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by Brio, Alessia; Belegon, Will

  Andi nodded as she ground against his cock, her clit tingling from the direct contact. Another orgasm waited for release, deeper and more intense than the first. She felt its burning take root at the center of her being, tendrils spreading with single-minded focus. "Whatever you want, babe." "Right now, I want you inside me," she said, lifting just enough to

  enable it. Eric dropped a hand between them to position himself, and Andi slowly lowered her sex onto him. Her entire body shuddered from the feel of his hot length filling her pussy, the completion of the ultimate primal connection. Bracing herself on the edges of the tub, she rocked back and forth until certain every bit of his thick cock was buried inside her. She squeezed her internal muscles and was rewarded with a strong pulse in response.

  As his hands cupped her breasts, Andi felt Brad behind her. He twisted her long, dark hair into a rope and laid it across her shoulder, clearing the way for his mouth to pepper her spine with light kisses. His fingertips led the way down her back, and each brush of his lips amplified the sensation they stirred. When they reached her ass, Andi captured Eric's mouth in a brutal kiss. She groaned a ragged 'yes' into his mouth, her walls contracting to squeeze him again. "You hungry slut," he laughed, his voice far more affectionate than

  the words it carried. "Do you ever get enough?" She replied with another kiss, harder than the last, as Brad teased her ass. He withdrew momentarily to squirt some the slippery silicone lube onto his fingers, and Eric reached behind, parting her cheeks to facilitate his teammate's return. Andi growled when she felt Brad's finger working its way into her ass, intensifying her assault on Eric's lips and tongue.

  "If that's your dick, Ivy, I feel sorry for you," Eric teased when Andi let him up for air. She knew he could feel the penetration of Brad's fingers through the thin internal membrane separating pussy from ass. More importantly, though, she also knew Eric used humor to as a form of emotional armor lest he be overwhelmed by the intimacy of a situation.

  Andi silenced her irreverent lover with more savage kisses as Brad continued to ready her ass for his cock. With each passing moment, Eric seemed to grow larger inside her, and she longed to move, to ride him hard. However, that was an urge she'd have to continue to resist. "Ready?" Brad waited for her confirmatory nod before continuing, and Andi closed her eyes as she felt the head of his cock against her asshole. The flickering candles echoed behind her eyelids, and she held her breath in anticipation.

  No matter how often she had sex, it never failed to amaze her with its power—physical, emotional, spiritual power. When good, it could build one to the greatest heights, and when bad or absent, plummet one to the darkest depths. Only love itself rivaled the raw power of sex. And now, Andi enjoyed the company of two men who, individually, had taken her to those heights on numerous occasions. Together, their power was more than merely doubled. It was exponentially increased. Sex to the power of two.

  With Eric's cock deep in her pussy and Brad poised to fuck her ass, Andi reminded herself to breathe. As she rested her forehead against Eric's and exhaled, Brad pushed, entering with exquisite slowness.

  "Oh, fuck," Eric whispered, the additional penetration squeezing against him through Andi's walls.

  His were the last words Andi understood for several minutes. She could hear both men speaking to her, stroking her with their voices and their hands, but her entire focus shifted to her core. Nothing in her experience even approached the feeling of having them both inside her at the same time. A cry of pure pleasure escaped her throat.

  She tried to move, but Eric held her hips steady, his thumbs hooked over her hipbones and fingertips embedded in her ass cheeks.

  "No, let me," he instructed, and he began to shift Andi's weight. "Just enjoy the ride."

  A couple years back, the subject of double penetration came up during early morning pillow talk. While neither she nor Eric were novices, they'd not experienced it together. Andi delighted in allowing him to set their pace, confident that he knew the ropes—and lacking that confidence in terms of her own ability to maintain coordination. The fullness overwhelmed her, both physically and emotionally, and she appreciated the freedom to surrender to it. Very few people would view the men in such a situation as the givers, but it was clear to Andi that they focused primarily on her pleasure.

  They fucked by the strength of Eric's arms, the buoyancy of the water aiding his efforts. He started slowly, almost experimentally, but soon found the best angle and fell into a rhythm. As Eric picked up speed, Brad barely needed to move below the waist. His agile fingers, however, never stopped dancing upon her nipples, and she adored the dual stimulation—both above and below the water line.

  Andi could feel the tension in Brad's body, his muscles taut. In contrast, her body floated on a warm sea of arousal. She felt as if her bones had liquefied into a sensual pool, as if she'd lost control of even her involuntary muscles. The cocks inside her pushed the air from her lungs and filled them with the pull of their withdrawal. They, not her heart, provided the beat that forced blood through her veins. She existed as pure sex, brought into being by the desire of the men making love to her.

  Orgasm, rather than building gradually, blanketed her, wrapping her in a dark cloak of ecstasy that she never wanted to leave. Tremors raced through her body, and Andi gave herself to them without reservation.

  On a distant plane, voices echoed as her lovers surrendered to their own passions. They, at last, allowed themselves to take their pleasure, and she rode their furious assault on her damping waves of bliss. It was a brief, yet tumultuous, journey. Brad reached the end of it first, followed almost immediately by Eric.

  Andi grieved when they slipped from her, feeling a void not only of body, but of heart. She wanted nothing more than to have them back— back where they belonged, filling her. The ache rocked her with its intensity, and she began to sink into the water until she remembered her limbs and reached for the edge of the tub.

  Brad shot Eric a look of concern before sweeping Andi into his arms and carrying her to the chaise. He dried her with exquisite care and covered her with another towel from the warming rack. Smiling, she drifted on memories. When next she became aware of her surroundings, four strong hands were upon her and the scent of vanilla massage oil wafted on the air.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "If you weren't a woman, I swear I'd kiss you—with tongue even." The look of primal ecstasy on Jay David's face was all the reward Andi needed. She knew that the expression on her own face must be similar in intensity. Certainly, she had never before attended a game where she cared as much about the outcome. The anticipation she felt as they passed through the turnstile wasn't foreign to her; it just felt more like leaving a cab on the way to a hotel room than walking into a glorified amphitheatre with forty thousand melodrama addicts.

  As they stood in line at a concession stand, she turned to him and gripped his forearm. "Jay David, what if they lose? I've never believed in this mojo of mine, y'know. I just play along with it. What if they think they are unbeatable or something after last night?"

  Jay David looked at her with his head cocked and put the back of a hand to her forehead. "Are you feeling okay? Did I just hear that? Who are you and what have you done with Andi?"

  "I'm serious! I want this. The boys go on the road tomorrow, and the teams they're facing are both in the hunt. The Cards finish with two teams that are going to lose a hundred and ninety games between them. If they don't win today…well, they could end up not making it. And I won't be there to help! Damn it, I didn't put this much effort into those two to have that happen."

  Jay David laid a finger across her lips. "Girlfriend, shush! Relax. My God, you actually sound like a Cub fan." He grinned like a bear during salmon season. "I love it. But everyone around us doesn't need to hear all this. Now, what do you want?"

  "What do I want? I want my boys to win today, not leave it up to the road. I want Brad to get the award that we all know he deserves and to sign a deal this offseason that
will allow him to move his mom back to Puerto Rico in style. I want Eric to finally taste the postseason so that he'll quit blaming himself for giving up a home run to a Hall of Famer ten damn years ago! I want to win this fucking game! What the hell do you mean, what do I want?" Andi put her hands on her hips and stared at him with fury.

  "No," Jay David calmly replied as he motioned to the man behind the counter waiting to take Andi's order, "I mean, what do you want?" "Oh. Um, beer and a dog, please." "Two," Jay David said as he peeled off a couple bills from his money clip to hand to the concessionaire. He looked at Andi and shook his head while she turned a furious shade of crimson and stared down at the concrete floor. Her embarrassment was interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder.

  She turned to see an elderly matriarch of a woman with silver-blue hair looking up at her from a height possibly approaching four-foot-nine, and Andi turned an even darker red, if possible. The little old lady cleared her throat, and Andi prepared to receive a lecture about her volume and profanity. "Don't worry, sugar. I want our boys to win this fucking game, too!" "Damn Straight!" "Fuck, yeah!" "Bet your ass!" The comments peppered the air around them, and Andi realized how much of her tirade had been overheard. But instead of being further embarrassed, she felt supported. They all wanted what she wanted. It was almost a family feeling.

  "Let's go, Cubs!" she shouted on impulse and thrilled to hear them cheer along. A chant quickly began as Jay David grabbed her by the elbow and pointed to the beer and silver foil-wrapped foot-long resting on the counter. She walked away to a chorus of fraternal greetings and backslaps.

  Jay David shook his head. "Ten years out of high school and you're finally going out for the cheer squad, love? Or were you too busy going down on the cheerleaders to be one of them? You know, I've always wondered if these appetites of yours were really limited to half the species or if…" "Oh, shut it. Let's get to the seats." Eric managed to provide tickets to the very same seats that he'd given Andi for the fateful game during which his fight with Snyder led to their trades. Andi warmly greeted the old man seated behind them. He clearly remembered her and her connection with Eric.

  "You and your pretty boy back again, sweetie? I must say, you look just as wonderful as I remember. And your Viking has looked almost as good since putting on the right uniform. But, and please take no offense, I hope we won't need him to pitch today."

  Andi smiled at the old-timer, charming in his lecherous way. "We'll see, but he's not who I'm here to watch first." Her comment received a look so full of puzzlement that she couldn't help but giggle. Turning toward the field, she scanned the players milling about the dugout steps. Neither Eric nor Brad yet appeared among them. Andi busied herself getting settled, drinking her beer, and unwrapping the dog. Shortly before the Star Spangled Banner began, she lifted her hot dog to take a bite and finally noticed Brad looking at her. The disquiet in his eyes may not have been evident to many, but few knew him as well as she did.

  Judging from the expression on the face of the catcher at his side, at least one other had an idea. Inspiration struck, and Andi locked eyes with him, smiling. Brad smiled back nervously, sipping on a cup of water. Knowing she had his attention, she brought the dog to her mouth and slipped half its length quickly inside.

  Brad dropped the cup of water, nearly doubling over in laughter. The catcher looked momentarily concerned and a figure quickly moved off the bench to capture Brad's attention. Although Andi couldn't hear the conversation, she could see in Brad's posture that his nerves had calmed somewhat, and she knew her ploy succeeded. Brad's glance over his shoulder must have alerted his coach, for Mark Hamilton turned and looked straight into Andi's eyes. His brow furrowed for a moment, and then a large grin spread across his handsome face. The guffaw that came out of his mouth turned heads throughout the stands.

  The national anthem temporarily diverted everyone's attention. As the final strains faded on the afternoon breeze, Mark delivered a pushslap to Brad's ass and pointed to the mound. Before he sat down, however, he looked once more at Andi and gave that smile. She felt it inside—just like she had in the restaurant. A warmth rushed from his eyes to hers and from there, traveled straight to her clit.

  "What was that about, sweetheart?" Jay David nudged her with an elbow.

  "Don't worry. About anything," she replied, confident that she—and over forty thousand others—were going to enjoy the game.

  Her instincts proved correct. In the first inning, Brad struggled a little bit with his control, walking a man and demonstrating that, despite Andi's presence and support, not all the nerves were gone. But, he pitched through it, striking out the next two hitters to close the inning. Then, he hit his stride. While his teammates provided him with a threerun cushion in the fourth inning, Brad made it look like he wouldn't need it. As Jay David and the old codger behind her agreed, he was cruising.

  He coasted through the first seven innings only allowing the one walk and scattering three hits while striking out nine men. But in the eighth, he began to look tired and, after going three balls and no strikes to the opponent's clean-up hitter, he made a mistake.

  That mistake ended up flying a country mile, way up into the center field seats. The very next pitch landed in the left-field corner and left a Cardinal standing on second. A time out was called, and Andi heard a familiar pop. As she looked down the foul line she saw Eric, on his feet and throwing hard, getting warmed up as quickly as possible. Mark emerged from the dugout and headed for the mound.

  She turned to Jay David, slightly confused. "Why is Eric getting ready in such a hurry? He won't pitch until the ninth, right?"

  The old man behind her interjected an answer. "Hamilton's an old school pitching coach. He won't go by that stupid book. If they need Olson now, he'll bring him in now. And they should. Moreno's toast; he's burnt." "I think so, too, Andi." Jay David sounded worried. Looking at Brad, Andi had to agree. "You're right, he is. I know that

  look. He can't hold back… I mean, he can't hold up much longer " Judging by the animated discussion on the mound, Brad disagreed with the assessment obviously shared by Mark. She couldn't make out his words, but by body language, Andi could see that Brad wanted to finish the game. She hoped that Mark knew better.

  "He'll get one more batter. Pitching coach doesn't change pitchers. The manager does. Besides, Olson's not ready yet." Jay David opined without taking his eyes from the field.

  Sure enough, the conference on the mound broke up. Mark glanced over as he crossed the foul line, and Andi could have sworn she saw a question in his eyes. agreement. Hamilton's explain the communication, she knew that Mark had just asked her for confirmation regarding Brad's exhaustion.

  Mark turned as he reached the dugout and called out to the Chicago catcher. When he had his attention, he held up four fingers. A groan emerged from the crowd, and on the mound, Brad slapped his glove

  Without stopping to eyes narrowed, and think, she nodded her although Andi couldn't against his thigh in anger. But, he did as instructed, and as the catcher stood, Brad lofted four soft, wide tosses. An intentional walk.

  In the dugout, the Cubs' manager launched into a heated discussion with Mark.

  "Skipper's pissed! That wasn't Hamilton's choice to make—but he ain't backing down." Jay David pointed to the animated debate as a smattering of boos surrounded Brad's third ball. "Got his shoulders set and not budging an inch. Gotta admire the decisiveness. I just hope he's right." "He is." Andi turned, surprised at the stereophonic harmony between her comment and the one from the old coot behind her. They nodded to one another in agreement.

  As the fourth pitch landed harmlessly in the catcher's glove, the Cubs' manager began a reluctant walk to the mound. Brad awaited him angrily. He slapped the ball into his hand and began to stalk in—but he slowed as he became aware of the roar.

  Forty-five thousand stood on their feet and screamed their love of Bradley Moreno, and the Spanish Harlem kid with the big education and even larger chip on his sho
ulder melted beneath it. A smile emerged. As he crossed the foul line, he removed his hat and waved it to the crowd. Before returning it to his head, he swept it across his body and bowed in Andi's direction. Straightening up, he looked into her smiling eyes and mouthed words that even she was able to lip-read. "I owe this all to you." Somewhere deep inside Andrea Spring, something clicked. She hid the frown that threatened to come to her face. Although unsure of its source, she knew something wasn't right.

  Andi put it aside her unease as the familiar strains of "Enter, Sandman" began to pump from the speakers, and Eric ran onto the field from the bullpen. The crowd grew louder, a thing she thought impossible just a moment ago.

  The balance of the inning was mercifully short: three pitches, the last one resulting in a swing that left the batter on his backside in a heap. But, even that effort wasn't close. Eric simply threw the ball as hard as he could. No trickery, no head shakes or nervous pacing. Just pure aggression and force. Again, Andi felt something, but it was a more familiar sensation. It was impossible for her not to be turned on by Eric in the full execution of his prowess.

  The home team met Eric at the top step of the dugout, led by an excited Brad. An aura of joyous anticipation was building in the Friendly Confines, but the look on Eric's face was apprehensive, and Andi knew his mind was reliving a moment years in the past. The one ballplayer Andi never managed to intimidate with her wildest sexual suggestions had eyes filled with fear.

  The look eased as the Cubs' leadoff hitter drew a walk and moved to third on a single by the right fielder, but it came back as the next two men struck out: a golden opportunity apparently wasted.

  The public address announced Mike James, the rookie called up to replace Snyder at third. James was mired in a slump after a fast start, and Andi watched as Eric agonized—with Brad next to him in silent support.

  That silence erupted into pandemonium as James, the muchmaligned, turned on a hanging curve. As the ball landed among the bleacher bums in left, Andi felt the stands around her shake with joy. But her eyes were fixed on Eric and Brad, hugging before joining the crowd waiting to greet the kid who had just lifted their spirits.