Fastball (Wilde Players Dirty Romance) Read online

  Riley’s eyes range up and down my body. I hate it when she does this. It always makes me want to squirm.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “Where’s Lynsey?”

  “She left.”

  “Left?” Riley asks.

  “Yeah, she didn’t want to watch the game after all.”

  It’s funny seeing both sets of brows shoot straight up in synchronized timing. I’d like to ask if they planned it, but I’m damn sure they’d punch me. Or something equally as painful.

  Leave it to Riley to keep digging in. “So what? Did she like decide after she’d been here a while, and mind you this wasn’t her first game, that she didn’t like football after all?”

  “Something like that,” I mumble.

  “Ryder, what did you do?”

  “Nothing.” If only they knew.

  They share a look, and those damn brows of theirs arch again. I wonder if they’re on some kind of team. Synchronized brow raising team. Maybe it’s some club only women are allowed in.

  “Whatever,” Riley finally answers.

  They both turn and leave. Funny. Cassidy never said a word. Only listened to our exchange. Too bad I can’t pull her aside and drill her with questions about Gina. That wouldn’t work though because it would only get back to that dark-haired vixen who’s gotten under my skin.

  Speaking of, where the hell is she? I do a once-over in the room, and there are so many people in here it’s difficult to see who’s who. Looks like I’m going to have to mingle to find her.

  People stop to congratulate me on the win yesterday, which was why I didn’t get here until late today. And I have to ask myself again. Why the hell did I ask Lynsey to meet me? What a huge mistake. My hand swipes through my hair as I continue my search for Gina.

  “Ryder? There you are. I was wondering where you went.”

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Where’s Lynsey?”

  “She left. She decided she wanted to go home.”

  “Well, I’m glad. I don’t really like that woman. Seems to me she only wants what you can buy her. Did you eat, honey?”

  “Not yet.”

  She grabs my hand and pulls me over to the food table, like I’m eight years old. I love my mother. She’s the most adorable woman in the world. She’s kind and loving, but right now I want to find that fiery little piece that nearly blew my mind a few minutes ago.

  “Let me fix you a plate.” She starts piling food on so there’s no way I’m getting out of this. She stuffs it in my hands and says, “I’ll grab you a beer, sweetie.”

  “Thanks, Mom. But you know I am twenty-six and I can fix my own plate.”

  “I know, honey but you know how I love to take care of you.”

  I scan the place for an empty seat and find one toward the corner. I turn back and say, “Mom, I’ll be over there.”

  “Okay, honey, I’ll find you.”

  As I walk, I check out the goodies Mom placed on my plate, and my stomach rumbles. It smells delicious, and I’m starving. Sitting down, I dig in and Mom hands me my beer and leaves with an I’ll be back with dessert. As I inhale my food, a sexy voice filled with sarcasm comes from over my shoulder.

  “By the looks of it, someone needs to make sure you, um, eat more.” My beer spills on my lap as I nearly choke.

  “Jesus, are you okay?”

  After I cough and sputter a bit, I say, “Yeah, I think I’ll live. Don’t you know it’s not safe to sneak up on people while they’re eating?”

  Gina gives me an eat shit look and shakes her head. Black shiny waves swing back and forth, and her scent drifts over me. My cock instantly strains against my jeans. I want to pull her down on top of me and push myself into her until she moans. What the fuck, Ryder?

  “You okay there?” she asks.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You were licking your lips like you tasted something out of this world.”

  “Well, I was just eating,” I say, adding, “until you about choked me.”

  “Right.” She drags the word out, making it sound as though she believes me as much as she believes cows can fly.

  To take my mind off of sex, I shove a huge forkful of food into my mouth. And chew. And chew. And chew. I don’t think I’m ever going to work that mouthful down, but I do. And the entire time I feel Gina’s heat behind me.

  “So, where’s the blond?” she finally asks. I knew it was coming, but now it’s out in the open.

  After swallowing my food, I say, “She left. Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me so I don’t have to strain my neck to talk and I won’t be concerned about choking again?”

  She shrugs a shoulder and moves next to me. “Did I get you in trouble?”

  “No, Gina, I got myself in trouble. I should never have brought her. It was a huge error.”

  She sips on her drink. “Because of me?”

  “Yes, because of you. I bring her and disappear with you.”

  “Well, she didn’t have to leave because of me. I meant what I said to her. You and I aren’t anything, so it isn’t a big deal.”

  This is weird. She acts like a guy. Women don’t act like this. She’s supposed to be more clingy since we just fucked a few minutes or so ago.

  “Why are you acting like this?” I ask.

  “Acting like what?”

  Setting the food to the side, I turn to look her square in the face. “Like this. We just had sex.”

  “Will you keep it down, for Christ’s sake? You want to tell the world?”

  Damn, this woman is so hot when she’s angry. Two spots of color appear high on her cheekbones as her nostrils flare. Eyes like coffee make me want to dive right into them and drink them up. She’s as perfect as I’ve ever seen a woman be with her waist long shiny hair, and she’s tall—my guess is about five feet nine or ten—and that’s a huge turn-on for me alone. But the best thing is, she’s not bone thin like so many women are. She’s got curves in all the right places and knows what to do with them.

  “No one is paying us a bit of attention.”

  She licks her full lips—the very same ones I want wrapped around my dick—and says, “Well, they will be if you keep shouting about us having sex.”

  I laugh at this. Is this the same woman who challenged me in the locker room? Now she’s afraid someone will hear about it when a few minutes ago, she didn’t give a fuck if someone caught us doing it.

  “What?” she asks.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “How so?”

  I tell her what a contradiction she is, and she actually has the courtesy to blush before she speaks again. “Well, that was different.”

  “No, it wasn’t. What if I slipped my hand down your pants right here, in this room, and got you off?”

  Her eyes dart around as she checks out the room. An impish look takes over her face, and she says, “Okay.”

  Jesus, I was only joking, and here she is taking me seriously.

  “Okay, but here’s the deal. You have to return the favor.”

  She holds out her hand and says, “Deal.”

  After we shake on it, she undoes her pants and covers her fly with her jersey.

  “How quiet can you be?” I ask.

  “Very.”

  “Hmm. We’ll see about that.”

  The bad thing about this is Gina has a gorgeous pussy, and I want to look at it, but unfortunately, I’m left with my imagination. Instead, I focus on her eyes. Using one hand for obvious reasons, my fingers spread her lips, and I begin a slow rub until she warms to me. It doesn’t take her long I’m happy to say. One finger in and she’s wiggling around in her seat.

  “Be still,” I warn.

  “Trying here,” she breathes heavily.

  Using two fingers and my thumb, I massage her, pressing down on her pubic bone with the heel of my palm.

  “Shit, that’s good,” she whispers.

  “Ryder, here’s your dessert, honey.”

  Fuck!
My mom would have to come right now.

  “Gina, honey, would you like me to get you some?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m fine.” Her voice breaks as she speaks, and I have to hold back a laugh.

  “Oh, dear, you’re a bit sweaty. Are you okay? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m fine. These games always get me a little worked up.”

  “Ryder, aren’t you going to eat your dessert?”

  I’m holding the plate with one hand, and the other is in Gina’s vag.

  “Yeah, I will, Mom.”

  “Here,” Gina says, coming to my rescue. “I think I’ll have one bite if you don’t mind.”

  She takes a bite and gives me one.

  “Ryder, you let these women spoil you too much. I’m going to find your dad.”

  When her back is to us, I resume my ministrations on Gina’s privates. But I go in for the money without mercy. In no time flat she’s clenching my fingers as she comes all around my hand. And she was wrong. She moans. Loud enough so she puts the plate down and clamps a hand over her mouth.

  Then we laugh as I remove my hand and lick my fingers. “I believe this is my dessert.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Uh huh,” I mumble.

  “My turn.”

  “God, I hope Mom doesn’t come back. Where’s that dessert? If I don’t eat it, she’ll think I’m sick.”

  Gina hands me the plate, and I eat the cake or whatever it is that’s there. I feel her hands trying to unbutton my pants.

  “You can’t do this,” I scold her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re in the box with people around.”

  “So?” She looks as though it’s an everyday occurrence.

  “How many times have you done this?” I ask.

  Her lip pokes out, and she says, “You’re not supposed to ask those kinds of questions, Ryder.”

  “I don’t have a shirt on like you do to cover myself. I don’t want my dick exposed to the world while you give me a hand job.”

  She smirks. “You’re a chicken.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  She points a finger at the plate and says, “Finish up there, my little chicken.”

  Who am I to disobey an adventurous woman? When I’m done, I set the plate aside, and she takes my hand, pulling me into the bathroom in the back of the room.

  “Ahh, good idea,” I say as she locks the door.

  By this time, my dick is about to tear through the zipper. She undoes it and pulls it free of the jail it’s been in. Then I watch in wonder as she drops to her knees and puts her lips around the tip, sucking me into the warmth of her mouth.

  It’s about now that I want to moan my pleasure, but I stay quiet. Watching Gina with my cock in her mouth is quite the picture. She takes me in a little deeper each time, and she watches me—she fucking watches me. It makes me want to fuck her hard, like I did earlier. But I also want to come on her tongue, down her throat. I want to feel her swallow what I pump into her, squeezing me until I’m dry. The way she swirls her tongue around my head and then slides it along my shaft almost has me unglued. But then she takes me in deeper than I think is possible, squeezing my balls until I tell her, letting her know I’m close. And that’s when she really goes at it until I shoot everything I have into her. And I, exactly like she did, have to hold a hand over my mouth to stop the groan from escaping.

  As soon as possible, I tuck my dick back in my jeans and zip up.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  And when I open the door, Cassidy and Riley stand there staring at us.

  GINA

  Pushing my hair back, I smirk at Cassie and walk past with my head held high. So I sucked Ryder off in the bathroom. It was fucking hot. The guy pushes all my buttons. If anything, I should be more wary of that.

  Heading for the bar, I ask for a shot of tequila. Before I know it, I’m cornered by Cassie and Riley.

  “So, are you going to tell us what you were doing in the bathroom with Ryder?” Cassie tosses out.

  “And let’s just put it out there. Are you fucking my brother?” Riley asks, double teaming me.

  I’m not a blusher, because rarely do I ever give a crap about what people think of me. But I’ve never been ambushed by a sister.

  Pulling up my metaphorical big girl pants, I say, “You want to know what I was doing in the bathroom?” They both nod. “I was doing him. So what? Neither one of you is our mother.”

  I start to walk away, but Riley brings me up short.

  “Just some friendly advice, because I think you and I could be fast friends, but a bit of a warning, too. My brother is a lover. You know what I mean? He loves women, hard and fast and more times than I can count. But on the same note, he’s a Wilde. You remember that conversation we had before? When he loves, he loves hard and long. And can be hurt. Don’t hurt my brother.”

  The warning is received. She feels for Ryder like I feel for Cassie. She may not be my blood sister, but that doesn’t stop the bond we formed over many years of taking care of one another.

  “I doubt I could. Besides, I like it hard and fast, too,” I say cheekily. “I’m not the lover type, so no worries there.”

  Cassie sees through my shit. She gives me a sideways glance, but thank goodness she doesn’t give up the goods in front of Ryder’s sister.

  “Good. Then we won’t have a problem. Besides, I truly think he’s into someone, so it’s a good thing you’re not a clinger,” Riley says.

  The comment hurts, and it shouldn’t. I brush it aside and smile.

  “So not a clinger,” I say, waving a hand.

  Then I spot Ryder talking to a very cute perky woman who must have something in her eye the way she’s batting her eyelashes at him.

  “We should hang out sometime. I don’t know anybody,” Riley is saying, so I turn my attention back to them.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely. I know a club we can go to.”

  Cassie jumps in. “You are not taking her to a sex club.”

  “Why the fuck not? It’s not like I do anything there besides watch. It’s fun. Plus, you can find guys that aren’t looking for the long-term,” I protest.

  “There are plenty of guys in normal clubs for that. You should go out with Mark.”

  I feel like I bit into a lemon as a sour taste fills my mouth because he’s like a brother to me.

  Riley says with clappy hands, “Mark who?”

  “Mark, Fletcher’s best friend.” Something crosses over Riley’s face, but I continue, “And don’t get me wrong. He’s easy to gaze at, but he’s too vanilla for me.”

  “That’s not what you said,” Cassie teases.

  “Oh, my, god. We were in high school. He was my first,” I explain to Riley. “But soon we realized we worked better as friends.”

  Cassie’s eyes sparkle with something like a matchmaker’s twinkle. “I could introduce you.”

  I put a hand up. “Let me stop this train from shooting down the tracks. I think Riley’s more like me than you and Fletcher. Mark is too romantic for her.”

  “Yes, you have my number. So Mark’s out. But I’ve never been to a sex club. Sounds like fun and, Cassie, you have to go with.”

  “Oh, I so will not,” Cassie says.

  In agreement with Riley, I say, “Yes, my bestie, you will have to come.”

  “Fletcher would just die,” she says.

  “There’s no law against just looking, Cassie. Besides, if he truly loves you, he has to trust you completely.”

  Cassie can’t say anything.

  After the game, I’m sorry I brought it up. Fletcher and Cassie get into a bit of an argument over the topic of her hanging out with me at the club. I try to butt in, but Fletcher does that growly thing for me to stay out of it.

  Mark leans over. “Sex club, huh?”

  Our long ago, very short-lived relationship isn’t a problem for either of us. He’s like my brother now.

  Shrugging, I
say, “It’s something to do.”

  “Have you ever participated?” he asks mischievously.

  “No.” I’d thought about it. But it’s one thing to play games behind the closed doors of your house, and it’s another to have the idea that you might get caught doing things. It’s a whole different thing to actually be on display. Even I’m not that bold.

  “You are being safe, right?” Mark asks, taking my hand in his.

  “I am.” I squeeze his in mine.

  “You know I’m only thirty minutes and a phone call away if you ever need me.”

  “I know,” I say. “How about you? Are you seeing anyone?” The smile shoots to his eyes, so there is someone special. “Who is she?”

  Using his other hand, he brushes a finger down my nose. “You know I don’t kiss and tell. If things get serious, you’ll be the first to meet her and my litmus test.”

  When we make it to Fletcher’s mini mansion, not small my ass as Cassie claimed, the pair have made up. It’s almost gross to watch them play grabby hands as they practically race to their bedroom.

  “Are you going to bed?” Mark asks when we’re left alone.

  “In a few.”

  “If you’re not ready to head to bed, do you want company?” I shake my head. “All right, I’m going to bed then.”

  “You’re going to call that girl and have phone sex, aren’t you?”

  The smile he shines on me is so bright, I have to raise a hand to block it. I swat at him, and he dodges before heading to his assigned room upstairs.

  Alone, I pour a drink and stare at myself in the mirror. I hate the woman who stares back at me. And not that I hate myself. But I’m the spitting image of my mother, or so I’m told, a woman I never knew.

  Pushing back the mass of black hair, I wish I had the guts to cut it all off or bleach it. That way maybe I wouldn’t look so much like the tourist girl who’d come to the mountains with her family so many years ago. She saw my father and had to have him, if you believe the stories he tells. She got herself knocked up and nearly disowned. When I was born, she dropped me off at my dad’s parents’ house and never looked back.

  He didn’t even know her last name, their relationship was so wham bam thank you ma’am. I grew up with a dad who was way too young to want to be a father and grandparents way too old to be parents. Somehow in between I’d managed, thanks to Cassie and her family.