Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  Now, I feel like I only make that home run to hear the click of her camera.

  That sounds narcissistic — and there isn’t an athlete alive that isn’t just a little bit — but it’s not the rush of seeing myself in photos that drives me. It’s the fact that it’s her eyes behind the lens. Daisy is watching. She’s admiring me and thinking about me and that just gives me an extra rush that I’ve never felt before.

  I listen for the crack of the bat because later on, after the stadium has cleared out and the scoreboard has been reset, I’ll ride back to my motel room and she’ll be there with an ice pack to cool me down with and a bed to warm me back up in.

  That’s where I’ll hear her voice in all its different forms.

  She’ll talk — a lot — because that’s what Daisy does; about the article or her sister or the baby and all the “fun stuff” it’s doing to her body (her words, not mine).

  She’ll laugh — a lot — because that’s what I make Daisy do when the conversation gets a little too real.

  She’ll moan — a lot — because even the most serious of conversations or the most exhausting of road trips can’t stop us from blissfully getting lost in each other for a little while almost every night.

  And sometimes in the morning.

  I rest my palms on the shower walls, breathing hard to combat the growing steam hovering around me. Taking a piping hot shower isn’t normally my go-to wake-up call at the beginning of August but having a beautiful woman’s lips wrapped around my cock isn’t either.

  Especially not one that’s carrying my child.

  I gaze down at her little, blue eyes staring back up at me from her place on her knees. Daisy, Jenny, whatever. I bite my tongue instead of calling her name, far too turned on by her wicked mouth to think straight.

  Daisy rolls her tongue around the tip before bobbing it even deeper towards her throat and a groan escapes me.

  “Fuck,” I say, laughing softly as she throats me a little deeper.

  She chuckles and the vibrations rattle my shaft, firing even more blood towards it, killing my brain and I try not to pass out.

  “Ohhh, Hunter? You in there?”

  I freeze, hearing that southern drawl from the other side of the shower curtain. Daisy’s eyes grow wide as she pulls my disappointed cock from her mouth.

  “Is that…?” she whispers.

  I clear my throat and gesture for Daisy to keep her head down. “Trisha?”

  “Good morning, honey.”

  I grab the side of the creme-colored curtain and poke my wet head through it to find her leaning against the bathroom doorway. “Hey…” I say, holding the curtain tightly closed. “How did you get in here?”

  She smirks. “You left your door unlocked.”

  “I did?”

  Daisy flicks my groin. Hard.

  I flinch. “Well… I, uh… I’m in the middle of a shower here, so—”

  “I won’t keep you, Hunter,” she says, her eyes shifting downward, hoping I’ll slip up and she’ll catch a quick glance. “I just wanted to ask you something before the game today.”

  I wait, feeling the hard water strike my back, but she stays quiet. “And that is?”

  “Your pal, Devin,” she begins, pushing off the door and taking a few steps closer, “what’s his story?”

  “I don’t—” Daisy’s mouth envelopes me again and I laugh, submerged in that warm paradise between her lips. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s from New Jersey, right?”

  I nod, trying hard not to focus on each lap of Daisy’s tongue along my shaft. “Yeah, I think.”

  “Any idea what he does during the off-season?”

  “I, uh—” I grit my teeth at the sudden, fierce suction.

  “Does he talk about a girlfriend back home?” she asks. “Any ties to speak of?”

  I wrap my fingers around Daisy’s hair. “You’d have to ask him, Trisha.”

  She winces. “I guess I will, then.” Her eyes drop again, taking a long look at my exposed arm. “Anyway, I’ll see you at the game.”

  “Okay. Bye, Trisha.”

  I wait with patient, steady breaths, listening closely for the door to latch closed behind her. When it finally does, I whip my head back into the shower and stare down at Daisy’s wide grin.

  “You’re a bad girl,” I scold her.

  Her nose curls upward as she laughs at me. “A little.”

  I bend down and pick her up off the floor. “A very bad girl.”

  She cackles as I pin her to the wall and she wraps her legs around my waist. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

  “Not as much as I’ll love this.”

  I grind into her, feeling her wet pussy stretch for me and she digs her claws into my back. She so slick, so warm, my brain turns to dust again and all I can do it pound her over and over again in my arms.

  She purrs in my ears, cheering me on louder with each deep thrust. “You going to hit a home run for me today?”

  “Yes.”

  “You going to hit two for me?”

  I chuckle, feeling my loins tighten and throb. “How about I hit three?”

  “Make it four.” She bites into my earlobe. “And make sure you get a double play, too.”

  “A double play?” I gawk at her. “I can’t promise that.”

  “Oh, come on,” she teases between rapid breaths. “You can do it — especially after this. Sex is totally a performance enhancer.”

  I laugh as the pressure builds. “That’s a myth.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen it.”

  “With who?”

  She bites her lip, refusing to say. “Get a double play and I’ll come all over this big dick.”

  “You will anyway.”

  I grind her deeper and harder, watching the stars in her eyes as her body does what I want it to. I feel that muscle surging inside of her, twitching wild with orgasm. My eyes fall to her little body. It’s changed — not a lot — but I’ve seen enough of her the past few weeks to notice the small details as this baby takes over her body.

  One last thrust is all it takes. I come deep inside of her, not afraid to stay in as my seed fills her. It’s freeing and crazy and absolutely sexy, especially how she quivers with delight as I do it, almost as if the very feeling of it gives her another light climax.

  I kiss her hard, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth as I listen to those soft moans on her breath. She releases her legs and I slide back from the wall to let her down.

  “Four home runs and a double play?” I ask again.

  “Yep.”

  I sigh. “You’re a tough lady to satisfy, you know that?”

  “What can I say?” She licks her playful lips. “I like impressive men.”

  “Being Home Run Hunter isn’t enough?”

  She shrugs, refusing to answer.

  ***

  “Hunter, I gotta know…” Trisha glances at me over her sunglasses, “how the hell are you able to crack so many home runs every game?”

  I laugh and shake my head, stealing one quick glance at Daisy as I stretch my arm over my chest. “Well, it’s not easy, I’ll tell you that much.”

  Daisy takes a few steps back and raises the camera to get a shot of the team; all of us piled into the dugout and pumping ourselves up for the upcoming game. She pretends not to listen to us but I see that subtle twitch of her ear as she waits for my answers to Trisha’s questions.

  “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, Hunter,” Trisha says, sliding her notepad into her back pocket, “but there are some awfully important people from the majors in the crowd today.”

  I pause. “Really?”

  She scans the stadium with a smile. “If you’ve got some trick up your sleeve, today would be the day to show it off.”

  Daisy takes a photo of me and my eyes flick to her as she studies the picture on the viewfinder.

  I’m a little curious myself what my face looks like right now. Playing in the minor leagu
es is a constant audition in the first place. Any game, right down to the play, can mean the difference between trading you or keeping you to a team manager. If the right people see the right things, that trade could be a step up from Double-A to Triple-A or, even better, getting your name on the 40-man roster to play in the majors.

  I take a breath to calm my nerves. I’ve had adrenaline pumping through me since that extra-long shower this morning. Maybe Daisy was right about that performance enhancer.

  Daisy reaches for her phone in her pocket and turns away as she holds it to her ear. Her voice carries on the summer breeze, just barely reaching me over the growing hum of the crowd.

  Trisha rolls her eyes. “I swear, that girl can’t focus for more than ten minutes.”

  “She’s doing a great job,” I argue. “Probably just her sister.”

  She gives an indifferent nod as she yanks her notepad out again. “So—”

  “Sorry, Trisha, I gotta boot ya from the dugout,” Coach Carl says. “Game’s starting.”

  The team groans, obviously disappointed that they’re losing their favorite cheerleader.

  “It’s okay, boys,” she says, licking her lips. “I’ll see you after the game.”

  She blows us a kiss before climbing up the stairs to find her seat.

  I sit down on the bench and take a deep, calming breath as I stare out across the open diamond ahead. You make every game count in the minors. Every play. Every hit. My ears twitch, somehow detecting Daisy’s voice somewhere nearby and I can’t help but turn around and look for her.

  “You’re in love with her.”

  I furrow my brow at Devin sitting on the bench beside me. “Trisha?”

  “Do I look like I’m talking about Trisha?” he asks, tilting his head. “Daisy. I’m talking about Daisy.”

  “No, I’m not in love with her,” I say. “I’m in lust, maybe…”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “It’s not every day a beautiful woman lets me have constant, unprotected sex with her.”

  He chuckles. “Sounds like love to me.”

  “She’s like a cat in heat,” I explain, “and the only thing that will satisfy her is my dick.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, what’s not to love?”

  “Nothing. She’s smart but not snooty about it. She’s funny but doesn’t try to be. She loves baseball — probably knows more about it than I do.”

  “Then, what’s wrong?”

  I force a shrug. “I don’t know. I just haven’t thought much about it. I’m taking my time.”

  “Well, you should probably start calling it something because I guarantee you she has.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  He nods. “Definitely.”

  “Well, I think you should worry about your own problems,” I tease. “What’s the deal with you and Trisha?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I chuckle. “One day she’s using your shoulder as a pillow and the next she’s barging into my shower and asking me about your story.”

  Devin flashes a smug grin. “She did, did she?”

  “She did. What’d you do?”

  “Nothing,” he says, his lips continually curling. “I went down on her a few times.”

  “Of course, you did.”

  “Hey, you wanted me to distract her. I’m distracting her. Wait…” He looks at me. “She barged into your shower?”

  “She barged into my shower,” I confirm.

  “What’d she see?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Oh, come on,” he whines. “What’d she see?”

  I sit and smile.

  “Dammit. Now I have to compete with your giant, donkey dick.”

  I laugh. “What makes you think I have a donkey dick?”

  “Of course you have a donkey dick, man,” he says. “Fuck.”

  “She didn’t see anything, Dev,” I say. “She never got past the curtain.”

  “Thank Christ…” He heaves a sigh of relief. “I’m right about that donkey dick, though, right? Eh?”

  I shake my head with amusement.

  Chapter 18

  Daisy

  “How are things with your boyfriend?”

  I wince and pause at the top of the stadium section. “No. That doesn’t work for me, either.”

  Rose sighs. “Well, we have officially run out of labels.”

  “I just don’t understand what he’s supposed to be yet,” I say, balancing the phone on my shoulder and raising my camera to get a wide shot of the field. “He’s not really a fuck buddy but he’s not my boyfriend, either.”

  “He’s your sperm donor,” she quips.

  “Well, I can’t argue with that one.”

  “Have you talked to him about this?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  I hesitate. “I don’t wanna.”

  “Daisy.”

  “Every time I’ve ever had the relationship talk with a guy, it’s all over by the end of the week. Every single time.”

  She sighs. “Daisy, Hunter is not going to leave you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he adores you.”

  I sit down in an empty seat to rest my throbbing feet. Flats just aren’t as comfortable as a good, old-fashioned, pair of sneakers. Maybe I’ll grab a pair from my place when we drive into Hartford later tonight. “What makes you think that?” I ask her as I rub my ankle.

  “Why else would he have stuck with you so far?”

  “Because we have great sex,” I say plainly.

  She sighs. “Don’t you think that maybe — just maybe — you two are using sex as an easy escape hatch?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “It sounds like you guys rely on your alter egos to step in whenever you want to avoid talking and dealing with your issues.”

  “Jeez,” I say. “I thought you were studying Chemistry, not Psychology.”

  “You don’t have to be Freud to see what’s going on here,” she says. “Talk to each other. The next time you guys start wandering towards the bed, pump the brakes. Use that as an opportunity to talk about what really matters, even if it’s just for five minutes. You might be surprised by the results.”

  “Yeah, or I’ll be single again,” I point out. “And still pregnant.”

  “Talk to him and find out.”

  I frown. “Nah.”

  “Well, has he said anything to make you think he’d bail or are you just projecting irrational fears?”

  “I saw his face, Rose,” I argue. “If you saw it, you would agree. No matter what he says, I saw it. There’s only one thing he wants in this world and that’s to play major league baseball.”

  “Daisy, are you familiar with the term self-fulfilling prophecy?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, Rose.”

  “So, you know why I’m mentioning it now?”

  “To annoy me?”

  “No…” she says. “I’m mentioning it because Hunter liked you before the baby, he likes you after the baby, and the common factor of both of those things is you.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that there is no chapter in What to Expect When You’re Expecting that tells you to expect your partner to leave you, so you should not be expecting that.”

  I scoff. “You read that crap?”

  “You haven’t?”

  “Nah, I figured I’d just wing it.”

  “Daisy…”

  “Women had babies for millions of years before pretentious how-to manuals,” I chuckle. “The human race did just fine. I’m sure I’ll be fine, too.”

  She groans. “Please tell me you’re — at the very least — seeing a doctor at some point.”

  “As a matter of fact,” I nod, “I have an appointment tomorrow morning in Hartford. Getting my twelve-week ultrasound and everything.”

  “Thank
god,” she says. “You excited?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Is Hunter?”

  I bite my lip. “I actually haven’t told him about it yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t want to distract him,” I say. “He’s got enough on his mind right now.”

  “Self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  “Rose, if I wanted someone to nag and berate me, I would be talking to Mom instead.”

  “I can put her on,” she says. “She’s in the other room.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “And speaking of not telling people stuff, you think you’re gonna get around to telling her about this soon?”

  I wince. “Yeah, soon.”

  My phone vibrates and I check the screen to find a new text from Trisha.

  East exit. Now.

  “Rose, I gotta go. Trisha is beckoning me.”

  “Okay. Let me know how the appointment goes, all right? And tell Hunter about it.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  I slide my phone away and take one last wide shot of the field as the home team takes their place on the diamond before heading back down the stairs to the exits.

  “There you are!” Trisha scolds me as I round the corner. “Where have you been?”

  “I was getting a few shots from the top,” I explain. “What’s up?”

  She shifts on her feet and slides her sunglasses back to rest on her head. “I wanted to tell you about this earlier but I couldn’t find you. You weren’t in your room.”

  I think fast. “Oh, I had to run out early for new shampoo. The motel stuff is starting to eat my scalp—”

  “So, the editors at the magazine are quite impressed with the shots you’ve sent in so far,” she says, talking over me.

  “Really?”

  “And I must admit…” she forces the words out, “I don’t think they’re that bad, either.”

  “Wow, thank you, Trisha,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn red. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  “I know,” she nods. “I had my doubts about you at first but we get along well enough.”

  “Well enough for what?”

  She smiles. “The magazine wants to bring you on full-time.”

  My heart pounds. “They do?”

  “Our New York guy is getting sick of commuting around New England — and who could blame him — but you live in Hartford. Any plans to move anytime soon?”