Quit Your Pitchin'

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Why?

  Because I was milliseconds away from coming.

  And then his hand that’d been fisted in the bed at my side came up and grasped my ass cheek. Hard.

  “Fuck. Hurry,” he ordered. “I’ve had nothing but my hand for almost nine months now, and I can’t be expected to hold out for much longer.”

  I agreed.

  But I was coming at that point, and could no longer voice my agreement.

  My eyes rolled back into my head as the most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced washed over me, pulling me deep under the wave and drowning me. Light burst behind my eyelids, and my legs locked around his still thrusting hips.

  Oh, and breathing?

  Yeah, that didn’t happen for at least a full minute as I tried and failed to get my lungs to inhale precious oxygen.

  “Fuuuucccckkkk,” George grunted the moment he felt my pussy start to pulse around his cock.

  Then I felt the hot splash of his release hit the deepest part of me, and my best orgasm ever rolled right into my second-best orgasm ever.

  This moment would forever go down in the hall of best orgasms ever.

  I’d remember it for the rest of my life.

  I’d replay it in my dreams.

  Tomorrow, I’d wake up, and not feel like the same woman.

  Because I wasn’t.

  I was now enlightened to what I was missing—again—and I didn’t think I could ever settle for anything less ever again.

  I clung to George tightly.

  I didn’t care that he was sweating on me. I didn’t care that his beard was rubbing a raw spot on my chest.

  I also didn’t care that tomorrow we’d wake up and still be divorced.

  We’d fix it…I hoped.

  Chapter 19

  I had no idea what I was missing until I was introduced to coffee with a side of orgasms.

  -George’s secret thoughts

  George

  Contentment was not something I thought I would ever feel again after Micah’s accident, but I was wrong.

  Contentment made my body feel like it was almost weightless.

  If there was one thing that I did not want to do, it was to get out of my currently nice warm bed and get my pre-game meal, shower, and warm up over with.

  I also didn’t want to leave this apartment, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well with my coaches or my fellow teammates.

  Sighing, I rolled over and slid out of the bed all in one easy motion.

  The moment I was away from Wrigley’s heat, I turned to cover her up but hesitated when I found her in the new position.

  Her leg was cocked up and to the side, resting half on a pillow, half off.

  I could see the cleft of her pussy, and everything in between.

  Her entrance. Her clit.

  My release still leaking out of her even three hours later.

  My cock stiffened, and I would’ve crawled right back into that bed and had my way with her again, but Lucy whined.

  I grimaced and reached for my clothes, shrugging my jeans on without underwear.

  The moment they were all the way buttoned, I sat down and reached for my shoes, slipping them on without socks.

  Moments later I was reaching for my shirt and tugging it on as I made my way out of the bedroom.

  Lucy followed close at my heels, dogging my every step as I walked to the apartment door and unlocked it.

  Then cursed when I nearly forgot to shut the alarm off—a new addition that came during the first week Micah was in the hospital.

  Cursing again when I heard the loud woman say ‘system disarmed,’ I walked out the door and down the hallway.

  Moments later we arrived at the back entrance of the apartment building, and I pushed it open.

  The moment she had free rein, she dashed for the small stretch of grass and relieved herself.

  I looked up, only to narrow my eyes when I found paparazzi standing there, lenses pointed in my direction.

  I gritted my teeth and looked back down at Lucy, who was now smelling a corner of the grass.

  Once she was done with her business, I walked to the doggy bags and picked up her shit, throwing it away in the receptacle and turning and gesturing to the back door.

  The moment we were back inside, I growled underneath my breath.

  I hated fucking paparazzi.

  Seriously, if there was one thing in this world that I could get rid of without getting in trouble, it’d be those rats.

  I was heading back down the hall when Wrigley’s apartment door opened.

  The moment she saw me, she slumped.

  “I thought you were gone,” she breathed.

  And suddenly, my bad mood was gone.

  There was no more anger at having my photo taken while picking up dog shit. There was no more animosity toward the stupid asshole that was leaning against my truck just waiting for me to come outside.

  No, not when I could read every single fear that had ever crossed over Wrigley’s face.

  “No,” I told her softly, cupping my hand around her cheek. “Not gone. Just letting her out.”

  “Good,” she breathed, then took a step back to let me inside.

  I came but didn’t let her go far once I got the door closed.

  The moment it clicked shut, I pressed my mouth to hers.

  She gasped into my mouth and would’ve begged for more, but we both heard, “Daddy!” at the same time.

  I grinned against her lips, and then pulled back.

  “I can’t say I’ll ever get tired of hearing that,” I told her, pinching her ass as I let her go.

  She giggled. “The first time he said ‘no’ after he woke up, I felt like I was going to choke on my own phlegm when I started to cry. Seriously, I used to hate when he said no. Then I reevaluated everything.”

  “Mommmmmmmmmmaaaaaa!”

  “Better go Mama,” I ordered, smacking her ass. “I have to pee. Then I have to drive over to my place and get my gear. I’ll be back and we can head to the fields.”

  Then she was in my arms again. For about four seconds until the screaming of ‘hungry!’ started.

  She laughed as she walked away, and I felt my broken heart’s pieces start to shift back into place.

  ***

  “You got ‘em set up in the box?” Gentry asked.

  I nodded and slipped my socks up over my calves. “Yep.”

  “They doing okay?” he pushed.

  I gestured to my phone, which sat open next to my thigh.

  Gentry bent over and picked it up, bringing it up to his face.

  The moment he saw the picture, he started to laugh.

  “That’s hilarious,” he said. “I bet he thinks he’s in seventh heaven.”

  “No doubt,” I agreed. “And he has all the fruit, drinks, and attention he may ever need or want.”

  That was due partially to the fact that he was surrounded by my grandmother’s new husband’s grandchildren—all girls—who were ages fourteen to twenty-three. There were eight of them. All of them also thought that Micah was the shit.

  They were calling him ‘Baby George’ according to Wrigley.

  And they thought he was the cutest thing ever.

  “I wonder what I have to do to get that kind of special treatment,” Gentry joked.

  “Get hit by a car,” came Rhys’ reply.

  I looked at him with very little humor on my face.

  Rhys winced. “I’m sorry. That was extremely insensitive.”

  It was, but my mouth still kicked up at the edges. “True enough, I guess.”

  I offered him my hand, and he took it.

  “I’m glad everything is okay, man,” Rhys murmured. “I really was scared to death for you.”

  I gave him a back slap and then walked to the training room to get my wrist wrapped. All the while I realized that the last time I’d been in this place, my whole life had ch
anged.

  But my son was all right.

  My wife was back at my side.

  And nothing else could change that.

  The media, however, didn’t see things how we saw it.

  They only saw the story.

  ***

  Four hours later

  At first, I honestly just thought that we’d lucked out.

  The game was a success. We’d won…but tomorrow we’d be traveling to fucking Kentucky. Kentucky meant that neither Wrigley nor Micah could go. Which would then cause me to be away from both of them for the first time since Micah’s accident.

  And I was not looking forward to that.

  Hence the sour mood I was in as I held Micah in my arms and walked with Wrigley back to the apartment.

  We’d made it to the last block that would lead us to the buildings when they spotted us.

  We’d slipped out the back doors today on the way to the game, and they’d completely missed not only our arrival but our departure.

  This time, we hadn’t been so lucky.

  “Fuck,” I snarled. “Goddammit.”

  It was as if they’d heard me, too.

  The moment that the last syllable left my mouth, the entire crowd of cameras turned in our direction.

  “Get behind me,” I ordered.

  Wrigley did, and I handed her Micah—who was blissfully asleep—and deposited myself in front of them.

  My temper was legendary. I’d more than earned the name ‘Furious George’ over the last nine months, and I was about to show them exactly why I’d earned it.

  “Go inside,” I ordered as we approached the side door of the apartment.

  Wrigley hitched Micah up into her arms and started inside.

  The paparazzi tried to crowd her to take photos, but I lost it.

  I pulled the closest one to touching her back by his jacket and realized too late that it was her freakin’ brother of all people.

  He hit the ground with a solid thud, and I went for the next one.

  Over and over I pulled and yanked until Wrigley made it inside, then I started to really get upset.

  This was all their fucking fault.

  They not only ruined our marriage—because I knew deep down it’d been the media attention that had shined the spotlight on Diamond’s deteriorating condition that had made her accuse me of things that she never would’ve done had I not been in the position that I was.

  Then there were the months and months of them following me around, asking how I was doing when they knew damn well that I was falling apart.

  Yeah, I just wasn’t in a good place.

  Not at all.

  Which was how, when the cops showed up, I ended up in the back of the cop car next to Dodger.

  “What the fuck, man?” Dodger asked, a rag pressed to his nose to contain the blood that was still running out of it. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Why are you at our apartment?” I asked.

  “‘Our apartment?’” he sneered. “Last I heard, this was Wrigley’s apartment. And since when do I need permission to check on my nephew?”

  “My brother and sister are assholes, and even they called to make sure that he was okay. Where the hell have you been?” I countered.

  Dodger had never been a part of Micah’s life—or our life as a married couple. He was there when I was a better story after our divorce, but that wasn’t because he was checking on me. He just wanted the story.

  A story in which I had never wanted to give him.

  Who wanted to relive their worst moments in life?

  I knew for sure that I didn’t.

  “I’ve been busy,” Dodger hedged. “And this is all your fault anyway.”

  I frowned and turned slightly in my seat to look at him.

  “All my fault?” I asked incredulously. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Dodger bared his teeth. “Ever since my boss found out that my sister was married to you, I’ve been forced to do these fucking pieces on you and only you because you’re so goddamn popular. Why the hell does it matter? Why are you so fuckin’ special lately?”

  I wish I had the answer to that myself.

  “I got nothin’ man,” I admitted. “I’m sorry that I hit you in the nose.”

  That was a lie.

  I wasn’t sorry for a goddamn thing.

  Not even hitting his sorry ass.

  “Whatever,” he muttered.

  My lips twitched.

  The door to the cruiser I was currently sitting in opened, and the cop gestured for me to get out.

  “Sorry about that, Mr. Hoffman,” the officer apologized. “We reviewed the security tapes like you suggested and saw everything. You’re free to go.”

  I got out, offered the cop my hand, and said thank you before heading into the building.

  I didn’t stop until I was at the apartment door.

  Knocking once—since I still didn’t have a key—I waited for Wrigley to open the door.

  Something in which she didn’t hesitate in doing.

  She looked worried.

  But the moment that she saw it was me, she threw herself into my arms.

  “God, George,” she whispered. “I was so scared.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and shuffled us so that we were inside, and then shut the door and locked it.

  The moment my hand was back around her shoulders, she started to cry.

  “Don’t cry, honey,” I murmured roughly. “It’s okay.”

  “That could’ve been so bad,” she moaned. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Micah could’ve gotten hurt again.”

  I wholeheartedly agreed. “That’s why I want you to move back into our home. That’s also why I’m considering getting a security detail for you.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “You think we need one?”

  I nodded against her face.

  “I think so, too.”

  The fact that she agreed told me exactly how bad it’d gotten.

  I turned my face in and pressed my lips to her throat, feeling the strong and steady pulse against my tongue.

  She shivered and pivoted her body until she was touching me from breast to knees.

  I could feel the pebble of her nipples, and the increase of her heart rate against my tongue.

  “Is it too early to tell you that I want to get married again?” I asked, hoping and praying that I wasn’t rushing this.

  She pulled away and pinned me with an even stare. “I’ve regretted my decisions for a really long time now. It would make me the happiest woman alive if you allowed me the chance to rectify my poor choices.”

  My lip twitched in amusement.

  “Vegas?”

  She nodded. “Vegas.”

  Lucy barked.

  Apparently, she agreed, too.

  Then we didn’t say much more.

  After checking to make sure that Micah was still asleep, we became reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

  Hers more than mine.

  I was still exactly the same.

  Her, on the other hand…

  “When did this happen?” I asked, pressing my lips to a particularly sensitive spot just underneath her breast.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I’m glad that you found it.”

  I chuckled and circled my tongue up to round the peak of her nipple, then pulled back far enough that I could blow on the path I’d just taken with my tongue.

  She shivered, and her nipple pebbled even harder.

  I grinned and switched to the other breast, doing the exact same thing.

  “God,” she breathed, arching upward. “You’re not even doing anything down there, and I can feel it.”

  I bit down gently, and she wiggled.

  “Please, hurry,” she ordered.

  I sat up on my knees and pulled her panties off her hips, tossing them in the direction of t
he door.

  My pants soon followed hers, followed shortly by my shirt.

  And suddenly I was blissfully naked, with my cock resting once again at her entrance.

  “Put it inside me,” she pleaded.

  I did.

  My cock slid home, and the groan that left me felt like it was ripped straight the hell out of my chest.

  A gasp tore free of Wrigley’s lips, and suddenly, nothing felt wrong anymore.

  Everything, everything in the entire world, just felt right.

  I pumped inside of her, faster and harder than the time before, until both of us were on the cusp of falling over the edge.

  And the first one to come—me…it was always me—took her along for the ride.

  She clamped down on my cock, massaging the head and shaft and pulling every single last drop of cum from my shaft.

  We were left panting and trying to control our breathing when she had to open her mouth and tease me.

  “You know,” she tickled my side. “For a man in as good of shape as you are, you really should be controlling your breathing better.”

  I snorted and lifted her up as I slid out of her, my eyes automatically going to her pussy where my release dripped down onto her inner thighs.

  “You know,” I teased right back. “the last time I got you pregnant really easily. We’ve done this quite a bit now, and it’s only a matter of time.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s get married first before we plan out our second kid.”

  I winked and dropped down until my mouth was hovering over hers. “The idea of my kid growing inside of you again makes me hard.”

  She looked down at my still inflated cock and grinned. “It sure looks like that.”

  I sighed and stood up, both of us looking down at my cock.

  “We need to start leaving towels next to the bed again.”

  Wrigley burst out laughing.

  “Yeah, Georgie. We sure do.”

  Chapter 20

  Home is where the lube is.

  -George’s secret thoughts

  George

  I didn’t want to leave.

  I felt it in my heart that leaving wasn’t going to be good.

  I’d left Wrigley and Micah at the apartment, and by the time the game was over tonight, forty moving boxes were supposed to be delivered to their door.