by Sara Ney
I wet it with my tongue.
Suck.
Suck until her hands grasp the bedding with white knuckles.
That’s my girl.
I know she’s not going to want to finish unless I’m buried deep inside her—that’s what True does. Impatiently begs and begs until I slip my dick in and pump until she comes.
This time that won’t be happening.
She’s going to come on my tongue if we have to stay like this all goddamn night.
True has herself propped up at one point, using her elbows so she can watch me from her vantage point on the pillow, her eyes glassy with lust, her mouth open.
When I rake my teeth over her clit, her head drops back, hitting the pillow, a soft moan escaping her lips.
Escaping her throat.
She can barely stand what I’m doing to her, and I know the begging is going to begin any second now.
I’m not wrong.
“Mateo, please.”
I shake my head though it’s in between her legs and grunt out a “No.”
“Why?” she whines.
I ignore her.
I want her to relax so she can enjoy herself, not beg for momentary pleasure. I want to draw this out. Torture her a little. Make her want me when I’m not around because all she can do is think about my head between her legs.
I imagine seeing the top of my head is a turn-on, just like seeing my lips on her pussy is a turn-on, too.
I’ve always been turned on by the sight of a woman’s head bobbing up and down as she sucks my dick, so I can’t imagine this is any different.
Pushing the fabric of her underwear aside, I lavish her clit with a lick straight down the middle of her slit and bask in the moaning coming from her throat.
“Mateo.”
At what point will she learn she can’t have the D in the P just because she begs for it?
It doesn’t take long before her thighs begin to quake.
Shake?
The thrashing of her head on the pillow intensifies. The hand clenching the bedspread clenches harder.
True is a goddess laid out before me. Beautiful.
Pregnant.
Halfway to rocking an orgasm.
“Are you trying to make me go into early labor?”
I ignore her.
“I s-swear t-to g-god, Mateo, if you don’t…”
Naughty, naughty, using the Lord’s name in vain. She should know better than that.
I feast on her, going at it like both our lives depend on this.
I moan too, humming into her core, adding to the vibrations.
“Oh god…”
There she goes again.
“Oh…”
She’s close.
My thumb goes in slow circles just at the top of her pussy, round and round, while my tongue licks and my lips suck, grinding my stiff boner into the covers, not nearly close enough to finding my own release.
I’ll handle that after I handle her, maybe give myself a handy after she climaxes.
“Sshh…” True is pushing sounds out of her lips, none of which make sense. “Ahh…ohhh…uh…yee…”
I smile into her pussy, parting it with my fingers to lick deeper.
Sweet, sweet pussy.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“What wasn’t?”
“You, making me come from oral. I hate that.”
“You hate oral?” I can feel my brows shooting into my hairline, stunned expression surely across my face.
“No, I hate not feeling in control. I love being on top so I can control my own orgasm.”
Eh. “That sounds overrated. Isn’t it better to be so out of control you’re calling out to God and saying words no one can understand?”
Beside me, she shrugs. Turns again to face me, looking like an angel, naked and covered with only a white bedsheet. Sex hair tangled and falling every which way.
“Are you nervous to have me come with you to Arizona?”
Nervous? “Not at all. Why would I be?”
She shrugs again. “I don’t know—have you ever lived with anyone before?”
“I mean…I have six sisters, True. There are no roommates on this planet that are worse than that.”
“But you’ve never lived with a woman? Romantically, I mean.”
“No. This will be good practice, eh? Short amount of time, so if you get sick of me, it’ll be over before it begins and…you can come home.”
“True.” She nods. “I doubt I’ll get sick of you though.”
I gape at her. “True Wallace, are you giving me a compliment?”
She pulls a face. “Do you consider that a compliment? The fact that I probably won’t get sick of you?”
“Hell yeah. Baby steps, True. Baby steps. Pun intended. It took you weeks to tell me about the baby and a few dates for you to get comfortable with me—the fact that you think we’ll get along and you won’t get sick of me while we live together is a good sign.” I nod. “Yup. A good sign.”
“You keep throwing around the term ‘living together’, but it’s more like we’re getting to know each other for the sake of the baby. Or am I wrong?”
Okay, Debbie Downer, way to come in hot with the reality check.
I frown. “I mean, technically we’ll be living together.”
She smiles at me, eyes soft. “Alright. If you insist.”
“I do.”
Epilogue
True
Phoenix, Arizona
“Are you going to tell us if it’s a girl or a boy or not?” My brother is holding a platter of uncooked hamburgers and hot dogs, poised to set them down on the shelf for the gas grill. “It’s annoying that you haven’t said anything.”
I cock one of my eyebrows. “When are you going to tell the family that Hollis is expecting?”
Buzz glances up at me, tongs suspended in the air.
He snaps them in my direction. “Why would you think Hollis is pregnant?”
I shift next to him, sipping on cold iced tea, standing nearby to keep him company in the backyard while he’s at the grill.
I let out a pfft. “I saw the looks on your faces that night we were at dinner with Mom and Dad, and I put two and two together. My sisterly spidey senses were tingling.” There is such a thing. “So, am I wrong?”
Buzz is silent.
“Blink twice if I’m right.”
Irritated, he glances over at me, not blinking at all. “Why are you like this?”
“Because you’re my brother and you practically raised me. Takes one to know one.”
You practically raised me—words we use to joke about the years growing up because we spent so much time together as kids it’s almost as if we parented each other.
Buzz clicks his tongs again. “Don’t let Mom hear you say that.”
He’s still avoiding the question. But, speaking of Mom, she and Dad will be in Arizona in two weeks’ time.
“Are you serious? We made her life easier by being up each other’s butts when we were younger—all I ever wanted was to hang out with you and Tripp and follow you around. She hardly had to do anything but feed me.”
“Until we got into high school and you couldn’t play football or baseball with us.”
True. “But I came to all of your games.”
I was never far away even when I began playing sports on my own, volleyball and basketball and softball in the summers for the club team a few towns over.
Our poor parents could never have a life; they spent it driving us around before we could drive ourselves. And when Tripp got his license, he had to drive Buzz and me. Then when Buzz got his license, they fought over who would have to take me because neither of them ever wanted to.
Little sisters—what a pain in the ass.
I didn’t think much of it back then, but now that I’m an adult, I can see how annoying I must have been, following them around, whining, begging for rides and attention.
I wanted to be just.
My.
Brothers.
And what damn good brothers they were, too.
They complained plenty but always wound up including me anyway.
Aww.
Feeling nostalgic, I move closer to Buzz and, without thinking, wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze, enfolding him in a hug.
“What’s that for?” he asks, hugging me back, tongs still in his hand.
“I love you.”
“Aww, sis. I love you, too.” He kisses the top of my head. “Are you having a girl or a boy? I won’t say anything to Tripp—he doesn’t have to know I know.”
I pull back.
“You’re a total beast. Are you ever going to let it go?”
His giant shoulders shrug under my hug. “Not until I know if I’m having a niece or a nephew.”
“Are you going to tell me if I’m going to be an aunt? Or are you going to keep avoiding me when I ask? The fact that you won’t deny it is proof enough.”
“Then why do you keep asking?”
This makes me wonder… “Are you not telling me on purpose because you know it’s driving me nuts?”
“I’m not saying a word because I’m not saying a word.”
I smack him in the arm then plop back down at the nearby table.
One week later
This is the first time I’ve seen Mateo play.
Sure, he’s been on the field when my brother is playing—obviously—but I’ve never…noticed him. He’s always just been in the background.
Today I notice him.
And he is amazing.
Seeing him doing what he does best is amazing.
Gone are the days of tight baseball pants and sexy uniforms, but man does he look good even in the baggy ones.
Good?
That’s an understatement.
I’m down in the stands behind home plate with Hollis, munching on a hot dog and nachos, finally at a point where I’m eating for two.
Me and baby, not me and my inner bitch.
Hollis? Not so much.
I glance over at her and have to admit she’s looking a tad bit…
Nauseous.
I know that look because it’s the same look I saw when I gazed into the mirror after discovering I was pregnant, except she must be further along at this stage. But then again, I’m just guessing—what do I know about anything anymore?
I shield my eyes so I can get a better view of the field.
Better view of Mateo and my brother.
Working together to win the preseason game.
I sigh, content.
The sun is high in the sky and in our eyes, even with the overhang of the stadium behind us providing a bit of shade.
Anyway, back to Mateo.
My eyes are glued to him as if we are two magnets being pulled together.
We’ve gotten closer in the time I’ve been in Arizona. We’re even sharing a bed even though he said I could have the second bedroom to myself. Somehow, once I arrived, it just didn’t feel right.
I want to be close to him emotionally and physically.
It’s better than I could have imagined.
I offer a nacho to Hollis, who’s been sipping on Sprite during the game and nibbling on crackers she had in her bag—clearly, she didn’t get the memo that no carry-ins are allowed!
Honestly, though, not a soul on earth is going to tell Hollis Westbrooke Wallace she cannot bring her own food into the stadium.
Hollis declines my offer with a weak smile, and I drape an arm over her shoulder, squeezing.
Girl, I know what you’re feeling right now, I silently tell her without saying the words.
The sun feels fantastic, this beautiful summer-like weather doing me a world of good, both for my morale and my body.
I’ve been soaking it up since I got here.
The game goes on, the Chicago Steam up by two runs, and it’s looking like they’re going to win the game now that we’re in the home stretch, top of the ninth inning.
I prop my legs up on the seat in front of me since it’s unoccupied and lean back, the players before me already familiar faces. There’s something cool about watching men you know personally, men whose wives and girlfriends are sitting around you. Their kids too.
It’s one thing to see a game played on television, another completely to watch it live. I know what all the fuss is about, why fans get so ramped up and excited when they score tickets.
There is just no beating it.
When the game is over, our team with another preseason victory, I stand to collect my things, letting everyone around us file out first to avoid the rush.
But then the loud speaker clicks on and the announcer’s voice booms loudly, and I glance around to figure out what’s going on.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can you please turn your attention back to the pitcher’s mound? Please welcome Mateo José Espinoza—all-star second baseman and the pride of Chicago—back to the field.”
The crowd that was on its feet to depart the stadium is now cheering, eventually sitting back down when Mateo ambles toward the middle of the field. No glove on his hand, just a hat on his head.
He waves. Tips his hat in greeting before accepting a microphone and clearing his throat.
“Hola, Arizona. Cómo estás?” How are you doing?
This much Spanish I know, and the fans get loud again.
“Aren’t you relieved we won today?” More enthusiastic cheering. “I know I am.”
There’s some laughter drifting my way as I take my seat again, behind home plate, beaming down at the father of my child.
“I am feeling very lucky today, ladies and gentlemen—I have someone visiting that is with you in the stands today who is very special to me.”
Oh god.
He is not.
I lift my head to meet his eyes, for he has sought me out from his spot on the pitcher’s mound, giant grin spread across his handsome face still shiny with perspiration from the beating sun and the game he just played.
What on earth is he about to say?
I can’t even imagine, but I’m about to soon discover it.
“Familia is the most important thing to me. I don’t know how many facts you know about me, but I grew up with six sisters—five older, one younger—and always knew I wanted a big family. Or maybe I just knew I wanted to start a family while I was still younger.”
The throng cheers.
Lots of wolf whistles.
Shouting.
All I can think is If he proposes to me right now, I am literally going to leap over this netting to wring his neck.
“A few months ago, I met someone.” Loud cheering. “Yes, yes, I know. But she’s a private young woman, and she is going to kill me for even saying this.”
Kill him? That’s an understatement.
“So I met this young woman, and together we…”
Don’t say it, don’t say it, do not say it.
He says it.
“Well…we’re having a baby, guys!” Mateo throws his hands in the air. “I’m going to be a daddy!”
Everyone in the stands jumps to their feet to thunderous ovations, the applause deafening—more so than when the Chicago Steam won the game today on the “home” soil of their spring training stadium.
I cover my ears but have a stupid grin on my face, one I probably won’t be able to wipe off for hours.
Ugh, why is he like this?
Still, I’m biting my bottom lip to stop the tears of happiness from spilling out of my eyes.
Seeing Mateo so happy makes me happy.
What a weird, wild trip this pregnancy has been, and it keeps getting better.
Last night when we were in bed together after he’d spent the entire day working, he crawled in and held me close, and we talked about names and things we want the baby to learn and ways we want to parent.
Strict but loving, no nonsense.
I draw my attention back to Mateo, who
hasn’t said my name or pointed me out to anyone—at least I can have some anonymity while I’m sitting here.
“It’s a girl!” he adds with a yelp, leaping up to celebrate, tossing his hat into the air like a graduation cap.
It flies onto the grass where the shortstop usually stands.
From somewhere to the left of the diamond, my brother emerges—probably from the dugout, stomping across the dirt field to where Mateo stands, kicking up dust along the way.
“I knew it!” he hollers, running to the center of the field and grabbing Mateo, hauling him up off the ground and spinning him in circles like they just scored the winning home run in a long-fought game.
Then, Buzz sets Mateo down on the ground, extends his hand, and reaches for the microphone.
“Hey! I also have something to say!”
I doubt the crowd was expecting a show like this—nay, a spectacle—but they’re certainly in for a rare treat.
Totally getting their money’s worth.
“My wife is pregnant too!”
My brother and…boyfriend embrace again, whooping and hollering like frat brothers at a keg party.
My jaw drops open even as I jump up out of my seat and grin down at Hollis. “Ha! I knew it!”
I lean down and hug her, fans surrounding us and congratulating her as she’s one of the more visible and popular social media darlings of all the WAGs on the team.
No one knows me, but they most certainly know Hollis Wallace.
She groans and holds her belly. “When does this get better?”
I rub her back even as the crowd loudly applauds around us.
“I don’t know, but we get to do it together.”
We.
Us.
One big wild and crazy family.
How lucky we are.
The End
Read Chapter 1 from Jock Row
“The Friday When We Met.”
FIRST FRIDAY
SCARLETT
“No offense, Scarlett, but when I invited you to come with us tonight, I didn’t realize you looked like shit.”
Tessa—a girl I lived next door to in the dorms with freshman and sophomore year—flips her perfectly coifed hair, eyeing up my soft sweater. The one I wear when I’m nursing a cold, or sick, because it reminds me of home; cozy and comforting. It’s more appropriate for a bonfire or night at home than a Halloween party, and when she says I look like shit, she doesn’t mean I look sick.