I brought Anniston along to Washington, as Cade and I agreed, milking the same excuse. My post-op recovery. With absolutely no back talk, she came, truly believing I needed extra care. Whatever gets her on a plane and away from that fucking psycho.
Three weeks are left in the regular season with my team two games from leading the National League East Division. Insert fist pump here. Even though I’m more than ready to wrap this season up and head back to Georgia, I would love to go to the post season playoffs. Not that I am just begging to add it to my resume but because I don’t know when or if this will be my final year playing. If it is, I want to go out with a bang. Winning the World Series would give me that final sense of accomplishment before retiring from the MLB.
But if Michaels has any say over it like he did today, we’ll watch the Marlins soar to the top, leaving us to taste the infield dirt off their cleats for weeks. Fucking Michaels and his bullshit calls behind the plate. That motherfucker dropped several strikes and called the most asinine pitches I have witnessed in all my baseball years. His level of catching was some AA shit, not how a major league player should be performing. Asshole.
Fantasies of Michaels scratching futilely as a raging STD spreads at rapid speed over his balls brings a smile to my grumpy face as the scalding water from the shower kneads my sore, tension-ridden shoulders. It feels so fucking good. Realistically, I should be in an ice bath, preventing the inevitable swelling from the hundred pitches I threw today, but I just couldn’t force myself to endure the torture. I don’t care what miracle healing powers they have, they’re fucking cold and when I’ve had a long ass game all I want to do is shower and go home where I can lounge out on the couch with Ans and the TV and pretend to hate her stupid singing competitions. When they show the contestants’ sob stories, her eyes well with unshed tears while she tries to muffle her sniffles into the throw pillows. It’s one of the only times she shows vulnerability. It’s adorably cute.
“Come on, Theo.” Anniston’s voice echoes in the shower room. “I’m ready to head home and we still need to ice your shoulder.”
I hear her, really I do, but I stay silent hoping to lure her in for maybe a quick stress reliever in the players’ shower stall. Tilting my head away from the direct stream of water, I listen for any noise that would signal her arrival. Nothing. I give it another minute before I turn the water off with a frown. So much for my quickie idea.
Before I can secure a towel around my waist, a cracking sound resounds throughout the shower stall and a fast sting flares on the skin of my butt cheeks. I’m startled, turning, ready to swat my enemy down, when I see a grinning Anniston rolling a towel with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Her hair is down, wavy from being pulled up for so long. She’s changed into her classic look of leggings and one of my promo tees. She looks like my very own cheerleader.
“That fucking stung, Ans!” I scold, trying for a serious expression but by the quirk of her lips, she doesn’t buy it. Fuck it. I laugh and rub at the burning sting on my ass.
Her throaty laughter is all it takes to make me forget about my terrible game. She beckons me with a crook of her finger. “Come here, Von Bremen.” Her voice is sultry, her eyes mischievous, but the smile that puffs out her cheeks is… mine. That smile is mine. It’s only reserved for me. “Let me kiss it better.”
Her enticing promise is the only reason my feet move forward. I’m still a little irked with that towel move. “You want to kiss my ass? That’s a change of pace for you, Ans.” I tease her with a flirty smile as she fluffs the towel, holding it open. She saunters around my naked body, assessing, calculating. It makes me anxious but I wait stoically as she kneels behind me, sliding her hands up over my slick thighs until the muscles tighten. With a featherlight touch of her lips, she plants a cool kiss to my scalding cheek.
“Forgive me?” Her question hangs in the air unanswered as she begins to wrap my hips with the towel.
Words clog in my throat and no amount of clearing helps.
She chuckles at my apparent distress and yanks me forward by the knotted cloth clutched in her hands. “How bout you just nod since you seem to be incapable of speaking?”
Smart-ass.
I play her little game, though, and let her lead me out of the showers to the open changing rooms filled with player’s gear and uniforms.
Her body weight pushes me back against the icy metal of the lockers. The mixture of the cold against my heated skin steals my breath upon contact. Soft, dainty hands caress my jaw before she parts those full lips over mine, teasing me with the warmth of her breath.
“Don’t play,” I grumble, snaking a hand around her waist to hold her still. A man can only take so much. Her eyes dance with mischief, pressing closer, chest to chest. The only thing that would be better is nipple to nipple. Oh, yeah, her shirt needs to go. I give it a little tug. “Take this off.”
She tsks, grabbing my hand, securing it against the locker. I’m just about to toss her to the concrete floor and have my own fun when she smashes her lips to mine. Her tongue sweeps in through the opening I give, the leftover cinnamon flavor of her gum comforting. Our lips and tongues move, slow but fast. Firm but soft. Sweet but ravenous. Warmth tingles through my arms, chills erupting along the base of my neck. Lost in the ecstasy of Anniston, I barely register the strap slipped over my head. She’s moving my arm into another before sense and reality kick in.
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless, my brain still working hard to clear the fog.
Anniston smirks and takes my other hand, sliding it into what I realize is a catcher’s harness.
“I hate to break it you, babe, but I’m a pitcher.” My joke does nothing to deter her mission. She snugs the straps, securing me in the harness, albeit backward. “You know it goes on the other way, right?”
Surely, she knows this. I mean, she’s been around baseball long enough to know how to put on a catcher’s harness.
Her answer is a shove into the lockers. That tanned, flawless complexion moves close enough that I can smell the rosemary shampoo in her hair.
Her nose brushes my ear. “Indulge me.”
The raspy whisper goes straight to my dick, making it jump in anticipation of her next move.
She pulls back and levels me with a look that says, trust me, you’re going to enjoy this.
I spread my arms wide, allowing her full reign to restrain me until her little heart is content. “Do your worst.”
She must like that answer because her smile reaches all the way to her dimples. A clicking sound forces my attention to her hands and I realize she has clipped the harness to the locker door.
“You’ll need help staying upright for this,” she teases as she clips the other side.
The harness isn’t tight but it’s certainly restricting. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what she has in mind.
She inspects her work, pulling on the clips, checking the movement in my arms. Seemingly satisfied, she grips my face, not enough to hurt but enough to relay who is running this little freak show. “Keep your hands here,” she instructs, placing my hands on the straps of the harness. “Don’t take your eyes off me, Teddy.”
My throat works in anticipation as she lowers herself to her knees, slowly inching open the towel covering me. Her soft touch is excruciating. I’m bound and completely at her mercy. It sucks and it doesn’t. Literally and figuratively.
Her fingertips dance along my thighs, each touch moving closer to the sweet spot between my legs. With a firm pull, her hands wrap around my ass, centering me to her face.
“Watch me,” she demands as her tongue sweeps out, tasting me.
My dick jerks in her hand but she holds tight, giving me a couple stokes to settle down. A groan slips out unexpectedly when she firms up her grip, sliding my hardened length past her teeth. My knees go weak from the sight of her blonde tresses showering my thighs as her mouth envelops my dick in a hot bath. Her head bobs, her mouth gripping me so tightly that I’m sure I’m seconds from coming down her throat. Something about seeing her on her knees taking me so aggressively causes me to completely lose it and not in a proud way. I pride myself on not being a minute man and Ans here is a couple more sucks from killing my rep.
“Don’t close those eyes,” she demands between pulls of her mouth.
From a cloud of the best blow-job-filled lust ever, I manage to say, “Not a chance.”
She swirls her tongue around the sensitive edge of my swollen tip, applying the most incredible pressure. I try to push myself farther into that sweet mouth of hers and make her take me as far as she can go but between the damn gear and her tight grip on my ass, I am firmly planted against the lockers.
“Don’t be a tease,” I beg breathlessly. Seriously, how long is she going to torture me?
Those crystalline eyes blink up at me, full of fake innocence, before she smiles devilishly. Her hand moves from my ass to the base of my balls and applies the kind of pressure to that perfect little space that can bring a grown man to his knees.
“I’m about to come,” I grunt, “fair warning.” Seriously, I’m about to come like an amateur and by the way her lips are pursed around the pulsing vein, sucking like it’s the most divine dessert to have ever been in her mouth…yeah, I’m about to come all down her throat.
Her tempo increases, the suction too much when she cups my balls in a gentle caress. I come with a roar, unable to hold back any longer. Playing with my balls does it every time. My release, like an explosion, rips from me. It’s hot, creamy spurts, coating Anniston’s sinfully smart mouth. She swallows, her throat beautifully working me until I’m soft. I slump over, only the straps of the harness keeping me upright, just as she predicted. Her lips make a popping noise as she releases me with a satisfied smile.
She moves gracefully to the open locker next to me, and with a wink, she snatches a jockstrap down off the top shelf. My lips curl in disgust. God only knows whose it is. I think it’s either Brody’s or Michaels’ but I can’t read the nameplates the way I’m strapped down.
She pulls a roll of tape from her bag tossed haphazardly on the floor. “Double-sided tape,” she confirms as she begins to line the inside of the cup. I must look confused as shit because she shushes me with a finger to my lips before I can ask a question.
Fine, I’ll just hang out here, completely nude, restrained to a locker in my place of employment. You know, just another day in the life of Theo and Ans. I have to hand it to the girl, though, she’s creative.
When she finishes lining the inside of the cup, she slides the jockstrap back onto the top shelf and turns to me with a shit-eating grin.
“Let’s get you out of Michaels’ harness, yeah?”
My face falls into a frown. “You didn’t?” She restrained me in Michaels’ gear? That is low, even for her.
Her smile is contagious as she assists me in working my arms out of the straps. When she pulls it off, revealing sweat marks, and hangs it in the same locker as the sticky jockey strap, I double over laughing. It’s Michaels’ locker!
“You are the queen.” I bow between bouts of laughter.
She curtsies at my bow and places a kiss to my lips. “I bet he won’t fuck with your stats again.”
This. Girl. Was. Made. For. Me.
I lock her into an embrace and swing her around. “I am going to fuck the shit out of your bad ass,” I promise as I spin us around in the middle of the locker room.
She giggles at my threat. “Come on. You can do me in the car. Let’s get out of here before we’re caught.”
She slaps my ass before tossing me my clothes. I dress quickly, dying to leave and enjoy some much-deserved quality time with Ans.
“Dinner?” I ask as we navigate through the parking lot in search of my car.
“Sure. Mexican?”
We are one bowl into a delicious salsa. The Spanish music seems boisterous inside the tiny restaurant. I’ve never been here before. Brody told me about it and I was waiting until Anniston was visiting before trying it.
I absolutely love when the salsa’s loaded down with cilantro, Anniston not so much, but it hasn’t slowed her down one bit as she talks animatedly about the guys. I’m not paying much attention to what she says. I’m focused on how that slight dent forms when she wants to smile but holds it back. And the way that one piece of hair never stays behind her ear.
“Theo, are you even listening?”
I tear my eyes away from her mouth as she licks the salt of her lime margarita off her upper lip. “Yes, you were saying Cade is annoying, as always. Hayes is banging every chick south of Atlanta, and Vic, Mason, and Tim are all still attached at the hip like chicks.” I wave my chip at her amused face. “Except you said it with a whole bunch of ridiculous words mixed in.”
She throws a chip at me and I easily maneuver my mouth under it, catching it. I’m a baseball player for goodness’ sake, did you think I would miss it?
“You’re an ass,” she says, but there is no bite to her words. She likes that I’m this way.
“A fine piece of ass, you mean?”
Her curls flutter with the exasperated shake of her head. “So, a little birdie told me you’ve been saying you wanted to retire from baseball. Is that true? Do you want to quit?”
Fucking Thad. What a butt kiss. I bet he couldn’t wait to run and tell her all about me wanting to quit. I crumble the chip in my hand into tiny pieces, finding the motion fitting for this conversation.
Crumbling.
It never goes well when this is brought up. I go for humor instead of the serious conversation I know we are bound to have. “I think you should really refer Thad to see one of your psychologist buddies. His lying is getting out of hand. I hear that usually means you have deep-rooted issues.”
Her answering scowl is not to be fucked with. She’s in no mood for jokes. Fine.
“Maybe. It’s just a thought. With me being in Washington all the time and you in Madison, we never see each other. I could find a job. Be a coach for one of the local schools?”
Anniston doesn’t answer me right away. She takes a long sip of her drink, placing it back down gently. “Is that what you want? To coach some no-name baseball team for our small town?”
She’s right. I wouldn’t be happy coaching some sniveling little brats who think their shit doesn’t stink, not that I was that way or anything. But I’m not happy traveling with the MLB either. I want to spend my nights wrapped up on the sofa with Anniston, arguing over whose day it is to have the remote. I want to fart under the covers and hold her tight so she can’t escape the smell. I want to give Cade hell until he explodes and hits something. I want to shoot the shit with Hayes and whoop Mason’s ass in Call of Duty. Most importantly, I want to be home. With her and this crazy family she has built for us.
“I don’t know. I need to figure out something. I’m tired of spending my nights in a hotel room, living off takeout, watching bad cable on a twenty-six-inch TV. I want stay home in my own bed.” She and I both know I don’t mean my penthouse.
“You do come home, more than the daily players on your team.”
I hope she can see that I don’t give two fucks about what “daily players” get to do.
I want to come home.
End of story.
I am tired of playing for the Nationals. I had offers for trade but the Nationals wouldn’t give in. No way are they going to give up my 0.98 ERA. If I’m going to leave this ball club I will have to buy out my contract. The millions I would fork out for that will be a hit, but at this point, I would be willing to do anything.
“Anniston, I don’t want to fight about this. I know you love that I play but I don’t want to anymore.”
Her eyes go wide in disbelief. “Is that why you play? For me?”
I shrug, popping another chip in my mouth. “No. It’s not the reason I play. I love the game. I love making money playing it. But…”
How do I put this so I don’t sound pussy-whipped?
“It’s not the same without you there. I thought it was always going to be us. Bonnie and Clyde. Seeing the country one game at a time. But then, the guys came along and all you do is help them. Which is a good thing. I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I just had a future planned for us and now…”
“Theo.” Anniston slides out of the booth, joining me in mine. She takes my fisted hand, shaking off the crumbs, and places it to her cheek. “I love you. You will always be my number one priority. I never did this to be away from you. I just needed to do something for me. To create a future for myself. That doesn’t mean I planned to leave you out of it.”
I slide her closer to me, anxious to close the gap I have created by revealing this secret. I understand why she did it. And I’m happy for her. I just feel left out and want to create a different kind of future.
“I love you, too. You’re my girl.” I rub my hand down her back, my head inching toward her delicate shoulder.
“We’ll figure it out, Theo.”
“Yeah. We will. But in the meantime, I think reducing Thad’s pay will certainly help ease the transition of quitting. Can you imagine the extra money I could save?”
We’re both laughing, humor lightening the tense debate. The waiter comes out with steaming fajitas, placing them in front of us. Anniston looks at me, back at the fajitas, and then at the waiter.
“I think we’re going to need these to go.”
I frown. “We will?”
She nods, growing more confident. “Yep. We have a plane to catch.”
I cringe knowing I’ll have to call Cade and tell him we’re coming home early and that he’s right, I am a selfish asshole. Even more so now, for putting her back in harm’s way just because I can’t stand another night in Washington.