Catching Zia (Spring Training Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  “Zia, Jesus…” His hands landed on her shoulders, pressing. Not pushing her to suck him, but more like bracing himself.

  When she let him slide out of her mouth, she cupped his balls and lifted her face to his.

  “Listen, you imp. I don’t usually operate this way.”

  “What way do you operate? The way where you control everything, and I lie back and enjoy it? Well, I have news for you. Sometimes I might have a surprise or two in mind, and you’ll have to get over yourself and go with the flow.” She wrapped her palm around his length as she spoke and emphasized her point by stroking from base to tip with one hand while she fondled his balls with the other.

  After she finished speaking, and before he could protest further, she lowered her gaze and drew him between her lips again.

  Sucking Brett’s thick, swollen shaft was powerful. Intoxicating. She pulled almost all the way off and then sucked him back in. Harder this time.

  He groaned, his fingers tightening on her shoulders.

  She wished there was some way he could stroke her at the same time. But he was standing, and she was kneeling. Her sex would have to wait.

  Instead, she pressed her legs together to ward off the driving need.

  And she sucked harder, letting her cheeks hollow with every pass. Instinct drove her. Not experience.

  She’d given a few blowjobs in her life, but always floundered around, unsure what to do.

  With Brett, it came naturally. She took her cues from the press of his fingers, the sway of his body, and the sounds coming out of his mouth.

  So sexy. Mesmerizing. She wished she could see his face when he came. She lifted her eyelids to try and glimpse his expression, but his head was flung back.

  Suddenly, he stiffened, gripping her shoulders. She gave one more suck and felt the pulses that indicated he was about to come. A second later, his orgasm hit the back of her throat.

  She kept suckling him, milking him. Drawing out his come and swallowing it with every pulse. Who knew a blowjob could be so arousing? All she’d thought to do was give him some relief so that when he entered her, he might last longer.

  It wasn’t totally altruistic. She didn’t want him to come prematurely, either. When she slid her aching channel over him, she wanted to enjoy it for a while.

  With a grunt, Brett eased out of her mouth and hauled her to standing. His lips found hers, and he kissed her as if they’d reunited for the first time after a long absence.

  But they’d already covered that ground.

  Still, she grabbed his waist to hold on for the ride and explored the inside of his mouth at the same time he did hers.

  Bliss. Pure bliss.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brett was completely out of his comfort zone. This tiny woman had taken control and brought him to heel. That wasn’t something he was used to. And he didn’t know yet how he felt about it.

  But for the time being, he was going to go with sated, seeing as he’d just come in her mouth, and she’d swallowed every drop.

  He continued to kiss her until he thought his vision was clear enough to focus on her face. Then he broke the lip action, circled her waist again, and tossed her onto the bed.

  She scrambled backward, giggling.

  He shook his head as he approached. But as he climbed onto the bed, one knee at a time, he decided to regain control and show her a thing or two about how he liked to please his woman.

  Instead of climbing between her spread legs, he grabbed her knees, pressed them together, tugged her several inches toward him, and then quickly flipped her flat onto her belly.

  She yelped, pursed her lips, and twisted her head around to face him. “Brett…”

  He ignored her, pressed a hand on her lower back, and nudged her legs apart with his knees so he could kneel between them.

  She squirmed, her body flattened on the bed.

  He held her tighter with the hand at the small of her back and stroked her butt cheeks with his other hand. So smooth. A shade lighter than the rest of her as if she’d worn a bikini occasionally.

  She lowered her cheek onto the mattress and sighed.

  When he let his hand wander lower to smooth over her thigh, she moaned.

  “Are you wet for me?”

  “Yes.” The word was more of a breath.

  His hand slipped between her legs, and he lightly stroked a finger through her folds.

  She jerked her legs toward each other, but since they straddled his, all she managed was to grasp him.

  “Brett…” she repeated.

  “I know, babe. Just feel. Stop trying to control everything. I’ve got you.”

  She drew her arms up next to her face, her hands fisted. He wished he could see her breasts, taste her nipples, but he wanted her in this vulnerable position. It required trust.

  He turned his hand over so his palm was up and pressed his middle finger into her channel. God. She was just as tight as the last time he’d taken her.

  The whimpers coming from her mouth made him fully erect again.

  They had a connection that was undeniable. It hadn’t dwindled since the last time they were together. The separation of time and distance, and even emotions, hadn’t dampened a thing.

  She was wet. So very wet.

  He loved the way she tried to lift her hips and draw her knees up. But he pressed her lower back firmly, reminding her where he wanted her.

  He hadn’t touched her clit yet. He knew it would be maddening—the need to be stroked there.

  Soft purring filled the silence. Sweet noises that made his cock even harder.

  She was so gorgeous.

  He added a finger to her tight channel and pumped them both.

  She moaned.

  “You want more?”

  “Yes.”

  As he thrust harder, he circled her clit with his thumb.

  She arched into him. “Please… Brett… I’m gonna come.”

  “That’s the plan,” he teased, slowing his strokes to ease her back off the edge. He wanted to touch that sweet sensitive nub next, but he was afraid she would shoot off too fast.

  Half the fun was in the wait. And the longer he held her close to the edge, the harder she would come when he let her. He was going to teach her the correlation between patience and intense pleasure. Because, God, he couldn’t wait to watch her come undone under his gaze. Over and over.

  Easing his fingers all the way out, he switched to stroking her outer lips. They were swollen and warm to the touch. Engorged.

  Then he circled her clit, slowly. With one finger he pressed on the hood above her swollen nub to draw it back.

  Zia purred again.

  God, she was gorgeous. She twisted her face toward the mattress, tucked her chin, and pressed her forehead into the sheet, her hands still balled beside her cheeks.

  Suddenly, he wanted to watch her fall apart more than anything.

  He lifted his palm off her lower back and slid his hands down her thighs to her knees. As he nudged them upward, he whispered, “Draw your legs up, baby.”

  She bent both knees and pulled them under her. There was no way for her to bring them together with him still between her legs. It left her even more vulnerable.

  She kept her forehead on the bed, but rose up onto her forearms.

  Brett stroked his hands up the inside of her thighs until he reached her center. Then he grabbed her hip with one hand and thrust two fingers into her tight warmth with no warning.

  She arched her neck, lifting her head off the bed. She would have rocked forward too, if he hadn’t held her steady.

  The dip in her lower back made his cock harder than a rock. He stared at the spot for several seconds while he continued to finger her, until she moaned. Then he jerked his gaze to her profile, twisted his fingers around to stroke across her G-spot, and pressed his thumb against her clit.

  She came. Hard. Gasping. Then biting her lower lip, probably to keep from screaming.

  So beautif
ul.

  Before she had a chance to regain her breath or even before the pulsing quivers stopped grasping his fingers, he pulled his hand away and thrust his cock into her.

  She released her lip instantly, her mouth falling wide while her back arched even more. “Oh God…” she murmured.

  He wished he could pay closer attention to her reactions, but not this time. As soon as his cock was buried in her tightness, he lost all ability to think. His vision blurred. He closed his eyes, held on to her hips, and thrust in and out of her hard and fast.

  The blowjob she’d given him minutes ago did nothing to keep him away from the edge. He wished he could last longer, enjoy the feeling, savor every sensation. But it would take several more couplings for him to be able to slow down long enough to notice every little noise she made, every gesture, the way she quivered, the fluttering of her eyes. Later… Not tonight. Not this time.

  All too soon, he was at the edge. He gripped her hips tighter, hoping he wasn’t hurting her, and thrust one last time.

  Jesus. Coming bare like that inside her… There was nothing like it.

  * * *

  “Come to Jupiter with me.” He spooned her back tight against his front, every rise and fall of her chest vibrating through his forearm.

  She gasped. “What? You mean tomorrow?” She twisted her neck to see him in her peripheral vision. “You’re crazy. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? I have a condo. I train during the day, but we could be together in the evenings.”

  “We’ve known each other like two days.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve known each other for weeks.”

  “Semantics, Brett. I can’t drop everything and move two hours away just because the sex was good on two dates.” She gave a sardonic chuckle and continued. “Well, this one really doesn’t count as a date. More like a booty call.”

  Brett stiffened. He wiggled one hand up to capture her chin, forcing her to face him more fully. “You are definitely not a booty call. Don’t even think that.”

  She let a slow smile spread. “Who said anything about me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Woman…” He kissed her forehead. “Think about it. Please. I feel a connection to you I haven’t felt with another woman in my life. The last few weeks have been hell. I want to give us a shot.”

  “That’s fine, but there’s no need to rush things. Normal people date. You know, go out a few times. Movies. Dinner. Baseball games…” She giggled. “They don’t move in with each other after two episodes of hot sex.”

  “What we have is way more than hot sex, and you know it.”

  “Besides, what about your sister? She hired me to do a job. I can’t just leave.”

  “She’s my sister. She’ll understand.”

  “I’m thinking you pushed her buttons so hard today that she might not even be speaking to you in full sentences for a while, let alone giving you her blessing to steal her nanny.”

  He hesitated a moment. She was right. But he wanted her with him. Now. Soon. Before the season began.

  He knew deep inside she was right for him. Perfect. But it would be harder and harder to ensure she knew that too after the season started.

  Being the girlfriend of a pro ball player was horrific. Not even remotely as glamorous as the media or television portrayed.

  He worked hard eight months out of the year, traveling half of that time. And when he was in town, he played nearly every night of the week. Eighty-one games away. Eighty-one at home.

  Although countless women hung around ball fields hoping to score a ball player for the night or for life, they were sadly mistaken about the level of glamour.

  Sure, he made money, but what did it buy him? Not love. That was for sure. And those who managed to maintain a relationship or stay married were the lucky ones. The sacrifices were huge.

  Baseball groupies were everywhere. They made Brett shudder. Brett could only wonder how many men they’d slept with and whether or not they were interested in him for more than money.

  He didn’t wonder too hard.

  Brett stroked one finger lightly up and down Zia’s arm. “I’m in Jupiter for three more weeks, and then I’m on the road half the time and home the other half. Maintaining a relationship is tough.”

  “Have you done it before?” she asked. “I mean, surely you’ve had other girlfriends. You’ve been playing pro ball for six years.”

  He grinned. “Someone’s been doing their homework.”

  She shrugged. “Easy information to find.”

  “But you looked.”

  She sighed. “I did.”

  “To answer your question, no. I haven’t maintained a steady relationship in years. More than six.”

  “Why?”

  “Haven’t met the right woman.”

  “And you think I could be that woman.”

  “Yes.” No sense watering it down. “The best way to give us a fighting chance, though, is to spend a lot of time together while I’m in spring training. At least my hours are more regular and my availability is more frequent.” He kissed her shoulder blade and then trailed his lips up to her neck.

  “No matter how tempting the idea is, I can’t abandon your sister.”

  He sighed. “I’ll talk to her. Maybe we can find someone else. Sooner rather than later.”

  Silence met his remark for so long he thought she might have fallen asleep. Finally, she spoke again. “I’m not saying no. But let me take this all in. Think about it. There’s no rush, anyway. Until Monica has a replacement, I’m with her.”

  “Okay, baby.” He closed his eyes, inhaled her scent, and tried to relax. “Sleep. It’s late. I’m sure you’re emotionally exhausted.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” Her voice trailed off.

  He listened to every noise she made and every breath she took until he was sure she was asleep. Only then did he let himself slide under next to her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four days later…

  “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, the baby…”

  Monica smiled at Zia and grabbed her arm to tug her along next to her through the parking lot. “Stop worrying about me. Let’s worry about you for a change. I’m fine. Emily’s fine. She’s young enough to sleep through anything.”

  In fact, Emily was currently sleeping in her snuggly against Monica’s chest. She hadn’t even woken when being transferred from the car seat to the soft carrier.

  “You have to start somewhere. It’s just a game. Watch. Learn. See what you think.”

  Zia turned her attention to the entrance. The stadium was huge, but not nearly as big as a major league field. This was simply the venue used for preseason practice. She didn’t even know what team Brett was playing against today.

  She did know Brett had been beyond excited when she called him two days ago and told him she and Monica were going to drive up for a game. And, at Monica’s insistence, Zia had brought along an overnight bag in case she decided to stay.

  Monica would drive the two hours back home and promised she would live for two or three days without help. Mothers did it all the time.

  Mothers who didn’t work the same high-level, time-intensive job as Monica.

  But Zia had agreed. Chances were she’d want to stay with Brett for a few days. Doing so in his condo seemed like a huge step. At least, it did to her.

  Monica grabbed their tickets from will call and led them into the stadium. Within minutes, the two of them found their seats and settled in with sodas, hot dogs, and a plate of nachos to share.

  Zia took one bite and decided there was no way in hell baseball wives, girlfriends, or even groupies could possibly eat this shit and stay under three hundred pounds.

  Monica pointed to the field. “There he is.”

  “Where?” The players all looked alike, though she knew his number was eighteen.

  “Second guy on the left. Just threw the ball.”

  “Ah, right. I see him now.”
She continued to stare at him, mesmerized for several more throws until she thought she could recognize some of the traits that were particular to him.

  He tended to drag his right toe behind him a split second longer than the other guys when he made a throw. And his arm remained in the air at the same time. Didn’t it?

  When he finished a throw, he frequently adjusted his hat, lifting it and resettling it, as though it had gotten the tiniest bit off center from the act of throwing the ball.

  Damn, he was sexy. Why had it never occurred to her that baseball players were so smoking hot? Maybe she should have been paying closer attention to this sport for longer. She had to be one of the few Americans who had gone her entire life, nearly thirty years, without ever attending a major league game.

  “So, which side is second base again?” she asked Monica.

  “The right side, closest to the first baseman.”

  “And the other side is called shortstop?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why? Both guys are the same distance from second base. Why doesn’t the second baseman stand on second?” That part seemed the most confusing to her.

  Monica shrugged while she giggled. “No idea. Just how it is.”

  “I feel like I’m about to watch a scene from Abbott and Costello. Forgive me if I sound like it too.”

  Monica laughed harder. “No worries. I’ve been watching Brett play for as long as I can remember. I’ve got you covered. You’ll understand all the idiosyncrasies of the game in no time.”

  She hoped so. For Brett’s sake. She’d read a lot in the last few days. The rules weren’t difficult to follow, but there were so many tiny things that could happen. She knew during the course of the game she would be clueless a number of times.

  Suddenly the warm-up ended, and all the guys for Miami ran toward the dugout in front of Zia. She held her breath and avoided blinking so she could keep track of which player was Brett as they hustled in her direction.

  When he got close, only yards away, he lifted his gaze toward her and waved, a huge smile on his face.

  She flushed a deep shade of red, surprised he would acknowledge her while he was on the field.