28. Wyla

Chapter 28

Much to my dismay this pregame practice didn't happen with the players wearing baseball pants. It was still hot to watch Jett though.

Don't even get me started on watching him catch balls in the outfield during batting practice. I couldn't decide what was sexier—when he'd catch the ball like it was nothing or when he would actually have to run and dive for it.

They finished up with practice about half an hour ago and he's been in the locker room ever since. He texted me to hang tight in this little family waiting area nearby.

I'm dying for him to come out because if he thinks this jersey was the best part of my outfit today, he's wrong. When I ordered this one, I might have also placed a custom order tank top as well.

I glance at my phone—it's a little after four, and Rose texted me a bit ago that they would head over to the stadium around five so we can scope out some seats. Jett said they like to reserve a couple rows behind home plate for family, but we are also welcome to sit in the friends and family box up top.

"Hey, Wyla," Adam says, walking up to me.

"Oh, hey." I try to sound normal. I'm still not entirely confident in being here.

"They're making Jett stretch and ice his shoulder." Adam takes the seat next to me. "And Nick is hovering, much to Jett's annoyance. He's been chomping at the bit to get back out here to you."

"I'm good here. I'm crashing his day so I don't mind waiting."

Adam chuckles. "Actually, I think if you asked him, we're the ones crashing his week with you."

That pit of guilt I had when I first found Jett has now morphed into guilt about not moving here. His week with you . I know Adam didn't have any underhanded meaning to it, but my intrusive thoughts want to feed off of it.

He wouldn't feel the need to bring you today if you would just move here.

Before I can think of a response that doesn't sound like an apology that no one asked for, Jett comes around the corner. "Hey, Wy, sorry it took so long."

"You're okay, I didn't mind."

"I did," he says, and kisses my temple.

"Alright, that's my cue to go." Adam stands up from the chair. "I'm going to head back in the locker room and steal that deck of cards in your bag."

"Be my guest." Jett shrugs. "Wy, you wanna walk around?"

I take his hand and as we start down the hallway I lace my fingers through his. I really don't have anything to compare this stadium to.

It was a house full of girls growing up, we didn't really have a huge desire to watch sports, and while Dad enjoyed the occasional football game on the TV, big crowds make him anxious so stuff like this wasn't anything we did.

"So, what'd you think of practice?"

"I think it was a crime that you weren't in baseball pants this time."

Jett laughs. "The pants really do it for ya, huh?"

"They do it for everyone, babe."

We turn a corner down a hallway that has pictures of past players scattered about. I'm not entirely sure where we're going but I know I want to show Jett my shirt before our daughter—and his parents—get here.

I let go of his hand and start to undo some of the buttons. "This jersey is a little warm. I don't know how you pitch in these. "

Jett stops me on the fourth button, then backs me up against the wall. "I don't know what to tell you, Wy, but my jersey is not coming off your body until I fuck you in it later tonight."

A little smirk crosses my face. "But then how would you know where your pillows are?"

I pull what I can of the jersey to the side, showing my white tank top with "pitcher's pillows" in little black letters.

I see Jett's Adam's apple bob as he reads it. "Fuck."

Jett wraps his arm around my waist, yanking me in tight, and I swear it feels like three steps we move from out in the hall to in what I'm guessing is an equipment room since there's a ton of baseball stuff. Most I'm not really sure of the purpose, other than extra bases, buckets of balls, I'm lost. It's a little cramped but let's be honest, it's a major league stadium, it's got a little more room for creativity.

"Think you can be quiet, baby?"

"No," tumbles out of me. He may have given me an orgasm earlier today, but with the way he's looking at me right now… I have a feeling he's about to make me scream.

"Good," is all he says before he grabs my face and kisses the hell out of me.

My hat falls onto the floor, and I do my best to undo the rest of the buttons .

"That jersey better not leave your body," Jett growls then kisses down my neck.

"The jersey really does it for you, huh?"

"You do it for me, Wy." Trailing his lips back up to my ear, he whispers, "Seeing you in a jersey with my name on your back, makes my dick hard."

He moves down to my boobs and pulls one side of the tank top down. With a flat tongue he licks my hard nipple, before letting the shirt go and kissing my neck again. "Seeing you in a shirt that reminds me of the night I fell in love with you… that makes me fucking feral."

All of the air in my lungs escapes me. "Y-you love me?"

Jett pulls back and cups my face. "I love you, Wy. Whether you love me or not, I've always loved you. There will never be a single second that I won't."

The weight of everything he's saying fills me. My "I love you too," seems to be on the tip of my tongue but damn it the words won't come out. Of course I love him, so why can't I say it?

To save me from my own self-destruction, Jett captures my lips with his. His hands slide off my cheeks, one goes to my hips and the other to my throat. His grip for both hands tighten as he backs me up against some old lockers.

As his tongue claims my mouth, his hold doesn't lesson, even when he leans back just enough to speak. "It's important to me that you understand what I said, Wyla. You don't have to say it back to me, it won't change how I feel about you in the slightest. But just know that right now, I am about to fuck you in a way that might seem a little contradictory."

I swallow that lump in my throat. Staring deep into his deep blue eyes, I whisper, "Good."

With a slightly tighter grip on my throat he kisses me again. It's beyond demanding, it's dominating. His hand does let go after a few passes of his tongue and starts to undo my shorts.

As he slides them down, he gets on one knee and runs his tongue through my center like he did with my breast earlier.

I'm so fucking turned on that even that little touch makes my knees want to wobble.

"You're soaked, Wy." He takes his middle finger and rubs small circles around my clit. I try to spread my legs the best I can with my shorts still around my ankles. "So eager, but I want this pussy dripping for me."

He slides his finger down, then turns his hand to push two fingers inside.

"Fuck, Jett. That feels good."

"What about this?" He pumps two more times, then one finger slides out to push against my ass .

This time, my knees threaten to give out entirely, but all that does is add pressure on Jett's hand. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Each curse is punctuated by his fingers.

"That's my girl." His hand pulls out and stands up. I almost want to protest but he commands, "Open."

My mouth parts slightly without even thinking as the finger that was inside of me touches my bottom lip.

"Suck."

I wrap my lips around his finger, tasting myself on him.

I can practically see fire in his eyes when he says, "Good girl."

I flick my tongue against the base of his finger like I would if I was sucking his dick and it elicits a low growl as he pulls out his finger.

His hands grip my hips, turning me with equal amounts of force and care so I don't trip over my shorts. I'd really like to take them off, but I also don't want to slow any of this down.

He picks me up for a second stepping back. My back flush against his chest he whispers in my ear, "Bend over, baby girl. Put those hands on the locker."

I bite my lip debating if I should say it or not but ultimately, I enjoy being a little bratty with him. "Yes, daddy. "

In a second one arm wraps around my waist and the other is pushing me forward to bend me over. "Woman, you drive me insane. Get those hands up."

I put my hands up as he drops his shorts and lines himself up. He doesn't go slow, nor do his thrusts carry any hint of holding back as he slams into me.

That tightening in my core only grows as his hands grip my hips hard. Suddenly, I feel something wet and warm sliding from my ass to where we're connected. Did he spit on me?

"Think you're funny with your little daddy jokes, Wy?" He slides one hand to my ass and places his thumb over the only place I've only ever let him touch and I push back against him. "Such a greedy girl. Don't think I forgot how much you enjoy this."

He spits again then replaces his thumb with his finger and slides it in just enough to tease me. "Fuck. I enjoy everything with you."

My words seem barely comprehensible to me, but Jett growls, sliding his finger in and out going further in each time while maintaining this brutal pace.

"Right now, you need to come unless you want someone walking in and seeing you like this?"

I want to respond but I'm on the fucking edge. I can feel the start of the orgasm teasing me, I just need …

Jett's other hand takes a fist full of my hair, pulling back. "As much as I like you calling me daddy, this time when you come, scream my fucking name so anyone who can hear knows who you belong to."

Yup. That'll do it.

Screaming his name, I fall to my elbows against the lockers as he lets go of my hair. By some miracle my legs don't give out. I think that's because the feeling of him thrusting in and out of me is spurring my orgasm on, and I never want the feeling to stop.

"Fuck, Wyla." Jett's hand leaves my ass and pulls my upper body back against him as he empties into me.

"I fucking love you," he whispers in my ear. I want to melt into him but he pulls out slowly and pulls up his underwear and shorts before stepping in front of me.

He kneels back down and brings my seamless panties up first then my jean shorts. "I want to know when you're up there watching me from the stands that my name is on your back, and my cum is between your legs."