Playing with Fire (A Sports Romance)

Ace

It was a new season, guaranteed to be better than the last. I was still reeling over losing our chance at the World Series. One fucking game — just one fucking game — and we could have had our chance at being champs. I knew some of the guys choked, never having been so close before, but I was used to winning, and after being in the series four times without clinching the victory, I was ready and thought the Beasts were my ticket.

Coach had given me hell, trying to throw blame on me for losing. Seriously, me? I was the best player on the team. Hell, nearly the best in the entire league with a batting average of .348 and more putouts than anyone else on the field last season.

So how the fuck was that loss mine?

The coach had called me late the night before and asked me to come in early, to talk. Yeah, fucking right! I was late, almost by an hour from the time he wanted me here, but still a few minutes early for practice.

Coach Griffin’s face was bright red, and sweat was beginning to bead up on his forehead as he leaned over his desk to spew his anger onto me. It had been awhile since I was called into his office, so I guess he’d been waiting awhile to unload onto me. I tried to listen, I truly did, but watching his dark skin turn nearly purple was distracting, and the spit that sprayed from his lips wasn’t helping me to focus.

“I get it,” I said, hoping to calm him down.

“You don’t fucking get shit!”

“Yeah, I’m late for our meeting, got it.” I clarified and offered up what I thought was a charming smirk. The look in the coach’s eyes told me he didn’t find me charismatic.

“This is serious, Ace.” His tone was finally lowering, but his breathing still rapid. Man, he was really out of shape.

“You need a glass of water?” I asked with sarcastic concern. “You’re no spring chicken anymore. You need to take it easy.”

“No, I don’t need any fucking water, and that’s something you need to understand too, Ace. You aren’t so young anymore either.”

His words cut through me like a knife. The last thing I wanted to hear or even needed to hear was that I was getting old, especially for major league baseball. I was Ace motherfuckin’ Newman, bad ass of baseball, one of the best in the league. I was the guy who could hit any pitch, catch any ball that flew even remotely near me, the one others feared on the field.

I cursed under my breath, keeping my face neutral, forcing myself to stand there and deal with this shit.

This out of shape motherfucker should be kneeling in front of me, not screaming in my face. This old fool was spouting out nonsense now, just plain nonsense.

Coach’s voice got even softer, which was more deadly than any scream. “There are plenty of guys out there faster, smarter, and younger that would love to take your place.” He looked me dead in the eye when he said it.

Nice motivation, Coach. Appreciate it.

“There isn’t anyone who could fill these shoes, but you, on the other hand, don’t you be a fool. I would worry about your future, especially with that high blood pressure tightening your chest.” I leaned against the doorframe of his office and watched his face turn a deeper shade of purple as I smirked, knowing I really should shut the hell up.

“Ace, I’m warning you, watch yourself.” His eyes glared into mine, beady and brown. The thick eyebrows that were recently bouncing above them were now pushed far down on his forehead, his resentment evident in every wrinkle. “The only reason you’re here right now is because I fought for you, so maybe I am a fool.”

“Relax old man, I’m a little late,” I explained, barely refraining from rolling my eyes. “It’s the first day of practice, not the World Series.”

I heard voices coming down the hall and glanced over my shoulder to see our first baseman, Marty Peters, heading to the indoor practice field alongside one of the new relief pitchers, Luke Singleton. The rookie was taller than I expected, better looking too. He smiled, lifting his chin at me in a cocky nod I immediately hated, maybe because it reminded me too much of me. Damn, his teeth were so straight and white I felt like I’d wandered into a Trident commercial.

“Hey, good to see ya!” Marty exclaimed with a quick pat on the back. I didn’t move from my seemingly relaxed, don’t give a shit position against the doorframe.

“Yeah, you too.” I stared the new guy down. His smile never faded. In actuality, I think it grew. Wow, this kid was either fearless or stupid, and from the blank look in his eye, I would bet on stupid.

Marty gave me another slap on the shoulder, and they went on their way. The rest of the team was heading to the indoor field, and I really didn’t feel like continuing this conversation where they could hear. Calvin nodded as he passed by, and I tried to control the smirk on my face, but it grew quickly as I turned back to the coach.

“I’m not reliving last season.” Coach gritted his teeth. “Your partying ways, cocky attitude, and selfishness is part of what cost us the chance at the series last season.” He stopped and stared at me for a moment. “Get here on time, stay away from the bars, and keep your fucking nose clean, or you’ll be traded quicker than a schoolyard lunch.”

Yeah, so I partied. It’s not like I was the only one.

I still held my own on the field. Hell, I held more than my own. The partying had never taken a toll on my game, especially my swing. I always stayed focused. I always stayed in control. No matter what anyone else wanted to say, that was the fucking truth.

I laughed at his words, but my voice shook a bit from the anxiety rocketing through my veins. He seriously thought I cost the team the series?

“You know I’m the best fucking player you got, and there’s no way in hell you can pin that loss on me,” I spouted, barely containing my rage. “Are we done?”

He shook his head slowly, lowering his chin onto his chest, and finally taking his beady hot eyes from me. He blew out a breath, but before he could speak, I jumped back in, firing a parting shot. “It’ll be fine. Don’t give yourself a stroke, old man.” I knew I was testing his last nerve when I flashed him a bright smile after my words.

Wow, how’s that for a welcome back for the new season?

My locker was untouched, left just as it had been when I walked out of here last year. I opened it up and pulled out my practice uniform, slipping out of my jeans and tight designer t-shirt. It felt good to have my name and number on my back where it belonged.

“You been doing okay?” Marty asked. He had real concern in his voice, something I hated about the guy.

“I’ve been great,” I answered, tying my turf shoes. “Just ready to get back at it and bring home the big win this season.”

This was the guy who couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a Buick. He had one of the lowest batting averages on the team, and if anyone was going to be traded, it should be Marty.

“Yeah, that was brutal last season. Felt good to get so close though,” he said. “Coach really laying it into you, huh?”

“Yeah, he wanted me here early, and I blew him off.”

I knew the only reason he called me in early was to talk to me about my attitude. It’s bad, what’s there to talk about? It didn’t affect how often I sent a ball into the stands.

“He just wants respect,” Marty sighed.

He patted me on the back and headed to the field. What a tool!

“Ace!” I looked up to see our owner, Rhett Hamilton, standing above me and controlled the urge to groan. I wasn’t exactly happy to see him, and the look in his eyes dictated a lack of excitement for seeing me as well. “I just wanted to talk to you a minute before you headed out.”

Great, another talk.

He sat down in the chair beside me, pulling it too close for my comfort, sliding his arm over my shoulders like a teenage boy would do to his date at the movies. “I expect great things from you this season.”

I shook my head while a growling laugh escaped my lips. “Rhett, you get great things from me every season.”

“When you take it seriously, you’re amazing.” His condescending tone made my balls shrivel.

He smiled, smirked really, before giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I like you, Ace, I really do. But, I have to say, if you don’t take this season seriously, this team seriously, your coach, me…” He squeezed my shoulder again, harder this time. “It doesn’t matter how much I like you, you’re gone.”

Oh, so it’s two strikes you’re out. I thought we were playing baseball.

“Got it,” I muttered and stood, pulling away from his grip.

“Good, I’d certainly hate to lose you. I know the Beasts just wouldn’t be the same without good old Ace Newman.”

There was that word again… old, what the fuck?

“Not old, and there’s no worry about that. You can count on it.”

I grabbed my glove and left him sitting there as I walked out of the clubhouse, shaking off the negativity with each step. Fuck them. I’d show them how serious I could be.

It felt amazing walking into the practice field, but I missed the sun scorching my face while the brisk wind spiraled around me, but I’d get that soon enough. Spring training was about to start, and soon, summer would be in full blast and women would be wearing short shorts, bikinis, and have that sun-kissed skin I love so much.

Damn, I couldn’t wait to get to Florida for spring training and my first peek of that!

The winter had been long and harsh, and all the women in New York were still bundled up to their necks, not even showing a glimpse of leg, even now with the sun shining so bright. Not the women at Home Plate; I could guarantee they were wearing short skirts and tank tops. Mmm, yes. They would be ready to show Ace Newman some skin.

Luke Singleton proved to be a pretty good pitcher. His knuckleball wasn’t so fast and furious, and it was proving tough to hit, but he was no Calvin Malone. I was watching him dig his fingernails into the ball as I stood in front of the plate with my bat held high over my shoulder. I smirked, spit onto the plate, and then calmly changed positions.

Yeah, I noticed he wasn’t controlling the ball as well as he would have liked for the right-handed batters. So let’s try left handed, big boy.

His face filled with stress; remind me to play poker with this kid. I kept my eyes on him, not the ball, as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. I smirked, nodded, and then focused on the ball in his hand. His fingernails were digging into the leather, his knuckles pushed up high, and I knew he was planning on slamming it to me hard.

I loosened up, my shoulders relaxed, and watched the ball heading towards me. Whooweee, that almost hit me! I smirked again as his face grew pale. I knew he didn’t mean to lose control of it that bad, but it was a wild pitch and the fact remained, he almost hit Ace Newman.

“Sorry,” he called out. I could smell his fear.

The fingernails didn’t dig into the leather this time. Instead, he argued with the catcher with hard shakes of his head until he finally settled on a more controlled pitch. The ball rolled in his hand, his fingers found their spot, and he wound up the pitch. I could hear it coming; the sheer power behind it would shake up most guys at the plate, but not me. I smirked and winked before swinging the bat with my own display of strength and cracked it deep into the nets.

“Ace Newman is back, ladies!” I yelled to my teammates as I made my way to first, second, and then third with little effort. Coach Griffin shook his head but couldn’t hide his smile.

Rhett, on the other hand, sat in his box, and even though I couldn’t see more than his silhouette, I knew his eyes were burning daggers into my chest. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like me, old Rhetty boy. You need me!

“Man, I’m sorry I let that pitch go like that,” Luke apologized hours later when we headed back into the locker room.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

He was walking fast to stay by my side, going on and on about how he idolized me.

“You wanna get a drink, kid?” The invitation was partly to allow him to continue his worshipping while I had a drink in my hand.

“Me?”

“I don’t see anyone else standing here in my face.”

“Yeah, absolutely, I’d love to… I mean, can you?”

“Can I what?”

He looked down at his feet. “Drink? I mean, I heard you had a problem.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he took a step back. “Wow, now there’s a smart way to get your young ass kicked early in the season. Don’t listen to everything you hear, kid. If I had a problem, I wouldn’t be a Beast.”

His comments irritated me, but not so much because of him, more so because of whoever had been telling him all this false information.

I stripped out of my uniform and wrapped a towel around my waist while the kid stood there looking dumbfounded. “You plan on washing my back?” I snorted.

“I’m s-sorry.” He was stuttering like a nervous bitch as he backed away.

Good ole’ Frank Lewis, the centerfielder, was already in the showers, singing and acting a fool under the streams of water. I wondered why a man who had such an obviously small dick would purposely draw so much attention to himself while naked in a huge open room surrounded by other men.

“You going out for a drink tonight, Frank?” I interrupted the chorus of Welcome to the Jungle.

“Oh hell, yeah. The Beasts are back, that’s a damn good reason to celebrate!” It didn’t take him long to continue his screeching.

I dropped my towel and turned the faucet to hot, watching his eyes involuntarily travelled down. He shut up and quickly left the shower as I chuckled to myself. That was one of the benefits of an extra-large cock, running off annoying little dicks who sang too loudly in the shower next to you. One of the benefits, but not the best. I was planning on benefitting later at the bar. Hopefully, they had a few new girls in there to tease.

The locker room cleared out quickly with the exception of Frank, Luke, and Marty who all huddled together talking quietly. “Hey, Marty, you going to have a drink with us?” I yelled out to interrupt their chatter.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Just as good, he wasn’t much fun to party with anyhow.

I nodded and moved to my locker where I could get dressed in peace. I slid into my jeans and tight t-shirt to give free admission to the gun show for anyone who was lucky enough to be nearby and slid my fingers through my wet hair. The stubble on my face was rough and prickly as my hand brushed across my chin. The neat goatee I kept was getting swallowed by my lack of interest in a razor. All I’d allowed myself to think about the last few days was getting back on this field, shaving just wasn’t on my mind.

I shoved my phone deep into my front pocket and headed out the door. “Meet ya there,” I yelled out to Frank and Luke. Now off for the action a true Beast craved, women and booze.

My black Porsche was easily recognized as I pulled up to Home Plate. The two boys at the valet counter were pushing each other to get to my driver’s side door. “Easy, boys,” I said with a chuckle.

“Mr. Newman, it’s good to see you again,” the scrawny redhead greeted me.

“Thanks, kid.” I slid out of my seat, motioning for him to take my place. “Take it easy on ’er,” I warned playfully, but was dead serious. Don’t fuck with my car, my hair, or my game.

The doors were held open for me, and I walked into the place like royalty waltzing into his castle. Ahh, it was good to be back in New York, at this bar, surrounded by fans, although my off-season months spent in Hawaii were quite relaxing. The smell here was so familiar, so soothing. Stale beer that had been spilled on the floor, grease from the kitchen with the aroma of garlic and onion wafting through the air, and ahhhh… cheap perfume. I love cheap perfume. Where there is cheap perfume, there are cheap women.

Some young dingleberry was sitting at my table. He was tall, lanky, and what I would consider scrawny. I walked up the two small steps to my area and slid into the booth. “How ya doin’?” I asked with a quick smile.

His face turned pale, and his eyes locked onto mine like a deer in headlights. “You okay?” I asked with a chuckle.

“You’re Ace Newman,” he said finally.

“Yup, and you… are at my table.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry…” he slid from the booth, nearly leaping to his feet.

“I’m just fuckin with ya, kid. Have a seat, I’ll buy ya a drink.”

He slid back in and smiled from ear to ear. You would’ve thought I just told the kid I was buying him a pony. “What’s your name, kid?” I asked.

“Chase Long, sir.”

Sir? Am I his dad?

“You play ball, Chase Long?”

“I do. I play first base for the Columbus Clippers.” His pride beamed from his face.

“Wow, a triple-A league. Not bad, kid.”

He was young, maybe lucky to be twenty-one, but had a face of a fifteen-year-old boy. “Yes, sir.”

“Drop the sir. I’m not that old.” I waved my arm in the air as one of the waitresses passed by. “You’re a long way from home, kid.”

“No, sir… I mean, Ace. This is my home. I’m visiting my mom.”

“Your mom works here at Home Plate?” I couldn’t resist the sarcasm that seemed to ooze from my lips.

He laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. “No.” He shrugged.

“Ahh, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.” I spilled a little charm onto the new waitress, reading the name tag pinned to her overly full chest. “Belinda, is it?”

“Yes, what can I get you?” she asked coldly.

Her dark green eyes stared right through me, and her tone bit me with a tight clamp right on my dick. “Four Patróns, two beers, and keep ’em coming.” I used my sweetest tone to chisel away some of the icicles hanging from her tits.

She nodded and walked away without making eye contact. Wow, that long red hair was enough of a turn on, but her attitude was driving me wild.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, at first making me think this chick really did get me going. I pulled it out and saw my sister’s name on the screen. Not now. I hit ignore and pushed it back into my pocket.

“That your girlfriend?” Chase asked like it was any of his business. I smirked, growled a little and ignored his question with the same enthusiasm I used when ignoring my sister’s call.

My mind flashed to Holly for some fucking reason, but I quickly shook it off. I didn’t do girlfriends, no matter how sweet she tasted. Or how much she made me laugh. Or how much she listened, really caring about what I had to say.

I shook my head again. Why the fuck was I thinking about her? We both knew we only hooked up to fuck when she was in town. Maybe talk a little, hang out. But that was it.

Just because I’d fucked her more than once didn’t mean anything. And just because I let her stay with me rather than get a hotel room just meant I was a generous man. No need to panic. Dammit. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was I protesting so much?

I was still pondering that question when Belinda finally returned with our drinks and slid them on the table, her chest in my face. A very nice distraction from where my fucking mind was wanting me to go.

I eyed her generous cleavage just inches from my fingers. For someone who wasn’t interested, she certainly liked to tease. I knew this game. Hell, I was pretty sure I invented this game. She wanted it, but she wanted to make me work for it. We’ll see who has the harder job by the end of the night, and you can guarantee it won’t be me.

“Thank you,” I said with little interest in my tone. I avoided eye contact and slid two shots and one beer towards Chase. I wasn’t even sure if she was still standing there or if she had walked away when I lifted my glass to make my toast. “To nipples, without them, tits would have no point,” I boomed and then raised the glass to my lips and felt the liquor slide down my throat.

Chase choked a little on his drink. I couldn’t help but laugh. He was young, so very young.

“Hey, wild man!” Frank called out as he slid into the booth next to me. Luke stood there for a moment like he didn’t know what to do. He looked around and seemed a little lost.

“Have a seat,” I suggested with a nod towards the empty chair across the table.

Luke slid in and immediately introduced himself to Chase. Good fucking lord; they had to be around the same age, young fuckers.

Belinda popped back up without having to be waved down this time. She was a little more cheerful this time too, and after getting the new drink orders, she leaned in towards me and asked softly if I needed anything else.

Oh yeah, I do, darling, but I’ll show ya later.

She was going to be easier than I thought. Hell, one ignored glance and a cold thank you, and this chick was ready to drop her panties.

Luke was going on and on about Chase to Frank. Apparently, he knew who he was and even appeared to idolize him. “He’s one of the toughest hitters in the league,” Luke boasted.

The information didn’t impress me much; it was still the minors. “They say he’ll be the next Ace Newman,” Luke continued. Now he had my attention.

“You can’t have a next Ace Newman if the original is still standing,” I snipped.

“Our day’s coming soon,” Frank said and slapped me on the back good-naturedly. Maybe his day, but I had plenty of time left in this game. In fact, I had as much time as I wanted, I would leave when I was good and damn well ready, and not a moment before.

“I believe I’m just about ready to peak,” I smirked and slid the other shot down my throat.

Frank chuckled, but he quickly pulled himself together when I shot him a glance. I was in my thirties, not early, not mid, but now pushing the tail end and I knew that most players were worn out by then, but not me. I’m still going strong.

“I hope I’m going as strong as you in my forties,” Luke said.

“Whoa there, boy, I’m not in my forties,” I snapped, nearly crushing the glass in my hand. “You better slow your roll.”

His face turned red with embarrassment, as it should for making such a preposterous assumption. “I’m so sorry.” He obviously felt bad.

“Don’t sweat it.” I turned and waved down Belinda.

The redhead made it to the table and took my order. I bought a round of shots for the table, two for me of course, and ordered some snacks since we worked so hard on the field all day. She leaned over the table, letting me get another perfect glimpse of her smooth full chest. Her eyes lingered on mine, and her tongue glided across her lips as she wrote down my order. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

My phone vibrated again. I pulled it out, and my cock twitched, my balls tightening at the name on the screen. It was like I’d conjured her just by thinking of her earlier.

Holly: Hey, I’ll be in town soon. Wanna hook up? ;-)

I read the text and felt a strange sensation in my gut. Happiness. Then something else. It was like guilt, but I had nothing to be guilty about. We weren’t exclusive. I wasn’t even sure what we were, even though I was pretty sure she might be open for more.

Frank was peeking over my shoulder and grinning. I pulled my phone away from his prying eyes and motioned for Frank to let me out of the booth. “Get the fuck outta my seat,” I growled. Frank followed my instructions, and I pushed at his thick shoulders to stuff him back in before walking into the men’s room to text her a quick message back.

Me: Yep. Let me know the dates.

I washed my hands and made my way back to the booth just as Belinda arrived with the drinks. I pushed Frank over into the center and took my spot at the end of the booth where I had been sitting and slid in beside him. I needed my freedom to play with the waitresses, especially this new one, Belinda, with fire red hair and an alley cat attitude.

I slid my hand up her leg, and she didn’t flinch. Her eyes lingered on mine as my fingers moved dangerously close to the heat source between her thighs.

“You need anything else?” she asked sweetly while my fingers gripped her soft flesh.

“I’m gonna need your panties,” I purred while my eyes fucked her into a trance.

She grinned and leaned down, her lips close to my ear. “I’m not wearing any.”

She moved away, and my fingers felt so empty, so cold without the heat of her pussy to warm them. My mind raced with images of all the sweet pussies I’d played with in my lifetime, and a slow smirk spread across my face.

Luke was blushing and laughing as he sipped on his beer, almost snorting it into his nose. “You’re just like I imagined.”

I knew my reputation preceded me, so I didn’t even ask him to clarify what he imagined.

Two blondes bounced up the steps to our table and stood there with stupid grins on their faces. The tall one wore a short skirt, so short I could almost smell her sex, while the shorter one wore long jeans, a baggy sweater, and boots. She looked like the typical February New Yorker. Damn, I couldn’t wait to get to Florida to see more skin.

“Can we get your autographs?” the short one asked, directing her question to Luke.

He blushed and shrugged as she handed him a pen and an autograph book that looked like a fifth grader’s. The tall one with the short skirt was staring at me with a nervous smile. I watched as her tongue slid quickly back and forth along her bottom lip, and she shifted her weight from side to side.

“You want an autograph too, darling?” I asked.

“I don’t have an autograph book,” she said with a strong southern drawl.

I reached over and took the pen from Luke’s hand before he could hand it back to Ms. Cover-up.

“I don’t sign books.” I reached for her hand and guided her towards me before spinning her around. I touched her leg; her flesh was so soft that it made my dick take notice. She jumped a little and then giggled as my fingers pushed up the edge of her skirt. The round, full ass cheek that was exposed looked so tender that I could have taken a bite right out of it. “Can I sign this beautiful ass?”

She giggled again, and I believe I heard yes in there somewhere.

“You may have to bend over for me so I can write.” I waved the pen playfully.

Oh hell, when she bent over, and her skirt lifted higher it was like a light shining down from heaven. Her legs were pushed tightly together, but the sweet little pussy popping through her thighs was covered with red silk. I situated the pen on her ass cheek and slid her panties over to make room. I snuck a quick peek at her pink flesh as I adjusted the material. Her lips were plump and firm, and long, loose hairs grew from them randomly. I wondered if she was a virgin.

My pen slid quickly over her flesh, scrawling out my first name, and as she turned around and smiled at me, I couldn’t help but ask, “You wanna sit with us and have a drink, darlin’? If you’re old enough, that is.”

Her chin lifted. “I’m twenty-two, so yes, I’d love a drink.” Her eyes lit up, and she quickly slid into the booth next to me, while her friend took the chair next to Luke. It was obvious her friend was already enamored with our new pitcher, which was fine with me. Without her friend to object, my hand was already between the girl’s legs, working their way slowly past her thighs.

Luke was gushing over the little blonde sitting next to him, and Frank had started questioning Chase on his background. My fingers slid higher between her legs and eventually reached the red silk material I was so fond of when she bent over. She was hot, like steaming hot, and my fingers instantly warmed as they teased her delicate skin through the material.

“Compliments of the chef,” Belinda snarled as she set down two large platters of appetizers.

Her face was red, almost as red as her hair as she looked, seeing that my hand had disappeared somewhere under the blonde’s skirt.

“Thank you, they look delicious.” I smiled and reached for one of the chicken wings.

The guys tore into the food, not even acknowledging the tension that fell across the table. “Is there anything I can get you?” Her tone was cold and irritated. Oh yeah, we’re back to that now.

Man, I had a way of turning women on and off like light switches. I had to admit it amused me to see her so twisted after the ice queen performance she’d given earlier. “Another round,” I drawled, locking my eyes onto hers. She seemed to warm up a bit, even though it was obvious she hadn’t wanted to. Her lips curled into a smile that she tried to fight off, and her eyes danced at my attention.

She quickly turned her head and walked towards the bar. The blonde was pressing up beside me, her hand resting on my knee as her big baby blues batted in my direction. “What’s it like being a baseball player?” she asked.

I laughed as my eyes fell to Frank. “You wanna field this one?”

“Well, for the rest of us, it’s a lot of hard work, discipline, long hours, and fear of being traded at a moment’s notice. For old Ace over here, well, I have no fucking idea what it’s like to be him.”

He grinned and reached across the table for a chicken wing. I was itching to knock it out of his hand for using that word again, but before I could react he was shoving it into his thick lips.

The blonde giggled and scooted even closer to me. Belinda brought the drinks, her eyes cold again. She left without speaking and stood at the end of the bar with one foot kicked back behind her, twitching sporadically. Yeah, she wants me bad!

“Excuse me, darlin’,” I said to the blonde and pushed gently to get her to let me out of the booth. I walked to the bar, leaned onto the thick wood and let my smile speak for me until I was standing toe-to-toe with Belinda.

“Have I upset you in some way?” With a flick of my hand, I motioned for the bartender. “Two Patróns please.”

“Your drinks are on the table,” Belinda snapped.

“Yes, I see ’em. So, have I?”

Her face was turning a delicious shade of pink even as her lips curled into a sarcastic smile. “Shouldn’t you get back to your daughter?”

“Ouch.” Damn, that stung.

I took the two shots the bartender delivered and handed one to Belinda. “I can’t drink that,” she hissed.

“Why not?”

“I’m working.” She rolled her eyes, but I noticed her breathing was becoming unsteady.

“I’m sure this wouldn’t be the first time you broke a rule.”

My balls tightened as I could see her warming up to my charms once again. Her eyes were heavy and her mouth parted, she wanted me, and there was no denying it, even if she wanted to. She lifted the glass to her lips.

“Wait a second.” I stopped her from sipping the liquor. “You have to have a toast.”

She stopped and waited for me to come up with some words of wisdom or inspirational quote before she continued her drink. “Here’s to panties, not the best thing in the world, but damn close to it,” I boasted and then lifted my glass to hers. She grew even more pink but drank to the crass toast, just as I knew she would. As her lips were covered in the deliciously smooth tequila, I wanted nothing more than to be her tongue gliding across them.

“You’re bad,” she teased.

“You have no idea,” I warned. “Think you could get a break?” I looked over her shoulder towards the back room.

Her eyes went wild with curiosity and excitement. “Why?”

I chuckled deep in my chest and leaned closer, watching her watch me lick my bottom lip. I smiled when her nipples hardened, the tiny points pushing through the thin material of her uniform. No bra, nice!

“C’mon,” I whispered and gripped her hand. I guided her to the back of the club, past the kitchen doors, and up the three small stairs that led to the owner’s office.

“What are you doing?” she gasped as I opened the door and guided her inside with my body hard against hers.

“What do you want me to do?”

My hands were on her ass, but I didn’t go any further. Instead, I waited for that sweet moment of consent.

“I want you to fuck me.”

I smiled and pulled up her skirt. I knew she wasn’t wearing panties, and my tongue was about to thank her personally for such easy access to her warm pussy.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” she giggled as her skirt made it past her beautifully smooth ass cheeks.

“Oh no,” I assured her. I ducked my head and glided my tongue between her soft mounds, searching for an easy entry into the material. The dress was tight. With her large breasts, too tight.

Her arguments were gone, and all that was left was heavy breathing and moans. I moved her to the desk, her ass against the wood, and I lifted her just enough to let her body rest on the edge. Her legs were open, her skirt around her waist, giving me the first glimpse of that beautiful pink pussy. Fire red hairs were neatly groomed in a tiny patch above her engorged clit. Her lips were thin and long, spread out like wings against her thighs, gleaming with her slick arousal.

“Gorgeous,” I muttered and fell to my knees in front of her. Sliding my tongue up her thigh, I stopped at the apex, breathing her in. My nose rested on her clit, inhaling the scent of her sex while my cock hardened in my jeans. She cried out as I wrapped my lips around her clit, sucking it hard into my mouth. She moaned and fell back onto the desk; her legs wide open for me to play as I wished. I spent a few minutes getting acquainted with her while she moaned and squirmed. Slipping two fingers inside, I twisted them, finding her g-spot while I tongued and sucked her clit. When she exploded, she clamped a hand over her mouth to silence the screams ripping from her throat. I knew she was fully satisfied and ready to return the favor.

I stood, unzipped my pants, unleashing my cock. Her eyes widened in full approval as she slid from the desk and to her knees in front of me. She stroked me slowly at first and then picked up the pace, my hips thrusting to show her the speed I wanted.

“Wrap those beautiful lips around that, darlin’.”

Her dark green eyes looked up at me as her lips parted and her tongue snuck out to taste the tip of my erection, wiping away the drop of pre-cum.

My head fell back on my shoulders, and a long sigh of satisfaction escaped me as her mouth closed down and slid along my shaft. It was wet and tight, her tongue stroking even as she sucked me into her throat.

Sweet ecstasy, I was going to come.

I gripped her hair and pulled her face from my erection in warning. Instead of letting go, she suctioned her mouth around me and latched on tight, determined to finish the job she’d started.

Spots exploded in front of my eyes as I exploded into her mouth, and I clutched onto her head for balance, the fucking pleasure ripping a growl from my chest. Vibrations shot through my groin and down my leg as she sucked every last drop.

A sound penetrated the roaring of blood in my ears, and I slowly opened my eyes to locate it. Belinda beat me to it.

“Your phone,” she said as she handed me the black device that had fallen from my pocket. Shit, it was Holly, probably to talk about the dates. When I reached for it, ready to cancel the call, Belinda’s thumb slid over the screen, answering the call prematurely.

“Oops,” she giggled. “Sorry.”

Why the hell did I care that Holly probably heard that?