Anything but Minor - Kate Stewart Page 0,70

off a Chevy, but take it a little slower...Just at first, okay? Ease into it.”

“Too much?” she said with wide eyes as she gripped me hard and my head fell back involuntarily. She swallowed me again in worship, and I nearly wept at the feel of it. The woman’s mouth was magic. I came in minutes as she reveled in a job well done. I stared up at her, beautiful and on fire for me. I didn’t deserve her, but I could see her love for me, and fuck if I didn’t need it now. The woman was perfect for me. “Now take me home and bend me over,” she said as she gripped the collar of my shirt. “And I want it hard, Rafe.”

Yep, fucking perfect.

Andy flipped a one on the inside of his thigh and I shook it off. We hadn’t been in sync in some time. Everyone on the team, even my manager, Jon, couldn’t believe how bad we were sparring on pitch calls. With each month of the season that passed and every day that call didn’t come, I’d felt my confidence start to slip, and I was doing a shit job of hiding it. Andy took off his mask when I nodded away another fastball and moved toward me.

“Rafe, that’s twelve pitches in the last seven games,” he hissed. “This shit can’t keep happening.”

“I’m not feeling it.”

“Shake it off,” he ordered as he looked down between us and dug his cleat in the dirt. “Trust my call and remember the game plan.” Andy leaned in. “Horton can’t wait on the change up.”

Andy deadpanned at me as he looked up, and in his expressionless face, I still saw everything he wasn’t saying.

“I’m good. Let’s do it,” I said as I kicked dirt at him.

Andy started to walk off and turned back suddenly. “You aren’t alone out here.” He walked back to the plate and got into position as Horton stepped back in.

I took a deep breath in attempt to clear my head and peeked over my shoulder to watch the slow creep of the first base runner. I fired a warning shot to buy more time. I flexed my shoulders one at a time and looked back at Andy as he held his pointer down again over his crotch.

Get ready to go skirt shopping, Horton. I’m about to make you my bitch.

I gave him nothing but menace in my stare. He would never be able to read me. I nodded sharp at Andy’s signal and fired a ball into his glove.

Strike.

I smirked at the batter as he cursed and stepped out of the box.

When he stepped back in, he swung his bat in taunt. “How about some heels to go with that skirt?” I muttered as I wound up.

Strike.

I heard Alice holler for me first over the trailing noise of the crowd and smirked again.

I hear you, baby. This one is for you.

I fired low, watched his fruitless swing, and swiped my glove over my crotch with satisfaction.

You’ve just been fucked by Hembrey. Move along.

I let my head flop back in my recliner and turned my eyes heavenward as the incessant banging in my kitchen hit a whole new level.

“Sorry,” Alice piped over my island as I remained planted in my easy chair, glove in hand as I watched the Sox dominate the Blue Jays. More chopping began and I turned up the volume to keep Alice and her workings slightly more muted. She’d come over after a day full of meetings with a brand new wok and bag full of shit I’d never seen and declared herself a sous chef. I’d hastily agreed to let her abuse my kitchen when I saw what she wanted to cook in.

Two hours in and I’d heard nothing but chopping and a repetitive “hmm” come out of her mouth and had yet to see her for more than a minute in the baseball covered apron and nothing else. I was pretty sure she had Googled “how to be a hot as fuck girlfriend” or something of that nature. That or she’d recently dined at a Japanese steakhouse and decided it was her next venture. Either way, the menu seemed seriously fucking complicated.

Another loud clack had me turning in my chair to look back at her. Over the counter between us, she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Seriously, woman,” I grumbled until I saw the hint of a nipple peeking out of the side of her tiny apron.