Wild Pitch (Dominating the Diamond Book 1)

CHAPTER 33

Mateo fucking Reyes is on his knees for me.

He eats pussy like a starving man not sure when he’ll get another opportunity. Every stroke of his tongue, every caress of his pouty lips, every tease of teeth high on my inner thighs is the perfect blend of utter desperation and the need to savor me for his own pleasure.

The best part isn’t only that he’s on his knees. It isn’t even how transcendent his oral skills are. It’s the fact that for a precious moment, when I held his face in my hands and draped my body over his but just out of reach, he was one step away from begging.

“Shit, cari?ito,” I whine when he finally takes my clit back into his mouth. There’s more suction this time, but what makes me writhe on squeaking leather is the way his tongue goes right to that spot. The spot that I press my bullet to late at night, when I can’t sleep, and all I want is to come as hard and fast as possible. No vibrating piece of metal will ever be able to compete with the way his tongue strokes me–hard and fast, without ever releasing that warm, wet suction. “Fuck, I’m going to come, Reyes.”

His fingers dig into my ass. He tilts me, drinking from me, changing the angle just enough that there’s no edge for me to hold onto. Shaky breaths, high-pitched noises, and the messy slurp of his mouth on my dripping pussy echo in the small room, and I come like I”ve needed to for months.

Heart racing, still whimpering, fingers and toes tingling, I try to pull back, but Reyes doesn’t give an inch. As I’m still shuddering with aftershocks, he turns his attention to the rest of my cunt. He doesn’t go down on me like a man determined to get this over with or to get to his own pleasure. He explores my pussy until no sensitive bit of me is left unloved.

“Reyes, please.” I’m torn between pushing away and pulling him somehow closer. So sensitive it’s almost painful; so close to another orgasm. I try to squirm away, but my legs tremble, and all I manage is to soak his face from nose to chin. “Please–”

He laughs. I grip the chair and wait for that to set me off–that perfect low rumble that vibrates in my cunt and ricochets through my bones.

His fingers take the victory. One, then two. Three fingers sink into me–filling me, curling inside me, stretching me until I slap my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my own scream.

Reyes looks as smug as I’ve ever seen him when he finally sits back. Arrogance always looks good on him, but it looks even better when my cum glistens on his smile. His expression is self-satisfied, but his pupils are blown out–eyes high on his own pleasure.

“No more,” I moan when he leans back in. He only kisses the patch of trimmed hair.

“Two isn’t enough,” he says with his fingers still inside me. It should be uncomfortable, but it’s oddly comforting. The simple act of being filled by him, even if it’s only his fingers. Even if we aren’t fucking. “One day, I’m going to make you come until we both lose count.”

“Is that a threat?” I tease, feeling corny but unable to stop myself. I’ll blame the hormones. The post-orgasmic brain fog. Not the fact that this man I’ve idolized through years of gruff interviews is sitting between my legs wearing a ridiculous, little grin that makes his face look five years younger.

His fingers curl inside me in response. It’s too easy, but my moan is immediate, as if my body is already primed to accept pleasure from his.

“I like when you laugh,” I say, when he meets my moan with mirth.

“Yeah? Does it feel good when I laugh against this pretty pussy?” He emphasizes his words with another stroke of his fingers.

“No–well, yes, but that isn’t what I meant.” I cup his face, ignoring the throb in my hand. “You’re gorgeous when you’re happy.”

A shadow flickers across his face, but he doesn’t let it linger. “Want to see me even happier?”

He’s still stroking my walls, slowly stoking my need for him while pretending to have a semi-normal conversation.

“You’ve got a condom?” I ask. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a whole arsenal in his bag. Win or lose, there’s no dearth of partners ready and willing for a post-game hook-up with any pro, much less someone of Reyes’ caliber.

“Don’t need one.” His fingers leave me achingly empty, but it’s worth watching the way his cheeks hollow as he sucks them clean.

“Uh-uh.” He stands over me, but I plant one foot firm on his chest when he tries to lean in. “Nice try, Reyes, but it’s not going to happen.”

I’m on birth control. Have been since I was fourteen, and it was the only way to manage my cycle enough for me to get out on the field without crumbling in pain once a month. My latest STI results are on my phone, I can count the times I’ve had unprotected sex on one hand, and I’d be willing to guess Reyes could produce his results just as easily. But there is no way in hell I’m taking any risks, especially now that my time in the league is looking like it could be a lot more than a publicity stunt.

“I just want to see you take that bra off. I’m not trying to wet my dick for the first time in the locker room like this. I already told you. When I fuck you, I’m going to take my time, and I’m not going to stop until you’re ready to fall asleep next to me.”

His fingers snap the band of my bra, and he gives me that grin that would melt my panties if I weren’t already a dripping mess for him.

It’s hard to look sexy pulling off a sports bra, but I couldn’t tell from the way he stares at me. He’s all but licking his lips, staring at my small tits.

I’ve barely tossed it aside to join the mess of spandex and cotton littering the floor before I’m in his arms. Our naked bodies press together. I wrap my legs like a vice around his slender hips. He carries me into the small shower–dick grinding against my pussy with each step.

A gentleman as usual, Reyes shields me from the first splash of cold water. When my back meets air-chilled tile, still damp from my much less exciting shower, I gasp.

Reyes takes advantage of the moment to slip his tongue in my mouth. To explore me from within as the water turns the air around us to steam, heavy with moisture and the scent of sex. He holds me tight against the wall and moans into my mouth.

I could get lost in him like this. In the way his biceps bulge against my thighs when he shifts to support my legs. The way he leans into me and shudders when I rub my pussy up and down his perfect length. The movement is so small–a shift of our hips, meeting in unison, with no space to pull back, no space to thrust, no space for quick, rough fucking.

“Please,” he moans, right about the time my thighs start trembling into the flex of his arms. “I want to come together.”

He begs with his face buried in the crook of my neck and his teeth grazing me from shoulder to the hollow of my throat.

That’s all it takes. For the third time tonight, I come.

This time, I come with him.