Baller Made (Bad Boy Ballers Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  Yeah, the birth of our daughter, Charlotte Caroline Macintyre, had knocked the breath out of my body . . . as Peyton was knocking the breath from my body now, in a wholly different way.

  In front of the bed, Peyton’s arms looped around my neck and she rose on tiptoes. “Yes, I had a checkup today.”

  “And?” I grasped her hips, bringing her to my solid erection.

  “We can make love.”

  “Not sure about makin’ love at this point,” I snarled. “But I wouldn’t mind fucking you all night long.”

  Picking her up in my arms, I devoured her lips, swallowing her immediate gasp. I settled her on the bed, softening my kiss to light little plucks until I pulled back so I could take her in.

  “You look like pure wicked heaven, darlin’.”

  “Do I?”

  I narrowed my eyes as she arched her back. “You know you do. Can’t you see how fucking hard you make me?” I hefted my cock, stroking a fist over it.

  “God, Rafe. I’m not sure I can wait much longer.” She licked her lips, the black lace hugging her torso a tempting, flesh-teasing sight, her red hair cascading all over.

  Stretching beside her, I caught her lips in mine. With driving lunges of my tongue, I speared her mouth, hands roaming to her back and lush ass.

  She reached low, fisting my cock with a tight curl of her fingers until I groaned, searing pleasure shooting through me.

  “Take it off. Take it off right fucking now.” Immediacy pulsed along my vitals.

  But before she even tugged one strap down, I was on her again. I found a row of tiny buttons, popped them all open. Tussling with her, laughing at one point when we almost toppled off the bed, I removed the black lingerie and stared at her, starving.

  Hips wider. Tits bigger. Ass plumper.

  I’d fallen for with Peyton seven years ago when we were so much younger. Now she’d matured. Become even hotter . . .

  A bead of milk shimmered on her puffy, engorged nipple, and my eyes latched to it.

  “What?” she asked in a smoky tone.

  “I wanna taste it.”

  “Then taste it.” She gave me the type of dirty smile that made my cock throb harder, lifting her tit for me as the droplet rolled down, leaving a shiny trail on creamy flesh.

  I followed the glistening wet track to the tip of one primed peak, which I lapped before sucking whole into my mouth. A slight burst of milk coated my tongue.

  “It’s sweet!” I jerked up, her taste swirling in my mouth.

  “I know.”

  “You tried it?”

  “Well, it is my breast.”

  “That’s naughty.” And fucking hot.

  So hot I went back down on her. I sucked at her with long slow lusty pulls, my fingers sliding down her belly and across her swollen clit then onto her cunt. Inside her pussy, I massaged hot wet flesh, preparing her.

  She gasped as her hips hitched up, and I lifted wet lips to hers, leaving her nipples and crushing up against her.

  “Fuck. Need to be inside you.”

  Peyton looked delirious, disheveled, never sexier. She spread her legs, drew me in with her heels anchored on my ass.

  I split her open, pinning her hands in mine above her head as I stretched out, fully on top of her. Her hips rolled up, her pussy taking me so goddamn deep my balls slapped her ass.

  Peyton came with a whimpering sort of shout she tried to keep quiet against my neck.

  I let out a rugged laugh, sawing back into the clasp of her cunt. I grasped her to me by the nape of her neck, the flesh of her ass. On my knees, I punched forward, my cock engorged beyond belief.

  “Gonna come so hard. Jesus.”

  Her hot moan and that clutching tightness drawing my orgasm right out of my body. I shuddered and grunted. Flexed and froze and strained.

  Harsh raw thrusts spiraled, and I exploded inside Peyton. She came again, a hiccup of a gasp rolling from her throat as I held her against me.

  The blood-come-rush pounding against my ears barely dimmed before I heard it.

  The baby monitor.

  Breathlessly, I chuckled.

  I dropped my forehead to Peyton’s then nudged our noses together.

  Withdrawing from her, I fought to inhale a deep breath. Peyton rolled to her side, laughing lustily.

  I swatted her on the ass. “She’s demanding. Takes after her momma.”

  I got to my feet, and Peyton whistled when I retrieved a pair of shorts from the dresser. In the bathroom, I wet a washcloth and returned to Peyton so she could clean up.

  Looking at me from hazy eyes, she winked. “Hope you left enough milk for Charlotte.” She swiped all around her breasts.

  “You, woman, are pure evil.”

  Her low laugh followed me into the hall.

  Charlie’s nursery lit in a soft glow, I padded to the crib decked out in pink ducklings. At six weeks, her eyes were now bright green instead of that newborn blue-brown. Green like Callum’s and mine. And her hair was black as jet. Thankfully she took after me in coloring only. She had Peyton’s rosebud mouth and the prettiest nose I thought I’d ever seen.

  I scooped her up into one arm, wiping softly at the tiny tears on her pink cheeks. “Hey, baby doll. No more cryin’ now. Daddy’s got you.”

  After she calmed, I laid her on the changing table, keeping the tiny squirmer in place with a hand on her belly while I retrieved the supplies. I sang to her, nonsense shit like changing Charlie’s diapey, here comes the wipey, don’t pee on Daddy as I got her cleaned up, tossed the diaper, and got her all nice and snug and ready for Momma.

  Charlie gurgled up at me throughout the whole thing. So goddamn cute.

  When I lifted her in my arms, her fingers curled around my thumb, and she cooed at me.

  My heart expanded yet one more time.

  “You really are the baby whisperer.” Peyton’s eyes shined with unshed tears when I delivered Charlotte to her.

  “Hey, sweetie.” She kissed Charlotte then placed her at her breast, nudging a nipple inside the tiny mouth.

  I crawled in next to them, on my side, my hand against the back of Charlotte’s head, fingers threaded with Peyton’s.

  As soon as Charlotte had her fill, her bright eyes drowsy, I took her from Peyton. I swayed around the room a little, waiting for that final burp before I gave her a kiss then tucked her into the Moses basket so we wouldn’t have to go too far if she needed us in the night.

  Skimming out of my shorts, I joined Pey. She was already asleep. I smiled, turned off the light, and pulled her into my arms where she snuffled a bit. I fell asleep curled all the way around her.

  Weak early morning rays of sunlight streamed into the room when a noise set me off.

  I pried my eyes open.

  No, not a noise, but Callum. Loud, boyish, singing some made-up song about morning, and definitely heading our way.

  “Oh, shit,” I muttered, pressing my fists to my eyes.

  Peyton yawned, stretching against me. “Huh?”

  “How come he never woke up early a day in his life until there was a sleeping baby in the house?” I nudged Pey, quickly finding her robe and sliding it to her moments before Callum burst in.

  He woke Charlie with his shouted, “BREAKFAST TIME!” but miraculously, she quieted as soon as he squatted down and started babbling at her.

  I peered at Peyton.

  She looked at me.

  We held hands beneath the covers, wide smiles wreathing our faces as Cal spoke in a quieter tone, “Don’t cry, Baby Charlie. Don’t cry. Big brother’s here. Look, I can make you laugh.”

  He pulled a funny face, and she chortled like only a baby could.

  Another hit of emotions climbed right up my chest. I squeezed Peyton’s fingers before shuffling back into my shorts, also under the covers.

  Then I hunkered near Cal. “What do you want for breakfast, little man?”

  “Pancakes!”

  “Dude. Volume.”

  His shoulders hun
ched up near his ears, an impudent grin on his lips, he whispered, “Pancakes, Daddy.”

  “Pancakes it is.” I sent him packing after a morning hug and nose nudge.

  “Thank you, Rafe.” Peyton called out when I pivoted toward the door.

  “For the sex?” I asked, turning back while Callum raced downstairs. “Because I can do that on repeat.”

  She threw a shoe at me with her usual awesome aim. Good thing I’d learned how to duck fast.

  Yeah, her aim was wicked, but her face was so soft, her smile so compelling, she drew me back to her.

  When I reached her side, she pulled me down to her lips, the kiss just as soft, just as compelling.

  “For your love. For Callum and Charlotte,” she whispered.

  My throat tight, I framed her face in my hands. “No. Thank you, darlin’. For filling my heart until I don’t think it even fits in my chest anymore.”

  Calder

  June 10, 2019

  June 6, 2018

  Dear Reggie,

  I can’t believe we’ve already been married for a year.

  Bet you never thought I’d keep up this tradition of letter writing schmaltz, did you? Well, I promised you romance once, and I guess this is my way of doing it.

  You know by now you pretty much made me the happiest man on earth, letting me be your husband. I wake up next to you every morning full of shock and awe.

  You’re the sweetest sassiest woman a man like me could ever want.

  Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

  I love you always, every day and every hour.

  Calder

  TWO YEARS AND FOUR DAYS after Reggie and I tied the knot, we prepared to celebrate another important milestone. The team gathered at Reggie’s and my newer, bigger house. Well, not exactly newer, since it was still in the Old Village neighborhood, but definitely bigger with a huge backyard, that old firepit traveling with us one block over to the sprawling brick two-story. Our family had grown right along with the Carolina Crush team.

  I’d just finished hanging streamers and colorful paper lanterns from the live oaks when Reggie stepped out back, what looked like a million helium-filled balloons floating overhead from strings she held.

  “Hurry,” she hushed out. “Meg and Remy are back already.”

  “Shit,” I muttered, tying off the last lantern then hustling to my gorgeous wife to handle the balloons.

  I dropped a kiss to her upturned lips, wrapping an arm around her waist.

  “No time for that, Calder.” She turned to spin away.

  I caught her back against me. “Oh, really?”

  Her palms smoothed up the front of my chest, and her belly collided against my groin. A very interested groin. Because Reggie stood in front of me barefoot, in a sundress, brown curls bouncing down to the middle of her back.

  She tugged me closer, murmuring, “Mmmm. Maybe just one more.”

  Unghhh.

  She lashed at my lips with her tongue then explored deeply inside. I angled for a better taste, free hand coming up and closing around her tit, tugging at the tight nipple inside her dress.

  She broke free, breathing fast. “I don’t know why I always let you do that to me.”

  I snorted. “Bullshit you don’t. You wanna fuck as much as I do. I could lay you down right here, push up your skirt, and—”

  Her dark eyes flashed and she pressed two fingertips against my lips. “Stop. Calder.” She fanned a hand in front of her face. “Everyone’s here.”

  “Like that ever stopped us before.”

  Her hand brushed against my cock before she turned on the ball of her foot, my sexy dancer as graceful as ever. “Behave yourself, and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me later.”

  “You would anyway,” I called out. “And you like it when I’m dirty.”

  “I do,” she mouthed back before blowing a kiss to me off the tips of her fingers.

  Everyone who converged at the house included Team Crush, Team Cougars . . . all the kids, the wives, the husbands. Coach D, GM Lou, Peyton and Rafe with Charlotte and Callum and their latest addition, Georgia.

  Reggie blitzed them all through the house to the decorated backyard just about a minute before a tiny dark-haired, silver-eyed one-year-old bumbled out the door onto the porch. She stopped, clasping her grandparents’ hands.

  “Bama! Bampa! Lookie!”

  Bama and Bampa. Gramma and Grampa. Meg and Remy. I chuckled. Then shook my head. Then bit the inside of my cheek because our Josie, one year old today, was just too damn cute for words.

  Josie clapped her hands and started down the steps. I fucking rushed right over because sure, of course our gregarious kid had started walking at ten months old, but Christ, I still needed her to take baby steps.

  Little Josie. Jocelyn Christa Malone.

  She’d had a fist wrapped right around my heart the first time I felt her kick inside Reggie’s belly.

  Hadn’t let up since.

  She didn’t seem to have time for Dada today, though. Who could blame her? It was her day, and she damn well knew it.

  Advanced? Hell, that didn’t cover the half of Josie. A vast cloud of dark ringlets, an even vaster vocabulary. She knew exactly what she wanted and always went right after it, from the time she started to crawl. Guess who she reminded me of?

  I looked across the friends and family, finding and locking on Reggie. She had tears shining on her cheeks, and fuck, that always did me in.

  I wanted to go to her, take her in my arms, but I got waylaid by our friends here to celebrate Josie’s birthday.

  Rafe pressed a water bottle into my hand.

  Akoni shouted to me from where he manned the roast pig on the barbeque spit.

  Delaney drew Reggie off to a far corner of the yard, probably plying her with mimosas while Brooks fished a beer from the cooler.

  And Josie? Well, she hardly paid any attention to us, her parents, you know, the people who’d brought her into the world. Eyes round as saucers, she squealed and giggled, surrounded by her “cousins”.

  I knew I didn’t have to worry. Callum, one of the oldest, would look after all of them and especially his baby sisters and Josie, but that didn’t make my heart twist any less as the pint-sized party carried on.

  There was face-painting and a jump castle and pin the tail on the Carolina Crush player. That ass better not be modeled after mine.

  I glanced at Reggie.

  Her tits lifted in the dress.

  My shorts tightened in a very dangerous way.

  She spun around, attention caught by Sammy, Carolina Cougars center. The pretty blonde Bunyan had been seeing for over a year. Bets had been placed. Big money on when he was gonna man up and propose once and for all. The pot growing every month.

  The diminutive freckled blonde and the massive linebacker. Perfect motherfucking love story just like the rest of us—that time without any of the wild bumps in the road.

  Philomena showed up, hugging her mom and dad quickly before searching out Reggie and Peyton and Delaney and the rest. Phil’s wife chatted for a few moments with Coach D, her father-in-law, before circling to say her hellos.

  That’s right. The real player—Philomena—had gotten herself snagged, by another doctor.

  And Carolina Crush? After our 2017 Super Bowl win we’d made it to the last round of playoffs for 2018 before the Reno Ravens knocked us out of contention.

  But shit, we were a top-seed contender all the way, and 2019 was destined to be our year again.

  And we were already getting ready for the new season. Early training camp. A Peyton Fox-Macintyre trademark.

  Man, I hadn’t known how fast time could pass. I glanced at my watch, the one Reggie had given me our first Christmas together. And when we’d gotten married, we’d vowed never to waste time, never to lose sight of love.

  I sought her out again, but couldn’t locate her.

  But Josie toddled over to me. “DadaDadaDada!”

  The dress I’d donned he
r in much, much earlier was dirty. She’d lost her shoes. Her hands were grubby. The ribbons Reggie had braided into her hair long gone.

  And a burst of sheer love crippled me. “Hey, Little Miss.”

  I reached down, lifted her up into my arms, snuggling the tiny muffin against my chest.

  That was when Reggie appeared, cake platter in hand. She tugged me down, and we kissed above our daughter’s head.

  “Okay, Josie. You ready for your first cake?” I set her on a high-backed chair stacked with cushions.

  Little Miss was not a fan of the highchair. Go figure.

  “Cayk-uh!” She waved her plump arms around while I tried to catch her hands so I could clean the dirt off before she dug in.

  Everyone ringed around, three deep at least, the youngest ones at the forefront. And I looked at this family I never thought I’d have, those related by blood and the others related by the team . . . and above all, love.

  Reggie lit the bounty of candles then held the cake in front of Josie.

  “Wait. Are you sure her hair isn’t gonna catch on fire?” I almost blocked Josie from the cake.

  “Relax.” Reggie patted me on the chest. “They’re safety candles.”

  Safety candles? What? Sure, I knew all about cabinet locks and doorknob covers and outlet stoppers. But safety candles?

  Brooks sidled up to me. “Dude. Chill. Just imagine having two at the same age at the same time.”

  “Yeah, well, Austin and Micah are boys. Girls are more delicate.”

  His gaze ranged from Delaney to Peyton to Reggie. All of whom had been through the fucking wringer at one point or another. “Really?”

  “Good point, man.”

  Candles blown out. No one harmed. Josie went right for what she wanted. No surprise there.

  I took about a million pictures on my iPhone as she dug into the icing, taking out a purple pansy or some such flower the way I’d take out a blocker during a scrimmage.

  Good thing there was a second cake for everyone else.

  Later, Brooklyn hung an arm over my shoulder and one around Rafe’s, pointing us toward Austin and Micah—the twins taking after Brooklyn already taller than most one-and-a-half year olds—bouncing around with Charlotte and Josie in the jump castle. “One for each of y’alls!”