I find Rick asleep on my couch when I walk in with the snacks. Now what? I was only gone a few minutes. (Note to self: Postgame snacks need to be pre-made.) He’s obviously tired. He did work all day. I wrap up the snacks and snuggle up against him on my couch. It’s late and I fall asleep next to him.
I wake up being carried to bed. Rick sweetly puts me in bed and climbs in bed next to me. I open my eyes to find him gazing at me contently, and it makes me smile.
“We fell asleep on the couch,” he says softly.
“You were sleeping on the couch after I made you snacks,” I corrected. “I figured you were tired and sat with you.”
He pulls me close and squeezes me tight. Uncomfortable still wearing my jeans, I work my way out of them and slip off my bra. Rick starts to play with my string bikinis and I discover he lost his pants at some point. I help him lose his shirt.
“I was planning on some long drawn out, teasing, sexual activity tonight. Your quickie move in the car threw me off, but I’m not complaining.” He runs his finger along the edge of my panties. “No car fun tomorrow. Tomorrow you're mine to play with.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. “But, what about now?”
The heat in his eyes ignite, he received the invitation he was waiting for. He moves toward me slowly while searching my eyes and touches his nose to mine before he kisses me sweetly. He kisses my eyelids. He kisses his way across my forehead and down my cheek to my ear and neck, leaving a trail that gives me chills when he blows on it. He meets my lips with his tenderly, just feeling and hardly moving. He sucks lightly on my lower lip as he moves his hands to my breasts. My breasts are a bit more than a handful for him and I can tell he appreciates the creamy softness. Massaging them thoroughly while he continues to kiss me. He’s so freaking sexy, I can hardly stand it. I want to jump him. I do my best to maintain control. What is it about this guy that makes me always want him inside me? I’m like a cat in heat. He separates my lips with his tongue and keeps his slow pace with his tongue against mine. Squeezing my breasts and playing with my nipples. It’s all so exquisite, and all I can focus on is how much I want him right now.
“Not yet,” he says.
I must have been talking out loud again. Not sure what I said.
“Please, I want you inside me now. I need you,” I plead needfully. Did that come from me? I swear something takes power over me. He deepens his kiss and my plea is getting to him. He slides a finger under the hem of my panties to explore me. A groan rumbles through him and he speaks against my mouth, “You’re so wet, is that for me?”
Unable to speak, I manage, “Uh-huh… Rick please.”
He slides his finger inside me while his other hand continues to fondle my breast and he moves his mouth to suck on my nipple. He sucks my nipple into his mouth hard, nibbling on my breast and occasionally biting my nipple. I’m hot and overcome with sensations. I can’t control myself and without warning I come hard. Rick immediately plunges his cock into me, sending me into a further spiraling orgasm. I scream out over and over, calling out his name as he continues to stroke his hard length into me, hitting all the right spots. It’s as if he’d been holding back and is finally giving me all of him. His pace grows quicker and he flips me over for an angle with deeper access.
I scream out, “Oh, oh, Rick!” panting heavily as he reaches down to touch our connection. He reaches around me, pulls my back to him, squats back into that catcher’s position and holds me on him. Moving me up and down on his long thick cock, almost bouncing me in the best position ever. His powerful legs allowing him the ability to drive me out of my ever-loving mind. It went on and on, with sounds of his pleasure being ripped from his mouth. I’d become a rag doll for his pleasure, completely sated and unable to even count how many times he brought me to orgasm. I was still experiencing aftershocks when he bent us over and continued to take me from behind, pounding with wild abandon. Instantly tightening up, his release taking over and out of his control. The bed slamming against the wall with his final thrusts. Unable to hold himself up, he falls on top of me. His heart racing and breathing heavy as he tries to regain control. The feel of his body and weight on me is delectable. A few minutes pass and he rolls to his side pulling me with him. I fall asleep with him spooning me tightly.
Chapter Eleven
“Baby, are you awake?” Rick whispers. ”You’re so beautiful and peaceful when you sleep. I love the way you give yourself to me. I want you all the time. I want your heart and your body.” Always easier to talk to someone who isn’t listening. Rick wakes me with a squeeze and says, “What are we doing this morning?”
I rub my ass against his cock.
“No more sex until after the game tonight.”
I make fake pouty noises at him and pretend to go back to sleep.
He smacks me with the pillow. I’m up and at him in full on pillow fight war in a split second. There’s something inherently wrong with a naked pillow fight war when you’ve been told you can’t have sex. Especially when your opponent has an appendage standing at attention.
“Hasn’t he been told he doesn’t get any?” I ask.
“He hopes he gets control instead of my brain,” Rick says.
“I’m on his side,” I tease.
“You’re killing me.” He pulls me to him and kisses me senseless. I take advantage of the closeness, maneuvering his willingness and embracing him with my thighs.
“Fuck,” he says. “You know I want you. I’m not supposed to have sex pre-game and over exert myself.”
“Come with me and let me do the work,” I suggest.
“You know I don’t work that way,” he says. “I’m an active participant. I promise I won’t fall asleep tonight.”
He starts to get dressed. I wonder if he wants to leave or simply have a layer of protection from sex.
“Would you like to walk over to the Yolk for breakfast before I have to go to the stadium?”
“Sure, I’m starving. Can you drop me off at my car before you go to work?” I ask. “It’s still in the transit parking lot from last night and I’m not walking or taking the bus to get there this afternoon.”
“No, you’re not. I’m getting you a parking pass.”
When I get to the game on Saturday and scan my membership card, the ticket that prints out is row 1 seat 6 in Field VIP Section 103—right behind home plate. First thought in my mind is I’m going to have the best view of his ass for 9 innings. I should’ve brought my camera. It’s nice to watch the game from a different vantage point, but it’s not my normal seat that I’ve spent many games in over the years—I’m not complaining about being closer to my man. Where did that come from? My man? I’m losing it.
I've been a baseball fan since I was a kid and I've had my favorite players over the years. You might see a guy walking down the street and think, “oh baby, he's hot!” Granted there are some super hot baseball players. But with me, it's always the music. Admittedly, I have musician issues, but the baseball players on my team have held my heart. The walk up music is the first attraction that grabs me. My favorites have walked up to the plate accompanied by Motely Crue's “Kick Start My Heart”, Quiet Riot's “Cum on Feel the Noise”, Metallica's “Seek and Destroy”, Black Sabbath's “Iron Man” and good hard rocking power. On the other hand, there have been a few players I would never even notice if they had legs all the way up to their neck because they walk up to a whiny, mushy, emotional song. I will never get what they're thinking with that, there’s no way a song like that’s at all threatening to the opposing team—unless they’re afraid he might need a hug rounding first. Seno fits into the hard rock walk up music category. Funny thing, hard rock is not the music I find myself listening to when I think of him, in fact I can't get “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran out of my head since we danced to it at the Batter Up.
A few times he turns around and smiles at me when he’s adjusting his mask and leg guards. I never knew leg guards were sexy, but they most definitely are.
Sherry,
Sorry we won’t be able to go out to dinner on our date tonight because of timing issues. Please order whatever you want and it will be charged to my account. Consider it part of our date. I’m sure this makes it hard to not think of me as a baseball player. You do like baseball, so maybe this is in my favor.
Rick
I decide not to fight it. I order a chocolate vanilla swirl ice cream in a mini helmet, a bottle of water and a bag of peanuts—dinner of champions. Usually I throw peanut shells at fans of the opposing team, but not today since there are no rows of people in front of me.
The game is going well. The best catcher ever calling the game. The pitcher, Tommy Knight, on point and hitting his spots. Not shaking off Seno’s calls. Cross is a catching machine in centerfield, seems he has a magnet connecting the ball to his glove. Everybody on the Seals lineup has scored at least once this game. During the seventh inning stretch, my ticket representative comes by to visit and gives me a bag from the team store.
“I’m helping a friend. He would like you to change into these before you meet him after the game,” she smiles and leaves before I can say anything.
I consider objecting and meeting him without changing, but I do have ice cream all over my shirt.
The Seals win 12-5, and the fans are ecstatic. The kids are lining up to run the bases and the rest of the fans are slowly making their way out of the stadium. As soon as there is room to move, I go to the ladies room to check out the contents of the bag and change.
Okay, I admit opening the bag is better than getting a surprise box from Amazon filled with everything in your saved for later cart. Leggings that say Seals down the left leg, a V-neck T-shirt that says Seals across the chest and Seno across the back with his big six, a Seals zip up hoodie customized like a jersey with Seno and his number on the back and the front, and a Seals baseball cap with the number six embroidered on the back. Everything fits properly, but the T-shirt is the best—the way it stretches across my breasts, yet isn’t too tight around my middle, is perfection. I make sure all the tags are removed and put my original clothes for the evening in the bag. I stop to use the mirror and make sure my cap is on without my hair sticking out everywhere and head toward the dugout.
When I get to the dugout, there are about two-dozen kids still waiting to run the bases. I hangout leaning on the dugout until one of the ushers comes to ask me to leave because the game is over. Right at that moment, Rick pops out of the dugout and says, “It’s okay, she’s with me,” and opens the gate onto the field for me. Smiling as he takes me in from head to toe, “You look good in my number.”
“I feel like you’ve marked your territory with your name and number on me,” I say giggling.
“Well, if I’m going to have you on the field then you need to represent and I don’t want any of the guys getting any ideas about you. In a way, I guess I am marking my territory,” he says as he pulls me into the dugout and kisses me silly. In no time our hands are all over each other and the heat level is stupid. Sucking on his tongue and his hard length pressed against me, trying to break free. He pulls away, “We have to stop this or we won’t get to what I have planned.”
“I’m happy with this, maybe the plan doesn’t matter,” I say red-faced through ragged breaths.
“We have limited time and can pick up this part after we’re done,” he says and leads me out of the dugout to the bullpen.
“Are you sure? We could handle the getting done part now,” I suggest.
He laughs as we walk to the bullpen. The stadium is empty and there’s nobody left out at the bullpen. The grounds crew is working on the field, otherwise we’re alone. As we walk into the bullpen, one of the grounds men calls out to Rick “about 40 minutes.”
“You told me you aren’t very good at catching and can’t hit. Since I’m a catcher, I thought we could play some catch and I can help you learn how to catch and throw better. Maybe hitting another time. What do you say baseball fan? Do you want private lessons from your major leaguer?” he plays.
“I definitely want private lessons, not sure catching and throwing is what I want the lessons in right now,” I reply jokingly.
He smiles, tosses me a glove and hands me the ball. “Now, throw the ball to me.”
I throw the ball overhand toward him, but it bounces about five feet short and a bit to the right. We continue to play catch until the grounds men kick us out, I was getting better with each toss. I’m not sure what I appreciated more, getting to observe his happiness playing ball firsthand, playing with him or the thought behind the date plans. I love how he thoughtfully plans dates and takes me along for the ride. By the end, I was throwing the ball far enough and within his reach. Progress.
At this point, the stadium is pretty much a ghost town. A few maintenance people roaming about and maybe a couple of players in the video room watching footage of the game. The music has become silent and most of the lights are off. Rick intertwines his fingers with mine and we walk to the dugout the long way, on the warning track. He pulls me with him into the dugout and down the stairs into the locker room. There’s nobody in the locker room but us. He walks to his locker to drop off his gear and leads me through the work out room to the players parking. He drops me off at my car in the parking lot across the street from the stadium and says, “Separate cars tonight, so you can’t take advantage of me. That’s good because I have plans for when we get back to your place.” The fire in his gaze and intentions in his tone are undeniable and make my body yell yippee internally. He leans into my window and plants one of his don’t-forget-me kisses on me.
We meet up in the parking lot at my complex and take the elevator up to the top floor. He has his hands on me before the elevator doors close and backs me up to the wall, lifting me to raise my neck to the same level as his mouth. Holding me there and sending me into a state of heated bliss with his kisses. The way he’s taking control. Something tells me the catcher will be calling the game tonight.
As the elevator door opens, he takes my keys from my hand and lets us in. Probably the only way we’d get in since I’m in La La Land. He leads me to the bedroom, puts his arms around me and holds me close to him for a long time. Eventually he turns to tend to my neck, nuzzling tenderly, licking and nibbling until it makes me shiver. We make out in each other’s arms for hours. The heat is palpable. His tongue controlling me as I do everything I can to encourage him. The softness of his lips on mine almost hypnotizing. His hands on me like they belong there and I belong to him. I want him to be in control. I want to give up control. I want to lose control with him. My head is racing in circles distracted by the facts: Tomorrow is Sunday, Sunday is a get-away day, Sunday games are early. Which means I will be alone tomorrow night—No Seno. I’m already dreading it. Is it possible to miss someone before they leave? If it is or not, doesn’t matter—I’m missing the man who has his arms around me and is kissing me right now. This is all pure insanity! I can’t miss him if he’s here! I don’t let any man have control of me! I don’t need a man! Or, maybe I do. How did this happen? It’s got to be because he’s a baseball player. And, now I’m back to he’s not a baseball player with me. Except he was a baseball player with me tonight. Private lessons from my own major leaguer and all. Damn! I start to freak out as my emotions take over and I’m in deeper than I thought. I escape with a fake “need to use the bathroom” and lock the door behind me. A total girl move.
A few minutes go by and Rick is at the door. “Are you okay?”
“No. Yes. I mean, I will be,” I reply through the door.
“What’s the problem? Do you want me to leave?” he asks.
May I claim the girl card now and not answer? “I don’t want you to leave and that’s the problem. Tomorrow is get-away day, then this will probabl
y all be over. I can’t believe how much of a big freaking girl I’m being right now. I blame you! It’s all your fault!” I say pouting.
“Sherry, come out here please,” he says in an authoritative voice.
I think about it, but make no action.
“Sherry. You know I leave tomorrow. You just said so. Let’s not waste the time we have tonight.”
I don’t like the way that sounds. Tonight is our last night. “I’ll stay in here, so I don’t get hurt more than I already will be.”
“I’m leaving for work. I’m not leaving to be away from you. I’ll be back to you,” he says.
“Say more things like that last part,” I say through the door.
“Not until you unlock the door and come out of there, like an adult,” he says.
I open the door and gaze up at him doe eyed.
“There’s nobody else. Only you, Sherry. I only want you. I want to spend more time with you. You’re the only one who makes me lose control. You’re the only one I can’t keep my hands off of. There’s never been another woman who drives my desire to be with them, protect them, take care of them and, yes, sex them the way you do.” He stares at me waiting for a response.
“You mean tonight or this weekend or this week, right?” I try to confirm.
“I don’t know how long. More than tonight or this weekend. More than this week. More than this season. Sherry, there’s nobody else while I’m with you and I hope there’s nobody else while you’re with me. I can’t tell you how long. All I can tell you is I can’t see an end right now,” he spews irritably.
The Sweet Spot (All About the Diamond #1) Page 8