“Fuck!” she cried out. “Hancock! I’m close.”
I smiled against her mound, and in an act of devilishness, I moved my hands from the backs of her thighs to the bottom part of her ass.
The moment my thumbs came into contact with the lips of her sex, I could feel the wetness there, saturating her.
“You want to sit on my cock?” I asked her, widening her thighs with my hands until I could slip my two thumbs between the folds of her sex. “Or do you want me to fuck you with my thumbs,” I pushed both of them inside of her at once, causing her to squeal. “Until you come?”
She was panting, her hips bucking as she tried to find her release.
I wouldn’t let it come, though. Not yet.
She had to answer me first. I returned to playing with her clit.
I grinned when she didn’t answer. Though, I knew that it was likely that she couldn’t. Not with the way I was filling her pussy as well as sucking on her clit.
“Sway?” I asked, pinching her clit between my teeth lightly before letting it go completely. “What do you want?”
“Your cock,” she breathed. “I want your cock!”
The smile that graced my lips was nothing short of triumphant.
“Then take it. Climb on and fuck me, Sway,” I ground out, yanking my towel away.
The moment the word ‘fuck’ left my mouth, she placed a knee on either side of my legs and began lowering herself onto me.
I worked quickly to line my dick up to her entrance, and the moment she felt it where she needed it, she took me inside.
Not fast, at least not at first.
Slow. So slow, that I thought she was literally trying to kill me.
What was it about this woman that had me acting like a horny teenager again?
I hadn’t wanted to come like this since I was fifteen and had lost my virginity.
I’ve had control over my cock and orgasms for years. But the moment she had me fully seated inside of her, I was ready to come. That wasn’t me.
I wasn’t acting like me.
So…ask me if I cared.
Because there was only one answer to that.
I didn’t.
Not one single bit.
“Fuck me, Sway,” I urged her, lifting her hips. “Fuck me hard and fast.”
She looked a little hesitant, maybe a little nervous, but when my hands went to her breasts, something seemed to click inside of her.
I held on to her breasts as she worked to take us both there.
The round globes of perfectly succulent flesh bounced in my hands as she hurriedly fucked me.
My head fell forward, and I brought Sway’s tight nipple to my mouth, pulling the turgid tip between my lips, biting, licking and flicking as I did.
Which only served to push her even faster.
I closed my eyes at some point as I started to hope that I could hold out long enough for her to come, and when I felt her lean forward, pressing both of her breasts into my face as she hugged my neck tightly, I realized that she was just as close—if not closer—than I was myself.
The moment she had purchase on my neck, she started to slam herself down, using her arms around my neck to steady herself.
“Oh, God,” her voice quivered in my ear. “Fuck yes!”
I started to come.
My cock swelled, and my release left me in a rush, filling her insides in warm, wet pulses.
Her orgasm overtook her at about the same time, and I cursed loudly as she started to massage me with that sweet pussy.
“Fuck!”
Her pussy rippled, and at one point I feared that she’d make me come again, but just as I was thinking it’d never end, it slowly waned until nothing else remained but some very delicious aftershocks.
The silence that followed was blissful.
So blissful, in fact, that I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave this place.
“Son of a whore, but that was bloody brilliant.”
We both froze and looked over our shoulders, but there was nothing there that we could make out through the darkness.
“Who is that?” she whispered.
Then she slapped me on the chest.
“Stop laughing,” she ordered.
I couldn’t help it.
I really couldn’t.
There was literally nothing that could be done at this point but to laugh.
“I can’t believe you made us do this outside. How much do you think he could hear?” she whispered.
“All of it!” came the British accent once again.
I winced.
“This is about as private as the room we were just in,” I whispered to her. “There’s nothing you can do on this porch that anyone can see. Look at the walls. They’re enclosed and separated by about a foot and a half of concrete.”
She shook her head.
“Let’s go inside. Maybe order some dinner.” She stood, leaving me feeling bereft.
Then a thought occurred to me.
“Shit!” I exploded. “We have to go!”
Sway’s confusion was evident on her face, and I was quick to explain.
“I promised one of the rookies on the other team that I’d have dinner with him. We’re supposed to be there in like twenty minutes.”
Sway followed me, and without a word, she got dressed and had dinner with us.
And as I watched her that night and during the next day, I realized that I was falling in love with this woman.
Hard and fast.
It was a feeling that hit me like that fastball straight to my throat. I couldn’t breathe, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be the same again.
Chapter 15
This year I will drink more wine and wear less pants.
-Sway’s New Year’s resolution
Hancock
I jogged up to the stadium’s side entrance that the players used and yanked the door open, practically falling inside the moment I felt the cool air.
“Motherfucker it’s hotter than a cow’s balls outside,” I gasped, leaning against the first wall I came to.
“That was eloquent,” Gentry drawled, arriving just after me.
“Fuck you,” I grumbled. “Why the fuck do I run with you, anyway?”
“Because you don’t want to be fat like your brothers,” Gentry shot back, reminding me exactly why I ran with him. “Well, all brothers but one.”
I didn’t want to be fat like my brothers.
Or my dad.
Not that they were fat, per se. But they did have beer bellies, and I knew for a fact that I would have one if I stopped working out and forcing myself to eat healthily.
I had a weak spot for beer and fried chicken.
I was a Southern boy, born and raised.
I liked my food fried, my beer cold, and my ladies soft.
Like Sway.
Gentry threw his arm out and caught me side armed in the shoulder.
“Let’s go,” he ordered. “Now, we have to go see your cute, little…”
We both stopped when we heard the anguished scream, then started running.
Rhys, the third baseman, came running out of the room like his ass was on fire.
“What the fuck, man?” I asked, stopping him before he could get too far.
“Something happened to George’s kid. I think…I think he died,” Rhys explained quickly, his face a mask of worry. “He’s pulling his goddamned hair out. I think we need to call 911, but I don’t have a phone.”
I slammed Rhys on the arm with the side of my fist.
He was a good man, but he didn’t know how to handle emotions. He was like a fucking blank wall. Getting the man to crack a goddamn smile was like pulling teeth. I wasn’t sure he even comprehended half the jokes that were said. Mostly because he had to be a fucking robot not to laugh at one of them.
And for him to think that George needed an ambulance was telling.
George, or Furious George, was the six-foot-six powerhouse who was the biggest man on the team.
He played centerfield and was damn excellent at what he did.
His hitting average was almost unheard of, and he was an all-around great baseball player.
Furious George, though, had a problem.
His temper, even on the best of days, wasn’t so great.
In fact, he’d lose it over just about anything if it rubbed him wrong.
“Gentry,” I pointed to Rhys. “Go get the truck.”
Gentry nodded and darted off, sprinting as if he hadn’t just run four miles with me.
I headed into the locker room, freezing at seeing a man as big and full of life as George was, on his knees crying.
For real, tears were streaming down the big man’s cheeks like they were never going to end.
“George,” I said roughly. “George. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He didn’t answer at first. In fact, I had to repeat myself three more times before I finally got anything out of him.
And what I heard was enough to gut me forever.
“My boy,” he cried. “He was in an accident, and they don’t expect him to live.”
“Which hospital?” I barked, trying to break through to him.
George’s back stiffened, and he turned his face up to mine.
And that’s when I saw the pure devastation there.
The anguish was apparent, but he seemed to shelve some of it, compartmentalize it until he had his head on straight enough to function.
“They flew him to Dallas. Children’s,” he answered, his voice breaking halfway through.
“Let’s go,” I ordered, snapping my fingers at him.
The ride to Children’s wasn’t very comfortable.
The entire time George kept his eyes straight ahead, staring blankly at the road in front of us.
I’d had to pee for at least the last hour of our drive from having downed two bottles of water right before the incident, but I wasn’t stopping.
Not until we got to the hospital.
“He was hit by a drunk driver,” George muttered into the quiet cab.
My heart fell.
I didn’t dare reply.
I didn’t want him going ape shit in the truck with me. I also didn’t want him to talk if he didn’t want to.
What I wouldn’t do for Gentry to be here right now.
I’d intended for him to come. Gentry was the smooth talker. The man that could get anyone to talk.
But George had taken one look at him and told him to go away.
Gentry had looked at me for guidance, and I’d shook my head, telling him without words not to bother.
Which led us to now.
Two hours into our silent trip.
“He was riding his bike with my ex-wife at the park, and the fucker lost control of his vehicle at the stop sign. Instead of turning right where there was a ditch, he turned left, right into my kid who only learned how to pedal the wheels of his bike last week.”
Tears burned my eyes.
The devastation in George’s voice was killing me.
I wanted to offer him words, but he knew, just as well as I did, that they would be empty.
I didn’t know if his kid would be alright. I didn’t know if George was ever going to see him again.
So again, I kept silent.
If anything, I could give him the knowledge that I was present. I was there for him if and when he needed me.
My phone started to vibrate against my leg, interrupting my thoughts as I drove.
My phone had rung no less than fifteen times since I’d gotten into the car with George.
I let it go to voicemail.
Again.
Three of the calls I knew were Sway. Two of them I knew were my mom.
Sway and I had played with my phone a couple of nights ago and made everyone I knew that called me specific vibrations that would alert me as to who was calling without looking at the display.
“This is the exit,” George pointed, no inflection at all in his voice.
I signaled and took the exit, then started to wind my way through the crazy amount of downtown Dallas traffic.
I didn’t drop him off at the front like most would.
I parked, knowing he’d scare the staff if he went in there with the way he was acting.
The moment I parked and got out, I got in front of George and turned, halting him in his progression to the door.
“Stop.”
George was three inches taller than me, and although it didn’t seem like much on paper, when you were looking up into the eyes of a six-foot-six man who was bound and determined to bowl you over, it was quite intimidating.
“Look at me.” I ordered.
George looked at me, his hands clenched into fists.
“Take a deep breath.”
He took a deep breath.
“Right now, your son and your ex-wife don’t need to see the crazy,” I ordered. “Your boy needs his dad, and your ex-wife needs her baby’s father. Don’t go in there flipping out on the first person you see, okay?”
I knew George. I’d spent the last six years of my life playing with him.
He didn’t get the name ‘Furious George’ for no reason.
I also knew, for a fact, that he was still very much in love with his ex-wife, and although I didn’t know the circumstances of their parting, I knew they both still spent quite a bit of time together. She came to his games. He went to her softball games, although they weren’t professional ball games.
They literally spent time together like husband and wife, minus the actual husband and wife designation.
“Thank you,” he said, and without another word, he walked around me and started into the hospital.
I made it to the receptionist first, making sure that George wouldn’t get a chance to bark at anyone if I could help it.
“Micah Hoffman,” I said to the man. “He was brought in by air-med about two hours ago by my count.”
The man’s face widened as he looked at me and George.
I knew what was coming, and I shook my head minutely at the man.
This wasn’t the time to be recognized, and luckily the man caught on and turned back to the computer.
“He’s in surgery. That’s on floor two. Use the bank of elevators right there, press number two, and when the doors open, turn to the right and the waiting room will be directly on your left,” he instructed.
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
We followed the man’s directions, and the moment we showed in the waiting room, George’s wife—ex-wife—barreled toward him.
“Georgie!” she wailed, throwing herself at him.
George’s arms surrounded her, pulling her in so closely that there was no space at all between them.
They both buried their faces into each other’s necks and started to cry.
I backed away to give the two of them privacy, stopping at the end of the hall where there were no rooms or doors.
Once I was far enough away, I pulled out my phone, ignored the missed calls, and immediately called Gentry.
“I got him here,” I said the moment he picked up.
“Good,” Gentry exhaled. “Any news?”
“No.” I shook my head. “When we got here the guy at the front desk said he was in surgery.”
Gentry exhaled. “It’s awful.”
It was.
“I’ve had calls from Sway and your mom. You might want to call them back,” Gentry continued. “They didn’t tell me why they called, but they both know that you had to take George to Dallas.”
I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll call them back now.”
The moment we hung up, I scrolled to Sway’s name and tapped it.
It rang twice before she answered.
“Is he okay?” she begged the moment she answered.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He’s still in surgery.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“Fuck,” she cleared her throat. “Your mom called me.”
“Yeah?” I asked in confusion. “Why?”
I could feel her hesitation, and my stomach started to sour.
“Something happened.”
“What happened?” I pushed.
“Something overseas. Your dad got a call. They think your brother was hurt on a mission.” she said quietly.
My stomach dropped for a second time that day and stayed somewhere around my knees.
“I’ll call you back.”
The moment I hung up, I called my mother.
“What’s going on?” I asked the moment she picked up.
My mother started crying.
“Mom!” I barked, not liking the hesitation.
“Your brother…he was hurt over there…they said,” she moaned between crying jags.
“Give me the phone, woman,” my dad’s barking command broke in.
I took a deep breath and waited.
My dad wasn’t the most eloquent man in the world, but I knew he’d get all the information across without having to hear my mother crying her eyes out.
“Your brother and his team were on a mission when they were ambushed. Three of his teammates are dead. Two were captured, and one was injured. That’s the one they think is your brother.”
“They think?” I pushed.
“Corvallis couldn’t give us much more than that,” Dad explained.
Corvallis was a family friend, and the leader of the team of misfits. When Corvallis left the Air Force, he lured my brother away, too. Helping him join the world of black ops, and together, they formed a covert organization that even I didn’t know that much about.
My dad and Corvallis had served together, and that bond was still as tight now as it was thirty years ago, though somewhat strained when Corvallis didn’t give us all the information we wanted, when we wanted it.
Corvallis had promised to keep an eye out on Hannibal, and he’d done so, giving us updates even though we didn’t sometimes like those updates. Like now.
“Where’s he at?” I croaked.
“Germany, for now,” Dad said. “Gonna head out later tonight.”
I rubbed my sternum, suddenly feeling so much turmoil rolling around in my chest that I didn’t know what to do.
Pitch Please Page 13
