Forced Play for Libby (Men of Baseball #3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Peter,” I yell, annoyed as shit. He just chuckles as he slides deep inside of me, filling me in one swift move.

  “Libby Baby?” He whispers, his eyes focused on mine. I want to continue to be annoyed with him, but it all feels too good, so good that I can’t. I wrap my legs around his waist to hold him deep inside of me, and I'm rewarded when he moans.

  “I love you, Pete. I’ll go wherever you are. You’re my happiness,” I admit sappily.

  “My sweet baby. I love you so much. Wherever you are is where my heart is. You’re my world. If you don’t want to leave the city, I don’t have to play. I have money, I don’t have to work,” he admits; but I can see the pain in his face. He loves playing ball. A piece of him would die inside without the game.

  “I want you to play. Where we go, we go together,” I say, grinning before clenching the muscles of my pussy. He gasps before he groans.

  “Hold on, Libby Baby. I need to fuck that sweet pussy, hard.”

  I mentally prepare myself and Pete doesn’t disappoint. He pulls out of me, completely, before he slams back inside, almost punishingly. The pain feels so good as he repeats the motion over and over again. Pete’s free hand plucks my nipples, one right after the other, before it slides down my belly and his thumb rubs firm circles on my clit. My hips meet his as I rise closer toward my release.

  “I need to feel your pussy strangle me, Libby. I need you to come around me,” he groans. As if his words light some kind of fire within me, I come after just a few more strokes.

  “Fuck,” he groans before coming inside of me, twitching and filling me. He then collapses on top of me and releases my wrists from his grasp, only to slide his hands behind my back and pull me even closer into his warm body.

  “Everything will be okay, Pete. Maybe we need a bit of a fresh start,” I say softly, running my fingers up and down his back.

  “Yeah, that’d be nice,” he whispers against my skin. Within moments, we are tangled in each other’s arms and passed out asleep.

  “Free agent?” Jarrod booms as we sit down to his and Amalie’s dinner table.

  We’re enjoying a group dinner the evening after we found out my father was behaving like a royal asshole. Pete is going to be traded. There is just no way around it. My father is being petty and cruel, the only way he knows to behave, apparently.

  The more I think about leaving New York, the more excited I become. I’m going to miss all of my friends, and of course my Grammy Lillian. She has been coming over every other day for Yoga. What I won’t miss is my father, or the reminders of the years I suffered in silence in my failed marriage.

  I can’t help thinking that maybe we need this fresh start, for us.

  “My dad’s acting like a dick,” I admit. Everybody turns to look at me.

  “He is. He’s threatened to pull his sponsorship if they don’t get rid of Pete. We don’t want to fight it. With everything that’s happened, we see it as a blessing, really,” I say with a shrug. Pete slings his arm over my shoulders.

  “Does it blow? Yes. Will I always be a Yankee at heart? Abso-fucking-lutely. But this’ll be good for Libby and me,” he says gently, quietly.

  Our friends look at each other and then back to us in complete silence.

  “I love it,” Amalie says with a big grin, breaking the silence. “I don’t want you to move, but what I see right now? The two of you loving each other? I love it. I think that it will be a good fresh start.” She smiles and the rest of the group chimes in with their congratulations and positive opinions. It feels good to have people push their own feelings aside and just be supportive.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask Maggie once we’ve broken into our boys outside, and girls cleaning up inside, groups.

  “Better. It was touch and go there for a while,” she admits, almost sadly.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I say with a smile.

  “I’m so glad that you and Pete are doing so well, honey.” She wraps her hand around mine and squeezes. “I could tell something was wrong. Your eyes gave you away. You looked just like I did when I was with Sammy.”

  My heart aches just thinking about sweet Maggie feeling an ounce of what I felt all those months ago. Nobody should ever feel that way. The fact that Maggie is happy, healthy, and so in love that it’s almost sickening, it gives me even more hope. I wrap my arms around her and give her a hug.

  “I’m so glad we’re happy girls now,” I whisper into her ear. I hear a throat clearing at the doorway. It reminds me of a few years ago when we were all caught fondling each other’s breasts.

  “Can you grab her ass, Libby, give us a good show?” Carlos asks, wagging his eyebrows. My hand starts to travel down Maggie’s back as she giggles into my shoulder.

  “Touch my ass and you’ll regret it, Libby,” Jackson barks. It’s so commanding, so frightening, that my hand freezes on her lower back.

  “Lexington, you are no fuckin’ fun,” Carlos almost whines as Maggie and I break our hug.

  “That may be, but nobody touches that ass but me,” he growls. He stalks over to Maggie, as if he has to replace my touch with his, to erase any feeling I could have left behind on her skin.

  “Nothing personal,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming over her entire body.

  “None taken,” I laugh, holding my hands up and backing up a few steps.

  “This bunch is becoming old and boring. First, Amalie gives up modeling, so my spank bank will never be updated. Now, the girls can’t even grope each other anymore. Get out, McGrath. Get out while you still can. Maybe the next team will have more fun. You let me know, I might be a free agent for that promise,” Carlos yells.

  Everybody just looks at him before we all start laughing. He’s so full of shit. He may actually be in the running for the most possessive alpha in the room, next to Jackson. Jarrod comes in as a close second. Pete tries to be, but I buck the system and do whatever the hell I want, within reason.

  “I really think this will be a great thing,” Amalie says, again, as we start to leave for the evening. The boys all have practice and weight training tomorrow morning, so we’re heading home before it gets too late.

  “I think so, too,” I admit quietly. Amalie smiles widely.

  “You two are so in love. It makes us all so happy to see that. I always knew that Pete loved you, but now that things are so much better between the two of you, it’s just so beautiful,” she says. A small tear rolling down her cheek.

  “Don’t make me cry, you bitch,” I deadpan. She just laughs, pulling me in for a hug. I hear Carlos gasp as I squeeze Amalie’s abundant ass and then Jarrod growls. He sounds like a fucking mountain lion and I should probably be scared, but Jarrod is really a pussycat.

  “Hands off, McGrath,” Jarrod says, low and deep. I giggle as I back away from Amalie and look in his eyes. They are sparkling with humor and I’m glad to see he isn’t truly mad at me.

  “You’re crazy, you know that right?” Pete asks as we drive toward our apartment.

  “Well, no shit, Peter,” I laugh.

  “I thought Jarrod was going to try and rip your arm off. I’ll fight for you, baby, but Jarrod is a big fucker. I’m not sure I would even attempt that one.”

  “You wouldn’t defend your woman?” I gasp.

  “Against Jarrod? Baby, don’t put me in a situation you know I’ll fuckin’ fail at. I’m no slouch, but that guy has me beat by at least forty pounds of pure muscle.”

  I think about how gigantic Jarrod is from head to toe, and I agree that Pete wouldn’t stand a chance against the Jolly Blond Giant.

  Pete’s over six feet tall and built beautifully, with muscles all over; but Jarrod is freaky, he’s so big—well over six and a half feet. If I ever were in a creepy dark alley, I would always choose to have Jarrod as my defender—every single time.

  “Stop thinking about Jarrod and his body.” Pete interrupts my thoughts and my head whips over to look at him as he parks our car.

  “I
wasn’t…” I say, none too convincingly.

  “Bullshit, sweet baby. Just for that, I think you need to suck my cock when we get inside.”

  I laugh and shake my head. Pete’s eyes narrow, but I’m not telling him no, I just don’t want to wait until we get inside. I reach over and grab his belt, open it, and unbutton his jeans before tugging his zipper down. I take his semi-hard cock out of his jeans and lightly stroke him.

  “Fuck, baby,” he hisses. I take that as my cue to suck him deep in my mouth. I don’t want to tease him, not here and not now.

  I want him to be wild.

  I want him to fuck my mouth like the dirty bastard he is.

  Pete does exactly what I want and his hand wraps in my hair as he orders me to hold still. Then he fucks my mouth with long, deep strokes. I close my eyes, enjoying the moment and my surrender of the power I happily give him as he takes what he wants, what he needs. His hand fisting in my hair, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth. I hear him groan before he hisses again.

  “I’m gonna come in that pretty hot mouth, baby,” he warns. Moments later, he does just that.

  Pete doesn’t waste a moment, he tucks himself back into his pants before carrying me up to our apartment, and then he fucks me with his mouth until I come—hard.

  I will never get tired of my beautiful man.

  He is perfectly mine.

  I WALK TOWARD MY SEAT and notice that I am the first of my friends to arrive. Alana is present and dressed to impress—well, if she were on a street corner, she may be impressive. This is one bitch I will not miss when Pete gets transferred, that’s for damn sure. She and Carrie are both horrible women in general.

  “I’m surprised you keep showing your face here,” she sneers. I just roll my eyes as I ask the waitress for a water.

  “I’m watching my husband, who exactly are you here for?” I ask smiling, fake, and almost painfully.

  “I’m a morale booster in general,” she says shaking her overly large breasts. They don’t move. They just stay planted on her chest. I am unimpressed.

  “Don’t you get tired of it all, Alana?” I ask in all seriousness, catty bitchiness aside.

  “Tired of what?” Her eyes are wide and she really does look confused, so I take pity on her.

  “Tired of being passed around by these guys? Tired of fucking them and being used by them?” I ask. I watch as she bites the corner of her lip and, for a moment, I think she’s seen the light. Then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone.

  “Hell no. It’s fun, and these young bucks know how to fuck. They’re generous enough, and they have stamina like you wouldn’t believe. I’m having fun before I get too old,” she admits with a shrug.

  “None of them are going to marry you, you must know that, right?”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because none of these men want a woman that’s been passed around, shared by each of them, and some of them all at the same time. They want good girls on their arms and good girls to have their babies.”

  Alana looks like a deer caught in headlights before she chews on her bottom lip.

  “What about you? I know you and Pete had troubles. You aren’t a good girl. I’ve heard you talk.”

  I chuckle. She truly knows nothing about me.

  “Pete is the only man I have ever been with,” I admit. She just stares at me, mouth agape and in what I can only assume is awe.

  “No shit?”

  “No shit,” I smile. She just blinks.

  “Well, fuck me,” she whispers.

  “No, thanks, honey.” I smile, genuinely smile, because once Alana shakes the bitch stink off, she’s not a horrible person.

  “I just… I need them to want me,” she whispers. I dip my head in understanding. I can totally see needing to be wanted.

  Alana turns around as Amalie and Maggie make their way toward their seats. A few moments later, Victoria shows and we all order our lunch. It looks like a pregnant girls dream in our section, with all of our snacks spread out. I overindulge on everything, from cracker jacks to nachos, and I even steal a bite of Victoria’s giant fucking pickle—after I make lewd gestures with it, of course.

  “You girls drive men to drink, you know that, right?” Marcus, our ever faithful security guard, comments after my pickle debauchery.

  “I’m going to miss you, Marcus,” I cry out as I giggle.

  “Where you goin’?”

  “Not sure. Pete’s a free agent. Depends on who picks him up,” I admit, receiving sad-eyes from all of my girls and a wicked gleam from Alana as her head whips around.

  “Fuck,” Marcus hisses. “You’re the funniest. Amalie has the body that brings men to their knees, Maggie’s sugar fuckin’ sweet, and Victoria is the little spicy Latina, but you’re the one that makes me laugh,” he admits sadly. I run over to him and wrap him in a hug.

  “I’m going to miss you, too, Marcus,” I whisper, trying not to let my tears leak down my cheeks.

  “All right, now let me go before I steal you away from that lucky fucker who married you,” he grunts.

  “You couldn’t handle me, baby. I’m fucking crazy,” I say, grinning widely.

  “Hell yeah, you are. The crazy ones are the best in bed, and that boy needs wild. I can tell by the unsettled look in his eyes.”

  Marcus laughs and I join in as we all walk toward the exit so we can wait for our men. This won’t be the last time I see Marcus, we still have at least a month left of the season, but somehow it feels final. The schedule leading to playoffs is going to be grueling, and I already know Pete’s tension is going to skyrocket. Not only does he have to play his best for his team, but he has to play his best for interested teams. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck somewhere horrible, and then I really will be upset and cry about it.

  It’s been a week, and Pete has been handling things better than I had originally anticipated. He’s had meetings with his agent and PR rep every few days to try and get a feel for who is looking for players. He’s kept things hush-hush from me, and that’s all right. I don’t want to know where we’ll be going until its closer to fruition.

  After a day of shopping with the girls for baby stuff, I walk into the apartment and I know something is wrong. The whole place feels charged somehow, and it is just so very wrong. I drop my bags by the door and make my way into the living area only to freeze.

  Pete is sitting on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. It’s half gone and he’s leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. He never drinks the hard stuff during the season, not even a sip. This is so bad.

  “Pete?” I ask cautiously.

  “A deal has been made,” he says, his voice low, lethal, and fucking terrifying.

  “If you aren’t happy about it, then cancel it, baby. No amount of money is worth it,” I whisper.

  Pete’s bright green eyes clash with mine and I gasp. He looks fucking tortured.

  “I can’t. They already fucking traded me. Between Tom and Nick, they just knew it was the best decision. I back out of this and nobody will take me. It’s my career exactly the way I want it, in writing, and handed to me on a goddamn platter.”

  “Baby, what’s the problem then?” I ask, taking a cautious step toward him.

  “IT’S FUCKING BOSTON,” Pete screams, throwing the bottle of whiskey in my direction. It misses my body, but hits the wall beside me. I jump and clinch my eyes tightly before opening them again.

  “It’s baseball, though. Who cares who you’re playing for?”

  I try to sound upbeat. I know Pete doesn’t like Boston. This rivalry is a hundred years old, but he’s still going to be in the game, playing the game he loves, and getting paid to do it.

  “That fight I got into? I have to play with that motherfucker now. I have to be his fucking teammate after he told me all of the ways he wanted to fuck MY WIFE,” he screams again. Then stands and sways.

  “Pete.” I shuffle toward him and wrap my hand around his bicep, but he
just shrugs it away and turns his back to me.

  “He’s going to see you. He’s going to be near you. I’ll have to be cordial to him, at a minimum. All I want to do is rip his cock off and shove it up his ass. You’re fucking mine, and he’s been beating off to your image,” Pete whispers, sounding like a caged animal. I can practically taste the anger coming off of him.

  “Fuck him, Pete, seriously,” I say softly. His body is taut. He is pissed, and not just a little pissed, but seriously pissed.

  “I can’t do it, Libby. I can’t work with that douchebag,” he grinds out.

  I slide my hands slowly up his chest and wrap them around his neck, tugging his face closer to mine. Reluctantly, he concedes and rests his forehead against mine.

  “Do you think that I’ll want him? Is that the problem?” I ask softly, my head dipping slightly so that my lips can brush against his.

  Pete’s hands slide around my waist and he grasps me, his fingers digging into my flesh. I welcome the bruising. Pete doesn’t say anything, he just grunts his response.

  “Do you think that any other man’s cock can possibly make me feel even a quarter of how yours makes me feel?” I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and lightly bite. Pete picks me up by the waist, carrying me toward the bedroom.

  “No other man comes within a mile of this pussy,” he growls before throwing me down on the bed. He rips the clothes from my body, leaving my extremely expensive outfit in shreds, strewn all around us.

  Pete slams his lips down on mine as he rips his own clothes off. He swiftly thrusts deep inside of me, claiming me, and branding me as his own, as if I weren’t already marked by this man. His hands dive into my hair and grip hard, sending shots of pain throughout my scalp. Arching my neck back, he slides out and slams back inside of me—hard and unforgiving, fucking deliciously perfect.

  “I’ll kill him if he even looks at you,” Pete murmurs as he shoves his face in my neck and sucks my skin, surely leaving marks. I don’t care. It feels too good to give a fuck about a little trashy hickey.