Fastball (Wilde Players Dirty Romance)
Read Fastball (Wilde Players Dirty Romance) Online
Authors: Hargrove,A.M.,Laine,Terri E.
Table of Contents
Sneak Peeks from Shanked, For The Love of English, Catching Fireflies, and Sidelined
Published By Wicked Truth Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2016 A.M. Hargrove and Terri E. Laine
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental.
Names, places, and characters are figments of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.
Cover by Michele Catalano - Creative
Cover photo by Sara Eirew
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To every athlete out there, who dedicates hours and hours to their sport, we thank you and appreciate you. Not only do you entertain us, but you also give us something to write (fantasize) about!
To our readers: you guys are THE BEST! And we say that from the bottoms of our hearts. We love and appreciate each and every one of you and we hope our little dirty, flirty romance is something that you love. We decided to play a little with this and veer away from the serious so we could have some fun. So please tell us what you think. Hit us up on Facebook or wherever, but there will be more Wilde Players on the way.
Here are the lovely people we'd like to say THANK YOU to. Our beta readers: Kristie, Andrea, Nina, and Jill. You ladies are our shining stars and always make our books brighter and prettier than they can ever have been without you. We Love you to the end zone and then some!
Thank you Nina Grinstead, and Social Butterfly PR for running your butt off in getting our stuff out there when we were so late. We love you!
And thank you Rick Miles at Redcoat PR For everything, but especially for putting up with Annie’s complaints about Walter eating her couch.
To keep up with the lastest news on Annie and Terri, subscribe to our newsletters where you’ll get the best scoop of all!
GINA
Air clings to my lungs like sludge, and the need to get out of here if I want to breathe becomes urgent. Without thinking, I make my way to the elevator in the skybox and am grateful when the doors whoosh open immediately after I press the button. I step inside, face forward, and press a lower floor button at random. That is when my eyes connect with his just as the doors silently shut between us. Exhaling a long breath, I’m grateful for the solitude. There is no reason on earth I should want the man. He’s dangerous to my free-spirited lifestyle. Not to mention, he’s too vanilla for my liking.
After the doors reopen, I don’t recognize my location. When they start to shut, I leap out into the wide corridor, which is big enough for large vehicles to maneuver through. An underground tunnel of drab gray greets me. As I begin to walk, I realize I’m probably in a restricted area of the football stadium.
Fletcher Wilde, the star quarterback of the Oklahoma Rockets and my best friend, Cassidy’s husband, is going to murder me if I get caught and they learn I’m a guest of his in the owner’s box.
Feeling mischievous, my hesitant steps turn confident, figuring my bestie will talk her man off a rampage if he gets in trouble because of me. I pass several people but hold my head high and steady, acting as though I belong, and the people pass without a second glance. I cover my belly as if my stomach hurts, hiding the area where a badge might hang, which I suspect I need in order to be here.
The roar of the crowd funnels through a wide opening in the tunnel, and I can see the green of the field. I quickly dart past and stand near an open door. Just as I’m about to continue my exploration, a giant of a man steps in my path. He wears a sports coat that looks like the size of a tablecloth. But it’s a walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder with an attached coiled wire leading to his ear that explains his profession.
“Miss, do you have an ID?”
Busted.
Fletcher’s so going to kill me.
“Um—”
“There you are.” I turn to see Ryder striding in my direction.
“Hey, my cousin—”
“I know you,” the guard says, with his index finger raised and pointing. His eyes are large. “You’re Ryder Wilde. You play for the Charlotte Cougars. I watched you the other night. That triple saved the fucking game.”
The security guy sees NFL players all the time, and yet he seems genuinely excited to meet Ryder. Just goes to show me what a big deal he is. Still, I’m surprised the guard is talking about Ryder’s hitting skills, when normally it’s all about his pitching capabilities.
Ryder grins, and they trade a secret male handshake all men seemed to know.
“Do you mind if I show her my cousin’s locker?”
Ryder’s and Fletcher’s dads are brothers.
A wink and a nod, not to mention a trade of greenbacks, and the guard lets us by.
“We don’t normally allow people into the locker room, especially during games. But for you, I’ll give you ten minutes. Any more and someone is sure to come around and catch you,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Ryder says.
Then he’s half-dragging me into what appears to be a fancy locker room. Two foot wide open lockers line the walls with benches in front of them. A wide-open space is in the middle, and several TVs grace the walls. The game is on in stereo. Two large empty dumpsters are nearby. I can only imagine them filled with sweaty uniforms to be laundered by unfortunate employees of their laundry service.
“So, are you going to tell me why I had to chase you?” Ryder begins.
The puff of air I release isn’t filled with the heat of the dragon I’d felt minutes before. The man is too beautiful to be angry at. Damn Wilde men.
“I didn’t ask you to follow,” I say.
“No, but your jealousy is obvious.”
I roll my eyes in self-defense of his smirk. “Jealousy requires that I care and I don’t.” Which is such a lie. I’m surprised my nose doesn’t grow two inches.
“Of course, you don’t. I’ve called you for the past two months and nothing. I see you and you do everything possible to avoid me.”
Wrapping an armor of nonchalance around me, I try to sound convincing when I speak again. “We had sex. It was good. I’m not interested in more. Isn’t that a guy’s wet dream to fuck and not worry about commitment?”
“I’m not most guys,” he snaps, sounding offended I’ve lumped him in a category of cavemen. And maybe I have, because that I can handle.
“No, you are a guy on a date. One who should be upstairs with her and not with me.”
He licks lips made for kissing as I watch him… them.
Damn
me.
“You know what I think?”
“Not really,” I say, feigning boredom. “But you’re going to tell me, right?”
“I think you want me to fuck you again because you can’t get enough. I think you’re afraid you might get addicted to my dick.”
“A-
DICK
-ted… I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you already are.” His smug laugh is sexy as hell.
Double damn
.
“Try me. Fuck me right now and see if you can get me off and have me begging for more.”
Challenge issued. Will he take me up on it? Truth be told, the idea of fucking right out here in the open and potentially getting caught already has me wet.
“But what if we—” He glances around as if he hopes someone will appear.
“What are you, twelve and afraid we’ll get caught by Mommy and Daddy?”
His head whips back in my direction, and his eyes grow stormy. Hot damn, he looks like a predator about to eat his prey, and I want him to do just that.
“Take your fucking jeans off, Gina,” he commands.
The bass in his voice vibrates from his chest, sending shivers through me. I so want him that bad I easily comply. Although the denim peels off, they hook at my ankles, and I manage to only kick one leg off. He doesn’t wait. I’m instantly lifted and set on the edge of the counter that’s the perfect height for me to wrap my legs around him. He doesn’t bother with my thong.
A dip of his hand into his front pocket, and he pulls out a condom.
“Expecting to get laid,” I chide.
“Knowing,” he says. Confidence exudes from him like cologne. “I put it in there on the ride down.”
Fucking cocky bastard
.
I watch as he sheathes the thick length of himself in the rubber wrapper. He’s rough when he pokes a finger through my slit to test my readiness.
“What happened to Mr. Nice Guy?” I egg him on, liking him crossing over to the dark side.
“You don’t want nice. You want hard, fast, and meaningless. And I’m going to give it to you.”
There’s no time to gasp. He quickly removes his finger, shoves my thong to the side, and positions his tip at my entrance. He’s inside me before I can blink. Damn, if I don’t remember every inch of him. No man has fit me like a glove the way he does and ain’t that a bitch. I’ve been waiting for him to strike out, and he’s hit a goddamn home run.
“Fuck,” I cry out, not caring about the security guy at the door.
In fact, the idea that he may come in and watch has me tipping toward an edge sooner than I thought possible.
Ryder is relentless. He rides me so hard the back of my legs sting from the impact against the sharp edge they hang over. My eyes remain open and focused between us. I watch his cock slide in and out of me as the evidence of my pleasure coats each of his strokes. It’s another shove closer to the cliff I desperately want to tumble over.
“I want you to swallow my dick and let my cum mark your throat.”
Damn, if I don’t scream from the impact of his hips as his rolls them so his dick hits that secret spot. Somehow knowing what I’m about to do, Ryder is there covering my mouth with his as he shoves his tongue to stop my sharp cries. Damn, if the fucker doesn’t have to even touch my clit to set me off like a rocket launcher. I’m so confused as to how he managed it. Then again, I’m lost to the feeling of ecstasy as he grunts. His thrusts becoming bruising as he follows me into oblivion.
“So much for me deep-throating you,” I tease once I’m able to catch my breath.
“There’ll be a next time.”
“That’s what you think.”
“Hey, you?” another voice declares.
I look over Ryder’s shoulder and see a different guy, one not wearing a sports coat. So not security, but he’s got on a polo shirt with Fletcher’s team logo emblazoned on the breast pocket.
“Oh, are we in the wrong place?” Ryder says assuredly, not looking back.
He probably doesn’t want the guy to recognize him.
“Yes, you are.”
“Give me a minute for my girl to get decent.”
Hearing him label me as his sends a thrill I don’t want to run through me. I push down the feeling, knowing disappointment when he moves on will only leave me lonely. And everyone leaves me, even Cassidy. She’s Fletcher’s now, and I have no one left.