Damn! Andi fumed when she found herself thinking about him again. That's it, Andi, no more tonight. Deal with it later.
Eric caught sight of her and smiled. He picked up his pace, sliding sideways around people who dared to get in his way, well aware that he was too big to push them aside without hurting someone. There was nothing subtle about Eric.
He still looked strange without the mustache, though. He had worn that intimidating look for ten years before his visit earlier that spring. It caused quite a stir in the blogs and the papers when he showed up at Wrigley without it, especially when he wouldn't explain why. After he struck out the side in the ninth that day, it became a blip on the radar. Such changes were only worthy of being a curse or a superstition if they seemed to affect a player's performance. If he blew a save during that series, the whole world would have kept talking about it. Instead, it got a mention by the TV guys at the start of each series before again fading away.
Only Andi knew the reason he shaved it off, for she'd teased him mercilessly when she found that gray hair in it.
Eric sat down and waved to the bar for a beer, then leaned over the table and kissed her. Most men she would have hassled for taking the liberty without asking, but she and Eric had been meeting for six— almost seven—years, and they shared an easy truce on the subject of public affection.
"You really did a number on Moreno, didn't you? That kid would have thrown a no-hitter if they had a real shortstop—like the one you broke earlier in the season. A one hit shutout and the only hit is one that twenty-five other shortstops in this league stop easily. Then two innings and three strikeouts in the annual exhibition? Damn, Andi, if only we lived closer together maybe I wouldn't have to go get this surgery after the season." Eric grinned through the whole spiel. He never tired of teasing her about her good luck charm effect. Andi just wished it had been about a different subject this time.
She shrugged. Under normal circumstances, his taunts resulted in a long-standing game of torrid Twenty Questions. If Eric won—by deducing the exact manner in which she rocked that player's world during their last encounter—then he got to choose how they'd fuck. But although Eric usually won, Andi never lost. She always enjoyed whatever kink he brought to the table, often surprising herself in the process.
Both recognized the game as simply a way to make the other comfortable surrendering a measure of control. Over the years, they'd discussed their dynamic and reached the conclusion that two dominant personalities could be a recipe for some spectacular sex—as long as they respected one another's boundaries.
Eric knew better than to intrude on Andi's professional life or to make any demands for her time outside the Giant's two trips to Chicago each season. One time, very early in their unconventional relationship, he'd asked her to fly to another city to meet him—at his expense. She let him off with a warning where she dumped other players cold.
Their game came into being shortly after that episode, and it started via e-mail. The incendiary nature of their next physical encounter made them realize that they shared a taste for that type of voyeurism. They continued to play via e-mail, without the stakes, for the sheer enjoyment of it, making Eric the only one of Andi's roster with whom she engaged in cyber sex.
Now, however, Andi dreaded playing their game. Losing it would mean admitting to a softer side in an arena she valued for its raw edge, and she wasn't quite sure how Eric would react to that. If it weren't for her fondness for the Viking berserker and her intense need to be well and truly fucked, she would've found a way to avoid seeing Eric on this visit.
The saving grace centered around the unlikelihood that Eric would be able to figure out the nature of her tryst with Brad. She had to win. Had to. The thought of cheating never even occurred to her. It might seem contradictory, given the nature of her profession and her private life, but Andi's personal code of ethics would not allow her to lie during their game.
"One," Eric began, and Andi took his beer from his big paw. "Were you in his hotel room?" She took a drink. "Yes." "Two. Anal?" "No." "Three. Toys?" "No." She took another swig before Eric snatched back his beer. The questioning continued for another thirty minutes, the pauses between questions getting longer as Eric wracked his brain for wilder possibilities. Andi toyed with the blond hair on his arm, tracing her fingertips over his knuckles. He grew desperate as the end grew near. "Scat?" "Of course not," she laughed. Just two more questions, Andi thought as Eric excused himself to use the restroom. She knew he was still fishing rather than narrowing in on the answer, too. She turned around to signal the waiter for two more beers and found a table full of Cubs players staring at her. One, the team's most celebrated hitter, crossed the floor to her table and leaned over Andi's shoulder; his breath reeked of sour mash and nacho cheese sauce. "Well, if it isn't our very own slut-saboteur. How's it going, skank?" Andi didn't answer immediately, just gave him the stare that she usually gave men who made unwelcome advances in bars. It sent most scurrying back to their tables like puppy dogs smacked on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. Jack Snyder was either too brave, too stupid, or too drunk—or a mixture of all three—for it to have the desired effect.
"I asked you a question, skank! Or aren't I good enough to even talk to, let alone fuck?"
Andi shook her head, crinkled her nose, and reached into her purse. Snyder's expression went from angry to puzzled as she rummaged around for a second before finding what she sought. She pulled the breath mints out and thrust them toward him.
"I'm sorry. I can't make out a word you're saying through the fumes. Why don't you take two of these and try again later? Oh, and I'd stay away from open flames until they take effect." Andi smiled sweetly for emphasis.
Snyder slapped the roll of mints away. "We're in a pennant race, whore. Why don't you take your slump-busting ass elsewhere for the rest of the year?" "There a problem here, babe?" Eric's big hands curled over her shoulders, and Andi tried to keep the expression of relief off her face. "I think Jack here needs to sleep off his last couple of drinks, that's all."
"That better be fucking all. Get your fucking ass out of here, Snyder. I ain't got time for your bullshit tonight. Grow the fuck up, shithead."
Snyder looked like he wanted to say more, and for a second Andi worried that things might actually get nastier. Then his buddies were there, pulling him away and making apologies. A couple of them even sounded genuine.
"Damn, that wasn't exactly how I wanted to start this night. Let's go, Eric. Get me the hell out of this place."
"Sounds good, doll. Follow me. I noticed some press lurking about in the lobby, and the front door might be a little too public after that scene." Eric pulled her quickly out of her seat and started walking. He gave the bartender a quick nod and received a glance toward the back of the club. The two of them followed his gaze and, after a quick detour through the kitchen, emerged into a deserted alley behind the club.
The night air, even if humid, felt good after the close atmosphere indoors.
"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to just take over. I know you can take care of yourself. It's just…"
"Hush. I'm not mad. At least, not at you. You're right, though. I can take care of myself, but I can also appreciate the gesture. Now come here and collect my reward for your chivalry." Andi pulled his head down, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, he caught her around the waist and straightened up, lifting her off the ground so that her strappy-sandaled toes wiggled in the air while he kissed her back.
The crush of his body against hers brought all of Andi's pent-up desires back to the surface. Muttering a hoarse yes into his mouth, she lifted her legs, wrapped them around his hips, and crossed her ankles behind his back. Eric's hands dropped to her ass and squeezed as he spun and took two steps forward, slamming her against the solid metal door they'd just passed through. The impact echoed through the alley, and she caught sight of some small critter scurrying away, its foraging interrupted
by their passion.
The single, bare lightbulb in the rusty fixture directly over her head put them on stage in a theater of shadows. Andi felt the door's coolness in stark contrast to the heat rising between their bodies. Its rivets dug into her shoulder blades. She smelled the bitter mixture of piss and puke along with the sour stench emanating from the dumpster a few feet away.
Sounds from the street—voices, car horns, a throbbing bass beat— seemed closer than evidenced by her eyes. And, although no lights shone from the windows of the office building on the opposite side of the alley, Andi imagined an audience peering at them through the night. She wove her fingers into Eric's hair and tightened the grip of her thighs to pull him even closer.
One hand left her ass. He roughly hiked her short denim skirt around her waist, exposing a brand new pair of white lace panties— crotchless and purchased with him in mind. Removing his other hand from her ass, Eric braced himself against the door, pinning her with his chest as his free hand dove between their bodies.
Andi groaned when his thick fingers parted her slit, and she tilted her hips as much as she could to encourage their slippery entry.
"You like that, bitch?" He punctuated the question by shifting slightly to one side and driving a couple fingers into her pussy. His hard cock pressed against her thigh, and he ground it against her.
Using two fistfuls of his hair, she yanked his head back and looked him hard in the eyes. "You know I do. And," she gasped as he drove deeper, "if you make me come right now—right here—with those fingers, I'll let you off the hook with that game you were losing."
Each word accompanied by a bruising thrust, he replied, "What makes you think I want off the hook, tramp?"
His fingers fell into a pounding rhythm in sync with the bass reverberating from some nearby street punk's stereo. Eric brought his mouth to her ear, and his words provided almost as much excitement as his hands. "You are gonna come for me, though. And soon. I guarantee you that. And as soon as you do, I'm gonna ram my cock down your throat."
Andi could only moan. Releasing his hair, she lowered one hand to his forearm. The play of muscles beneath his skin spoke to the strength of his fingers and wrist. Her other hand enjoyed the tension in the muscles of his shoulder—rock hard and thrumming with his pulse, much like his cock against her thigh.
"I can already feel that hot mouth. It was meant for sucking cock…my cock. This pussy," he picked up his pace, "needs a good tongue fucking, and your sweet, tight ass is mine tonight."
Eric could've easily pushed her over the edge with just his body, but the addition of his voice triggered an orgasm that surprised Andi with its intensity. Her legs lost their grip and slid down his hips as she tilted her head back and released a banshee wail. Strong arms kept her from slumping to the pavement when her legs at first refused to bear weight. She sunk her teeth into his neck as the tremors subsided. "Dirty slut," he growled, reaching for his belt buckle, "I'm gonna
fuck your mouth now." "C'mon, stud. Gag me with it…if you can." Andi knelt on the rough concrete. Every little grain felt boulder-like as she rested her weight on her unpadded knees. She sought relief by leaning back on her heels, but it was short lived. Eric's jeans revealed a cleft of skin and thin blond hair, all but invisible in the shadow cast by her body. Slapping his fingers away from his zipper, she finished pulling it down. Eric's hard cock sprang free from its confinement.
Andi's hands found his hips as her primal nature eclipsed her well developed teasing instincts. She let her tongue flick across its head while her hands slipped the jeans farther down his hips. Once they were out of the way, she slid her fingers around to his athletically trim ass. Eric's hands were already on the back of her head, in position to make good on his promise. She beat him to it, sinking her nails into his ass cheeks and pulling him into her mouth.
He groaned as she brought him deep into her throat without preamble. Sometimes, she liked to give the long, slow-building blow jobs that made a guy whimper, but tonight was about a different kind of need. Andi wanted Eric's knees to buckle as quickly as hers just had. She didn't stop her motion until she felt the soft blond hair tickling her nose. Pulling back, she enjoyed the smooth rush of soft skin against her lips and the contrasting hard shaft beneath it. Then, she slammed her head down.
His fingers tightened in her hair, hips thrusting into her, but Andi didn't let up. She meant to provoke him, to make him lose his famous self-control. Pulling his cock out of her mouth until it rested on her lips, she looked sweetly up at him. Eric glanced down to make eye contact, and a wicked smile crossed his face.
Growling from deep in his chest, he grabbed a double handful of Andi's hair and slammed his cock back into her. His fingers stayed tight in her hair as he delivered on his promise. Andi struggled to breathe but took her satisfaction in the obvious loss of restraint and in the sensations of Eric's thick shaft pumping into her so hard and fast. His head hammered the back of her throat, and she could already imagine the delicious soreness she would feel in her jaws tomorrow.
His pace increased, and she knew that he couldn't hold back much longer. He thrust so hard that her knees were scraping across the dirty concrete, a process that stopped as her toes came to rest against the door behind her. Still, he hammered her. Andi stiffened her arms to keep her head from being pounded against the door. She felt a tremor run through his thighs and waited for it. As his legs tightened, she dug her nails hard into his ass, adding another sensation. He gasped and soon his cock jerked in her mouth, and the first hot spurt hit the back of her tongue. She pulled it to her lips and let its warmth spread through her mouth. Eric shuddered as he came, saying not a word but using a full vocabulary of throaty moans and gasps. His hips ground into her face as he finished. Andi released his cock from the friendly confines of her mouth, looked up to make eye contact with him, and swallowed noisily. Andi thought the embellishment was corny, but it never failed to make a strong impression on men, although they differed in their reactions to it. Eric almost fell over with laughter.
"Damn. You are something else. You could make a fucking fortune in porn, you know that?"
"I couldn't deal with the cut in pay," she told him in all seriousness. "I have no idea what those girls make, but I'm doing okay for money. Better than okay. And, I'd rather be the one choosing who I fuck. I don't think they get that perk. Now help me up, you dumb bastard."
Eric lifted Andi to her feet, then reached down to gather his pants. Glancing at her legs, he barked, "Well, fuck!"
"Yes, that's next—as soon as you get me back to your hotel. Then…" Andi's voice trailed off as she felt the small trickle of blood running down her leg. "Oh. Well, that sucks. It doesn't hurt, though."
He knelt to examine the abrasion. "It's not bad at all…but we should clean it up. Luckily, we have a trainer who knows better than to ask me questions when I ask for a bottle of alcohol and some gauze in the middle of the night. I don't think you'll have any lasting scars on those luscious legs."
CHAPTER FIVE
Jay David's text message read only: HFY! Translation of their typical acronym-ese took mere seconds, for Andi could hear the exuberance in his hearty reply. Hell fucking yes! She smiled. Pleasing her dearest friend allowed her to downplay the other, more unsettling reason she agreed to attend the ballgame. Eric rarely asked her for anything outside of the bedroom, and after their incredible back alley sex—which only got more intense once they returned to his hotel room—she felt he deserved a little extra Spring. After this outing, though, Andi vowed to divorce herself from the disturbing trend toward sentimentality and regain her objectivity in all matters sexual.
The forecast called for perfect weather with temps slightly below average and a nice breeze off Lake Michigan, and she hadn't spent nearly enough time in the summer sun. A rationalization, she knew, but one which salved her battered modus operandi. Plus, Jay David would never forgive her if she passed on the two seats between home plate and the dugout that Eric offered her.
>
They would be in the direct sun for most of the afternoon, so Andi spent a few extra minutes smearing sunscreen over her long legs and bare arms. Digging through her T-shirt drawer, she found the desired white tank and pulled it over her head. Its black lettering stretched across her chest in a gratifying way, drawing the eye to her modest endowments, and its query would amuse Eric when he noticed her in the stands.
Sneakers and frayed cut-off jean shorts—almost too short to wear in public—completed her outfit. She stuffed a canvas handbag with sunglasses, ball cap, camera, PDA, and extra sunscreen. As an afterthought, she added condoms and lube. A girl just never knew when an opportunity might arise.
An appreciative whistle greeted her when she stepped onto the street, just as Jay David pulled up in his new Nissan Z Roadster. The fact that he drove his pride and joy told Andi all she needed to know about the accuracy of the weather forecast.
The doorman opened the convertible's passenger door, and with a saucy wink, Andi climbed inside. Tossing her bag into the back seat, she leaned over and planted a wet kiss on Jay David's cheek.
"Girl cooties!" he teased, wiping the offended cheek with the back of his hand. "I must say, you look hot—for a chick, I mean. Tell me exactly what you did to score these tickets, and don't skip a single sordid detail. Does it have anything to do with the condition of your knees? Those are some wicked-looking scrapes."
"Oh, I didn't do anything out of the ordinary. I just did it extremely well." Andi studied him from head to toe. "Are you wearing a single article of clothing that doesn't have a Cubs logo on it? Boxers, maybe?"
"Hey! This is my good luck gear. I'm just hoping it's strong enough to counter whatever mojo you gave Olson. I heard about that little tussle in the bar." He laughed at Andi's expression of incredulity. "My sources are everywhere, sugar. Ev-er-y-where. Snyder's an ass. I'd lay odds he'll be gone before too much longer."
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