I loved the way he played the game and not just the one on the field. He was smooth, charming and, oh so very hot. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms again.

  I entered the living room and tried to get past my dad before he spat any of his toxins towards me, but no such luck. “Where the fuck do ya think you’re going?”

  Shit. Why didn’t I go out the back?

  “To New York,” I replied calmly.

  He laughed, and some of the beef tip gravy dribbled down his chin. He was mean, drunk, and disgusting. “Oh yeah, ya gonna see your Ace man?”

  I kept my voice calm and unaffected. “I’m staying with Whitney.”

  “Oh. He’s done with ya, huh? You’re just another one of his whores, just like I thought. I’ve seen the magazines. You just weren’t good ‘nuf.” He laughed, taking such pleasure in belittling me that I couldn’t help but pity him.

  Ignoring his taunts, I went to my room to pack. Unable to stop myself, I stepped in front of the tall mirror hanging snuggly against the sky blue wall of my bedroom. My hips were full and curvy, my breasts nice and firm, but, Dad was right, there was nothing special about how I looked. I’d seen the same tabloids my dad had, the ones that sparked his rude and hateful comment. Some of those women pictured on Ace Newman’s arm were gorgeous, like supermodel gorgeous. I
was just a small town girl who liked to bake, not exactly arm candy for one of the most notorious players in baseball.

  Tears fell from my eyes without consent or my control. I hated that Dad had this power over me, to hurt me so badly. I had to get out of here, not just for a while, but for good!

  Hannah stuck her head into my room. “Are you okay?”

  “He’s just such an asshole,” I responded, not caring if he could hear me or not.

  She came into my room and shut the door behind her. I watched as she sat down on my twin bed and looked around my room. “You really should consider getting your bakery started.”

  “I don’t have the money for that. That’s the only reason I still live here, so I can save every penny I can.”

  Her eyes brightened with tears, and she grabbed a shirt from my bed, folding it before grabbing another. “I’ll help, and you know Whitney would, for sure. And what about Ace? You’re friends, right?”

  I rolled my eyes at her suggestion that Ace Newman would help me with anything other than a mind-blowing orgasm. He was the type of man who only helped himself outside of the bedroom. “No, but I do think it’s time I figured it out.”

  “I’m sorry Dad’s so hateful to you.” I watched her eyes fill with concern. What she should have said was she’s sorry that Dad hated me, because it’s obvious he did.

  “I’m just glad he doesn’t take it out on you.”

  That was another reason I still lived here. I was afraid that once I was truly gone — like gone for good — the old man wouldn’t have me to use as a punching bag anymore. That would leave Hannah in his line of sight.

  “You need to get out of here too,” I warned. “Once I’m gone, there’s no telling what he’ll start doing to you.”

  She gave me a yeah right eye roll. “I can handle the old man.”

  And it was true. She could handle him, I just didn’t know why, or how. Hannah got away with things I’d never dare try.