Wild Pitch (Dominating the Diamond Book 1)

CHAPTER 39

“Are you sure you’re ready to say goodnight?” Ramirez asks.

My shirt is bunched in her hand. Her other fingers caress my face. Her swollen lips beg to be kissed. She stands with her back against the wall, but I don’t think she’d let me take control if I tried. Not that I want to try. My dick is so hard, I’m not sure how there’s any blood left going to my brain, and my mouth waters at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy again. But it’s more than that.

It’s the way she needs me so much and dominates me so completely in the same breath. The way she makes me hers with every husky command and scratch of her short nails. When I’m with her, I don’t have to play the grizzled, famous athlete, but I don’t have to pretend that baseball isn’t my entire life either. When I’m with her, things are easy. She takes charge, and I never knew it would be this rewarding to let her.

“I’m sure that I’m not,” I say honestly. My voice is so rough and soft; it sounds like I’ve been out yelling on a dusty diamond all day instead of eating my weight in carne asada, rice, fresh fruit, and aguas frescas while trying not to stare at her too hard or smile at her too big. “I figured my girlfriend–” I emphasize the word and smile, “might need her beauty sleep before the big game tomorrow.”

The flash of fear fills her eyes and is gone so quickly, it could have been a trick of the lights. She slides her palm up my sternum until her fingers tangle in my collar. I stop breathing. Not because her grip is too tight; the thought of her hand a little higher, a little tighter–of my not breathing being literally in her hands–makes my dick stir and my eyelids flutter heavier.

I want to fuck her. Or to be fucked by her. Or even just to have the privilege of watching her fuck herself. Anything, just to see her perfect body, to smell her arousal, to hear her panting, and whimpering, and moaning my name.

But I also want her to like that I called her my girlfriend. Because I fucking loved saying it.

“No touching until I give you permission,” she says when the elevator doors open on her floor.

She walks me to her door, and I hover a half-step behind her. I resist the temptation to run my fingers through the straight, black hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. I don’t rush her as she pulls the keycard from her pocket and opens the door. Like a vampire, I don’t cross her threshold until she turns back to me and smiles.

“No dirty clothes on my bed,” she says once the door is closed. The deadbolt clicks shut, and she steps into the bathroom without another word.

Making my way to the small sitting area beside the floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the city that I currently couldn’t care less about, I strip off my shirt as I go. I toss it onto the couch and have my pants halfway off before I realize she might not have meant for me to take my clothes off at all. Perhaps all she wanted was for me to sit on this uncomfortable sofa or the bed where her uniform is already laid out for tomorrow’s game.

The water stops running, and it’s too late to doubt myself now. I toss my pants beside my shirt and make my way toward the bed in nothing but my boxers, glad I wore silky red ones that cling to my thighs. I sit on the edge of her bed, nipples pricking in the cool air, and wait.

“No clothes on my bed.”

If I was considering arguing that she had said dirty clothes, I forget the moment I look up and see her leaning in the short hallway. Her long legs are always distractingly sexy in baseball pants and killer in those black tights she wears the rest of the time. But in the short, bold yellow robe that barely covers her ass, her legs deserve to be worshipped.

Her brown skin glows against the barely sheer, canary fabric. I want to sink my teeth into her flexing muscles, to drag my tongue up those hard-earned lines of quad separation.

I don’t argue. I drop my boxers and stand on display.

The robe barely hangs onto her shoulders. One clenched fist is all that holds the gauzy fabric shut, and it ripples around her as she walks toward me, as if she’s in some perfume or lingerie ad instead of alone with me in this cold hotel room. Her other palm lands flat in the center of my chest and pushes me back into her bed. I lay propped up on my elbows with my legs hanging off the soft mattress, my dick at attention, and my stomach that isn’t as cut as it once was looking golden under the dimmed light.

The score of her nails sends shocks of pleasure radiating through my legs, and I swear this woman is going to make me beg without going anywhere near my dick. Her eyes are hooded, but I’m the one who groans when she kneels on the bed between my thighs and finally drops the robe. The matching lingerie beneath is ninety-five-percent straps, five-percent sheer yellow mesh, and held together by cutouts and a prayer.

Straps cross over her chest and cup beneath her small tits, showing off pale-brown skin in sexy crescent moons. Deep, gorgeous brown nipples show through the mesh. More yellow straps circle her thighs and wrap up to her waist, bracing the mesh that clings to her hips and mound like a second skin.

“What’s my rule?” she croons. Only in her voice, could that be one of the sexiest sentences I’ve heard in my life.

“Don’t touch until you give me–” I struggle to finish my sentence when her finger finds the base of my cock. She drags her nail up my foreskin, until the pad of her finger reaches the sensitive spot beneath my tip, and I groan out, “Permission.”

She bends forward, light glinting off of the gold hoops she didn’t remove and shadows dancing in her hair, and presses her lips to the head of my cock. She doesn’t take me into her mouth. She doesn’t tease me with her tongue. She sits there, with her perfect body on display, her breath hot against my aching cock, my precum smearing on her lips, and lifts her eyes to meet mine.

“Good boy.”

The blankets go taut beneath my fists. Anything to keep myself from breaking that rule, when it takes superhuman strength to keep myself from wrapping her ponytail around my hand.

“Tell me what you want.”

My cock bobs against her lips with every word. I swear on all that is holy, if she keeps this up, I’m going to come on her lips, just like this. Either this is some kink that I didn’t know I had, or I am that far gone for this woman. I don’t care, as long as she doesn’t stop whatever spell she has over me.

“You,” I groan because the moment I open my mouth, she licks her lips. Without pulling away from me. The tease of her tongue, barely wetting my slit.

“Mmm?” Her lips vibrate on my head, and I dig my heels into the mattress to keep from arching into her. “Be more specific.”

“You,” I repeat while she hums softly, wrecking me with such ease. “Everything. Anything. Just please, don’t stop.”

Maybe her spit dripping down my cock shouldn’t surprise me after the message she sent me on the plane, but when she spreads her lips and soaks my length with a smile in her eyes, I nearly bust.

She swallows me down, and I see stars. She gags, slurps, and sucks until I’m begging her not to stop and begging the universe not to let me nut too soon.

“Fuck, mami–oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

She hums with my dick in her mouth and my balls in her hand, and I could cry from the effort to hold back. My hands are balled up in the sheets, the pillows, grabbing for the headboard–scrabbling everywhere and anywhere to fight the urge to hold onto her pretty face as she gives me the messiest, noisiest, sloppiest, most soul-sucking head of my life.

“Please, I need to touch you,” I beg. “Let me touch you before I lose control, please–”

Spit and precum glisten on her chin when she sits up and laughs. It isn’t mocking; that deep, husky sound is as gorgeous as she is, and she taunts me even more by licking her plump lower lip.

“Do you want to know how good you taste?” she asks me.

“I want to kiss you,” I answer. “I want to squeeze your ass, and kiss you, and taste you.”

“Is it bothering you, not having permission to touch me?”

“It’s killing me,” I say.

“Hmm. I like that.”

She straddles my thighs and reaches for my hands, and for a moment, I think she’s giving me what I begged for. But her fingers twine with mine, and both of our arms reach above my head. Pinned down beneath her as she leans in to claim my mouth, I realize she’s given me more.

Her tongue is deep in my mouth when I get the first feel of her pussy. Taking full advantage of her crotch-less outfit, she glides her dripping pussy up and down the length of my dick, and I don’t even care that I’m not inside her. She feels so good that I know I’m going to shoot all the way up to my chest if she keeps grinding on me like this.

I can’t fight the need to dig my heels into the mattress and thrust. She doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t reprimand me for breaking her rule. She rolls her hips faster, whimpering into my mouth as she takes what she needs, and I count to ten and think of England, trying not to come yet.

When she sits up and moves my hands to her hips, I almost die of happiness. I dig my fingers into her skin, mesmerized by her softness and the scent of strawberries mixed with her arousal. She throws her head back and bites her own hand, but my name is still loud and clear when she comes.

Her thighs shake, and her abs tense, and I expect her to fall limp against my chest. I’m ready to catch her, ready to wrap my arms around her and clutch her warm and soft against my body, so captivated by her beauty that I can almost ignore how tight my balls are.

She slips back between my legs and guides my hand to the back of her head.

“Let me taste your cum,” she says and swallows me to the root without even waiting to catch her breath.