Strike Out: Mustangs Baseball #6

by Roz Lee

  The fingers on her right hand toyed with the pencils in a cup on the corner of her desk. Her breasts rose and fell as she took a deep breath. Then she lifted her chin and looked at him.

  “I won’t do it for two reasons. One, because they’d put an end to my research. I can’t let that happen.”

  He nodded. She’d obviously put a lot of time, effort, and money into her project. Pulling the plug on it at this phase, and for those reasons, would kill it completely. The same way telling would kill his career. But he’d done the deed. He was man enough to accept what was coming to him. Hell, his career was on life support anyway.

  “And the second reason?”

  “Because I liked what we did.”

  Royce stared at her. He’d wrestled his body under control, but his brain was malfunctioning. It had to be. She could not possibly have said what he thought she did. “What?”

  “I said…I liked what we did. I know we can’t do it again, but—”

  “The hell we can’t.” One of his brains was functioning, and that was enough. He slid the deadbolt home, ensuring no one would walk in on them, then grabbed her hand. Dragging her into the far corner where no one peering through the narrow window in the door could see them, he backed her up against the wall.

  Pinning her wrists beside her head, he bent so they were face-to-face. She was breathing hard, and when her tongue swept across her bottom lip, he couldn’t squelch the groan rising from his throat. “You make me crazy when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Breathe.” He covered her mouth with his, sliding his tongue along the seam until she opened, letting him inside. She tasted of coffee and sugar, and like a caffeine addict, he couldn’t get enough.

  Dropping her wrists, he brought her hips up against his with one hand while the other angled her head so he could go deeper. A low moan rattling from her throat, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as if she were drowning and only he could save her.

  He thought he might die when she thrust her tongue between his lips, taking what she needed with bold strokes. Her fingers playing through the hair at his nape were his undoing. He wanted her. Here. Now. His career be damned.

  Definitely the smaller of his two brains making the decision, but hormones overrode common sense. He slid his hand between them, feeling like a blind man, and worked his way underneath the hem of her shirt to the waistband of her shorts. The button and zipper were no match for his determined fingers. In moments, he was stroking into her wet heat with one finger, then two.

  He broke the kiss, held her head so they were cheek-to-cheek. He inhaled deeply, taking in the musk of her arousal combined with the sweet rose scent he would forever associate with her. “God, sweetheart,” he breathed against her ear. “You are so fuckin’ wet.”

  “I want to feel you, too.” Before he could stop her, she dropped one hand between them. Finding his straining erection, she measured his length and girth, stroking him through the layers of his clothing. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

  “Push my shorts down. I need to feel your hand on me.”

  He forgot all about how wonderful her fingers felt in his hair when having shoved his shorts and boxers down, she wrapped her free hand around his aching dick.

  “Fuck, that feels good.” Her touch was untutored, sometimes light, sometimes tight enough to restrict blood flow, but he had no intention of stopping her explorations. When his release came, it would be all the sweeter for the little bit of pain endured along the way.

  “You’re big.” Her breath fanned over his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. “I could barely take you in my mouth.”

  Mention of the blow job she’d given him in the supply closet made his dick jerk with renewed enthusiasm. He’d never forget the ecstasy of her hot, wet mouth surrounding him. It would go down as one of his all-time fondest memories. “Next time I’m inside you, I’m going to be in here.” He fingered her pussy in a not so subtle imitation of what he’d like to do with his cock. Her hand tightened on him like a rookie in his first at-bat. Much more and he would come all over both of them.

  “Easy,” he said, trapping her and his cock with his free hand. When she stilled, he moved to her shorts. “Help me get these off you.”

  She did all the work while he held his dick out of the way, only letting go when he could press it up against her soft belly.

  “That’s better. Hold on, babe. I’m going to make you come.”

  The short top she’d worn today flared out at her hips, leaving her exposed. Tricia gripped Royce’s hips to steady herself. She drew him into her lungs with every labored breath she took. Beneath her palms, his skin was smooth and hot, his body chiseled granite. A bead of pre-cum cooled on her stomach where his cock rubbed against her.

  Flesh, tender from the previous evenings activities, magnified the ache of arousal between her legs. No matter how much she’d tried to convince herself otherwise, she wanted—needed—Royce’s touch.

  “Please.”

  “Shh, babe. I’m gonna take care of you.” He pressed his lips to her temple then to her cheek. No one had ever sworn to take care of her so passionately. Desire shuddered through her body. He worked his way down, leaving wet kisses along her skin then nuzzling her through the thin fabric of her shirt and bra. Her nipples, already tight, strained to get closer.

  His hands came to rest on her hips, then ever so slowly, inched beneath her shirt, learning her shape one rib at a time until his palms closed over her aching mounds. She moaned and melted into his hands.

  “So soft.” He squeezed and massaged while his lips continued their downward trek. When he pushed beneath her top and dipped his tongue into her navel, she came up on her tiptoes and curled her fingers into his hair. She tugged with all the strength she could muster, but he wouldn’t be budged.

  “Babe.” His breath raised goose flesh on her stomach. “I need to taste you.” He dragged the tip of his nose along her cleft as if to emphasize his point. “Open for me.”

  Before she could form an answer, yes or no, he had one of her legs draped over his shoulder. A hysterical laugh caught in her throat. No one, not even her gynecologist had ever examined her as closely as the man kneeling between her legs. She could feel his heated gaze on her, and it was enough to stir the well of arousal low in her belly.

  “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

  The first swipe of his tongue almost toppled her. Royce didn’t miss a beat. Continuing his intimate exploration, he raised one arm, trapping her thigh atop his shoulder while his hand pressed against her abdomen, pinning her against the wall.

  His mouth was magic. His tongue flicked over her clit then delved lower, rimming her entrance then thrusting inside her in a kiss any Frenchman would be proud of. She flexed her hips, opening herself more fully to him. He didn’t disappoint. He moved his mouth over her inner lips, stroking and sucking, bringing all her nerve endings alive in a way that was entirely different from his attentions the previous night, but achieved the same mind-blowing effect. A familiar tension took hold of her insides, tightening with every lick, every suck, every scrape of his teeth. She climbed toward the peak, her head thrashing back and forth as she struggled to contain the cries of pleasure threatening to escape.

  A tiny voice in the back of her head warned her of the folly of her actions, but like every time she was anywhere near Royce Stryker, reason sat on the bench.

  Hands flat against the wall, Tricia braced herself for the inevitable fall from the cliff. One more lick. One more nip at her clit.

  Her body convulsed while Royce’s mouth coaxed every last drop from her. Wrung out and weeping from the effort it took to keep from screaming his name, she collapsed into his arms. Holding her close, he turned them and slid down to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. Tricia curled into his lap like a weak kitten, unable to do anything but whimper and cry.

  What had he done to her? She wasn’t the kind of woman who fell apart because of an orgasm
. But with him? Falling apart seemed to be the norm.

  He held her head against his shoulder with one hand while the other skimmed over her lower body. When his fingers dipped between her thighs, she willingly gave him access. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

  Between being spanked to orgasm the previous night and what they’d just done, her pussy was beyond tender, yet with a few gentle strokes, arousal began to build again. She wiggled her bare butt. He’d somehow managed to pull his shorts back up. When, she had no idea. Turning her face into his shoulder, she groaned and opened herself wider. Were there no limits to her depravity?

  Apparently not.

  Sitting in his lap, half dressed while he patiently worked her toward yet another orgasm seemed like the most rational thing she’d ever done.

  He hadn’t meant to get her all worked up again, at least not so soon. He’d only wanted to touch her, to help ease the tenderness he’d caused, but the second she opened for him, he realized she needed more than just comfort.

  Whatever you need, babe. I’ll give it to you.

  Outside their door, he heard the normal level of activity to be expected this close to game time. Someone would come looking for him eventually, but until they did, there was nowhere he’d rather be than sitting on the cold floor fingering Tricia to orgasm as many times as she needed.

  She curled into him, and as her climax neared, her hands clenched into fists pulling his shirt tight. His shoulder muffled the gasps and moans issuing from her lips as pleasure tightened its grip. He held her while he crooned encouraging words into her hair. She was so damn sweet and trusting. Not to mention, responsive. He and Hannah had been together for a long time, and sex had been a healthy part of their relationship right up to the very end, but Royce couldn’t remember a time when his ex had given herself to him without reservation the way Tricia had every time they’d been together.

  When Tricia was no longer a part of his life, he’d treasure these moments spent with her. Until then, he was going to make sure she never forgot either.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Let it come.”

  He slid his fingers in…out…back in, all the while he used the heel of his hand on her clit. Every breath he took brought her scent into his lungs where, like most of his blood, it went straight to his dick. His balls were going to explode, but he was willing to make the sacrifice. For reasons he didn’t want to contemplate, Tricia’s pleasure had become more important than his own.

  She was so close. The walls of her vagina clamped down tight enough to cut off the circulation in his fingers. He managed to curl his fingertips up, found the hidden secret, and tapped. Once. Twice.

  Her orgasm was a thing of beauty, breaking over her like a summer storm—fast, violent, and in the end, peaceful. He cupped her pussy, capturing the flood of her desire in his palm while holding her close until her fingers eased their grip on his shirt and she spit out the wad of cotton knit she’d clenched between her teeth during her climax. His T-shirt was most likely a done for, but he couldn’t regret the loss. It had given its life in a good cause. He chuckled at the thought.

  “What are you laughing about?” Her voice sounded weak as a newborn kitten, but there was a trace of backbone to the tone hinting at the fierce cat on the horizon. Tricia was stronger than she appeared on the outside. He liked that about her.

  “My shirt. Is there anything left of it?”

  She smoothed the abused material with one small hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your clothes.”

  “No worries.” He covered her hand with his. “It’s a good thing you don’t have me wired up. Your computer would probably be dialing 9-1-1 right about now.”

  “Your pulse is racing.” The concern in her voice made his runaway heart swell almost to bursting.

  “Yeah, well, making you come is exhilarating, to say the least.” He used their clasped hands to tilt her chin up so he could brush his lips against hers. “I feel like I just ran a marathon, but instead of being tired, I’m ready to go again.”

  When she tugged her hand free and wrapped it around his nape, he kissed her again. Slanting his mouth over hers, he held nothing back. He poured every ounce of his desire into the kiss, drawing her lower lip between his teeth, thrusting his tongue deep inside to taste the uniqueness that was her.

  Someone tugged on the locked door, startling them apart. Thump! Thump! Thump! “Yo! Strikeout. You in there?”

  Royce recognized the voice. Antonio Ramirez, the Mustangs’ center fielder. What the fuck could he want, and how did he know to find him here?

  Tricia tried to scramble off his lap, but Royce held her easily with one arm around her waist. “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “He’ll go away.” The last thing they needed was for her to accidentally move into the line of sight the narrow vertical window in the door allowed. Better to pretend they weren’t there until she had her clothes back on and his erection abated. Tricia ceased her attempts to stand, but her posture was anything but relaxed.

  Royce cupped her jaw, turning her face to him. He saw fear and something else, embarrassment, perhaps, in her eyes. She had to be feeling vulnerable, sitting across his lap in nothing more than a thin T-shirt while he was still fully dressed. He brought his mouth to her ear. “Don’t move a muscle. Don’t make a sound.”

  Easing back, he looked into her eyes. She bit her lower lip and nodded.

  Releasing her, he sat up straight, reached over his shoulder, grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head. Leaning back against the wall, he draped the knit fabric over her lap, covering her just in case someone managed to find a key to the room. Instantly, Tricia relaxed in his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her breath seared his skin then she touched her lips to a spot behind his ear lobe. The tiny kiss of thanks unraveled what was left of his resolve to leave her alone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Calling a halt before he went another round with Tricia left him agitated, not to mention frustrated, but they had no choice. They’d taken too many chances at the stadium all ready. Hell, anyone with a key could have walked in on them earlier, and the idea of anyone else seeing Tricia in a compromising position made his blood boil. Not gonna happen. The next time he got her naked, she’d be in his bed, and they weren’t going to stop with what amounted to glorified making out. As far as he was concerned, she was his, but he needed to stake his claim by fucking her until neither one of them could stand.

  “Meet me after the game. We’ll go to my place.”

  She held on to his arm while she stepped into her panties. Hannah had never worn plain white cotton panties, not even when they’d been in high school. He’d teased her about the inexpensive garments with cartoon characters or suggestive words printed on them, so when he began making money, she’d switched to expensive lace and satin. He was never sure if she made the switch to end the teasing or if she really thought the fancy stuff was more attractive. If she’d bothered to ask him, he would have told her to go back to the discount store. But she never asked, and he never spoke up.

  “Nice panties.”

  Tricia’s face flamed. She grabbed her shorts out of his hands and stepped into them quickly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to see them.”

  “Come here.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close. With his free hand, he released the button and zipper on her shorts. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I really like your choice of undergarments.” His fingers stroked the soft fabric covering her stomach. “I know you weren’t trying to seduce me or anyone else, but trust me, these are sexy. I’m going to have a bat in my pants all night thinking about taking these off of you later.”

  He refastened her shorts and stepped away. “Meet me after the game?” He repeated his earlier words, asking this time instead of demanding. Grabbing his shirt off the floor, he pulled it over his head. Every second he waited for her answer seemed like a lifetime.

  “Okay.”

  Relief wa
shed over him. He smiled and drew her back into his arms for a quick kiss. “Just so you know. I’m going to take you to bed tonight, Dr. Reed. I’m going to peel those sexy panties off and fuck you all night long. If you aren’t on the same page, then go home now.”

  He didn’t wait for her answer. Couldn’t bear to hear her say she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t be there to meet him tonight. He’d deal with the possibility she didn’t want him the way he wanted her when the time came.

  ***

  “You lookin’ for me?” Royce caught up with Tony in the locker room.

  “Yeah, man. Doyle said you were working with some researcher or something. He wasn’t too clear, but I gather I’m supposed to be her next test subject. He said you would introduce me and fill me in on the program.”

  Images of Tricia’s hands on Tony flashed through Royce’s brain. Fuck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known more subjects would be needed for her research, but for whatever reason, he’d never considered they would be his teammates. Holy hell.

  “She’s not ready to take on anyone else yet.” He had no idea if the statement was true or not, but he’d be damned if she was going to put her hands on another man, especially Tony Ramirez. The center fielder was married to the stadium organist, but it was no secret he was once a member of Bases Loaded, a secret sex club within the league. “I’ll let you know when that changes.” Don’t hold your breath, buddy.

  “Hey, no problem. I’m not sure I want to be some scientist’s lab rat, but Doyle said this was something the League wanted to see completed.” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll see it through, though I’m not happy about it.”

  “Me either, but I was hardly in a position to say no. Management is hoping for a miracle cure for my inability to throw strikes.”

  Tony smirked. “Sex, man. Lots of sex. It’s the answer to everything.”