Playing Hardball: Part 4

by Sharon Cummin

  Throughout the day we sent messages back and forth. I made sure she ate her lunch. She let me know dinner would be ready at seven. Then she added “Be there or starve”. I sent pics of the finished room to Carrie's mom. She went on and on about how cute it was. When I told her about the house, she asked how Lucy took it. I ended up calling and talking to her for over an hour. She hadn't even known that Lucy had decided to move, but she said Carrie did. We talked about my reasoning for giving Lucy the house and not keeping it for myself.

  “I have a feeling you're going to be there more than at the apartment anyway,” she said.

  “Lucy has made it clear that I won't be. She doesn't want to confuse the baby. I don't know what has her fighting so hard. I guess she really doesn't have many reasons to trust me. I put my house up for sale too.”

  “You're really all in, aren't you?” she asked.

  I thought about her question even after we'd hung up the phone. I never thought I'd say it, but I was all in. I was going to be a good father, and there was no way I was going to give my child any reason to think less of me.

  Lucy had dinner ready. The apartment smelled so good when I walked in. She looked so damn cute standing in the kitchen dancing as she cooked. I walked up behind her, grabbed her hands and held them in mine, gently shoved her against the counter, ground my cock against her lower back, placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck, and then released her. She didn't move an inch. I could hear her breathing a bit harder than before.

  “Honey I'm home,” I said, as I turned and walked away.

  “Fuck,” I heard her whisper.

  “I'd love to,” I mumbled under my breath.

  We had a great dinner in front of the television. I did the dishes while she finished some reality show. Just as I sat down, she threw a pillow and blanket on the couch and walked toward her room. I was up and after her in seconds and could hear her laughing as she shut and locked the door.

  “Really,” I said.

  “I said you get the couch,” she said.

  “Do I need to remind you that I said not going to happen, Firecracker?” I asked.

  “What are you going to do, Hotshot?” she asked.

  “You better know what you're doing,” I said. “It's been days and days since my cock has seen anything but the inside of my hand. I'm following the rules here, but I'm hanging on by a thread. If I have to find my way into that bed, my cock is definitely going to find it's way into that wet, sweet pussy between your legs, Lucy.”

  I heard her standing against the door when she bumped it, but she didn't respond.

  “Is that what you want, Momma?” I asked. “Do you want me to bend you over that bed, pull those little shorts down, rip your panties from you, grip my cock in my hand, and thrust it into you? Are you wet, babe? I bet you are. I bet if I stuck my hand between those thighs you'd be wet for me. I can't help but think about you on that bed with your fingers deep in that pussy. Maybe it's my tongue you want instead.”

  I could hear her against the damn door. I wanted her, but I wasn't going to be the one to make the move. It was her move to make. I let one hand slide down the door knowing she'd hear it.

  “You'd taste so damn good against my tongue. I'd lick up every bit of juice I know is dying to run down those thighs right now. Is your hand there? Are you touching yourself? I've got my cock in my hand.”

  I undid the button and zipper on my jeans and grabbed hold of my shaft.

  “My hands wrapped so tight around it. I know you want it. Do you want it in your mouth? Are you licking your lips thinking about sucking me hard until I fill your throat?”

  I heard her moan through the door, and it took all I had not to shoot off in my hand.

  “I guess I can go out on the couch and fuck my hand,” I said.

  Before I could have even turned away from the door, she swung it open. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could see the need in her eyes. She stepped forward with her hands on my chest until I was standing against the hallway wall. Then she dropped to her knees, pulled my jeans down with my boxers, smacked my hand away from my cock, leaned forward, and licked across the tip collecting the liquid that had been waiting for her tongue. She wrapped her hand around my shaft and covered me with her mouth. I let out a moan that filled her entire apartment. She knew what she wanted, and she was taking it. She came down over me until I reached the back of her throat before sucking hard and pulling me out of her mouth. I reached for her hair, but she shook her head. It was all about her. It took all I had not to touch her while she filled her smart mouth with my cock.

  The second I knew I couldn't take anymore, I grabbed under her arms and lifted her into the air. Then I quickly turned us so her back was against the wall. I pulled her shorts down and ripped her panties from her in a few short moves. Then I pulled her tank up her body and over her arms. She stood before me completely naked. I could see a tiny bump forming in her belly and it sent a jolt straight to my chest. I fell to my knees, wrapped my arm around her waist, and kissed her stomach softly over and over. When I looked up, I could see tears in her eyes. There was no way she was pulling away from me.

  I got to my feet, grabbed her ass in my hands, and lifted. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and her fingers dove into my hair. It was short again, but she wasted no time pulling it between her fingers.

  “I want you bare. I haven't been with anyone,” I said with the tip of my cock at her entrance. “I need inside of you.”

  “Then take me,” she said. “Do it now.”

  I held tight to her ass and thrust into her. She cried out and her head fell back against the wall.

  “Fuck,” she cried.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she cried. “I need you deep, Lance. So fucking deep. Don't hold back. I need you so damn bad.”

  My fingers dug into her hips as I pounded into her as deep as I could get before pulling out and slamming her onto me again. Her back was moving up and down the wall. When her hands grabbed hard on my back and her nails scraped my skin, I fucked her even harder. There was no way she wasn't going to feel me the next day, and I hoped she wouldn't regret her decision. It felt damn good to be bare inside of her. I knew how much I'd needed it. So many emotions were flowing through my body. She had my baby inside of her. We were connected in ways I would have never dreamt. I was feeling things I'd never felt before. I continued to hit her deep. She moaned and cried out my name so many times. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to fill her. She held tight to my neck, as she lifted and dropped down on me again. I gripped her hips, pulled out, and thrust in so deep. She screamed my name as she tightened around my dick. I held her still, growled out her name, and filled her with jolt after jolt from my cock.

  Her body collapsed onto mine with her arms around my neck. I walked her over to the bed, pulled the covers aside, and gently let her down. She held out her arms, and I got in next to her. With one arm over my chest and her head against my shoulder, she drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up in the morning to an empty bed. When I walked into the kitchen, I noticed a covered plate and a note.

  “I didn't want to wake you but had to leave for work. Here's some breakfast. Have a good practice and be careful on the road. Good luck, Big Daddy.”

  I folded the note and put it in the pocket of my jeans that I'd pulled on before leaving her room. She hadn't woken up that night either. It felt good to know she hadn't had any bad dreams in my arms. I ate breakfast, did the dishes, and left a wrapped box on the baby's dresser. I made sure everything was good in the apartment, packed the bag I'd brought the day before, and looked in at the baby's room one last time. She wasn't even home, and I was having the hardest time leaving. I had no idea how I was ever going to leave once the baby was born. How the guys did it, I didn't know. I closed and locked her door and headed to practice.

  We were on the plane and had just landed when I turned my phone back on and instantly laughed.

  Firecracker: A mitt. It'
s so tiny and adorable. What if the baby is a girl?

  Me: It doesn't make a difference to me. My daughter or son is going to love the game no matter if momma likes it or not. I'll be expecting my you suck texts during the games. Be safe and tell my baby I miss them already.

  It was going to be a long six months.

  Chapter 11

  Lucy

  I left for work a bit early that morning to avoid whatever conversation was going to go on between us. We'd had amazing sex the night before. I didn't regret it, not one bit. I needed it so damn bad, and Lance did not disappoint. Feeling him inside of me bare was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

  I left him a plate of food and a note. Of course I had to add big daddy to it. Work seemed to drag on. Carrie's mom and I had sent text messages back and forth throughout the day. I'd told her what a great job Lance had done with the room. I knew he wasn't going to be there when I got home, but I still couldn't wait to get here. I opened the door and was a bit sad when I walked in to a quiet apartment. Dinner consisted of some of the leftovers I'd made the day before. I sat on the couch and turned on the television, missing him and the conversations we'd had. When I was finished, I opened the door to the baby's room and looked around. He'd finished the last bit of furniture and had placed everything where we'd agreed it would go. It looked awesome. I loved it. He would be the one living there. That was what he wanted anyway.

  In the corner was the chair we'd picked out, and all I could see in my mind was him sitting in the chair rocking the baby. Tears came to my eyes when I thought about how amazing he was being about everything. The big, tough ballplayer was going to be a great dad. I pushed the door open a bit more and saw a box wrapped on top of the dresser. I grabbed it and sat down in the chair. I looked at it for a moment wondering what could possibly be inside. Once I ripped the paper off, I opened the box. When I picked up the little baseball mitt, I burst into laughter and immediately pulled out my phone. That man was getting to me, and I was doing my best to stop him.

  Me: A mitt. It's so tiny and adorable. What if the baby is a girl?

  I could not stop laughing. Then I thought about him and a little boy, out in the yard of the new house, throwing the ball back and forth. I felt ridiculous sitting in the room alone laughing as tears streamed down my cheeks.

  Lance: It doesn't make a difference. My daughter or son is going to love the game no matter if momma likes it or not. I'll be expecting my you suck texts during the games. Be safe and tell my baby I miss them already.

  Then I thought about him with a little girl in jeans and a tiny jersey throwing the ball around. If we had a girl, I was so sure she would be a daddy's girl. I never would have thought that until I saw him in the baby store so excited about everything. Either way, the baby was going to have us both wrapped around their finger.

  I knew I was going to watch the games. There was no way I wouldn't. I for sure would give him shit too. It didn't matter how good he did, I'd make sure to mess with him. I thought it annoyed him. I hadn't thought for one second he would look forward to it, not from me anyway.

  When I read the part about telling the baby he missed them, there was no way I was stopping the tears. I was in the middle of a full on cry fest when my phone rang. It was Carrie's mom. As soon as I said hello, she was in mama bear mode.

  “Are you okay? What is it? Should I call Lance? Do you need us there?” she asked freaking out.

  “I'm fine,” I said. “He's getting to me.”

  “What?” she asked.

  I took a picture of the room and sent it followed by a picture of the mitt. Then I told her through my shaky cries what he sent in a text.

  “He's making me question things I never thought I'd have a reason to question again,” I said. “He worked so hard on the room. It looks so good. Then he left a gift. Did you see that little mitt. I can just see him outside throwing the ball around with a little one. If he doesn't care so much for the baby, he's doing a good job of faking it.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “It seems to me that he cares about you as well.”

  “He gives me crap about eating and not lifting. I don't blame him. I'm carrying his child. He even packed me a lunch. I'm glad he cares that his baby is safe.”

  “You think that's the only reason he cares?” she asked.

  “I don't know. Whenever I start to feel like he cares about me, I remind myself that he wouldn't feel that way if it weren't for the baby.”

  “Do you care about him?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “He's the father of my child.”

  “Knock off the shit, Lucy,” she snapped. “Do you care about him?”

  “I'm doing my best not to,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “That's what I need to do for me, the baby, and most of all for Lance.”

  Before she could say anything else, I let her go. Then I pulled up a message to him.

  Me: Thank you for everything you did while you were home. I know there were a million other things you needed to be doing. The baby is going to love the room and the mitt.

  I crawled into bed, grabbed the pillow he'd slept on that still had his scent on it, and snuggled up against it as I fell asleep. It was taking all I had to fight my feelings for him.

  The next few months were awesome and went by much faster than I thought they would. I took a picture of my growing belly each week. Once there was a difference, I started sending them to Lance if he was gone. I also sent them to Carrie and her mom. It didn't take long for me to start feeling huge. When I'd complain, Carrie's mom would remind that the baby was growing healthy and that I should appreciate every pound and every mark. She was right, she always was.

  Lance had gotten the keys to the his new house. It didn't matter if I was going to be living in it. It was still his. He'd sold his house. I felt horrible that he'd done it, but he told me over and over that he was tired of the drive to practice anyway. I knew better. He was doing it because of my pregnancy. He'd had all of his furniture moved into the new house and emptied everything out of his old one. The papers were signed and the keys handed over. He didn't look the least bit upset about. I paid attention. If he was unhappy, he didn't show it.

  I still wasn't sure about the move. It scared the shit out of me honestly. How could I live in a house he paid for, I thought? Part of me felt so damn guilty. I knew deep down Brad would want me to be safe, but I couldn't help thinking about what he'd think about me living in another man's house. It tore at my heart every time I thought about it. I tried to talk Lance out of it so many times, but each time he ended up snapping out that it was what he wanted. He'd say that it was his child and that they needed a safe house with a yard. No matter what I said, he always fought until I gave in and quit fighting.

  I was not used to being around a man like him. It was never like that with Brad. I already knew it was horrible for me to compare them so much. Brad was the only relationship I'd had really. The guys in between the two men were just for one or two nights. Lance was the first person since Brad that I'd talked to for so long. With Brad everything was easy. He'd ask what I wanted, and that was mostly what we did. He never argued about things or told me how things were going to go. When Lance did those things, he never did it just to be an ass or anything. He did it because he felt strongly that it was the safest thing for the baby. There was so much about him I wasn't used to. It had been five long years since I'd had to answer to anyone, and I never had to answer to Brad the way I did Lance. The craziest part was that we weren't even together. I was married to Brad. Lance put his foot down on the house situation, and I felt like a pussy caving into him. At the same time, I found myself wanting to make him happy and put his mind at ease.

  We hadn't been together sexually in months. It was seriously one of the hardest things for me to not jump him when he walked in the door or when I'd see him after a shower. It seemed like I thought about being with him when he was and wasn't around. I knew it was pregnancy
hormones or something. I'd never been so damn horny in my life. He joked often about smacking my ass or bending me over, but he never took that step, not after that one night. I didn't take that step either. It drove me nuts. I had no idea how he was dealing with it. I was getting huge, so it probably wasn't that difficult for him. He never mentioned being with anyone else, and I hadn't been with anyone since him. I didn't want to know if he had been anyway.

  Carrie text or called to check on me often, and I did the same to her. Her belly was huge. She looked like she was ready to pop in the last picture she'd sent me. We didn't talk as often anymore, and that was okay. I knew she was super busy with James, her parents, Scott, and being pregnant. I actually talked to her mom more than her.

  I was cooking a few times a week for myself, mostly on the weekends. I didn't have as much energy on work nights. I'd freeze things and heat them up so I wouldn't have to cook those nights. When Lance was in town, I cooked every night so he'd have healthy food while he was home. I enjoyed cooking for him, and he thanked me every time. He didn't know that I made sure to get new recipes from Carrie's mom so I could make different things for him. I found myself looking forward to him coming home and was even making the recipes ahead of time so I knew when I made them for him they would be perfect.

  He'd honestly become my best friend and didn't even know it. I wasn't sure exactly what that said about my social life, and I didn't care. We'd had so many awesome conversations and had grown pretty close as friends. If I wasn't pregnant with his child, I wasn't sure it would have been the same, but that didn't matter. We text each other every single day. Not one day went by that he didn't check on me. I'd send him messages during his games, and he'd respond later that night. I gave him shit every time he messed up, but I also congratulated him with each win. Big Daddy had gotten mixed in with Ballplayer and Hotshot in the list of names I used for him. He messed with me just as much by making pregnancy jokes. Even when he wasn't home, I'd be smiling most of the day. It was all because of him.