Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

  Closer to the Edge (Playing With Fire #4)

  * * *

  Romantic Suspense/Erotica

  The Ignite Series

  Burned (Ignite Series #1)

  Branded (Ignite Series #2)

  * * *

  New Adult Drama

  Watch Over Me

  * * *

  Contemporary Romance:

  Fisher’s Light

  Worth the Trip

  The Story of Us

  Wish You Were Mine

  * * *

  Romantic Comedy/Mystery

  Jed Had to Die

  * * *

  The Fool Me Once Series:

  Shame on You (Fool Me Once #1)

  Shame on Me (Fool Me Once #2)

  Shame on Him (Fool Me Once #3)

  * * *

  Psychological Thriller

  Bury Me

  The Golden Sombrero

  A Balls in Play Novella

  By Kate Stewart

  The boys are gearing up for another world series and have suddenly become superstitious. The girls are just fine with it, until the new routine includes abstinence.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kate Stewart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Golden Sombrero- In baseball, a golden sombrero is a player's inglorious feat of striking out four times in a single game.

  Alice

  I looked over to Rafe and licked the salt off the side of my margarita glass. His eyes flared before his subtle, but all-knowing smirk appeared. Cocky bastard! He might have won the battle before dinner by effectively ignoring the naked tease I did for him before I got dressed, but I was determined to win the war.

  Erica and I exchanged a conspiratorial glance across the table as the guys rattled on about strategy. Our husbands—two of the sexiest and most talented players in baseball—were gearing up to take the field tomorrow in an attempt to win the last game in the world series. Well, it will be the last game of the season if they continue their winning streak and the second series win for them both.

  Erica and I were confident it was in the bag, but because they didn’t get past the playoffs last year, Ren and Rafe were in a different state.

  They were nervous . . . and suddenly so superstitious that they’d decided sex with their wives was off the table until the series was taken. It was an old superstition of Ren’s from high school that Erica told me about at lunch yesterday when I couldn’t figure out what had gotten into my husband. Rafe always rose to the occasion, literally, when I made any sort of pass at him. He’d never turned me down for sex and was usually the one to initiate it, but for the past week, he’d done everything to avoid it.

  Erica and I decided that we were going to put that bullshit, half-baked notion that abstinence enhanced performance to rest tonight.

  The four of us decided to have an early dinner and spend a quiet night at home. We still had the home field advantage, which meant tomorrow’s game was the last Denver would host. Our ballers had no intention of packing any bags, so when the guys were done obsessing at dinner, they would both go home and tear up the carpet alone in an attempt to psych themselves up for the game.

  Despite the amazing fit of baseball pants and the showcase of athleticism on the field, baseball was all about numbers, statistics, and a hell of a lot of preparation. My husband, Rafe “The Bullet” Hembrey was currently and inarguably the best pitcher in the league. Erica’s husband, Ren “Tin Man” Makavoy, was his catcher and go-to strategist. The only thing missing was Andy, a mentor for both Rafe and Ren who had to fly home due to the impending birth of his daughter. I knew if we didn’t have our all-stars out at this Mexican restaurant, they would no doubt have Andy on facetime, contractions or no contractions. It was the nature of the baseball beast.

  All three men lived by the family-first philosophy, but end season was the one and only time we let that rule slide, especially when the series was on the line. Our boys ran with it, trying their best to maintain their badassery without giving away that their emotions and nerves were the true rulers of the day. They were as nervous as school girls on prom night. Our job was to take their shit with a grain of salt and do whatever we could to be supportive. Neither of us minded doing our jobs until they pulled the no “O” card.

  It was one thing to withhold sex with your spouse out of a long-running superstition, but it was another thing entirely to withhold all sex because you got an inkling. Erica and I weren’t a couple of horny teenagers. We were mothers and wives who deserved the same amount of consideration. It had been a long season for all of us, not just the two men ranting over fajitas.

  “Rafe, honey, eat something,” I said, softly leaning his way so he got a money shot of my cleavage. Both men’s eyes darted down briefly out of man instinct and then quickly away. Erica winked to let me know she took no offense. They were boobs. And both men were boob men, which was why we’d both worn tight-fitting dresses and push-up bras that had our girls held up high and exposed just enough for any healthy man within a small radius to take notice. Basically, our tits were on the table in offering along with the fajitas.

  There was zero room for shame when we had goals. In the name of seduction, I wore my long blonde hair down—just the way Rafe liked it—and painted my lips in crimson, which should have jogged up some healthy sexual memories.

  Rafe surveyed my tabletop tits.

  “Stop it. Those are my tits, and everyone is looking.”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “I think they’re confused as to who their owner is at the moment. They just wanted a little attention.”

  He moved in, his voice dropping to a heated whisper. “Tomorrow night, I’ll give them all the attention they want,” he promised, eyeing the two breast friends on my chest as if they had turned on him. “And I believe I’ve made it abundantly fucking clear who they belong to.”

  “Oh?” I said, a little smile playing on my lips. I could feel the tension between us and reveled in the little victory of seeing him squirm when I ran my tongue across my lower lip.

  “Stop that too,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Are you getting hard?” I asked in a breathy whisper. “Because I think I saw a private dining room back there for parties. We can start in there with my lips and then . . .”

  There was a small amount of commotion on the other side of the table, and we both looked over to see Erica looking guilty while Ren fumed.

  “Everything okay over there?” I asked amused.

  “Perfect,” Erica said, doing a horrible job of hiding her shit-eating grin. We were up to no good and it felt great.

  Rafe darted his eyes between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence. If he wasn’t going to come out with a confession, I wasn’t about to either.

  Ren’s brows rose as he looked between his wife and me. “Are you two boycotting our cockblock?”

  Ren was amused as we remained mute; Rafe was not. I had a feeling I was in for more of a fight.

  “What are you talking about?” Erica asked innocently.

  Ren leaned in. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. This morning, you cooked breakfast naked.”

  “I was hot,” she said before she took a scoop of guacamole.

  “You were hot, huh?” He chuckled. “But you still wore your Uggs?”

  Erica shrugged.

  “Okay, if that’s how you want to play it,” Ren whispered with a sly grin.

  “You aren’t making it past midnight, Cinderella,” she whispered back, loud enough for us all to hear. Ren rubbed his hands together with glee. Her challenge was accepted.

  “Oh, it’s on, baby, but my bedtime is nine,” he warned playfully as she shook her head at his
nonsense. “Think you can manage to seduce me by then?”

  Erica’s hand disappeared from view. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about,” she murmured as she leaned toward him. A second later, he jerked in surprise, leaving no doubt where her hand had wandered. I burst out laughing as a string of curses erupted from him.

  Erica grinned at me, and I grinned back.

  Club wives were a force of nature in our own right. In all my years with my husband, I’d never used sex as a weapon or a strategy. During the season, I spent every minute I could with him, intimate or not, and I always looked forward to the offseason. It usually started with a sex fest of epic proportions, and while I knew my patience was about to pay off, I had a point to make. He didn’t get to use our sex life as a bargaining chip with the baseball gods.

  We all sized each other up, silent resolution in our minds.

  It. Was. On.

  We all knew the stakes. It was a power play.

  A power play that my husband was not at all happy about. I could see it in his posture. It was the longest we’d gone being in the same house without getting intimate. He was as ready as ever to raise the white flag. I was his weakness, and the wife in me rejoiced over him still having such a softness for me. My libido liked it too. Rafe pensively studied me as if he was trying to decide if I was a friend or the enemy.

  “What’s eating you, Hembrey?” Ren asked smugly from across the table. “You afraid she’ll get the best of you?” He was toying with him as if Ren didn’t have a thing in the world to worry about himself. Cocky was not in his favor. In fact, cocky was about to get his ass handed to him.

  “I’m good,” Rafe muttered with false confidence. “You should worry about yourself.”

  “Oh, I think I can handle it,” he said, taking a sip of his water. The men were stone sober, which was going to make it harder for us, not that alcohol was a tool, but for me, it was a miracle worker when it came to freeing my inhibitions and conquering my gag reflex. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had a drop. When Rafe ordered my usual Margarita, I’d asked the waitress to nix the tequila on the sly. It was a strategic move on my part to throw him off while keeping him on his toes. The lower the drink in my glass got, the more worried Rafe looked.

  I kept my laugh to myself as I sucked the rest of the sweet and sour concoction down, making an exaggerated amount of noise.

  “That’s enough, Mrs. Hembrey. We should probably get back to Clover,” Rafe said as he took my glass from me before gesturing to the waitress for the check.

  “She’s with her grandmother for the night,” I said with a hiccup.

  Rafe visibly paled. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I told Dutch to keep her, I thought I’d give you a massage before bed.”

  Ren cleared his throat and Rafe met his eyes. “I’ve seen your balls man, and I’m truly sorry for what you weren’t blessed with, but now would be a time to Grinch them up and make them three sizes bigger.”

  “Fuck yourself,” Rafe spat back. “I can handle my woman.”

  Ren didn’t miss a beat. “No, you can’t.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking it as a compliment before I turned to my husband with a wink. “Shall we, Bullet?”

  Rafe’s scorn-filled gaze met mine and he slapped his Amex on the table the minute the check was set down.

  “Rafe, let’s talk a minute,” Ren said, as I winked at Erica who was biting her cheeks to keep from laughing. The night was still young and no matter what shenanigans we had planned, it was still early enough for us to have our fun and for the boys to get enough rest for game day. Ren and Rafe took off to the bar and began what appeared to be a heated conversation as Erica and I sat lingering at the table giving them little waives when they both looked back at us.

  “Looks like more strategy,” Erica cooed, blowing a kiss at Ren.

  “They’re afraid. We’ve already got them,” I assured as Rafe turned around caging Ren in, his back to us.

  It. Was. So. On.

  Rafe

  What a fucking disaster. I didn’t have a chance in hell. Not only did I want to fuck the hell out of my wife but also she was determined to seduce me before the night was over. Truth be known, I was already there. Between her ruby-red lips, long platinum locks, and the dress that she looked poured into, my balls were aching and my cock had been at midnight for the last two hours. As ridiculous as it was, I’d agreed with Ren to keep sex out of the equation and focus on training. I was still pitching solid, but I knew my years in the majors were numbered. Every pitch mattered, and the countdown began as soon as the ink dried on my new contract. Someone would come along in a few years and take my place, but I had made it my mission to make that glove hard to fill. I just wasn’t sure doing so at the expense of my sex life was all that worth it. I’d seen her hurt the last few times I’d rejected her. I hated doing it, but I didn’t know how she would feel about my and Ren’s attempt to keep focused and the ridiculous lengths we were going to. We were pro ball players, and sure, it wasn’t our first rodeo, but I wanted it just as much as I did my first pitch in the majors.

  Facts were facts.

  Fact One: Fasting was a sign of faith.

  Fact Two: Fasting on pussy, well that was the ultimate sacrifice for ball.

  And I was seconds away from committing a sacrilegious act.

  My wife was true proof that God existed.

  She gave me a pensive smile while we walked to her Land Rover. Even after years of marriage, I still loved her fiercely, and my attraction to her hadn’t waned a single fucking second. Nothing in the world would feel better than pushing into her and sliding home. My cock ached at the thought as I subtly adjusted myself in the seat before I started the SUV. The last thing I wanted to do was alert her to the fact my dick was turning purple. She had every bit of my attention, including earlier when I pretended not to notice the sway of her hips as she toweled off after her shower. She was freshly shaved, bare, and I knew she was wet. She was prepped for me and the only thing that kept me from walking over to her and taking it was the stupid ass pledge.

  I could just give in, but she had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged me. I wasn’t some macho asshole who couldn’t handle eating a little crow. I’d swallowed a lot of shit during our relationship for the sake of keeping the peace. But Alice was dangerous when she was set on something. And I didn’t mean that in the naughty, dangerously sexy sense. She was downright dangerous if not disastrous in break-out-the-fucking-headgear-and-knee-pads-before-you-bend over-and-kiss-your-ass-goodbye kind of way.

  Inside the Rover, the battle had begun. Alice had kicked off her heels and propped her feet on the dash, her perfect, pink painted toes sparkling in the fading sunlight. Her dress rode up her thighs, showcasing her lengthy, toned legs. She worked hard on her body—for herself, for our daughter, for me—and I’d never failed to show it my appreciation, until this past week.

  It was never a question of what mattered the most to me. Ball took a back seat to my family. It was her and our baby girl, Clover, who was my other good-luck charm. It would always be them. Four seasons in the majors had only proven I was right to choose her and a lucky son of a bitch because she chose me back. My wife was a bad ass. A pilot, club wife, and mother, who was damn good at all her jobs.

  “I love you,” she said simply as I pulled the belt over my shoulder. I paused briefly as she leaned over, the look in her eyes sincere, raw, and vulnerable, a deadly combination for me.

  “Alice.” I prayed and protested at the same time. “Come on, baby, show some mercy.”

  “Forget about all that for a second,” she whispered sweetly before she crawled onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m so proud of you,” she murmured between us. “I think you are amazing, Rafe Hembrey.”

  My heart bottomed out as I was reminded of the time she confessed her affection for me in front of a table of ballplayers. That might have been the moment I realized I loved her. She was so bold then, and not much ha
d changed. I grew rock hard beneath her, but she showed the mercy I had begged for and ignored it. She was sincere with her temporary truce.

  “I’ve been thinking about our life a lot lately, all the things we’ve done. I wake up and thank God every day that I’m yours. There are so many things we have left to do. And I really want to give you a son.”

  Everything inside me exhaled as she leaned in and took my lips.

  “I love you too, baby. I want him too.”

  “We can practice tonight.” She panted as she broke away from my kiss. “I’ll hold back from swallowing.”

  “Jesus, Alice.” I grunted as she started a slow grind on my lap, her truce flying out the window.

  “I need you,” she hummed the words, tugging my bottom lip between hers before she let go. “God, can you imagine how amazing it will feel if you pull that zipper down right now?”

  “That’s it,” I said, lifting her easily and depositing her onto her seat. She looked wildly beautiful, her skin flushed with need for me. All I had to do was get her home and feed her some of her favorite ice cream. A full stomach always knocked her out. I’d make it up to her. I’d given Ren my word.

  “That was a dirty move, Alice. I need to keep sharp,” I stated in resignation. “It’s just business, baby, don’t take it personally.”

  “Fine, I’ll keep my hands all to myself.” She reclined her seat back, a wicked gleam full of intent in her eyes.

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned.

  “Just like old times,” she cooed, trailing her hand from her knee to mid-thigh before it slipped under her dress.

  My dick jumped as I started the engine, but the noise wasn’t even close to loud enough to drown out the tiny moan and then a whimper that came from her lips. She arched her back as I backed the truck up at warp speed and parked in another space when I heard another moan. I couldn’t help my lust-induced haze at her display. Her movements were subtle, her hand well hidden, but it was the look in her eyes as she watched me, touching herself, that had me on a tightrope.