He doesn’t notice my inner turmoil andkeeps talking. “Soaked and ready for my cock, aren’t you?” I clench, the ache too great. I slide my finger over my clit and Grant slaps my ass again. “You don’t get to touch.”
“Grant, please.” I drop my head to my forearm with a moan, needing relief.
“Please what? Use your words.” His hands grip the hair at the base of my neck and pull my head up.
Looking back at him over my shoulder, I take in his unhinged appearance. He looks like he’s going to snap any second. “Fuck. Me. Hard.”
His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches. Barely restrained anger flashes behind his eyes as he shoves his shorts down. He spits in his hand and pumps his cock.
I feel his tip against my entrance, teasing me. “As you wish.” He pushes inside in one long stroke.
“Yes,” I groan as my body adjusts to his size. It’s been far too long since I’ve had sex, but sex with him is out of this world. We fit together so perfectly, like he’s an extension of me.
As if he can read my mind, he says, “I’ve never had anything like this. Feeling you grip me. Do you feel what you do to me? How much I’ve longed for you, longed for this.”
He pulls out then thrusts back in. Pleasure and pain as I expected. On his next thrust, I push my hips back into him. His cock hits that secret deep spot and I shake at the sensation. I lose myself in the feel of him fucking me. Gripping the railing with both hands, I arch my back and swivel my hips when he plunges deep again.
His hands bruise when he pulls me tighter against him. “That’s right. Fuck me like you hate me,” he grits out, jutting his hips in short strokes.
“I do hate you.”
I don’t. I hate how he makes me feel—loved, cherished, desired. Like he can’t live without me. Like I can do anything. Like he holds the key to all my secrets buried deep. What I hate the most is that I don’t hate it—I craved it more than anything.
“Then fuck me like you own me.” Everything in me freezes. My eyes jump to his as he continues to pound into me. “Because you do. Body and soul, you fucking own me.”
“Grant,” I attempt to argue, but it comes out as a moan when he bottoms out against the deep spot once again. I can feel my walls flutter around his shaft.
“Love when your pussy sings for me. You were mine when you were twenty-two and you’re still mine.” His punishing grip on my hips tighten as he takes from me. “Aren’t you, wife?” The slap of his palm on my ass cheek echoes around us.
“Yes,” I hiss at the burst of pain mixed with the pleasure he’s giving me. His relentless pace has my back arching and my fingers digging into the vinyl padding in front of me.
“Be a good little wife and come for me.” He reaches around and pinches my clit. I can’t hold back any longer. My legs shake as I detonate. White spots dance in my vision, and if it weren’t for his hand around my waist and the railing in front of me, I would’ve collapsed to the dirt floor.
Grant curses over me as he finds his own release. Awareness seeps back in. I feel him everywhere. His chest draped over my back. The gentle brush of his lips on my neck. The way he holds me up so I don’t fall.
I push him back so I can stand and right the skirt of my dress. He tucks himself back into his shorts without making eye contact with me.
We don’t speak for a few minutes as we watch the sky change colors.
“Do you regret it?” I can’t stop the words from tumbling out.
“I could never regret anything when it comes to you.” His finger loops around mine. A rightness settles over me.
“Me neither,” I confess. There’s a lot to talk about. More emotions simmering beneath the surface that I’m not able to put words to right this second, but in this moment, it feels like everything will work itself out.
“Walk with me?” He slides his palm into mine and laces our fingers together as we walk the warning track of the field.
I smile up at him. “I’ve missed this.”
When we met, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for me to see him play, but I do remember a few nights when I would meet him after a game he pitched, and we would walk the field like we are now.
“Those nights were my favorite. We may have been in New York with a million people buzzing around, but in that moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.”
“I’m sorry you lost that.” I squeeze his hand three times the way I used to. The act comes so naturally I don’t even realize it until it’s too late.
“Me too,” he sighs as he looks down at our hands. “Ready to go home?”
“Yeah, and I’m starving. Think you can get the kitchen to send up some lobster mac?”
