Hard Ball
Page 1
Table of Contents
Epilogue - Makenzie three years later
Prologue
Cole
Makenzie
About the Author
Also by Heather Stone
BONUS BOOK: LAST LINE
Bailey
Reed
Hard Ball
Heather Stone
Wintersgate Press
Contents
1. Cole
2. Makenzie
3. Cole
4. Makenzie
5. Cole
6. Makenzie
7. Cole
8. Makenzie
9. Cole
10. Makenzie
11. Cole
12. Makenzie
13. Cole
14. Makenzie
15. Cole
16. Makenzie
17. Cole
18. Makenzie
19. Cole
20. Makenzie
21. Cole
22. Makenzie
23. Cole
24. Makenzie
25. Cole
26. Makenzie
27. Cole
28. Makenzie
29. Cole
Epilogue - Makenzie three years later
About the Author
Also by Heather Stone
BONUS BOOK: LAST LINE
Prologue
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Bailey
Reed
Bailey
Bailey
Reed
Hard Ball
Copyright ©2017 by Wintersgate Press
Published by Wintersgate Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Hard Ball
Editor: Flynn Books Words & Ideas
Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind the Writer
Cover design by Melody Simmons
Created with Vellum
To all the ladies out there who love a man who knows how to handle his balls . . . As in baseballs! Head out of the gutter ladies!
1
Cole
“Fuck, Makenzie. You feel so good,” I breathe into her ear while sliding in and out of her warm pussy from behind.
“Cole,” she moans in return.
I flip her over, pulling her above me. Picking up the pace, I slam her down on my cock, eager to elicit those mewling sounds she makes like no other. Her panting fueling my already building orgasm, I pump in and out.
“Cole. Please. Harder.” I groan.
“You’re going to kill me, woman,” I say through my teeth, trying desperately to hold on.
She throws her head back and moans while she rides my cock. My breath hitches at the sight. She’s fucking gorgeous. How did it take me this long to recognize it? As if she hears my inner thoughts, she leans down so we are almost nose to nose.
“Because you’re a fucking idiot, Callahan.” Her hand connects firmly with my cheek, jolting me.
I awake with a start.
“Fuck. FUCK!” I yell.
What the fuck was that? These dreams have been happening more frequently and they are freaking me the hell out. Makenzie, aka Mak, aka Mak-attack is my best friend. Has been since grade school. We were inseparable until college took us in two different directions. I went to Vanderbilt on a full-ride scholarship to play baseball, while she stayed in Ohio on an academic scholarship to the University of Cincinnati. She is everything to me; best friend, sister I never had, sidekick, you name it, she’s it.
She’s been there for me through it all. Baseball hasn’t been a walk in the park—long seasons, tough practices, and trying desperately to keep the grades made the four years hell. It didn’t get any better after. My collegiate lifestyle came to a screeching halt when it became obvious that a spot in the MLB wasn’t just going to be handed to me. In the minors, you’re underpaid and overworked, but it was a necessary step to get to where I am today. Now I’m in the big leagues and making money hand over fist. I may only be a middle relief pitcher, but that’s all about to change if my fast ball remains as consistent as it has been. Throw in the fact that my curve ball is improving by the day, my chances of scoring a much better contract next year are looking good.
With that comes another set of problems. Girls. They are everywhere and they flock to me in droves. I have pussy thrown at me in the weirdest of places and I rarely turn it down. Makenzie has put up with my manwhore ways. She sees the man behind the money and growing fame. We’ve meant everything to each other, except when it comes to sex and romance. In fact, Makenzie would rather die than sleep with me. Her words, not mine.
So why am I suddenly having dreams of my best friend riding my cock? The dreams are so real and they feel fucking amazing. It’s making me sick to my goddamn stomach. This is Makenzie Anderson we are talking about. She’s my one true friend. I would never risk our friendship for a quick roll in the sack with her.
My phone rings next to my bed. I grab it, checking the screen only to cringe.
Makenzie.
It’s 1 a.m. Every night at one o’clock she calls me to make sure my ass has gotten home safe. She knows that I don’t go to sleep before that and neither does she, but for very different reasons. She’s getting in from a late-night study session in grad school and I’m usually just rolling in from the bar or the bus from yet another away game. I don’t want to talk to her. Not after that dream. But if I don’t answer she’ll just keep calling.
“Yo. Mak daddy,” I rasp into the phone.
“I hate it when you call me that.” Irritation in her voice has me chuckling.
“Yeah, I know.”
“You home safe?” her soft voice asks.
“Sure am, ma’am. I was actually sleeping.”
“Oooo…Lana must be there. Tell her hi from me,” she says cheerily.
Something shifts next to me, forcing me to squint to make out who is sharing my bed with me tonight.
Nope. Not Lana. Tara from the bar.
“Yeah, she’s here,” I lie.
“Okay, then. My work is done. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, Makenzie Marie.” I smile.
“Later, Coley Callahan.” She giggles and I can’t help but grin at our adolescent nicknames.
The phone goes dead, indicating she has hung up on me. I sigh.
Why did I lie about the girl who was with me? Makenzie is too aware of the revolving door that is my bedroom. As
much as it shouldn’t matter what she thinks, it does. She’s about the only one who can make me feel dirty, and she has on several occasions. So I lie. Especially if it is multiple girls in one week, which it typically is.
It doesn’t help that Lana is more or less my girlfriend. Has been since my junior year in high school. Lana went to school a town over from Makenzie and me. It was actually Makenzie who introduced us at a party after a football game one night. Lana was eager to get her hands on the three-sport dynamo that is Cole Callahan.
Makenzie has my back, always has, but she does not approve of my constant cheating. Her philosophy is, “If you aren’t happy, get the hell out.” I don’t subscribe to that thought. Lana serves a purpose. She’s candy on my arm and has stuck with me through all the hell I’ve put her through. The cheating, months on the road, and lack of proposal have not gone over well with her, but she’s stayed. As any ballplayer will tell you, keep the ones who put up with your shit, because there will be a lot of shit to put up with. If she can already handle the life, make her your wife. That’s never going to happen for us. I want more. I deserve more.
I’m a cocky bastard, but I’ve fucking earned that shit. Football, basketball, and baseball superstar—yeah that was Cole Callahan. Red Springs High never had an athlete like me. Every fucking record in that town, I hold. Vanderbilt recruited me for all three, but baseball was where I had the best chance at the bigs. By “best chance,” I mean it was a sure thing.
An average 96 mph fastball coupled with a wicked curve ball and the fact that I’m a lefty made me a foregone conclusion for the MLB circuit. Scouts from just about every team staked out my games with their radars lifted, eagerly awaiting that beast speed.
I’m a boss in the bullpen and even better on the mound. In the realm of baseball, I’m a god. Just about every team manager agreed with me, but it was the Milwaukee Brewers that showed me the money. So Milwaukee is home for now.
“Who was that?” The voice next to me pierces my ears with a nails-on-chalkboard effect.
“Nobody that concerns you. Time to go, sweet cheeks.”
“You’re kidding,” she giggles.
“Nope. I’m dead serious. You’ve got to get out. My girlfriend will be here first thing. You have to be gone.” She starts bitching next to me.
Typical.
“Whoa. Don’t start. You knew the drill when you decided you wanted to ride me. I didn’t lie. You know I have a girl.”
She gasps.
“Ride you? You’re a pig,” she screeches.
“Did you not just ride my cock?”
She blanches. “I’m out. Don’t call me.”
“No worries about that,” I yell at her back as she retreats half naked out the door.
I hear some hoots and hollers from the other side. Some of my boys and I currently live together. We’re the unmarried crowd shacking up in a mansion. They are most likely out there eating their weight in Taco Bell junk food.
Normally, I’d get up and join them, but I’m exhausted. I get up and slam the door, shutting out the noise on the other side. Tara will find her own way out. I wouldn’t be surprised to see her in the bed of one of my teammates tomorrow. Fucking girls are nasty like that. Hold up before you scold me—not all, just the typical jersey chasers. Besides, I can assure you she will call me again. That, my friends, is inevitable.
I lay back facing the ceiling, and reflect on my dream. Why is Makenzie getting under my skin like this? Why can’t I shake this feeling, like I want to fuck my best friend? It’s not like this is new. I’ve had wet dreams about her before, but fuck me, she’s a girl and I was a horny teen. I’m past that and not in any sort of drought where sex is concerned. I have girls throwing themselves at me and they are all hot as hell.
I shake the thought off. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her is all. We have never gone this long without a visit. My subconscious is just fucking with me.
I set my alarm for 8 a.m. I’m expected at the field by 10 a.m. Lana will be here by 7:45 with my breakfast. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been home to see her. No doubt she’ll escort me to practice. She loves being on my arm and watching the hordes of girls throw her the evil eye. Yes, girls stake out our practice. It’s ridiculous, but the amount of joy Lana gets from being resented is even worse.
Covering my head with a pillow, I will myself to go back to sleep, hoping like hell that my dreams are about beating Tennessee’s ass in the final game of the championship junior year and not pounding my best friend.
2
Makenzie
I’m freaking late. Never a dull moment in the busy life of Makenzie Anderson. These nightly phone calls are keeping me up way too late to be productive. After hanging up with Cole, I finally mustered up the energy to crawl into bed, still in my clothes from earlier in the day. I groaned as I realized I needed to wash the grime off my face from a late night in the library. By the time I finished, it was close to two in the morning. Not late for most grad students…but I’m not most. I have goals and I’m not letting anything steer me away from them, but I require sleep.
Which brings me back to the here and now. I’m running across campus to study, but this time I’m not studying alone. As I make my way through the heavy glass door a little chime rings and all eyes in the coffee shop turn to me. Great. Just what I wanted. The whole place is looking at me. A woman steps toward the counter and behind her I see Dawson wave at me.
I can feel my cheeks warm, which would normally be embarrassing, but luckily for me, I ran in so fast it probably looks like I’m flushed from the exertion. With brisk steps, I cross the distance.
“Hi, Makenzie.”
“Sorry, I’m so late. I was up studying and…”
He lifts his hand to stop me.
“No worries at all. You’re not even that late.” He smiles and cute little dimples form on his cheeks. How had I never noticed that before? “I’m just happy you’re here.”
He really is perfect. Smart, handsome, and definitely sweet. He also seems to like me, which is always a plus in these matters.
“Do you want coffee? Maybe a scone?”
“That would be great. Just let me know how much I owe you.”
“My treat, I’ll be right back.” And a gentleman…he’s a parents’ dream, or at least my parents. But unlike most girls who rebel against that kind of thing, I was totally digging it.
It’s a welcome relief from all the guys I knew with a different girl in their beds every night. Not to mention he is on the same path as me, doctoral students in physical therapy. Well, technically, we’ve already graduated. We are just studying for our state exam, having just completed the sports residency program. Like I said, a parents’ wet dream. I’m thrilled to finally meet someone who isn’t a complete manwhore.
My phone starts to vibrate in my bag and I reach in to grab it. Speaking of manwhores, it’s Mr. Repeat Offender. He thinks I don’t have his number pegged, but Cole wouldn’t know how to be a good boyfriend if there was a How to be a Perfect Boyfriend for Dummies manual. I’d say poor Lana, but we all know she’s only in it for the perks of being a professional athlete’s girl. Makes me sick, but I can’t care if Cole doesn’t.
“Mak-dog!” I roll my eyes at the moniker but like always, I find myself stooping to his level.
“Colegasm,” I answer. He bursts into a laughing fit and my own giggle breaks out.
“That’s a clever one.”
“What can I say? I learned from the best.”
“That you did, young grasshopper,” he says, chuckling again.
“So you’re alive this morning?” On a typical night and with his usual state of intoxication this question makes sense. Sometimes I wonder.
“Barely.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to, I don’t know…grow up?”
“I’ll think of doing that…three weeks from never.”
All I can do is shake my head. This boy. “I’m going to prematurely age with that kind
of talk.”
“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we? With the amount of time you spend in the library, I’d say you do a fine job of that all on your own. You’ll be a relic like those books you browse in no time.”
“You’re a pain my ass today. Why do I even bother answering your calls?”
“‘Cause you love me.”
Just as I’m about reply with a witty comeback, Dawson walks back to the table and places a steaming hot cup of coffee in front of me.
“Your coffee, madam. I’m going to grab the scones,” he says as he walks back to the counter.
“Thank you so much, Dawson,” I call out, swooning, but he’s already too far already. I’ll have to remember to thank him again when he returns.
“Who’s Dawson?”
“My date.”
“You’re on a date? What the fuck. You didn’t tell me you were dating someone.” His voice rises exponentially, clearly miffed.
“Well, not a date, per se. It’s more of a study date,” I answer, frustrated with where this conversation is going.
“Why do you keep saying ‘date’ if you’re studying?”
“Cole, why do you have to be so annoying?”
“Oh my God, Makenzie, do you like him?”
This boy is grating on my last nerve. “Can you shut up?” My eyes dart around me to see if anyone has heard my outburst. Nope. All good.
“Is he there? Can he hear me?”
“No, Dawson isn’t here right now.”
“Dawson? His name is Dawson? What kind of douche is named ‘Dawson’?”
“The kind a douche named ‘Cole’ has no place questioning.”
“Wow. Someone’s on the ra—”
No way. He wouldn’t have the balls to go there. I feel my shoulders tighten and my fingers grip the cup in front of me.
“Finish that sentence, Cole…I dare you.”
“Rag,” he finishes.
My mouth drops open. Yep…he went there.