The One (Coming Home To The Grove 3)

Her whimpers fill the room, but I’m relentless in my goal of both of us climaxing together. She leans back, her hands on my knees, and now I’m hitting along her G-spot, and I can feel the orgasm trembling through her body, wanting out.

My fingers dig into her hips, and I know I’ll be apologizing for being too rough tomorrow, but I don’t have a choice. It’s like I’m claiming her, and so as she rocks her hips, I drive mine up to meet her until it’s like a big explosion, and her body starts to shake, tighten, and pull. Her pussy is so tight, clamped down on me, but I push my way in and out, shooting my seed deep inside her pulsating sex.

Later, when she falls down around me, exhausted, I kiss her, soothing the bruises on her hips and holding her to me. We remain just like that with her in my arms and our arms and legs woven around each other. I’m able to fall asleep only because I’m satisfied knowing that she could never doubt what she means to me. Not after that.4RoseTraveling so much is seriously brutal.

I’m not even playing in the game, and I’m exhausted. As much as I hate the jet lag, time change, crowds, and all that goes with it, I remind myself that it’s just as hard on Brody, and if he can stick with it, so can I.

“We’re in this together,” I whisper to myself as I take my seat in the VIP seating. Back to back games all week makes the night that Brody and I made love feel like several weeks in the past instead of the mere five days it’s actually been.

When we were together nearly a week ago in bed, we’d connected just like we’d always been able to connect. It was where I drew strength to chase away those pesky insecurities. I just wished that we could be connected like that outside of sex.

I push aside those feelings of disconnect still clinging to what we shared in the bedroom as I watch Brody take the pitcher’s mound. My heart skips a beat seeing him under the stadium lights, in his element, sexy, strong, and confident. The announcer is talking about Brody’s hot pitching streak, and if they weren’t already, now every pair of eyes in the stadium are trained on him.

The first batter of the game stands at home plate and raises his bat in ready position.

One of the other wives starts talking to me, but I interrupt her with a smile. “Janice, just one minute. I don’t want to miss Brody’s signal to me.” She quiets instantly and doesn’t question me. It’s common knowledge among the wives that sometimes the husbands do something for the wives or their children to let them know they’re appreciated and loved. So I look at Brody, never taking my eyes off of him.

But then, Brody throws the first pitch. He forgot about putting his hat on his heart, he forgot about me.

I try to brush it off. After all, the game isn’t about me. The sign is about us being a part of each other and loving each other, so how could he forget?

Janice tries to make me feel better, but all it does is further embarrass me. She reminds me, “It’s been a brutal schedule lately with so much travel and the hyper focus of the fans and media on his pitching.”

I agree with her, acting as if it’s not a big deal and as though I don’t want to break down and cry.

It’s just a small thing, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sitting here looking out at the field, I’m not seeing the game. I’m seeing how every moment of the past two years I’ve dedicated to Brody. I’ve made everything about him to the point that I can’t remember the last time I did something for myself or even the last time Brody asked me what I’d like to do.

I’m losing myself.BrodyThe game was amazing!

The reporters afterward were all wanting interviews and comments about the game from me, and the publicity was going to be great for getting those endorsement spots.

I try to hurry, remembering the conversation I had with Rose not too long ago about her not wanting to stand outside alone any longer than she had to, but today there’s not an option. I can’t turn down all the interviews and publicity. It’s getting us closer to the things we want.

I’m late coming out of the locker room to meet with Rose because of the interviews, and I start to apologize for it as soon as I’m pushing the door open to enter the parking lot.

To my surprise, Rose isn’t outside the door waiting for me; she’s already sitting in the car. Sure that she’s angry with me for being kept waiting since she’s staring off toward the team bus, I get in the car and lean toward her, kissing her on the cheek. “It means so much to me that you were at the game.”