The Athletic Aesthetic Page 4

  “Okay,” she said, panting through every thrust. “I love your cock!”

  He laughed and picked up his pace, plunging into her hard, fucking her deep. This new rhythm was mind-bendingly good, and she had to focus all her will on not coming, on not giving in, but still enjoying every bit of the ride.

  He reached back, unhooked her right ankle, and in one, fluid motion brought her leg up, pinning her knee to her shoulder. He sank in deeper and she groaned, the world threatening to shatter behind her eyes. But she refused to come. She clenched her teeth and freed her leg from his grasp to wrap it around his waist. Her heel dug into his ass, and her back arched up off the board as she rocked her hips against his as hard as she could. He captured her leg again, brought her ankle up by her ear. She moaned, her head falling back against the board as he filled her to her deepest depths, over and over.

  He leaned down, his breath hot on her skin. “Do you want to come now?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t deny it. She wanted it so much.

  “Ask me.”

  She looked into his eyes, squeezed his cock deep within her. “Please, let me come.”

  “And if I said no?”

  Yes, she wanted to come. Yes, she wanted to ride out every single ounce of pleasure he owed her. But she could wait because she didn’t need to take the quick and easy way anymore. She could earn her true reward. She had the strength, the discipline, and the stamina. And when he said yes, because she knew he eventually would, she was going to take every last bit of satisfaction she could from him. She met his eyes and smiled. “I can wait.”

  He smiled back, his pounding thrusts rocking her body. Their rhythm fell into perfect sync, the sounds of their breathing, the slap of their bodies meeting and parting filled the gym. He held her gaze and pressed his thumb to her clit. “Come hard.”

  Her whole body trembled as she used all of her strength to ride out the release she had so richly earned. Her toes curled, her fingers dug into the restraints as she screamed out the orgasm that set every nerve ending in her body aflame, detonating a nuclear a chain reaction of pleasure.

  He thrust harder, every pummeling stroke taking her higher as he strove for his own release. A shudder ran over him, and he pulled out suddenly, grunting as he shot his load on her stomach and breasts. He jerked himself off until every drop had landed on her skin, then he fell forward, gripping the metal frame to brace himself as he loomed over her. He touched her face, a light caress over her cheekbone. “Now that was pretty damn awesome.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, it was.”

  The morning arrived before she knew it, and it was a mad dash to gather her things, to get on the road, and get back to San Francisco in time for her flight.

  As she zipped up her suitcase he appeared in the doorway, a small frown creasing his brow. “Don’t you need to go?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you that ready to get rid of me? Geez. I’m almost done.” She gave the room one last look. “Okay, let’s go.”

  He picked up the suitcase off the bed and escorted her out of the house. They walked side by side down the path to the garage, and he stowed her luggage in the back of the Jeep. He slammed the trunk closed, and they stood together for maybe a moment longer than strictly necessary. She looked him over, imprinting in her mind the image of him in his jeans and T-shirt and bare feet. “Do you ever wear shoes?”

  He shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

  “Is that why you left L.A.?” It was something she had wondered about from the very beginning.

  He paused, obviously taking his time to think the question over. “Partially.”

  She waited for more, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate and the silence was getting too long. Besides, she needed to be on the road. She opened the driver’s door, then looked back at him over her shoulder. “When I make the team, I might need some additional training.”

  A hint of a smile touched his lips and then was gone. “You have the number.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I am going to make that team.”

  He held her gaze. “Yes, you are.”

  His conviction gave her strength. There were no longer any doubts in her mind. She climbed into the car and winced as her tender bottom settled into the leather seat. “You know, my ass is probably going to sting for weeks.”

  He closed the door, gave the frame a tap, then stepped back. “Long enough to get you through the trial.”

  She leaned out the window. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but one word seemed to sum it all up perfectly. “Thanks.”

  He nodded in reply.

  She cranked the ignition and the Jeep roared to life. It was going to be a long drive back to San Francisco. She had a lot to think about. Good stuff. Like how it was going to feel to earn the gold. She gave him a backward wave and followed the curved driveway off his property and onto the road.

  Doubleheader

  Emerald

  Rita looked at the name on the screen and caught her breath. She stared for a few moments before clicking over to an open spreadsheet and entering the name into it. Of course, it had been a possibility ever since he was traded a few months ago to their affiliated major league team. And she had heard about his injury—in the back of her mind, she’d known he might come to the Triple-A level for rehab. But seeing the evidence right in front of her was different from speculation.

  Pushing back from her desk, Rita stood and turned to leave the office. For her, one of the biggest perks of working for a professional baseball team was being steps away from a stunning view of the immaculate field whenever she needed to clear her head. As she climbed the steps to the club level on the third base side, she heard the sounds of batting practice underway in preparation for the night’s game. She reached the top step and gazed over the field at the array of Triple-A players milling around the batting cage. While she loved the aesthetics of an empty baseball field, the team certainly added to the scenery in a way she appreciated as well.

  A few of the players noticed her standing up there and waved. She returned the greeting, giving the manager a nod as he turned and caught sight of her. Despite her desire for a bit of solitary time to process what she’d just seen, Rita turned and headed for the ground level of the field.

  “Hi Mike,” she greeted the manager as she walked across the track to his position behind the batting cage.

  “How goes, Rita?” Mike Ashton, a former all-star left fielder, moved aside to make space for her and turned back to the cage. The familiar sound of bat against ball punctuated the air as they watched the third baseman taking soft warm-up pitches. “Come out to pitch a little batting practice?” he asked with a wink.

  Rita laughed. “Not in these heels, thanks.” Though her college pitching days were over, she’d been known to engage in exactly what Mike had proposed on more than one occasion. Pitching batting practice wasn’t like pitching for real, of course, which was something she did miss. Though her position as vice president and chief financial officer for the team obviously kept her at her desk much of the time, it was no secret she missed playing, and she almost always kept a change of clothes in her office so she could throw a session whenever she had the opportunity.

  A not unfamiliar combination of wistfulness and bitterness floated through her as she watched the players who received even the chance to be on this field by virtue of their gender. Almost certainly they took that for granted. She may not have been good enough to make it to the professional level herself—though that was questionable according to some coaches who’d watched her—but she certainly knew women who could have. She would never consider baseball fully integrated until those players got to play alongside the ones she watched now.

  The third baseman ended his practice session, and Evan, the starting catcher, stepped into the cage. He looked back at Rita and gave her a wave before turnin
g to the pitcher. Rita returned his enthusiastic smile, responding as usual to the characteristic sweetness in it. Evan was one of her favorite players on the team. Though he’d not yet played at the major league level, it was almost a sure thing he eventually would. She’d miss him when he was gone. As a former pitcher, Rita tended to take note of catchers, and Evan had been no exception when he’d come up from the Double-A team two seasons before. She’d watched Evan closely and even helped him on occasion with drills. She knew how good he was.

  “I imagine you saw Chad Tomlinsen will be here tomorrow to rehab his shoulder?”

  Rita almost winced at Mike’s unexpected comment, but she managed to remain composed.

  “I did,” she said after a tiny pause.

  “I coached him for a while when I was a Double-A batting coach. Be great to see him again and help him get his swing back now that he’s healed. He’s come a long way since those days.”

  “As have you.” Rita was impressed by how calm her voice sounded. She’d known Mike had been a Double-A batting coach but had had no idea it was with the same team Chad had played for. Baseball was such a small world sometimes.

  Mike glanced at her. “You’ve been around baseball a long time, haven’t you? You ever met Tomlinsen?”

  Rita swallowed what felt like the orange-sized lump in her throat. “Uh, actually, I have. Way back when. He played at the Single-A level on the team my parents bought the summer after I graduated from college. Haven’t seen him in over a decade, though.”

  Mike grunted before calling out an instruction to Evan at the plate. Evan nodded and adjusted his stance slightly. He sent the next pitch sailing toward center field with a crack, and Mike gave a satisfied nod. Rita swept her gaze over the tangle of players gathered behind the first baseline, hoping the distraction had made Mike forget their conversational thread.

  It seemed it had. Evan finished his batting session and walked around the batting cage as Mike broke away to talk to the third base coach.

  “Hey, Rita,” Evan said with his big smile. Rita returned it and couldn’t resist a lightning glance up and down his solid form. Fresh-faced and, in Rita’s unbiased perception, ridiculously good-looking, Evan ran a hand over his dark hair as he pulled off his helmet. She realized suddenly that at 23, he was only slightly older than Chad had been when she’d known him. She bit her lip.

  “I see you’re not dressed to take the field,” Evan said with a crooked smile as he moved closer to her. His impish flirtatiousness almost always brought the same out of her, though she was careful to stay on top of it. She would have jumped Evan in a heartbeat under other circumstances, but she did make some effort to maintain a professional decorum and not fuck every player who caught her fancy. It was not a light challenge—despite being around it so much, baseball had never stopped turning her on.

  “Not today. I’ll let Tim handle batting practice this time around.” She nodded at the batting coach, who stood behind the net at the pitcher’s mound tossing the ball to whichever player stood at the plate. She chuckled. “You know I prefer pitching for real anyway.”

  “As usual, I’m happy to catch you any time.”

  Rita smiled. Evan had indeed shown an endearing willingness to indulge her desire to pitch. While she had played softball in college—the only option open to her as a woman—she had grown up watching baseball, and her father had taught her how to pitch overhand at a young age. She had loved pitching in college and had graduated as the team’s ace, but overhand throwing and the smaller size of the baseball were her preference. She made a point of keeping herself in shape and loved any chance to get out on the mound.

  “Did you hear Tomlinsen is coming down tomorrow?” Evan was clearly excited by the prospect. Though Chad was no superstar, he had played at the major league level for a few years now and had made a name for himself as a power hitter. Rita resisted the urge to roll her eyes and realized she might be hearing more about Chad in the next 24 hours than she’d realized.

  It did make sense to her that Evan would look up to Chad. They played different positions—Chad was a first baseman—but they were both power hitters with similar batting styles. Perhaps most significantly, Chad also played in the major leagues, a privilege Evan had not yet tasted.

  “I did hear that, yes. I have to get back to my spreadsheets. Have an awesome game, Evan.” Rita smiled.

  “Thanks.” Evan winked, and she caught him giving her a once-over as she turned to walk off the field. She ignored the heat that ran through her body as a result and headed through the exit, back toward her office.

  As she reached it, however, the heat had reached a level of arousal that she knew would not be easy to shake. With a sigh, she sat down, then immediately stood back up and closed her office door. She was going to need some privacy.

  Chad Tomlinsen. She looked at the name again on the screen and thought back to the first time she’d ever seen it.

  It was the summer after she’d graduated from college and had just returned home. As a woman, Rita’s pitching days were over once college was, and it had been time to enter the real world with her brand new business administration degree.

  But not before she spent her fair share of time ogling her parents’ latest enterprise.

  “Dad, who’s that?” Rita asked, tapping at her father’s shoulder as he spoke to someone standing in the aisle in a suit and tie.

  Her father barely glanced down at the player she indicated as he answered, “I don’t know, honey. Here, check the program. He’ll be listed with his number.”

  Rita took the slightly crinkled paper her dad passed her and scanned it. Number 28 – Chad Tomlinsen.

  She looked back at the unfamiliar player who’d caught her attention. His strong form moved confidently as he sauntered into the on-deck circle, taking a noncommittal swing as he watched the batter dig in.

  He hadn’t looked at her yet. She found herself determined to make that change.

  Rita’s email indicator pinged, and she shook herself and checked the computer. It had nothing to do with Chad’s imminent arrival this time, and she checked the figure requested, emailed off a confirmation, and sat back to return to her musings.

  The way she’d ended up making Chad notice her hadn’t exactly been intentional. Bold, yes—once Chad had joined the team that year, she’d walked around a combination of brazen and smitten—but she hadn’t really expected that he would notice her. Or at least she’d told herself she hadn’t.

  The next day, Rita snuck around to the bleachers on the other side of the visitors’ dugout and slipped beneath them, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the shadows. It was cooler under the bleachers, almost dark despite the sun that blazed unencumbered across the field. The section she had chosen was virtually empty, and no one was around as she leaned back against the narrow metal beam that reached the highest bench above her and faced the field, where the team was taking batting practice. The doors to the stadium hadn’t yet been opened to the public.

  Chad stood in the vicinity of his position at first base, his eyes apparently on the player taking batting practice. He was alone, most of his teammates gathered nearby or behind the batting cage. Casually he fielded balls when they came to him, tossing them over to the third baseman, who appeared to also be practicing fielding, before turning back toward the plate. His sunglasses made it impossible to tell exactly where he was looking but, here in the shadows all the way on the other side of the field, Rita was confident she wasn’t visible to him.

  She had a baseball in her hand. Bringing it to her face, she inhaled the scent of fresh leather and arched her back, sliding her other hand down the side of her tank top. Her eyes flicked around her again. She was alone in the section; the nearest people to her seemed to be those on the field, and they were a considerable distance away.

  Rita slid the ball down the front of her, between her breasts over her top
and down to the crotch of her cutoffs. She stole another glance around and paused as the crack of a bat was followed by one of the small white balls scampering Chad’s way. He fielded it easily and threw it across the field to his teammate.

  Suddenly he turned his head just slightly, and Rita froze, consumed by the inexplicable feeling he had spotted her. She swallowed and stayed still, the ball clutched in her right hand resting now against her belly. Chad’s sunglasses belied the target of his actual gaze, and a second later he moved seamlessly to field another ball. If he had seen her, he’d shown no indication. Rita decided it was a false alarm and that she was just a bit jumpy under the circumstances.

  Of course, as she returned to her deviance after another furtive look around, she realized it wasn’t as though she’d actually be opposed to Chad watching her. She roved her eyes across the field, checking with a fluttering in her stomach to see if any of his teammates had seemed to catch sight of her in the shadow of the opposite-field bleachers. But they, like Chad, were focused on the batter as Rita slipped a finger beneath the button of her cutoffs.

  Her intake of breath was sharp as she popped the button and pulled down the zipper. At that moment she felt most aware of the risk of her position, and she stopped to take another good look around before she began to focus more strongly on other things.

  She let her cutoffs drop and slipped her fingers into her panties. Eventually she slipped them to the side and held them with the fingers of her left hand, her pussy exposed to the darkened air under the bleachers.

  With the removal of all such obstacles, Rita slid the baseball down over the front of her body so it eventually covered her clit. Maneuvering her wrist deftly, she found a rhythm that made her bite her lip and arch her back as she rolled the ball against the increasingly sensitive spot.