by Jean Joachim
“Yeah, I did. And I’m thinkin’ of askin’ her out,” Nat said, his attitude huffy.
“Well, pardon me. You’re such a player, Nat. Not!”
Before the men got into a tussle, Holly spoke up. “You know the most important sex organ in a man?”
Faces of the infielders colored. None opened their mouth. They simply stared at her.
“Look at you! It’s the brain! The brain, guys!” She laughed.
A chuckle of relief swept through them. Dan broke up. “She’s a pisser!”
Dusty ate quietly, watching. Matt had wondered if she’d be shy. She definitely hung back in this group. He didn’t mind. The less she talked, the faster she ate, and the sooner they could leave. He wanted her all to himself.
By eight thirty, Dusty had finished her food and downed the last of her beer.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Your place?” She wiped her lips with the napkin.
“That okay?”
“Yep.”
Matt reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He dropped three twenties on the table and stood up.
“Time to go, guys.”
The men shot him knowing looks and smirked their farewells. He hoped Dusty hadn’t noticed. Sometimes, the guys could be crude, and yes, that included him.
She rose. “Thanks so much for coming to the game today, guys. You helped us win.”
They denied their part in the Queens’ victory, but repeated their support of her and the team. Matt placed his hand on the small of her back. He fingered the silky material. Lust flooded him as he pictured touching the fabric over the rest of her torso, then going beyond. He flagged a green taxi and opened the door for his girl.
Riding up in the elevator, Matt pulled her in for a hug. She tightened her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Warmth flowed through him. Lust, not love, right?
Separating when they got to his floor, he took her hand and speed walked to his apartment. Hardly able to control himself until he got inside, he crushed her against him as his mouth descended on hers. Her small hand played at the buttons of his shirt while he dipped his fingers under the back of her blouse to caress her satiny skin.
They ripped their clothing off in a sexual frenzy. Dusty appeared to be as excited as Matt. Once they were down to underwear, he slung her over his shoulder and headed for the bed. She shrieked with laughter, giggling and hanging on tight.
He spanked her bottom gently then dumped her over and caught her, easing her onto the mattress.
“Come here, big guy,” she said, wiggling her fingers.
He climbed on the bed and crawled toward her on all fours, growling. Dusty laughed.
“You think that’s funny? I’ll show you what’s funny!”
“No, no!” She half-screamed and half-laughed. He straddled her and tickled her middle until she pounded his chest. “Stop! Stop!” she breathed.
He quieted his fingers, fastening them around her waist, and lowered his lips to her neck. He skimmed down to her breast. Pushing the black demi-bra out of the way, he captured her nipple with his teeth.
“You taste so damn good,” he muttered, not slowing his seduction for a second.
Dusty lay beneath him, her breathing gradually returning to normal, her fingers clutching his shoulders.
Slipping one hand behind her back, he popped her bra open then slid her panties off.
“Now, you,” she said, tugging on his boxers.
He dropped them, freeing his erection, stood, and stared at her.
“You’re beautiful, know that?”
“So are you.”
“Nah. I’m okay. But you, hell, you’re like Miss America.”
She laughed. “Not quite!”
He grinned. “You are to me.”
“Get over here. Why are you so far away?” she asked.
Matt joined her, bracing his weight on his arms as she closed hers around him. She opened her legs, making room for him. He pulled her to her side, facing him. He kissed her, deepening it instantly, exploring her mouth.
He cupped her breast then kissed his way down. This time, he kept going, pushing her leg up, bending her knee and lowering his tongue to her center. Dusty’s back arched, and she sucked in air.
“Oh my God. Matt. Shit, man,” she said.
He chuckled then got back to work.
“I can’t hold on much longer. Come on. Do it.”
“Nope. You first,” he replied.
Relentless, he didn’t stop until she exploded in an orgasm, crying out his name, her hips undulating. He reached into his nightstand drawer, but her hand stopped him.
“No. No. Not necessary. I’m on the pill now,” she said.
“Holy hell! You are? You did that for me? Awesome,” he responded, lifting her over him. “I want to see you.” He hoisted her up in the air as if she weighed nothing then lowered her onto his shaft. Dusty guided him into her and groaned when he filled her. Her eyes drifted shut as he held her fast.
“Oh, baby, baby, baby,” he muttered, sliding his hands up over her chest.
Dusty braced herself with her palms on his pecs and began to move. Slowly, she tortured him, up and down, in and out.
“Faster, honey, faster,” he begged.
“Nope. Gonna take my time. Make you sweat.”
“No, no. Really. I’m ready.”
“I know you are. But the longer you wait, the better it’ll be,” she said, bending down to run her tongue over his flesh.
His moans got louder as she hit a slow, but steady rhythm. When she speeded up, sweat broke out on her forehead. She’s getting ready for round two.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
“Can’t help it. Can’t stop,” she breathed, moving faster and faster.
He grasped her hips, increasing her speed until his balls tightened and release took him over. The power of it, the pure pleasure flashing through him, made him arch his back slightly and hold her to him in a vise-like grip. He hadn’t gone bareback in quite a while. It was so much better than he had remembered. But then, it was with Dusty.
She slid off him. He loped to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, she lay on her side and patted the bed.
“Let’s talk.”
* * * *
All he wanted to do was envelope her in his arms and fall asleep. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“Will you give me some batting tips?”
“Now?” His eyebrows shot up.
“Tomorrow, before you leave?”
“Sure, sure.”
“Good. Now,” she said, cozying up to him, hugging his middle. “Tell me about you.”
“Nothing to tell. What you see is what you get.”
“Pfui. Not buyin’ it.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?” He snaked his arm around her shoulders, easing her closer, and rubbed strands of her soft hair between his fingers.
“Everything.”
He laughed. “Where do I start?”
“How about when you were born?”
“I was born. And here I am. End of story.”
She straightened, pushing away from him. “Must be stuff you don’t want to tell me. Why?”
The painful truth floated closer to the surface of his heart. “It’s just not very interesting. I was born. I grew up. And now, I’m a man and in pro ball. See? Boring.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Oh, yes. I see. I see completely. You don’t want to tell me. Don’t trust me or something. That’s okay. I get it. I’m fine for sleeping with, but that’s it. Well, that’s not fine for me.”
“Wait! Wait. You’re not leaving?” He sat up.
“I am. Matt, I care about you, I really do. But so much of you is a big question mark. That’s not enough for me. Whatever it is, it can’t be so bad that you need to hide your past from me. Unless you’re a serial killer, or you’ve been married five times.”
“Nothing like that.” He
hung his head. She was ready to walk if he didn’t come clean. How could he admit he was such a disaster his own mother walked out on him? Tears stung the backs of his eyes, but he took a deep breath and blinked them back. If she was going to leave him for that reason, then he had to let her go.
“So, what is it? Tell me, please?” She sank down next to him and stroked his back. Her soft voice, so gentle, coaxed him to confess.
As if there was a concrete wall separating them, he struggled to break through. “It’s not great.”
“That’s okay. Neither is mine.”
“You first.”
“Uh, no! You’re dodging the question again. Come on. I’m listening.”
“Mind if I get a beer?” He half rose until she pushed him down.
“Yes, I do mind. Just another delay. Stop stalling or I’m out that door—for good.”
Panic seized him. He’d never had a girl like Dusty, and he didn’t want to lose her.
“Okay, okay. Here goes. I was born in Pittsburgh. Eight years later, my sister, Marnie, was born. When she was three and I was eleven, my mother left. She never said anything and has never contacted us since. Two years ago, Marnie died in a bus accident. After my mother left, my dad became an alcoholic. He’s on dialysis now and in poor health. I support him. That’s everything.”
At her intake of breath, he knew he’d shocked her. “Oh my God. Matt. I’m so very sorry.”
He glanced up when he heard the quiver in her voice. There were tears in her eyes. “I told you it wasn’t pretty.”
“How awful! Were you close to your sister?”
Matt knew he couldn’t talk about Marnie without crying, and he’d be damned if he’d bawl like a baby in front of the women he loved. What? Oh, crap. No, no, not love. Please, God. “Yeah.”
“Tell me about her.” Dusty got back in bed and pulled up the covers.
He didn’t move for a moment.
She patted the sheet. “Come on, Matt, honey. Sweetheart,” she said in a soft tone. “I won’t bite, I promise. And I won’t leave.”
He glanced at her. The gentle expression on her face calmed his jitters a bit. Maybe she was telling the truth? Maybe she wouldn’t bolt, wouldn’t consider him a loser, an unlovable man? Maybe… He’d have to chance it or lose her for sure. He pulled back the covers and slid in next to her.
She cuddled up to him and stroked his chest, running her fingers through the dark hair there. “Tell me about Marnie. What was she like?”
“She was the sweetest kid,” he said, stopping when his voice cracked.
“Take your time. I’ll be here all night.”
“And could she play ball. She was the best shortstop her league ever saw.”
“She played ball? Like me?” Dusty jerked her head up.
“Yeah. Just like you. I trained her. I taught her. I took over when my mother left. Marnie was the best. You shoulda seen her scoop up a hard hit grounder. Man, she’d charge that fucker like nobody’s business. Tag second and fire it to first for a double play. That was her thing. Nobody got anything by her.” He stopped to take a deep breath. Talking about her ended up being easier than he’d thought. Sadness melted from his words, replaced by pride.
“You raised her?”
“Pop had to work. After work, he’d drink. So, I was like her parent. I got her to school in the morning. Made her lunch. Saw she did her homework. Even went to that parent teacher night shit.”
“Wow.”
“She could be a handful, but I straightened her out. She was okay.”
“I bet you miss her.”
“Every day. Every day.”
“What happened?”
He shifted, rolling on his side, his back to her. “I don’t want to talk about what happened.”
“That’s okay.”
“I went to grief counseling. Leave it alone.”
“I understand. It’s all right, honey.” She patted his shoulder.
Matt rolled over. “Thanks. Come here.” She snuggled up to him, and he pulled her close. “Did you get what you wanted?”
“Yep. I get you a lot better now.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Thank you for confiding in me. I won’t break your trust.”
“You’re the best, Dusty.”
“You too. You too.”
The lifting of a huge weight off his mind relaxed Matt. He wanted to sleep next to her for the rest of his life. He sighed, drew her closer, and drifted off in an instant.
At two, he bolted awake, drenched in sweat when Dusty shook his shoulder. “Wake up! Wake up, Matt!”
Chapter Twelve
Dusty didn’t realize she was dreaming until she heard pathetic noises. Would anyone be moaning at her wedding to Matt Jackson? Probably not, unless it was an ex-girlfriend. Dusty, dressed in the most stunning, luxurious dress, was about to start down the aisle when the sound of someone in pain stopped her. She turned.
Thrashing in the bed jostled her, and she awoke with a start. The beautiful dream evaporated. As she was about to scold Matt for taking away her billion-dollar fantasy extravaganza, she opened her eyes wider. The man was having a hard time. Groans morphed into words.
“No, no. No, Marnie. No, no, don’t do that. Don’t get on. Get off, get off!” And before Dusty could blink, he was screaming! “Get off the bus! Marnie, get off the bus!”
Moonlight glistened off the sweat dripping down his face and neck. He writhed as if in excruciating pain. “Don’t do it. Don’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he kept repeating. Dusty touched him, and his flesh twitched. He flinched. She closed her fingers over his shoulder and held firm.
“Matt. Matt. Matt! Wake up. Wake up! You’re dreaming,” she said, shaking him gently.
His eyes flew open, and he rolled onto his back. The light from the moon shone off the water oozing from his eyes. It wasn’t sweat, but tears streaming down his face. He’d been crying in his sleep.
She cupped his right cheek and kissed the left. “Sweetheart, honey, you’re having a bad dream. Wake up, darling,” she whispered.
He sat up in bed, and his hands immediately covered his face. “Where am I?”
“Here with me. It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here.” She stroked his biceps. He turned away, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. She ran her fingers along the back of his neck. “It’s okay.”
“No, no. Don’t look at me.”
“Matt. You were having a nightmare.”
“Don’t.” He kept his face hidden.
She eased one hand down. “Darling, it’s all right. Men cry sometimes. It’s okay.”
“I never cry.”
“Yes, you do. We all cry.”
He hung his head. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
“What was it? The dream. What was it about?”
“What it’s always about. Marnie.”
“What about Marnie?”
He pushed up from the bed and padded to the bathroom. She heard the water running. In a few minutes, he returned, looking more like the Matt she knew.
“Tell me,” she said, punching her pillow up behind her against the wall.
“No.”
“Aw, come on. That’s not fair. You have this terrible nightmare, wake me up, are so upset, but you won’t tell me?”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“Matt. Please.”
“No.” He sat down next to her, gazing at his legs.
She danced her fingers over to him and covered his hand with hers. “I love you. I’d never hurt you.”
At the word “love,” his head snapped up. “You don’t love me.”
“Don’t tell me what I feel.”
He opened his mouth, obviously thought the better of it, and closed it without uttering a word. He sighed and covered her hand with his. “Thank you,” he said, so quietly she wasn’t sure he’d said anything, or that she’d imagined it.
“Get back in this bed. Hold me. And tell me about your dream.”
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He did as she said. Once she was settled against his shoulder, he shut his eyes. “It’s two thirty. Let’s go back to sleep.”
A quick slap to his abs popped his eyes open.
“Nope! You said you’re going to tell me about that dream, and you are! Matt Jackson, you are one stubborn man!”
He took a deep breath then let it out. “Okay.”
“What happened?”
“I dream I’m there when Marnie is getting on the bus. She’s walking toward the bus, and I’m yelling at her not to get on. But she doesn’t hear me. So, I yell louder and louder, but she’s laughing and talking with her teammates and still doesn’t hear me.” He stopped. His chest rose and fell with quick breaths.
“Go on.”
“Then, there’s a gate. And it’s real tall. And I’m behind it. And Marnie is at the steps. She’s climbing up, and I’m screaming at her to get off, but she doesn’t listen. She doesn’t hear me. Finally, she turns and waves at me, flashing her smile. She blows me a kiss, like she did every time she went on the road. But this time, she isn’t coming back.”
He stopped again. Dusty raked her thumb over his stubbly cheek. It was dry.
“There was a bad storm. The bus got caught. It skidded off the road and half of the team died in the crash.”
“The bus accident wasn’t your fault.”
At that, he pushed her aside and leapt out of bed. “But that’s just it. It was my fault. It was totally my fault. I pushed her into baseball. She didn’t want to at first. She wanted to do ballet. I told her ballet was sissy stuff, and she needed to do a real sport. I pushed her into softball. I trained her, coached her. I signed her up for the tryouts,” his voice cracked.
Dusty sat up, staring.
Matt dropped to his knees. “Don’t you see? I’m responsible. If I had left her alone, let her do whatever the fuck she wanted, she’d be alive today. I made her. I pushed her. If she didn’t play pro softball, she wouldn’t have died. I killed her. It’s all my fault.”
He hid his face in his hands and broke down, sobbing.
Dusty was out of bed and by his side. She threw her arms around him and hugged him to her. No words were spoken. She simply cradled him, rubbing his back and rocking him with her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.”