Quit Your Pitchin' (There's No Crying in Baseball 2)

“George,” she breathed. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I chuckled darkly against her clit and then leaned forward to suck it between my lips.

She was wet, and I could feel it all over my lips and beard.

She was squirming, too, making me work to keep it between my lips as I sucked.

Then she grabbed hold of my hair, and I started to laugh.

“Stop laughing at me and suck,” she ordered.

I circled her entrance with my tongue instead and then plunged it deep inside.

She swore and clamped her legs around my head, but I didn’t stop. Not until she was coming. Not until her pussy tightened around my tongue.

Her wetness increased as she came, and I realized rather quickly that if I didn’t get inside of her soon, I might surely die.

I shouldered my way in between her thighs and settled my hips so my cock was at her entrance.

My eyes met hers as I slowly started to push inside.

When her mouth fell open in a silent moan, I could no longer control myself.

I forced the rest of my length inside and nearly came as I did.

“Holy cow, you’re big,” she breathed. “So, so big. It’s true.”

I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t trying to calm myself down. Coming was definitely imminent.

“What’s true?” I squeezed out through clenched teeth.

God, it should be illegal how freakin’ tight she was.

“That tall guys have big dicks,” she answered.

I bent down until I was nose to nose with her.

Her eyes widened, and she blinked lazily as she curled both her arms and legs around my frame, bringing herself as close as she could.

“I don’t know about other tall guys,” I growled. “And hopefully you won’t ever be able to compare them, either. If I have my way, you’ll be mine for the foreseeable future.”

Her grin was wide when I finished.

“We’ll see.”

I winked.

Then I fucked her.

And, according to her, she’d never had better.

By the time I was coming inside of her long moments later, I made a mental note to inform her that she never would again, either.

If I kept hammering that point home, maybe she’d eventually believe it.

Bringing her hand up to my lips, something shiny caught my eye.

Unfortunately, I was too exhausted and drunk to ask questions.

And I should have.

Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have woken up to the scream the next morning.

***

The next morning.

“We’re married?”

My eyes blinked open so fast that I was momentarily confused as to where I was.

I also had a goddamn headache.

A bad one.

“What?” I groaned as I sat up and immediately regretted it.

Why did I regret it, you ask? Because the movement caused whatever calm I had left to dissipate.

“Holy fuck,” I gasped, my hand going to my forehead as I tried to gain control of my urge to vomit. “I feel like a Mack Truck ran over me.”

I haven’t felt quite this shitty since high school, I thought morosely.

“I said,” Wrigley repeated, a little calmer this time. “We’re married?”

I frowned and pulled my hand away from my face, my headache as well as my belly flipping and flopping momentarily forgotten.

“Excuse me?” I hesitated.

My brain still wasn’t firing on all cylinders, so it took me a moment to figure out that the hand that Wrigley was holding out wasn’t just a fucking hand. But a hand with a goddamn ring on it.

One I’d seen before.

I frowned and reached for her hand, seeing the ring that I knew without a shadow of a doubt had once been on my grandmother’s finger.

She yanked her hand back before I could so much as touch my fingers to hers, and then started to pace across the room.

“And don’t even get me started about what’s going on between my legs,” she hissed, turning her accusing eyes toward me.

I opened my mouth and then closed it, unsure what to say to that.

“Nothing to say to that, Mr. Baseball?” She stopped and turned, planting both fisted hands on either hip.

I blinked and then shrugged. “I’m unsure what it is you speak of, to be honest.”

She bared her teeth. “What I speak of is your inability to use a condom!”

I looked down at where the short robe was barely covering her thighs.

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

She frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

I was unsure whether I should play it off like I was, or tell her the truth that I truly had no fuckin’ clue what she was talking about.

In the end, I decided to go with honesty. A, because I didn’t want her to lose her shit on me when I tried to figure out what was going on, and B, because I truly wanted to know without beating around the bush.

She laughed at whatever she read on my face and then stalked over to the bed.

Once she was beside it, she lifted one leg, placed it on the edge of the bed to the left of my feet, and threw the robe open.