Forced Play for Libby (Men of Baseball #3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “I hope you build the life you two deserve. I hope that your bond strengthens and that you pop out some fucking babies, because I am done,” Victoria cries. I start to sob so hard that Pete has to hold me up next to his strong body.

  We spend the evening drinking, laughing, crying and just enjoying each other. Toward the end of the night, Paul pulls me to the side and stands with his legs spread wide, his hands on his hips, and a serious look on his face.

  “I want my fucking pictures before you leave,” he barks, all serious faced and kind of pissed.

  “What pictures, Libby?” Pete asks, walking up behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist. His big hand spreads wide across my belly.

  “Libby is fucking gorgeous, and those tits need to be showcased. Not to mention, you are a fine piece of man, as if you didn’t know. I want to take pictures, I need to take pictures of you two,” Paul practically pleads. Pete chuckles.

  “I bet our PR girl would love that shit. I’m sure Sports Illustrated will be doing a spread on me switching to Boston. I already have a bunch of interviews scheduled, pictures would be icing on the cake,” Pete mumbles, making my heart start to race.

  “O.M.G. I can’t even. We’re doing this shit tomorrow. I do not want you people to disappear before this is done,” Paul cries. David steps up beside him with a beaming smile on his face.

  “Tomorrow at your place. It’s still all set up, right? Your apartment is fucking gorgeous. It would be perfect,” David chimes in. I stand mute with my mouth open while Pete makes arrangements.

  We all talk and I drink, and drink, and then I drink a little more. Until, I’m drunk. I am so drunk that I can hardly walk on my five inch, Christian Louboutin, fringed, patent leather with a zebra fabric back and heels, shoes. These shoes are fucking hot. Jesus, I’m a hot drunk mess.

  Pete laughs as he wraps his hand around my waist and hauls me up against his chest in the elevator. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face against the skin, breathing in his scent. So fucking good.

  “I love you so much,” I mumble against his neck before my tongue licks his soft warm skin.

  “Sweet baby, you can’t start that shit. Only so much a man can take, and you’re plowed.”

  I giggle and wiggle a little in his arms. He tightens his grip on me as we step out of the elevator and walk toward our door.

  “I want you to fuck me hard, Pete. Take me however you want me. I want you so damn bad,” I moan as Pete opens the door.

  With a growl, he presses my back against the door and shifts my body so that my legs have nowhere to go but to wrap around his waist. I can feel his denim clad, hard cock grind against my thin panties. Fuck, he feels so good. Pete’s lips take mine softly before he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and nips at me. My hands wrap around his shoulders and I press my center against his cock harder, whimpering at the feel of his mouth on mine, his hands on my ass and his cock so close, so fucking close, to where I really want it.

  “My sweet baby, do you need me?” He asks softly, nothing like his usual demanding tone.

  “Please, please,” I cry, my body hot and frantic.

  “Are you my dirty girl?” He whispers, his lips lightly touching my neck while one of his fingers slides beneath my panties and lightly caresses my core. My head rolls to the side in a half nod. My eyes pop open when he slides two fingers deep inside of me, curling slightly as his lips lightly suck on my neck.

  “Pete,” I moan rolling my hips, searching for more. More friction, more of his fingers—fucking more.

  “You want my cock, sweet baby? You want my cock to slam into this hot, tight, wet little cunt of yours?” he murmurs through his clenched jaw. I can’t form words. I whimper again and nod, my eyes connected to his.

  Without another word, Pete lifts me up and holds my ass with one arm, while his other hand slides out from my wet aching core before he unbuckles his jeans. I almost cry out with elation when I hear the heavy denim fall to the floor, but I gasp instead as he slides my panties to the side and slams deep inside of me with one long thrust.

  “Take my cock, Libby,” he grinds out. I widen my legs as far as I can to accept him, all of him, every single damn inch.

  Pete pulls almost completely out of my body and then slams back inside, with a deep groan rumbling from his chest. His hips crush mine, making my eyes roll in the back of my head as he starts to fuck my body roughly. God, he’s so fucking perfect—I think as his chest crashes against mine and his tongue fills my mouth.

  I can feel my release building, climbing, higher and higher as he takes with no mercy on my body. I accept it, accept him—I relish the feeling of his ownership over me. He does own me; he always has and he always will.

  “You need to come, Libby Baby,” he whispers as his thumb finds my sweet spot. He brings me closer to the edge, so close that I screw my eyes tightly shut and then I just fall over with a scream. I scream wildly, without abandon, and I don’t stop until he grunts and his body goes stone still with his own release.

  “I love you, my sweet baby,” he exhales against my lips before he kisses me softly. He then carries me to our bed, still inside of me, with his pants around his ankles. I giggle as we shuffle to our room.

  I don’t remember how I ended up in bed, naked and wrapped around Pete’s equally naked body, but I wake up wrapped in his arms the next morning feeling… content.

  “They’re going to be here soon. You better wash your pretty ass,” Pete murmurs against the back of my hair.

  I groan and reach over to my phone to check the time. Paul and David are going to be in our apartment in about thirty minutes with their team of hair and makeup artists. Luckily, all I have to do is take a quick shower and they’ll make me beautiful. I stumble out of bed and make my way to the bathroom, bleary eyed as I shower and shave everything I need to. Who knows exactly what angles they’ll be photographing us. Photoshop can only work so many miracles.

  “Libby Baby, I need to get in there,” Pete calls out as I am rubbing coconut oil on my legs. I open the door for him and he grins when he sees me. He’s all sleepy and his hair is a hot mess, but he’s so damn handsome. I want to push him back in bed and ride him for at least an hour.

  “Hurry up, they’re going to be here any minute,” I cry as Pete just stands there, staring at me.

  “I want to look for a minute or two,” he replies oddly.

  “At what? Me putting oil on?”

  “No, sweet baby. I want to look at your fresh face. I don’t see you often without your makeup and you’re just so fuckin’ beautiful. Let me get my fill.”

  I melt.

  Disintegrate.

  My mouth hangs open at his sweet words. I know I look pale and almost lifeless without the layers of makeup that I expertly apply to highlight my best features and downplay my worst. I’ve had lessons from professionals on how to properly apply makeup since I was twelve years old. My father would not allow imperfections at all, whatsoever, and that also meant in makeup experiments.

  “You’re crazy,” I wheeze, trying not to be a crybaby.

  “I’m not. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, and without all that shit on your face, you’re breathtaking.”

  Pete casually takes two strides to get to me, as if he didn’t just deal me the most beautiful words I have ever heard—in my life. He wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me into his chest, my bare breasts smashing against his bare but beautifully colored chest.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to say anything else.

  “Thank you for giving me more chances than I deserve; and thank you for continuing to do so, baby. This new chapter scares me, but with you at my side… fuck, Libby Baby, I’m invencible,” he whispers. His lips brush mine before he walks away from me, stepping into the shower. Again, acting as though he didn’t just deliver a giant blow of sweetness at me.

  “Bend over and really stick that little ass out,” Paul directs. It makes me want to laugh.

  I am we
aring a sexy little, see-through, light sea foam green chemise that has a lace detailing just at my breasts, hips, and ass, along with a pair of soft lacy panties and a lace bra underneath. It’s so sweet and sexy. It’s nothing like my personality, but it makes me feel dainty and beautiful. I can see why Amalie has stayed with Paul and David’s lingerie line for so long. They make a gorgeous product.

  Pete is wearing a pair of slacks that fit him to perfection, and he’s shirtless, showing off all of his tattoos for the camera. He slides behind me and wraps his hand around my waist, just under my breasts. Paul instructs me to look back toward him, but to face the camera. I can feel Pete’s eyes looking down on me as I smirk at the camera as seductively as I can.

  Without warning, Pete’s hand slides up the center of my back and tangles in my hair. I gasp, as he roughly pulls it back, his hand wrapping tightly around my hip. My mouth is partly open and my bright red lips are in an O shape. David clicks his camera and I hear it only faintly. My focus in on Pete’s hand in my hair and his hardening cock nestled in between my ass.

  “Okay, kids, costume change,” Paul cries. It is like cold water doused my veins. I swear, I almost forget they’re here. Pete’s hands on my body do something to me. They make me forget where I am.

  The next outfit is a cross wrap front teddy that comes down to my navel and, thankfully, my breasts have enough lift and staying power not to fall completely out of it. The teddy is white and looks like a regular romper, except for the almost see-through silk fabric that caresses my skin and the deep plunge of the neckline. Paired with bright red high heels that match my bright red lipstick, I feel dangerously sexy. I love it.

  I crawl onto the bed and wait for Pete, who has changed into a pair of ratty assed, delicious as shit, jeans that hang low on his hips. He is still shirtless and his jeans have been left unbuttoned, showing off more of his beautiful V cut abs than I am entirely comfortable with the world seeing. Though, since I am wearing just a few scraps of fabric, I can’t really bitch about his pubic hair trail hangin’ out.

  “Christ, sweet baby,” Pete hisses harshly as his eyes rake up and down my body. I am sitting on my knees in the center of the dark gray bedding, my body creamy white, and the lingerie even whiter. I feel sexy and sinful, especially with the way Pete looks at me like he is seconds away from fucking me into the mattress.

  “Okay, kiddies. I want Pete to crawl up the bed after his prey,” Paul squeals. My breath hitches at the thought.

  Slowly, Pete crawls up the center of the bed, stopping when we are so close, I can feel his breath washing over my face as he looks down on me. I am looking up at him, we’re on our knees facing each other. Pete reaches out and trails his finger down the side of my face before sliding his hand behind my neck to wrap his fingers in my hair.

  Our eyes are focused, never leaving each other’s, and I know my nipples have to be hard as diamonds poking through this thin silk teddy.

  Pete’s green eyes swirl with both need and want. He’s so damn handsome, it makes me ache all over. Pete turns his head to the side, but I can’t look away from him as the camera clicks from all angles. He then guides my body flat on my back and grabs behind one of my knees, hitching my leg high around his waist as his other hand holds his body away from mine. I bite my bottom lip with a small smile playing on my mouth. We both turn our heads to the side and smile for the camera.

  Once the shoot is finished, Paul hugs me and tells us that he’ll just forward our proofs to our email and we can decide which ones we want to send out to Jolene, as long as we put their names as the photographers. Pete doesn’t even wait until the door is completely closed before he wraps his arms around my body and carries me to the bedroom.

  “You looked so fuckin’ gorgeous today,” he whispers, his lips pressing against my bright red ones.

  Once my body is flat on the bed, he stands up and loosens the silk tie at my waist, opening my robe before pushing it off of my shoulders completely. His hand slides down the middle of my chest and slowly glides down my stomach to cup my center.

  “When other men see this photoshoot, they’re going to want what’s mine more than ever,” he says, almost to himself as he stares at his hand cupping me.

  “They can’t have it. They can’t have me, Peter,” I say softly.

  “I won’t let another man touch you, ever. All of you is mine, Libby. But most importantly—all of me is yours, sweet baby.” His words are only above a whisper, but even if my ears hadn’t heard him, my heart surely has.

  Pete doesn’t fuck me roughly like I anticipate. Instead, he makes love to me in the light of day. It isn’t the first time he’s made love to me, but it is the first time I see all of him swirling around in his deep green eyes. He’s not only possessive of me, but he’s scared—scared he’s fucked up too much, scared to lose me, scared of this new journey. He’s savoring this moment as much as I am.

  Tomorrow, our lives will forever change. We’re starting a completely new journey together. But right now, in this moment, as he slowly glides in and out of my body, his focus is on us. Everything is right. We both know that tomorrow, life could change. He could lose his job, get hurt, or something more permanent.

  We have come so far as individuals and as a couple. I’m not willing to throw a second away; that is one reason I have happily agreed to the move. I don’t want to leave the team he loves or our friends, but this career, this love of the game, it's more important that any of that. Our happiness together is the most important thing, and without the game, he won’t be whole—at least not yet.

  “Our new life is going to be so fucking blissful, Libby Baby. I swear it,” Pete murmurs before I topple over and come around him.

  I believe him.

  He’s given me so much bliss in the last few months that the past seven years of heartache was worth every damn second.

  “I love you,” I whisper after I catch my breath.

  “Love you,” he groans before he comes deep inside of me.

  Two Years Later

  PORTER SITS DOWN NEXT TO me in the dugout. I still hate the bastard. Since he uttered descriptions about how he’d fuck my wife a few years ago, he’s been on my shit list. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for him, I haven’t had the opportunity to beat his ass since that game. He’s been painfully nice to me and I fuckin’ hate it.

  “Honestly, I should have sincerely apologized to you years ago. I just want to say that I’m truly sorry about what I said about Libby. It’s not an excuse, but I was a drunk back then. I’ve been sober for over a year and I see what a douche move it was,” he admits. Although I feel for the guy, I’m not going to be having a family BBQ with him anytime soon.

  “It’s cool, bro,” I say, though it’s still anything but cool. I have to be a fuckin’ grownup about this shit, though. I’m pushin’ thirty and I can’t be holdin’ grudges like this anymore.

  “Libby’s a sweetheart and it wasn’t cool I said that,” he says before getting up to grab a water.

  I narrow my eyes at him. He doesn’t know anything about Libby, and I’d gut him if he came within ten feet of my woman.

  “Don’t be too hard on the prick. He’s a totally different guy now; you have to admit it,” Tyler, the Captain of the team, grunts from the other side of me.

  “Yeah, he is I guess. Hard to forgive shit like that when it involves my wife, though,” I growl.

  “Your wife is fuckin’ gorgeous man. You know he’s not the first asshole to say it, think it, or write it about her,” he laughs.

  I roll my eyes and think back to those photos in Sports Illustrated that Paul and David took of us. Fuck, the media was insane and the comments online caused me to break ten cell phones. Libby is gorgeous. Hell, I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t been; but when other men look at what’s mine and want it? Pisses me off.

  Without responding to him, I grab my bat and head out to warm up before I take my turn at the batter’s box. I’m pretty warm, considering the game�
�s almost over, but I still have some pent up aggression from thinking of those fuckin comments about my Libby.

  Then, I think about Libby up in the stands. She wore her hair down today, just the way I like it, straight and soft. I imagine that she’s sitting with her hand wrapped around her tiny little baby bump, probably cursing some cleat chaser and calling her a bitch.

  I chuckle as I walk up to the batter’s box and wink at Jarrod who is going to pitch to me. These games are the hardest. I know my friend doesn’t want to try to strike me out, but he’s also a competitive bastard, so he’ll try his damnedest anyway.

  “How’s Libby?” Jackson asks as I wait for the ump to call me into the box.

  “Pregnant and horny as fuck. I can’t complain about shit right now,” I admit with a shrug. Jackson chuckles.

  “Gonna get some seventh inning nookie?” He asks, grinning through his catcher’s mask.

  “I make it over home plate and she promised to fuck me in the locker room during the stretch,” I admit with a shrug.

  “You and your obsessing with people hearing you get off. I don’t get it,” Jackson mumbles.

  “You and you whips and chains. I don’t get that shit, man,” I counter.

  “Okay, maybe I do get it.”

  I stand up to the plate and Jarrod grins before throwing me a fast pitch down the middle. Easiest fucking homerun on earth. Fucking Jackson and Jarrod—handed me that shit. I smile and wink at him as I make my way around the bases. When I reach home plate, I raise my hand and I point at my girl. She doesn’t even flinch before standing up and grinning like a maniac. Crazy bitch gets off on people hearing us as much as I do, now.

  Fuck but I love my woman.

  “Go get your girl,” Jackson calls out as I start to walk back to the dugout.

  “You’ll hear her screaming in about ten minutes,” I call back to him. He shakes his head at me before crouching down for the next pitch.