Quit Your Pitchin'

by Lani Lynn Vale

  It sucked even more when she’d answered the door and acted like our two weeks and three days of bliss hadn’t happened, either.

  And honestly, I was downright fucking tired of it.

  She needed to trust me, and she didn’t.

  Our marriage wouldn’t work if, at every single turn, she trusted a goddamn tabloid, or her asshole of a brother, over me.

  “Yo, Furious,” Rhys called, sounding alarmed. “This is a game, not a beat down.”

  I backed down from the man, Prawns, who was on first base.

  The little prick had shoved Gunner so hard that every single person in the vicinity had waited with bated breath to see what Penn would do.

  Penn, however, had unexpected backup in the form of me. Me, who’d been hit in the jaw by Prawns earlier in the game by a wild pitch.

  “Don’t touch him again or I’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out,” I snarled through clenched teeth to the little pecker.

  Penn slammed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Thanks.”

  I shrugged him off and said, “No problem.”

  Then I walked back to my position at center field, passing Rhys as I did.

  I flipped Rhys off and kept walking, my eyes staying trained on the field ahead.

  Today was game seven of the finals. The game that would determine whether we would be going to the World Series or not.

  And my head wasn’t in the game.

  In fact, if anything, the worst idea I’d ever had was telling the coach that I was all right to play this game.

  He’d noticed my reluctance in practice the day before. He’d also seen that my temper was short—even with my own teammates.

  It hadn’t taken a rocket scientist for everyone to know that something had happened with Wrigley and me—again.

  But, I hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

  In fact, the only thing I did want to talk about was the situation I found myself in, time and time again. That conversation, however, couldn’t take place without Wrigley.

  Wrigley who wouldn’t take my phone calls. Wrigley who wouldn’t answer her fucking door.

  Wrigley who was the love of my goddamn life.

  “Heads up,” Rhys called.

  I instinctively caught the ball that he’d lobbed in my direction, then rocketed it back.

  He caught it, then shot it like a missile to Gunner.

  Gunner caught it and tossed it underhanded to the pitcher, Gentry.

  Gentry looked at the ball in his hand once before tossing it to the umpire.

  The umpire took it, put it in the holder around his waist, and then tossed a new ball to Gentry.

  “Yo, Furious George!” I heard a fan call from behind me. “Where’s your new girl? She’s hot!”

  I gritted my teeth.

  I realized that the guy was trying to be nice—in his own way of course—but that was what was fucking with my head already.

  I didn’t need him adding insult to injury.

  But, I somehow managed to ignore it.

  Then he started talking to me like my ex-wife was a piece of trash for leaving me, and I might have, kind of, lost it.

  ***

  Wrigley

  “Turn on the game,” Diamond ordered.

  I sighed and did what she said, I turned on the game.

  Only to find George beating the shit out of some guy.

  Minutes later, the fight was broken up, and George, as well as the other guy, were ejected.

  An hour after that, the Lumberjacks suffered a loss by one single run.

  Worst. Game. Ever.

  Chapter 23

  Apparently, you’re not allowed to serve out ass whoopings during professional baseball games. Who knew?

  -Wrigley’s secret thoughts

  Wrigley

  If there was one thing in this world I didn’t want to do, it was go to a charity baseball game with my famous ex-husband.

  However, since I’d organized it, and the women that I helped needed the money, I felt it was my responsibility to be there.

  George was one of the last to show up, which was good for me.

  I’d arrived at the Lumberjacks field at ten, and by twelve, every single seat in the arena was filled.

  Despite the Lumberjacks horrific loss a week during their last game, the town of Longview still loved their team.

  Which was good for me, because these tickets weren’t cheap.

  And with as many of them that were sold just so they could watch one more baseball game this year, it was a major plus for me.

  What wasn’t a plus was seeing my ex-husband arrive with Melanie.

  I gritted my teeth and tried not to pay attention.

  And honestly, I probably would’ve accomplished not actually talking to him had George not protested the ‘fun’ aspect of today’s game.

  “I’m not doing it.” George shook his head.

  That was when I knew that I was going to have to convince him.

  I gritted my teeth, then did what I had to do.

  “Come on,” I teased, my heart pounding like it did all those years ago when we’d first met. “It’s for charity.”

  My husband usually wouldn’t do it. At least, until I asked him to do it, that was.

  Then he’d do it.

  He’d always been that way. He’d always done just about anything in the world for me, which made me feel even more upset.

  I’d broken us, and then he’d broken us once I thought we were fixed.

  But today wasn’t about us. Today was about the women that I advocated for. And I wouldn’t make this about me.

  But I knew what worked on George, and I would use it.

  I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Please?”

  George blinked, then blinked again. He was so confused by my change in attitude that it was adorable.

  “What do I get if I do?” he challenged me.

  “Anything you want,” I offered, then immediately regretted it.

  I’d do just about anything…but the one thing I knew he wanted. Me back.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  “Anything?” he clarified.

  Yeah, right.

  I’d promise him anything, though, to get what I wanted.

  I was such a bitch.

  “Anything that doesn’t require a judge,” I amended.

  George’s eyes narrowed, then he nodded once.

  George sighed. “What is it I have to do again?”

  George’s sweet, husky, deep voice that always sounded so yummy and delicious sounded from behind me.

  Then I explained to him what he would have to do.

  Then I made the other team, the team that had won the Division One college baseball championship, go first.

  They were all college-aged, and cocky to boot.

  “Just watch,” I said to George.

  He flagged down a beer vendor, caught a drink from him, then got settled in to watch.

  I rolled my eyes.

  There was no rule about drinking for the players today, so I guess him drinking a beer was all right.

  Wasn’t it?

  He leaned his hips up against the dugout wall and grunted when he saw what he would have to do.

  A young college baseball player, one that was going to be in the draft next year, walked up and picked up the bat.

  He cockily bent over and started to spin with his forehead touching the bat. Once he’d reached fifteen revolutions, he wobbly stood straight, weaved his way to the plate, and promptly struck out—three times—his bat swinging at least a foot from the ball.

  Over and over again, the men and volunteers participated, and each one failed spectacularly like the first. Though, some at least made contact, while others fell over completely when they swung.

  Then came Furious George’s turn.

  And he didn’t disappoint.

  “Yeah, woo!
” the fans screamed.

  “Furious George, will you marry me?”

  I gritted my jaw and kept my eyes on George but noted that the voice had come not from the fans, but from the crowd of charity attendees.

  It better not be Melanie, that’s all I had to say.

  George started to hold his beer out to me but stopped when my eyebrows went up.

  Then, while keeping his eyes on me, he chugged his beer and made the entire freakin’ stadium start to laugh.

  Once he’d finished it, he handed me the empty Solo Cup, and I took it, narrowing my eyes as I did.

  “Hold that for me, Wrigs.”

  Unaware of the excitement at hearing those words, George bent over the bat, and I felt my heart constrict in my chest when I saw his ass in my favorite pair of jeans that he owned.

  I’d bought them for him for Christmas last year, and he’d never worn another pair since, mostly because he knew how much I liked them. It wasn’t often that he got to wear jeans and a t-shirt, but I noticed more and more how much he’d worn them when I was around.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Did he know what they did to me? He had to. I’d told them how good he looked in them…little shit.

  The man was devious, that was for sure.

  “Remember, fifteen times around!”

  George grunted and started to spin.

  Unlike those before him, he moved fast, but he also moved with coordination.

  By the time his fifteenth time around happened, he stood up, walked carefully up to the tee that was holding the ball, and took a swing.

  The ball went into the lights, and I started to laugh.

  “Holy shi—uhhh, crap!” the announcer sounded. “Furious George for a home run!”

  “Show off,” Hancock muttered as George started to make his way around the bases.

  “Come on,” I teased. “You can do it. You were the one to tell me how easy this would be on a tee.”

  Hancock narrowed his eyes. “I used to like you, you know. Now I’m not so sure.”

  I giggled and was just about to turn to survey George making his way home when I felt myself being picked up.

  Seems George ran really fast.

  I gasped and wiggled, turning my head to see George’s face.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped.

  “We had a bet.”

  My mouth fell open. “A bet?” I squeaked. “You’re not supposed to collect until we’re done!”

  “Fuck that,” George grunted. “Now.”

  And, he wasn’t joking. We really were about to do it now.

  He took me down the dugout steps, straight past the girl he’d brought with him, and into the hallway that led to the locker room.

  Moments later, he pushed through the locker room door, then slammed my back against it.

  I gasped, and then his mouth was on mine, and I no longer cared about anything.

  I couldn’t even remember why we were mad at each other.

  We were mad, weren’t we?

  ‘Cause, right then, everything was confusing. Everything, that was, but what George was currently doing to my body. That wasn’t confusing at all.

  “Kiss me,” he ordered.

  I was helpless to deny him anything.

  I also had no control of my body when it came to him.

  The man had always gotten to me, and all he had to do was look at me for my resolve to disappear.

  Hell, that was why I ended up married to him in Vegas that first time…right?

  But, the moment his mouth was on mine, and his hands went to my ass and slipped up under my skirt, I forgot to care.

  I forgot to consider our son, who was at home with his Grams.

  I forgot to do just about everything but breathe and feel.

  Why?

  Because George Hoffman, that’s why.

  I closed my eyes and felt him suck on my neck. Felt the way little tiny shocks ran through my body, and I shivered.

  “George…”

  “Just shut up.”

  “But…”

  “Shut. Up.”

  Then he kissed me and made me shut up. There was a lot of tongue. A lot of teeth clicking together, and a whole lot of fucking goodness.

  It felt like he’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket the way that those shocks started to run to every single sensitive part on my body.

  And then he started to run his beard and lips along my neck, teasingly, on the way down to my breasts.

  My breasts, which somehow had become uncovered.

  When he’d done that, I didn’t know.

  I hadn’t felt the tie behind my neck be released.

  But, then again, I hadn’t felt my panties disappearing, either. Maybe I needed to start being more observant when he was fucking me.

  Then I nearly laughed.

  I’d bet any of the women in this world would be in the same boat if George Hoffman was doing this to them, too.

  And oh, God. What a ‘this’ it was.

  His tongue was now circling around my nipple, and I could hear the crowd just feet away as he did.

  The thought of someone coming in here was enough for me to be super excited.

  I’d never once thought I had voyeur tendencies, but holy shit. My brain was going ninety to nothing!

  “George,” I half-heartedly complained. “Oh my God. We can’t do this here.”

  He laughed softly as he circled my nipple with his tongue. “Sure we can.”

  “If we’re caught doing this, it’ll be all over the news,” I pleaded.

  But I wasn’t sure what I was pleading for. Him to do more, or him to stop.

  At this point, I wasn’t sure that I would care which it was.

  But, that really was a lie.

  I’d be sad if he stopped.

  I liked that he was doing this.

  I liked that he didn’t care where we were.

  And honestly, I was fucking happy he was in here doing this with me, and not with Melanie.

  I was going to hell.

  But, I was going to do it thoroughly sated.

  Because about the time that I’d decided to go with it, he felt the tension release from my body.

  Then, he started to unzip his pants.

  He backed away while he did it, and I really didn’t know why.

  Was it because he was trying to make me understand that I could leave? Because if he was, fuck that.

  I wasn’t leaving.

  I was doing this.

  I was a daredevil, goddammit!

  And this was my husband!

  I started to hike my dress up past my hips, and he wasted no time after that.

  After ensuring that I was blocked by his body from the door, he lifted me up, slammed my back against the wall, and then dropped me down onto his erection.

  It filled me so full that I cried out, causing him to chuckle.

  “That’s me, baby,” he growled. “You can’t get that from anybody but me.”

  I couldn’t. He was right about that.

  I’d not found a vibrator that could replace him since he’d left.

  And I’d looked.

  Trust me, I’d looked.

  The memories of George’s cock haunted my dreams. I remembered what he felt like. How full he filled me. How far he made my entrance stretch around his girth. The way he hit the back of me when he fucked me. And the way I felt like I was burning alive around him.

  Kind of like now…

  “Please,” I whispered, dropping my mouth back to his. “Fuck me hard.”

  He bit my lip. “I’ll fuck you however I want. This was my payment, remember?”

  I bit his lip back.

  “Fuck you.”

  He thrust hard. “No, baby. I think you have that backward. I’m the one fucking you.”

  And then he proved that by fucking me so hard that my back started to scrape
against the wall.

  It didn’t really feel all that rough until you had someone as big as George pressing you into it, and fucking you so hard that your back rubbed up and down the semi-smooth surface.

  I wrapped my hands around him tighter to try to alleviate the pain in my back, and he noticed, slowing.

  “You okay?” he asked as he slowly fucked his cock in and out of me.

  “The wall hurts my back,” I whispered.

  He grunted something and moved so that I was against something else, this time it felt like a metal pole.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Now we were even deeper in the shadows—and honestly, I wasn’t even quite sure where we were.

  A hallway, of some sort.

  And somewhere somebody could come in at any moment.

  But that thrill that was rolling through me was addicting.

  I was overly excited now, and so wet that I felt like I was leaking around his cock.

  “Yeah,” I breathed. “Lots.”

  He moved his cock back inside of me again, this time pushing in so deep that I moaned low in my throat.

  “Always loved that you were able to take all of me,” he said. “So fucking tight that sometimes I feel like I’ll be speaking soprano for a goddamn week.”

  I breathed out a laugh against his beard and relished the way the coarse hair felt against my lips.

  “I love the way you fill me, too,” I admitted. “There’s never a single miniscule inch of space left, and when you’re done, I feel you for hours. Sometimes even days.”

  He latched onto my hips and roughly fucked up into me, causing me to gasp.

  “At least this way I know you’ll not be able to ignore me,” he growled.

  Then he went back to fucking me.

  Our skin slapped together lewdly in the quiet, dark hallway. The only thing that I could hear was the dull clapping and yelling of the crowd, paired with the heavy breathing we were doing, and the sound of our flesh smacking together.

  I was so focused on us, on the way that he was making me feel, that I nearly missed the back and forth of voices until they were almost upon us.

  “Did you say something?” someone asked.

  “No,” the other man returned. “Did you see what we were supposed to do after this?”

  “I think the game was it,” man one said. “But George’s wife would have to answer that. I think once the game is over, she’ll let us know.”