Perfect Game

by Collette West

  He laughs, the sensation of his voice and the swirling of his tongue causing me to scream out even louder.

  He pleasures me with his mouth, flicking his tongue over me. I can't stay still. I writhe like a madwoman on the bed until he lifts up his head to meet my eyes, triumphant.

  "That's it, baby. I've got you."

  I stop him before he can lower his head again. "No. I'm not doing this without you."

  He dips a finger between my folds, watching my eyelids flutter. He slides it inside me and I start to tremble. "Why? You're so close. Just a little more."

  "Please Scott, don't make me beg!" I wail.

  And when he increases the pressure, using two fingers instead of one, I feel myself start to lose control.

  "Fuck," he grumbles in the heat of the moment. "I wanted to take this slow."

  "There's time for that. We have all night," I reassure him, running my hand up and down his chest. "I want you. Right…now."

  "Goddammit, you're even sexier when you boss me around," he growls, backing away from the bed and lowering his fly.

  "Scott, please." I watch him kick his jeans off and then his boxers, licking my lips in anticipation as he digs a condom out of his front pocket.

  After ripping it open and sheathing himself in front of me, he approaches the bed. "You want me? Well, you've got me." He wastes no time, taking his swollen cock in hand and guiding it deep inside me.

  I groan when he doesn't move. "Don't tease me, Scott. I need more."

  "If I give in to you, I'm not gonna be able to stop," he sighs above me.

  "I don't want you to," I urge, bracing my hands on his shoulders.

  "Then take me, baby." He slams into me hard. "Take all of me."

  It's not long before there's sweat dripping down his back. He's a tight fit, but his eyes stay fixed on mine the whole time, giving me the most intense buildup I've ever experienced.

  "You're so deep…" I throw back my head.

  He pounds into me, and I love the sound of our bodies slapping together. "I'm…almost…there."

  "Scott, I'm gonna—" I fight to hold on, digging my nails into his shoulder.

  "Me too," he grunts, and I come hard around him at the exact same moment I feel him shoot his warmth within me.

  He collapses on top of me, shifting as much of his weight to the side as he can, without pulling out. We struggle to catch our breath, his sweaty, naked body pinning the top of my dress against my chest. He looks at me, and I look at him, and we can't help smiling at each other.

  "That was amazing," I groan, utterly satisfied.

  "Talk about perfect timing," he chuckles.

  "You worked your ass off to get there." I gaze at him, not even bothering to hide my admiration for what he just did to me.

  Yep, he's Scott Harper, and he's fantastic.

  His grin widens. "You weren't getting off without me."

  "I've never had that happen before," I reveal shyly, glancing at him from beneath my eyelashes, since he has way more experience in the bedroom than I do.

  He reaches out to stroke my chin. "Me neither."

  "You're kidding," I whisper against his hand, kissing the inside of his palm.

  Wow. He's never orgasmed at the same time with a woman? And he's bedded a lot of women.

  "No. I was a selfish bastard, never really caring about what was going on beneath me," he admits, his fingers getting lost in my hair.

  "So, no one ever had to plead with you before, huh?" I tease him.

  "But hearing you like that just turned me on even more. I've never gotten there so fast." He blinks like he's trying to remember. "At least, not since I was a teenager."

  "What…sneaking out the window of your military school?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

  "Something like that," he laughs, and I feel him stir inside of me, his manhood never failing to impress.

  "Well, now, you can take your time." I prop myself up on my elbows. "I'm kind of intrigued to see what else you have in store for me tonight."

  "Oh, I've been thinking of nothing else nonstop since this damn hitting streak began." He lays me down, climbing back on top of me, and the first thing he does is raise my arms and pull my dress from my body.

  I move against him when his thumbs pull the cups of my bra down and his knuckles start grazing my nipples. It's not long before he unclasps the front of my bra with one twist of his fingers, causing my breasts to tumble out.

  He moans deep in his throat. "You're gonna love what I'm about to do to you."

  My eyes stay on his when he moves himself deep inside me. "Wow me, Harper."

  He pretends to tip his cap at me while steadily increasing his thrusts. "Yes, ma'am."

  I groan loudly when he turns his attention back to my nipples, brushing the scruff of his jaw between them. I had no idea that anything could feel as good as this.

  Breaking this damn abstinence streak was so worth the wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Carrie

  "Looks like being back home is throwing Scotty for a loop. He's lost at the plate tonight. He's swinging at pitches that are way over his head. Let's see what he does this time up," Andy says, tossing his headphones aside in between innings.

  "He's pressing. Thanks to interleague play, he's never seen this starting pitcher before," I spout out, trying to remain calm. I know that Scott's streak is on the line, and I'm hoping against hope that it's not because we had sex last night for the first time in over a month.

  "You're lucky San Diego is going to the bullpen now." Andy glances at me, not buying any of my excuses. "It looks like this is gonna be his last at-bat of the night and he still doesn't have a hit."

  "He'll get a hit," I reply, determined to stay positive.

  "I thought you couldn't wait for his streak to end so you wouldn't have to kiss his bat anymore?" Andy tilts his head to the side before quickly turning away. "Yikes. The rumors must be true, then."

  "Well, let me put them to rest." I lay my hands out on the desk. "Yeah, Andy. We're together. Big deal."

  "Oh, I wasn't talking about those rumors," Andy responds cryptically.

  "What, then?"

  "Nothing."

  "Andy, you'd better tell me what—"

  "Later. Three seconds and I'm out of the commercial break." He puts his headphones back on as John counts him down from the truck, seamlessly transitioning "The Voice of the Kings" back into the live broadcast. "If you're just tuning in, we're in the top of the ninth inning and Scott Harper's hitting streak is on the line, with New York trailing San Diego, six to one."

  "C'mon, Scott. You can do this," I mutter to myself.

  "Swing and a miss—strike one," Andy says with an extra flourish, since thousands of New Yorkers are staying up late to watch this.

  "That's right," I encourage, my eyes trained on Scott. "Step out of the batter's box. Take your time. Don't let them rush you."

  "The crowd is getting into it as Harper quickly fouls it into the stands for strike two," Andy reports, ignoring me when I bash my fist against the desk.

  Jesus, Scott. What's the matter with you? You're never that late on a fastball.

  "Harper is glancing upward, probably looking for some divine intervention to help keep his hitting streak alive." Andy shoots me a meaningful glance.

  I know we're thinking the same thing—he's looking up at me.

  "I see you, baby." I wave frantically, hoping he can see me too. "I'm right here with you."

  "Harper digs in." The tension in Andy's voice is palpable. "Here's the pitch, and he smacks it over the third base bag and…it's a fair ball as it rolls all the way to the wall!" The joy bursting from Andy's lips is contagious, and I can't resist jumping up and down. "Harper's chugging for two, and he's in there with a stand-up double. Scott Harper's hitting streak continues as he extends it now to a whopping thirty-three games."

  "Thank you, God," I sigh.

  "He sure made it interesting tonight," Gayle whispers, since Andy'
s on the air as she slips into the booth and carefully closes the door behind her.

  "I think he almost gave me a heart attack," I whisper back, placing my hand on my chest.

  "No, that's yet to come," Gayle responds, beckoning me toward her.

  "What do you mean?" I ask, not liking the look on her face one bit.

  "You'd better get down to the clubhouse," she replies, placing her hand on my shoulder. "There's going to be an announcement made after the game."

  "Gayle, what is it?" I question her, and she lowers her eyes, making me clutch my throat. "You're scaring me."

  "I thought something was up when Terry flew out from New York," she groans.

  "Terry's here?" My eyes go wide, and my pulse kicks up a notch.

  "Yeah. He'll be addressing the media himself," she responds glumly.

  "How come nobody told me?" I ask, unable to stop myself from raising my voice.

  When Andy casts a glance back at us, she takes my hand, guiding me out of the booth. "Because they probably don't want you to do anything to stop it."

  "Gayle," I moan, peering into her eyes. "Please tell me it's not what I think it is."

  She sighs. "If I were you, I'd get on the phone with your mother ASAP."

  "Shit!" I turn on my heel and race down the hallway, determined to get to the clubhouse. I blindly rummage through my pocket for my phone, tears already starting to form in my eyes as I rush onto the elevator and frantically push the down button. "Call Mom!" I yell into my phone, and it starts to ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Mom, what's going on?"

  "Now, don't go getting all upset. You're going to need to keep a level head right now."

  But I know it's already too late. What I never wanted to happen has happened.

  I hold my hand against my forehead, closing my eyes. "Mom, why didn't you—"

  "I was outmaneuvered," she admits, and I hate hearing how defeated she sounds.

  "By Dad?" I snarl, my temper rising.

  "By your father, by Terry Bloom, by everybody," she sighs.

  "Didn't you try to talk Grandpa out of it?" I shake my head, glad that she can't see the anger in my eyes. I know she's not to blame, but for the moment, I need to blame somebody.

  "Terry convinced him that Scott's market value would never be higher than it is right now, and if they want to get back to the World Series, they're going to need a backup closer in case Jilly isn't the same pitcher he used to be when he comes back," she says robotically, stating the case that was made to her.

  "That's bullshit, Mom, and you know it!" I exclaim, kicking the back of my heel against the elevator wall. "Yeah, Jilly hasn't been tearing it up in his last few games in the minors, but give him some time!"

  "But he's not even facing major league hitters yet. No one knows for sure how he's going to pitch when he rejoins the Kings." She gives me the logical explanation behind their actions, but it still seems like a smokescreen to me.

  "Why are they making all of these snap decisions?" I huff. "Give Jilly a chance."

  "Because they don't expect Scott's hitting streak to continue," Mom says, and the hope I had about turning this around begins to rapidly deflate. "They give him thirty-five games tops. Look at how close he came to choking tonight."

  "But he didn't," I argue. "He came through in the clutch, just like he always does."

  "Sure, he got a hit, but the way they see it, that hit isn't going to win the game for them," she responds, sounding just as miffed as I am. "And you know how your grandfather thinks. It's all about winning. That's the bottom line. Individual accomplishments are nice, but they're not what counts—not in the long run."

  "They can't do this to him, Mom," I groan. "It's going to destroy him."

  "I'm sorry, dear," she replies, making me want to break down and cry. "I tried every means at my disposal, but I only have one vote. Terry's the one who makes the call. He's the GM and your grandfather trusts him."

  I step off the elevator and hear the footsteps of fans overhead flocking toward the exits. I listen carefully as the PA system pipes the final line score through the stadium, announcing San Diego's win.

  "Great. The Kings just lost the game," I tell my mom, pressing my phone to my ear. "I have to get to him."

  "I don't think you'll be able to, Carrie. They've probably already cleaned out his locker," she informs me.

  "Don't tell me…" I reach for the wall, needing some kind of support to stay on my feet, as members of the grounds crew swarm by me while heading for the field.

  "Yeah. They traded him to San Diego," she utters, and I know that it's all over. "Terry figured it was the only way the New York fans wouldn't eat him alive for getting rid of the most talked about player in baseball. He's feeding them the line that Scott wanted to be closer to his family, to be with his brother."

  "So, I'll have no access to him, then?" I ask, panic setting in. "Mom, this is the last game of the series. The Kings don't play San Diego again for the rest of the season."

  "Carrie, you need to calm down. Getting hysterical isn't going to help matters," she says, and I rest my head against the wall, letting my hair fall over my shoulders, doing anything I can to shield my tear-streaked face.

  "But, Mom," I respond, shakily. "I have to get on a plane right after the post-game stuff wraps up. I won't even get a chance to say goodbye to him or explain what happened."

  "You can call him when you land in Seattle," she soothes, doing her best to lift my spirits from three thousand miles away. "He'll probably be swamped by the press anyway after the game."

  "Yeah. With no warning," I grumble. "He's gonna be overwhelmed."

  "At least he's still on a major league team, Carrie. You have to look on the bright side," she encourages me. "They didn't blacklist him. It'd be a lot worse if he couldn't play."

  "I can't believe this family," I seethe. "I seriously don't want to have anything to do with the Kings anymore. I friggin' quit."

  "And is that how you want people to look at you?" she scolds me. "That you're the pampered diva who's throwing a hissy fit because she didn't get her way?"

  "But they're messing with someone else's life, Mom. Someone I care about," I argue. "I can't stand back and let them get away with it."

  "There's nothing you can do now, Carrie. It's done," she replies, trying to talk some sense into me. "You'll only be spiting yourself, and I know how hard you worked to get where you are and do this on your own. Do you really want to throw that all away when it won't even help Scott now?"

  I sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "Mom, he's going to hate me for this."

  "If he really loves you, he'll see that you had nothing to do with it," she affirms.

  "But I did," I groan. "I let this happen. I knew I couldn't have him, but I wanted him anyway. I'm the one who cost him his spot on the team. I'm the one who's to blame."

  "There were a lot of wheels in motion on this, Carrie. Scott's had a long history with the tabloids, and the photo leak didn't help," Mom responds, ever the voice of reason.

  "But my sleeping with him was the last straw. That's what sealed his fate. Am I right?" I demand, hating myself for being so goddamned selfish.

  "You know how domineering the men in this family can be," she replies, exasperated. "They think they know what's best for us, but they're not always right. Show them how much Scott means to you. Don't give up on him. You're strong enough to weather this storm. It's not over yet."

  I cling to that tiny shred of hope with all of my might. "You think there's still a way to get him back on the Kings?"

  "Only if you prove how much you want Scott in your life," she responds, taking a deep breath. "And keep him there."

  And we both know that's going to be the hard part. That is, if he's even still speaking to me after all of this.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Scott

  "Scott?" Carrie's voice greets me on the other end of the phone, and despite everything that's happened, my hear
t starts to race from just hearing her say my name. "Oh thank God you finally picked up! Didn't you get my messages?"

  "Yeah, I got 'em," I respond tiredly, sliding my butt down the bathroom door that still has my height by age etched into the frame.

  "Then why didn't you call me back?" she asks, sounding put out.

  "Because it's two o'clock in the morning, Carrie," I groan, feeling every muscle in my body ache as I sit on the cold, hard floor. "There was a lot of stuff I had to take care of after the game, and I just got back to my parents' house a little while ago. I knew you had a late flight. So I figured I'd just call you in the morning."

  "Don't be mad," she pleads. "I just needed to hear your voice."

  My heart aches when she says that, and I feel like a jerk for not calling her back. I know that this isn't her fault, but it kind of feels like it is. I couldn't believe it when a representative from the San Diego team met me in front of the visiting clubhouse and escorted me to the other side of the stadium. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to the guys, my teammates, my brothers-in-arms. It was like getting knifed in the gut.

  And I certainly didn't want to talk to Carrie when I was feeling like that. I needed some time to get my shit together. But when she kept calling and texting me, I knew I couldn't put her off any longer. I don't want this to affect what we have going on, but I don't know how this doesn't change everything. Her family members were the ones who did this to me. So how can I not be upset about it?

  I choose my words carefully. "Well, now you know what I sound like when I've had the wind knocked outta my sails," I grumble, letting my insecurities bleed through.

  I wasn't thrilled when the world saw me naked, but getting thrown off the Kings? I don't think I'll ever be able to swallow this. The Kings are the best of the best. They're a team that, even when they don't win it all, they come pretty darn close. As a player in the major leagues, I know that, after leaving the Kings, there's no other place to go but down.

  "Scott, you have to believe me," Carrie begs, her voice killing me. "I didn't know anything about this."

  I exhale deeply. "I didn't think you did, Care Bear."

  "I'll fix it! I swear I'll fix it," she rushes on, talking a mile a minute.