Forced Play for Libby (Men of Baseball #3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “I’ll be right outside the exit to escort you back.” I nod, unable to speak as he turns and leaves me alone in the tunnel.

  Loud voices boom down the hall and I watch as the group of baseball players make their way toward the lockers. As soon as their gazes find me, they suddenly go silent. If a pin dropped, we would all definitely be able to hear it. Carlos, Jarrod, and Jackson walk by me together, each of them sending sympathetic grimaces my direction as they pass. They aren’t reassuring me that I’m doing the right thing and the urge to flee courses through my body. Pete brings up the rear. His head is down as his fists are held tightly clenched at his sides.

  I reach out and wrap my hand around his forearm. He stops and turns to me, lifting his head. The fire in his eyes frightens me and renders me speechless. His hat is tucked into the back pocket of his tight baseball pants and I can’t help but notice the sheen of sweat that is on his face and neck. His shirt is tight too, showing off his colorful muscular arms.

  I lick my lips at the sight of him—feral, angry, dangerous, and so fucking sexy he makes me ache. Without a word, Pete picks me up by the waist and carries me into a lone bathroom. I know this is the bathroom Jarrod and Amalie fooled around in and I can’t help the thrill that rushes through me. Pete locks the door without a word.

  “Pete,” I say softly, afraid to say much else.

  He doesn’t speak as he unbuttons my shorts and yanks them down my legs, leaving me in my tank, shoes, and panties. I watch as his pretty green eyes darken and then I gasp when he roughly shoves two fingers inside of me. On the second pump of his fingers, I mewl and spread my legs wider. Just a simple touch from him is enough to turn me on, but this rough thrust of his fingers into my body is sending me into pure overdrive.

  Pete rips my panties off with his other hand and then pushes my back against the door, pulling his fingers out of me as he spins me around. My breasts and cheek press against the door while his chest presses against my back. His pants lightly scrape the skin of my sensitive ass, and I feel them, along with the rest of his gear, drag down his body, scratching my thighs before his hands wrap around my hips. He jerks me back, tipping my hips for better access. One of Pete’s hands leaves my hip and slowly runs up my spine to wrap around my neck.

  “You’re going to take my cock, sweet baby. You’re going to take it hard and you’re going to scream for me. I want this whole fucking stadium to hear you and know that you’re mine.”

  He drags his cock down the crack of my ass and then through my slit to touch my clit. I moan and push my hips out further. The slap to my ass happens so quickly—I yelp in shock.

  “I fuck you right now, Libby, not the other way around,” he grinds out through clenched teeth. I shiver at his words. His voice is rough and stern, but my body responds by softening and yielding to him.

  “Now be my sweet girl and take me. Scream for me, sweetheart.”

  On the last word, he quickly thrusts deep inside of me, going still once he is fully seated. He groans as his hands tighten, one around my hip and the other at my throat.

  Pete slowly pulls out of me, dragging his cock almost completely free of my body before he slams back inside, pressing my breasts even harder against the door.

  I send a prayer to the silicone gods that he doesn’t rupture one of my boobs.

  He repeats the motion a second time, and on the third, he tips my hips even more toward him. I cry out in surprise and slight discomfort. He’s so deep inside of me, so deliciously deep, it aches.

  The hand at my throat moves and wraps around my ribs before slowly sliding down the center of my belly. Then his fingers are at my mound. He doesn’t slow or soften his thrusts into my aching pussy when his fingers slowly begin to caress my clit. The simultaneous soft fluttering touches and rough thrusts are too much. I cry out, feeling my body edging closer toward my release.

  “Come all over my cock. Scream my name, sweetheart,” Pete whispers. His warm breath on my neck.

  Pete’s fingers on my clit suddenly begin to lightly tap and slap me. He starts to lose control, his rhythm changing as he erratically pulls out and slams back inside of me. I close my eyes and start to chant his name, louder than I should.

  I feel my body on the edge, so fucking close. I can’t get there, though, and I feel the frustration bubbling. Pete bites down on the back of my neck, hard. I scream louder than I have ever screamed in my life, and I come long and hard—so fucking hard. In the distance, I faintly hear Pete roar as his hand tightens on my hip and his release fills my body.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. That was exactly what I needed.” His lips lightly touch the tender spot he bit on my neck and I moan when he pulls out of me. My body is still plastered to the door and I’m afraid to move. I close my eyes and just breathe for a moment.

  “I can’t stay in here much longer. I ain’t playin’ the rest of the game, but I still need to be on the bench.”

  I turn around and notice his hand is outstretched, holding my shorts. His knuckles are red and raw, and I know they’ll surely have bruises come tomorrow morning. I take my shorts from him and drag them up my legs, sans panties. I cringe when the rough denim touches my sensitive center.

  “What happened out there?”

  “Got into a fight,” he shrugs, wrapping his hands round my waist in an effort to move me to the side. I stay, feet planted and rooted in deep.

  “Pete.” I narrow my eyes and he sighs.

  “He was crude and it pissed me off, all right?”

  “No, not all right. Tell me. You never get mad, not like that.” I watch as he runs his hand through his disheveled faux hawk and his eyes narrow on me, pinning me to my spot.

  “He was talking about fucking you. Happy now? He was describing, in detail, how he was going to screw you and your body. It pissed me off. You’re my wife, fucking mine, and he has no right to even think about you like that, let alone talk about it, and on top of that to me. He expected me to stand there and take it. Well, I goddamn fucking refused, all right?” He pushes past me and yanks the door open.

  I don’t see if anybody is in the hallway, I can’t, my focus is on Pete and Pete only.

  “No, not fucking all right. He’s a dick, but he wouldn’t be the first guy on earth to make a lewd comment about me. You can’t take it up the ass, Pete. He wanted to rattle your cage. You have to have a thicker skin than that,” I yell in the hallway.

  Pete marches over to me, his nose almost touching mine. He looks terrifying, his muscles tight and his fists clenched in anger.

  “No, I don’t got to have a thicker skin, Libby. He has to have some fucking respect, and I just schooled him. A man don’t disrespect another man’s wife like that. We may not be on the same team, but we’re co-workers, nonetheless. He needed to be taught some fucking respect. I don’t take shit up the ass, sweetheart; but keep talking and you will,” he says, ending with a smirk. I blink once, twice, three times, and then I growl.

  “Don’t make threats, Peter.”

  “Oh, Libby Baby, that wasn’t a threat. I fuck that sweet ass and you’ll be begging me for more. Now, go back up to the stands. If you’re a good girl, I’ll fuck that pretty pussy with my tongue later,” he coos, his voice soft with a stupid smile on his face.

  I growl and start to stomp away from him, only to realize the entire hallway is full of his teammates. My face turns crimson and then they all break out in applause. I feel like I’m back at the locker room after we had sex with everybody listening to us.

  Jesus, this man just lives to embarrass me.

  “Libby,” the man I’m currently pissed off at calls out. I turn to face him with my hand on my hip.

  “Save that attitude, sweetheart. I want to fuck it out of you later, make you all sweet again.”

  I flip him off and walk away to the sound of his laughter. Just as my hand touches the doorknob, he calls my name again. I don’t turn around, but I pause.

  “I love you, Libby Baby,” he calls out.

&nbs
p; I fight the urge to flip him off again and I turn my head to catch his eye.

  “I love you, too; even if you are an asshole,” I yell back at him. The bastard winks at me as he and all his buddies laugh. I open the door to a grinning Marcus.

  “You heard that?”

  “Fuckin-A, I heard every fuckin’ thing. Glad to see you’re a little firecracker. Exactly what these assholes need.”

  Marcus and I walk back to my seat in silence. I can’t help the little smile that plays on my lips as I think back to the exchange Pete and I just had in front of all of his teammates.

  Pete’s an ass, an ass that apparently wants everybody on earth to hear us have sex; but if anybody talks about me, he gets possessively pissed. I can’t help how much I like knowing that. I relish in the fact that he’s a little crazy like me, and fuck me, but I kind of adore that he just got into a public fist fight with a man who disrespected me.

  JARROD AND AMALIE’S PENTHOUSE IS littered with toddler paraphernalia and the disheveled sight makes me smile. Axel is toddling around and falls on his little diapered bottom more than once, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to stand and walk some more. I want to pick him up and cuddle him. He’s so sweet and his chunky legs just need to be tickled.

  “He’s a cute little guy,” Pete whispers behind me. I turn to see that he, too, is watching Axel attempt to walk around the living room.

  “He’s adorable and huge,” I laugh.

  “Yeah he is. Can’t wait until we’re in a place to have our own,” he murmurs, kissing my neck.

  I hold my breath for a second and close my eyes at the thought. I know he’s mentioned having children before, but right now it seems real. It could happen. More importantly, it will happen one day, hopefully.

  “No, Amalie, no more pictures,” Jarrod booms as he walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. Amalie is on his heels with a bottle of water and a look of murder, aimed right at Jarrod’s back.

  “This is my job, Jarrod. How can you forbid it?”

  Maggie is sitting on the sofa and she turns to look at me with wide eyes. She, of all people, knows exactly how Jarrod can forbid Amalie from doing anything. He’s a man—he’s her man—and he’ll steam roll over anything that he deems unacceptable, even if it pisses her off.

  Jackson is so domineering, he puts these other guys to shame; but that doesn’t mean that Jarrod, Carlos or Pete can’t hold their own in a battle of the caveman-clubbing-their-women competition.

  “I’m your husband. I forbid it. You’re having another baby, it’s time to give it up, baby. You’re famous, I’m famous, no need to continue showing your assets off. You’ve got a fuckin’ fantastic body, but can’t you keep it for my eyes only now?”

  I suck in a deep breath, oh, he totally played her. I watch as her eyes soften and a small smile tugs on her lips as she eats up his words.

  “Okay, fine. This will be my last year,” she whispers. Jarrod marches over to her and seals the deal with a scorching hot kiss. I feel a bit pervy watching them but I can’t seem to turn away. They are so sexy together.

  A few moments later, all of the guys leave the living room to go out on the balcony and drink beer, compare dick sizes, discuss car parts, or whatever it is that they do. Amalie, Maggie, Victoria and I sit in the living room, drinking water and watching the children play.

  “You know he played your ass, don’t you?” I ask when there is a lull in conversation.

  “Of course I knew. He thinks he’s the one in control of me. He doesn’t realize that I’m the one who allows him to be that way. He needs it and I get it. He needs to be the big man. I’m okay with it and, honestly, I’m tired of modeling. I mean, I love it, don’t get me wrong, but I never intended to do it after I had children. With this new pregnancy, I’m just exhausted.

  “Plus, Jarrod has set up alerts on my name on his phone, so he gets everything that mentions me. It just pisses him off when somebody writes something sexual about me. I spend so much time blowing him to make him forget, that I think I’m developing lockjaw,” she says, rubbing her jaw dramatically. I can’t help it—I burst out into a fit of laughter at her words.

  “You’re getting lockjaw and my ass is sore as shit. Carlos discovered my stash of sex toys that my cousin sent me, when I complained about him being gone so many days in a row, during the season. He’s now using them… creatively.”

  Maggie turns ten shades of red and I turn to her, my eyes narrowed.

  “We all know Jackson’s a big ass freak. Spill it, honey,” Victoria says, beating me to the question. Maggie’s face gets even redder.

  “Well, since finding out we’re pregnant, he hasn’t wanted to do anything… adventurous. I was getting annoyed, so I acted like a brat yesterday morning. Last night, he spanked me and then he bound me, and let me tell you, it was totally worth it.

  “Afterward, he was furious with me for acting out and not just asking, but you know men, they don’t listen to the subtle hints. Sometimes you have to do instead of say,” she says with a pink face and a smile on her lips. I smile back as I shake my head. I love Maggie, but their kink is a little much for me. Although, the few stories she’s told me do sound like a lot of fun.

  “What about you and Pete? How are things going there?” Amalie asks. I blush at the thought of just a few hours ago and what we did in that infamous bathroom right outside of the lockers.

  “Things are uh… they’re good. Pete is… well… he’s totally domineering and he has this weird thing he likes,” I confess. My three friends’ eyes widen at the same time, crazy smiles appearing on their faces.

  “Tell us. Please, tell us,” Victoria begs, practically bouncing in her seat. I giggle, taking a sip of water

  “He… well… he likes other people hearing us together. He likes them knowing he’s fucking me and that I’m his.”

  “Oh. My. God. I knew that boy was bad,” Victoria squeals, clapping. Amalie grins, all of her teeth showing. She looks slightly scary.

  “You got yourself a caveman. Enjoy it. No use fighting him about his… uh… preferences. Jarrod doesn’t have issue with other people hearing us either, and he totally has a thing about bathrooms.”

  We spend the next twenty minutes chatting, moving from sex talk, to baby talk. Even though I am the only person in the room without children or not expecting a child, I’m not sad about it. Not anymore.

  Pete has lifted my hopes about children. Right now isn’t our time to bring a baby into our relationship, but there is a sense of ease that washes over me at the thought. It is a possibility and that is the most important thing.

  “Well, I need some fuckin’ food woman,” Carlos bellows as he walks into the living room.

  “Do I look like your mother, Carlos? Am I in the kitchen making you any tortillas just because you bat your eyes at me? No, I am not. You’re fuckin’ hungry, you can order some damn food—for all of us.”

  I try so hard not to laugh, but when Carlos’ face turns bright ass red, I can’t hold it in.

  “Woman, you would do good to take notes from my mama. She’s always ready to fill my dad’s belly and he’s been at her side for forty years.” Victoria rolls her eyes and looks over at us.

  “Do you believe this pendejo?”

  “You better shut your trap woman or you’ll understand the definition of walking bow-legged tomorrow morning,” he warns, pointing in her direction. Victoria smiles widely and lifts an eyebrow at him.

  “How about you watch your ass, Los? How about your little collection of Amalie’s photos mysteriously disappears and ends up here in Jarrod’s hands?”

  “Now you’re making shit personal, Victoria, and you’re just begging for it when you get home.”

  I’m starting to get a little worried at their heated exchange, but Victoria stands and slowly walks up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck before she kisses his cheek. I watch as she whispers a few words in his ear and his body relaxes as his hands slide down to cu
p her ass, roughly squeezing her with a grunt.

  “Okay, we gotta go,” he almost purrs.

  The whole room erupts in laughter and we all start shuffling out of the penthouse, headed toward our own homes.

  Once Pete and I are inside of our apartment, I breathe a sigh of relief that this day is almost finished.

  “What do you want for dinner tonight, sweetheart? I’m beat, I don’t feel like going anywhere,” he says on a sigh. I smile and wrap my arms around Pete’s waist, burying my head in his strong chest.

  “How about I make you some dinner tonight? We’ve been eating out quite a bit.”

  Pete’s hand shoots up to my ponytail as he runs his fingers through the gathered hair falling down my back.

  “Yeah, I miss your home cooked meals,” he murmurs. I shiver slightly at his sincere words. He never complimented or said a word about my cooking in the past, so I wasn’t sure he even liked it.

  “What do you want, then?”

  “Do you have the stuff to make that sausage, potatoes, and bell peppers thing you do?”

  I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck as I roll to the balls of my feet and give him a soft kiss on the corner of his lips.

  “Of course,” I reply. Pete’s hands cup my ass and squeezes, sending a thrill throughout my entire body.

  “I like what you’re wearing today. You look younger. Happier, too.”

  I smile widely and squeeze him a little tighter to me before I twist out of his arms and head to the kitchen to make dinner. He doesn’t follow me. Instead, he hollers that he’ll be heading to the shower. I stop cutting up red potatoes and close my eyes, imagining him running soap down his chest. I lick my lips at my own imagination. All that water and soap running down his tattooed, sculpted chest.

  Pete walks into the kitchen just as I am finishing up dinner and wraps his arms around my waist from behind. One of his hands slowly slides up to cup my breast and slightly massages me as his lips touch my neck. Then his tongue slides out and tastes my skin.