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"Is that so?" I dance down her belly, her body curving into me as I go. I slip my fingers over her tiny bikini bottoms, running my fingers over the seam of her sex.
"My dad used to tinker on cars. I loved to watch him. Hand him tools. I liked how they are a puzzle you have to figure out, put back together to make them purr. Then we'd crank them up and take them for rides. Cars are fun. They make you feel free."
She wants to play baseball with the guys? Cars make her feel… free?
It takes every ounce of self-control in my body to not get down on one knee and propose right this second. Maybe it’s a good thing this is our last day together. She’s got me thinking some seriously serious thoughts about her.
And I don’t do long term.
I dip my fingers under the elastic band of her suit, rubbing my fingers against the slickness of her pussy. "Couldn't say it better myself." I move my expert fingers, pushing in and out of her pussy, circling her clit till she’s curling around me, moaning. Her hips circle, letting the sweet musky scent of her arousal reach me, her teeth sinking into her lip to hold back her cries as she comes.
Her bottom lip is full, almost swollen from her biting it. I have to taste it. I press my lips against hers. The kiss she gives me in return is full of hunger and nothing short of pure perfection. There’s so much desire behind her kiss as she swipes her tongue against mine, the passion in it takes my breath away.
Afterward, we gather a group of guys and girls to play the game. I’m shocked by how eager the Beauties are to play. Never crossed my mind to invite them before. I assumed they were happy cheering from the sidelines.
The sun is warm, the grass is lush. A sense of anticipation swirls around me with the smell of the freshly mown grass mixing with the salty sea air. It’s a perfect day.
With the Beauties participating, we find them—as they often do—wanting to up the elegance of the event. The guys usually just play but the women have suggestions. Suggestions meaning standing around and pointing while the guys do the heavy lifting. Which, of course, we are happy to do.
Under close supervision we create a makeshift field on the grass, our crudely drawn diamond taking shape as we lay out the markers. Sasha, a dark haired, fiery Italian woman, also used to play softball. She insists we have to have a pitching mound. We haul a wheelbarrow of sand from the shoreline.
In the end, it would never be a professional league stadium, but our makeshift field meets the ladies’ standards and is more than enough for our impromptu game. And of course, as always, the women are right and it’s way better than what we usually go with.
We stand in a line, guy-girl, guy-girl and count off to form teams. Carter, Sasha’s husband, names our team the B’s for Bachman, original, yeah, and Sasha, self-appointed captain of the opposing team, names hers the A’s in retaliation, telling us A’s are better than B’s in school and in life. Our team did our best to piece together blue T-shirts so everyone is wearing one. The A’s go with red.
Sasha’s pretty competitive.
My girl is on Sasha’s team. I wanted her on mine for many reasons, one being I want to have a closer look at the perfect curves of her beautiful ass in those tight white spandex leggings she’s wearing. I can tell there’s no panties underneath. She’s taken the red T-shirt someone loaned her, tying it up tight to show her tanned midriff.
How the hell am I supposed to focus on the game with her running around, her long, dark ponytail swishing over her back?
My team is up to bat first. They make me go to bat first. I step up to the plate, feeling the sun and the breeze on my face as I survey the field. I dig my toes into the grass, grasp the bat, and ready myself for the pitch. The ball flies toward me.
I give a mighty swing, feeling the sweet sound of contact as I send the ball soaring. God, I fucking love baseball. It’s a home run. The other team scatters over the field, laughing as they try to chase down my ball. Rhett just stares, her mouth practically gaping as she watches me jog the bases. The cheers of my team and the laughter of my friends fill the air as I make my way around our diamond to home plate. I feel the thrill of the moment coursing through me.
But most of all, I feel her eyes on me.
And it feels fucking good.
There’s only one more home run in the game. Hit by—you guessed it—Rhett. Okay, now I fucking have to propose. I run over to home plate, picking her up and spinning her around as she laughs, her ponytail swinging. I bring her down so our lips can meet in a long kiss.
Our embrace brings even louder cheers than our home runs do. Bachmans always root for love.
Did I just say… love?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beckett
After the game, I’m filled with so much pent-up sexual energy I know I’m going to implode if I don’t take her. Hard and fast. I grab her by her waist, pinning her to our bed. I tear down her leggings, lose my pants, and grab her hips. Wrapping her long ponytail around my hand, I tug her head back, sucking on her neck as I enter her. Her pussy is already wet from her earlier orgasm on the beach.
“God, you’re so fucking tight. So wet. You feel so good.” She presses back against me, wanting me deeper. I slap her ass as I dive deeper inside her. The sex is hot, fast, sweaty, the friction rubbing back and forth, the orgasm building until finally, I get to that explosive release my body was craving.
We shower and dress. I’m in a black tux. Her gown is a soft creamy gold, perfectly encasing her full curves. Her dark hair is a perfect contrast to the fabric. I gift her a pair of gold hoop earrings with a matching link necklace to wear tonight. She thanks me with stars in her eyes and sugar-sweet kisses.
We step over the threshold of the grand mansion, the music of the orchestra already playing in the background. As we walk through the white marble foyer, I see hints of the night ahead. A black and gold theme had been set, with candles flickering in the corners and sparkling stars glittering from the ceiling, creating an enchanting ambience.
Her hand in mine feels comforting and warm. I’m filled with anticipation, so ready to hold her in my arms for a slow dance. Everywhere I look, I see couples in deep conversations, or dancing gracefully, the women’s gowns sparkling in the candlelight. I’m so proud to be here with her, to have her by my side tonight.
