39. Layla
LAYLA
“Every city, Layla Jean,” Briggs mutters gruffly in my ear, thrusting his cock deeper inside me, which only pushes my body harder into the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Louisville.
“You’re gonna have my dick inside you everywhere we go.
Every location we stop at. You’re gonna feel how many times I wish you were with me and how I had to use my hand instead of this perfect cunt. Got a lot of makin’ up to do, woman.”
I only have one place I’ve ever stayed, so any retort or response I may have wouldn’t compare to the way Briggs travelled alone without me.
However, I’m still enjoying it all the same.
We got zero sleep last night, which I fully expected because the man is an animal when he gets his hands on me, but he made some sort of special arrangements, and we boarded the plane with his team.
He got us up front, away from his teammates, and we napped for a good six hours before landing.
Surprisingly, his teammates didn’t make a lot of noise—probably exhausted from their stressful Series they just won—but I did get random handshakes with them, introducing themselves politely before Briggs would wave them away from lingering too long.
He had a meeting this morning, as soon as they landed, where I fell back asleep. When he came back, he had breakfast sent up, and now he’s fucking me against the window before he has to head back down for a mini practice session.
“Are we doing this?” Briggs suddenly asks me. “Are you mine, Layla Jean? I won you the playoff series. We were down two games; we shouldn’t have come out on top.”
I haven’t told him that I’m riding the rest of the season with him. I’ve been too busy just enjoying the moments of us being together that I didn’t want to rile him all up when I need him to focus.
But he’s going to find out anyway.
I have so much to tell him, I don’t even know where to start.
“I wouldn’t just let any man push my naked body against glass, Briggs Kerrigan,” I mutter. “I’m so yours. I want this to work for both of us.”
He cups my face and turns it to slam his lips into mine.
His kiss is vicious but soft when he slightly pulls at my lips. His hips rocking with more purpose as if he needed any more.
He growls when he hits a spot he likes, and I push against him a little bit for him to ride that small high.
“I have a few surprises for you.”
His lips trail to my jaw and back up to my ear. “Is it you coming on this cock ’cause I need that, Short Stop. I need to feel you clench around me again.”
Those words are like liquid fire in my stomach, licking and boiling me to a new temp of just being hot and completely turned on with everything going on.
“I can do that,” I mutter softly, my fingers curling for something to ground on, but there’s nothing to hold on to. “Whatever you want.”
“I like the sound of that,” he praises. “I also like that I’m going to be wearing you on my cock when I go practice for a little while.”
Oh.
My.
God.
“Please do not take off your team’s t-shirt when you get back,” I beg. “I want to suck your cock when—”
“Fuck,” he leers, his dick twitching inside me as his pace increases. “Don’t tease me, Layla Jean. I need to focus.”
“Then I won’t tell you about it after the game tonight when you’re in your jersey.”
“What about it?”
He’s a sucker for punishment.
“I’ve always thought about riding you with it on,” I answer honestly, my mouth having its own field day of dirty talk because I’m years past due and it just will not stop tempting and flirting with this man. “Screwing one of the best hitters in the game has always been on my bucket list.”
“You have the same thoughts about Julian Erza?” He shoves into me harder as if I had had those thoughts, but I haven’t obviously. “Because he’s playin’ tonight.”
“Just one. One I’ve been obsessed with since I was sixteen and made blue bracelets for.”
Briggs lightly bites down on my earlobe and sneers with lust in his tone, “Come on my cock right now. Milk it. Coat that shit. Ride it, whatever you want. Just give it to me, and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me later.”
“Promise?”
He hums his approval that I don’t back down from my previous words. “Absolutely, I fuckin’ promise. Spread your legs wider.”
I do, and he lifts one of my legs to prop my knee against the glass, sinking into me at a new angle, and a deprived moan escapes my lips.
Briggs grunts, the sound reverberating through my whole body and core, sending another rippling effect of butterflies erupting throughout.
He kisses my neck, drawing long lashes with his tongue in their wake. That mixed with how he stretches me with each thrust, I combust with the sensations of it all in one perfectly sexed-up cocktail.
Briggs pulls back, coming up to my face to drown out the moans and swallows them whole, and then his body quakes with a muttered fuck as he comes down as well.
With mixed exhales and attempts to catch our breath, Briggs nestles his face right back into the crook of my shoulder again.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he moans with irritation. “I’ve had you for less than twenty-four hours, and it’s not enough.”
“I’m going to the game, goofball.”
“But my cock is not gonna be inside you during that time. And I want my wife in my arms for the rest of the day and night. I need my girl.”
“I’ll be right here when you win.” I inhale, the next words a bit choked in my throat, but I push through because I have and want to. “And I’m movin’ into our home.”
Briggs immediately pulls out of me and spins me around, just to crowd my space again. “You’re doing what now?”
His green eyes sparkle with warmth and excitement, and it doesn’t appear like he could contain it if he tried.
“I’m movin’ in,” I repeat calmly. “And I’ve hired Adeline at the bakery, promoted Blake to general manager, so I can come with you on the road sometimes when you play. That’s what I’ve been doing and working on since you left. I’ll probably hire one more girl, but I don’t think I can afford—”
“We can afford it,” he interrupts, running the pad of his index finger along my jaw. “We can definitely afford it, Short Stop.”
“But I—”
“We’re married. You didn’t sign a prenup. You’re already on my bank accounts. We can afford it.”
I swear, my heart grows two sizes bigger with his support and how he’s already planned this whole future with us, even when we weren’t our best.
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“Down to our firstborn son’s name.”
My nose wrinkles up because whoa. “Our firstborn—what’s the name?”
“Haze.”
Now, my brows clench. “Where did you get that?”
“I lost a bet with Josiah a few years back. He beat my batting average by a hundredth, and it’s his middle name. If I lost, I named my damn kid after him as a friendly reminder that I lost.”
“And you agreed?”
“Hence, having everything down up until our firstborn son.”
Okay…
I mean, it’s not a bad name. I just always thought we’d decide together if we ever had children.
Not that I’m thinking of children right now, but Briggs has more times than me, I’m sure, with his psychopathic energy sometimes.
However, I like that he’s connected with guys since he’s left Magnolia Ridge, and I don’t mind the bet. It’s kind of funny.
“Haze, it is,” I mutter.
Briggs’s smirks. “Are you sayin’ we’re getting pregnant, Layla Jean?”
“Eventually—” I’m swept up in his arms in the next second, spine pressed up against the glass while I’m forced to straddle his waist.
“I’m ready to start whenever you are,” he utters, leaning closer and coaxing me to lose control with him—again. “Just say the word.”
I study him, finding excitement and hope first, but I’m suspicious of what he may do if we do get pregnant.
“Briggs…”
“Mhm?” His lips are only a short distance away, and I feel my resolve of a normal conversation slipping away by the second when his gaze falls to my lips.
“Do you love baseball?”
He doesn’t answer right away, taking more time than I would like, but he finally says, “I do.”
“So…all the times you said you’d give it up, it was because you thought it’d be the only way we’d work?”
His pine greens ascend up to mine. “Maybe.”
“Yes or no, Briggs Kerrigan,” I lightly persuade. “I need to know you love this. That I’m not tellin’ you to stay in something you don’t want to do.”
“I like playin’,” he replies confidently. “But I love you—”
“I love you, too, but—” His lips crash into mine, hard and wild, and I melt right against him and the glass behind me.
His kiss is soul-snatching. Something I wasn’t expecting but divulge and meet back with.
Everything about him is just intoxicating. It’s this thrilling and emotionally driven high that I’ve tried to suppress and convince myself that I didn’t need.
However, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
And so much more.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you’ve loved me in a long time, Short Stop,” Briggs says against my lips. “I’m gonna want that.”
I bob my head because I get it. “I understand.”
“What are you so worried about?” He squeezes my hips gently and breathes me like I’m on his oxygen supply. “What are you holding back on?”
“Not us,” I reassure him. “But…if we have a family, you’ll drop it because you’ll think I need help.”
“You will need help.”
“I can travel with you. I want you to have and get everything you can with the MLB. You loved the game when we were kids. I don’t want you to think you have to choose. I’m afraid…I’m scared you’ll overthink it. I’m in this with you.”
“We’ll need a nanny then. Part-time because I know you.”
My immediate answer is no, but…sacrifices. “Okay.”
“I’ll quit the moment you say—”
“I know you will. But I won’t. I think I’ll like this. Travelin’ to all these cities. I’ve never been out of Magnolia Ridge much and—”
“What about the bakery?”
“I’ll go back.” He opens his mouth, but I beat him with, “And I’ll come back. You can go a few days without me.”
His hips press forward, and I feel his hard length against my thighs. “Not so sure about that, Layla Jean. I just wanna live inside you.”
I roll my eyes, and that’s when one of his hands drops, and he’s guiding himself against my entrance, pushing himself slowly inside.
My lips press together, suppressing a moan as my head tilts back in pleasure.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he tries to bargain, unhurriedly shoving his cock deeper inside me.
“I won’t quit without talking to you first. I’ll let you go back to Magnolia Ridge if you come back and fuck me for as many days as you were gone.
And…I want sappy text messages about how much you miss me. And sexy texts, I need those, too.”
“You’re high maintenance.”
“No, I have abandonment issues and a hot fuckin’ wife. I’m only human.”
“Then I want flowers when I come back.”
“Done.”
He bottoms out and keeps himself seated there for several seconds.
“And a dessert.”
“Easy.”
His hips begin moving, fucking me to a steady and torturous rhythm. How he’s having a conversation with me is beyond my comprehension.
“And how much you thought about me.”
“That should be a given. But I can do that, too. What else?”
“Ask me when we’re done.” I cup the back of his head to bring him closer. “I just wanna come.”
He smiles, big and wide, so authentic and beautiful that it takes my breath away. “For you, Layla Jean, anything for you.”