Wild Pitch (Dominating the Diamond Book 1)

CHAPTER 43

I have never done this with a man before, but Reyes is clean and waxed, and the sweet little noises he makes the second I start rimming him have my pussy begging to be filled.

The way I go down on him, it’s like I’m the one who was begging for this and not the other way around. I love the power of having him exposed and shaking. His face is buried in the pillows, and I make a note to fuck him like this somewhere more private next time because I need to hear him let completely loose. I want to ruin this man over, and over, and over again, and I want to hear the way he breaks for me without pillows to muffle him.

“God, that feels so good,” he shouts. “Mmm, fuck, I need to come.”

On another night, I might make him beg more. But I’m as worked up as he is, and I need to feel this man shatter.

“Get on your back.” I slap his ass again, and he yelps as he flops onto his back. The mattress shakes, but all I care about is getting his knees bent and his legs pulled up to his chest. “You have no idea how bad I want to rail this pretty ass.”

“Not as bad as I want you to,” he says. “Fuck, I didn’t think you could get any hotter–mmm–but just thinking of you–wearing a–strap–shiiiit.”

“Grab the lube from the nightstand.”

“Seriously? You brought a strap-on? You really had plans for this trip, didn’t you?”

“I wish, viejito.”

He tosses me the small bottle and groans in appreciation while I coat my fingers. When I drop the bottle to the side, he grabs his legs and spreads himself wider, begging for me without words.

“Come for me, baby.” I give the command with my lips pressed to his cock and my slick fingers easing into his hole.

I gag, and choke, and swallow him down, knowing how much he loves this sloppy, noisy head. He keeps his hands on his thighs, moaning up a storm; Reyes is so vocal, I’m pretty sure that I’m about to come just listening to him. My fingers find his p-spot, and he breaks. His hands are in my hair, and he thrusts desperately into me.

I suck, and stroke, and finger fuck him mercilessly until his legs shake, and his stomach goes taut, and he bites into a pillow to try to disguise the way he shouts my name.

Not mami. Not rookie. Not Ramirez.

My name. On his lips. Over, and over, and over again, like some bone-shaking prayer while I suck his soul from his dick.

As badly as I need to come, I pull a still trembling Reyes from my bed and lead him to the bathroom. The ice is mostly melted by now, but I didn’t fill the ice bath for nothing, and I’m not going to be responsible for his body aching in the morning. At least not that kind of aching.

One day, I’d love to leave his hamstrings beautifully bruised and his tight ass stretched and deliciously sore, but for now, I ease him down into the icy water and lift a bottle of water to his lips. When he spills, I dry his chin. When he leans back and rests his eyes, I tuck a rolled up towel to cushion his head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs while I move to the sink to wash my hands. “For all of this.”

“About what you said earlier–” I trail off and take a seat on the edge of the tub. “Yes, I’m into BDSM. And I’m sorry for getting into this without telling you sooner. I just–well, I guess I can’t really relax when someone else is in control. It’s too hard to get out of my head, no matter how much I trust them. When I found kink, it clicked. I don’t need impact play or elaborate scenes, but I need to be in control.”

“You don’t owe me an apology.” He forces his eyes open and reaches for my hand. “In case it wasn’t clear, I like you being in control.” He raises my hand to his lips, and I melt for him when he kisses my palm. “And, for the record, I like you, too.”

“I know we were joking yesterday–”

He cuts me off with a grin, already knowing where I’m going. He can probably read my face, but it kind of feels like he’s reading my mind. I don’t mind it.

“I wasn’t joking, Sierra. I know you’ve said again and again that you don’t date ballplayers, but I will do anything to be your exception. Be my girlfriend.”

I wake up on cloud nine, only to find my bed cold and empty. Assuming Reyes is in the bathroom, I roll over to check the time on my phone. My brow furrows when I see my notifications. Multiple messages from the man I had expected to wake up with fill my screen. The first message and his promise of breakfast in bed make me smile, but my relief is short-lived when I see his frantic change of plans.

After starting and deleting three messages, I give up and call him instead. My call goes straight to voicemail, and I hang up without leaving a message. The flutter that I usually get in response to his voice can’t compete with the worries sitting heavy in my stomach.

Me:

Please get home safe. I hope your mom is ok

I’m not sure how long I sit staring at the tiny sent icon beneath my message. Logically, I know that it means he’s already on a flight back to the Bay Area just as well as I know that staring at the message isn’t going to make him respond any faster. As callous as it seems, it’s game day, and I need to get out of bed and focus.

By the time I get to the gym for some easy warm-up cardio and mobility exercises, he still hasn’t responded. During the pre-game meal, I sit beside Dante listening to my teammates’ chatter become white noise and spending more time pushing my food around my plate than actually eating it.

“In case any of you missed it,” Skip says before the team starts heading out to the field, “there’s a change to tonight’s line-up. Reyes had to rush home for a family emergency, so Williams, you’re behind the plate. I’m sure Reyes would appreciate all the positive thoughts, or prayers, or whatever your deal is sent his way, but once we’re out on that diamond, I need all of your heads in the game. We can’t afford to lose this one.”

Dante nudges my side while the rest of the team lowers their heads for a moment of silence before heading out of the locker room.

“Is he alright?” Dante’s voice and nearness are comforting, but not enough to settle my nerves as I check my phone for the thousandth time, only to find the same Sent notifications and nothing more.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I answer. I’m too high-strung to pretend that I don’t know why he’s asking me.

“Pull it together,” Williams interrupts. “I don’t need you making me look bad because you can’t pitch to anyone but Daddy Reyes.”

“Shut up and focus on your own game, Williams. You don’t need anyone’s help making you look bad,” Dante says.

“Whatever, man. You act like I’m the bad guy for not wanting a girl on my team, when Reyes is the one giving her the most special treatment out of any of us.” Williams sneers and focuses in on me. “The way he has to constantly fucking coddle you–you think he’d do that shit for anyone else?”

Dante sucks his teeth and takes an aggressive step toward Williams without letting his grip on my arm falter. “Man, get out of here and handle your own shit.”

“He’s right,” I say once Williams is gone, and Dante and I are the only stragglers left. “All this time in the league, and the only one I can pitch to is Reyes–”

“All this time in the league.” Dante squints at me and laughs. “Okay, rookie. You’ve been here a couple months; better be careful, or that head of yours is going to be as big as his. No matter what Williams says, you’re a damn good pitcher, alright? If you were just here for publicity, you aren’t the only girl out there they could have found. If you didn’t have the talent, you wouldn’t be striking dudes out, no matter who is behind the plate. Right?” He pauses and taps my forehead with one finger. “The fact you can kill it when Reyes is catching means it’s all up here when he’s not.”

I adjust my cap and take a deep breath. The temptation to check my phone again is killing me, but I’ve already had it out long past the time I usually silence it and begin visualization exercises for the game.

“What if I can’t get out of my head?” I mean for the question to be rhetorical, but Dante wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.

“You want me to tape a picture of Reyes’ onto the catcher mask so you don’t have to look at Williams’ ugly mug? Because I will.”

By the top of the third inning, we are already down five-one. Uncharacteristic tension fuels the dugout–a mixture of concern for our missing captain and the knowledge that we need to win the remaining games in this series to hold our spot in the wild card race. There could not have been a worse moment for Reyes to be gone. When I feel guilty for thinking that, I remember how much a championship ring means to him. I hear him in my head, questioning whether all the sacrifices he’s made to be at this point in his career are worth it, and I know we can’t let him down.

Whatever is happening with his family, I can’t be there, and I can’t help him. But I can do everything in my power to make sure we don’t lose his shot at the play-offs.

“Ramirez, you’re up,” Skip shouts after hanging up a challenge that didn’t go our way. “Get your ass in the bullpen, and get your head in the game.”

We’ve gone through two pitchers, and no one is in sync with Williams. If the situation weren’t such high stakes, I might be tempted to gloat that it seems pretty clear he’s the problem after all. Worse, Reyes is our best batter, and the rest of our line-up is struggling just to make contact with the ball tonight.

I let Dante’s pep talk block everything else out and start to warm-up. I block out what’s happening on the diamond and focus on keeping every pitch controlled.

We hit the bottom of the fourth inning, down seven to one with the game nearly halfway over, and I walk out to the mound with my head held high. I chalk my hand, stretch my hips one last time, and pretend Williams isn’t the one staring back at me with one of my ex-teammates in the batter box. I shake my head when he gives me a truly awful pitch call. As usual, he ignores me and signals the exact same thing.

That’s when it clicks. Sure, the men coming up to the plate know my pitching, but I know exactly how they bat just as well. Better even, considering they never took me seriously.

I ignore Williams’ call and let the ball fly.