Night Games (The Storm Inside #6) Read online

  “Which is why I’m taking the big, bad first step in altering some of my ways.”

  “Does that scare her?” Jake asked.

  “Does what scare her?”

  “Changing. Because you’re married.”

  Did everyone get this but me? “Yep. Totally freaking her out. Plus, I don’t think she believes married people can be happy. Her parents are not exactly the poster couple for love.”

  Jake whistled. “You have your work cut out for you.”

  “So what do I do?” Because talking was fun and all, so was the beer and the nachos that were on their way, but I needed an action plan.

  “Nothing.”

  I stared at Jake.

  So did Roman.

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged. “If she’s afraid of change, don’t change. Well, not much. Be less of a dick.”

  “You two are useless.”

  “I’m serious,” Jake continued. “I’ve seen you two apart and together. You’re both full of life, but in different ways, but still very outgoing, very charismatic people. And if she thinks marriage is a man and a woman following a bunch of rules and becoming domesticated, then she’s feeling stifled.”

  Yes. The thought sprang into my head. This. “I keep telling her that the only thing different is the marriage license making it official, but she still looks at me like a deer in the headlights.”

  “Exactly. So don’t change. Don’t settle down and suggest a quiet night in when you’d normally go out and dance.”

  Bang all night long and get dirty.

  “But how do I be less of a dick?”

  They looked at each other and shrugged, the assholes.

  “Well, first of all,” Jake said, “I suggest you get your ass traded to the Mantas so you two live in the same city. But in the meantime, don’t flirt with other women.”

  “I don’t flirt with other women.” I barely looked at other women.

  “You flirted with the hostess on the way in,” Roman laughed.

  At me.

  “I asked her how she was doing. That’s not flirting.”

  “While grinning, giving her those eyes, and leaning over the hostess station. That’s flirting. Would you like it if Caroline’s husband did that to the hostess?”

  I stopped. Really stopped for once and thought about it. Roman was right. I did fucking flirt with the hostess. It was so ingrained I didn’t even know when I was doing it.

  Which meant seventy-five percent of everything I did everyday was probably me moving on muscle memory and habit.

  Which meant I was going to have to change a lot.

  Which meant I was going to have to work really hard at this.

  Fuck. No wonder Carrie freaked out about having to change. I was damn near hyperventilating now.

  “Drink.” Roman slid my beer closer. “You’ll be fine. Eventually.”

  “Do I do that all the time? Flirt?”

  Jake laughed into his beer. “Yes. You flirted with Eve and I almost ripped your arms off.”

  I did? “I’m so sorry. I mean nothing by it. Especially not with a married woman. I would never, ever—”

  He cut me off. “I know. Which is why you still have your arms. But yes, you flirt constantly. With everyone. It’s what you do. And I’m not suggesting you so stop being charming. Be charming. It’s great and you do it well, but you need to refocus it from insinuating a sexual meaning behind it, to something less confrontational. Like genuine human interest. Be friendly, not flirty.”

  I could do that. Maybe.

  The nachos arrived, giving me a break from the nonstop action, thank fuck. I needed a minute to digest and come to terms with the reality that Roman was right.

  I hated when he was right.

  Unfortunately I barely had a moment to enjoy my food. One chip in and I had a phone shoved in my face. Around the phone was a set of very pretty black nails. Attached to the nails was my very angry wife.

  “What is this?” she growled.

  I blinked at the phone, the picture I posted to Instagram and Facebook coming into focus. “My official announcement.”

  She didn’t say anything. Instead a sound came out of her throat that sounded a lot like aliens were landing on Earth.

  I reached for her. “I thought you would appreciate it.”

  Her eyes bugged and I got the distinct impression she did not, in fact, appreciate it.

  “You didn’t even tell me you were posting it!” she shrieked.

  Jake coughed. “Rookie mistake.”

  I shot him a look. “Thanks.” Then I turned back to Carrie. “Babe. I’m sorry. I just . . . after my meeting with Rick today I realized I hadn’t said anything official. I got really excited. I figured we could talk tonight.”

  She stomped her foot. “No. That’s not how these things work, Wes. When my name and face go out on your social media to hundreds of thousands of people, you need to run it by me first.”

  I got it. Sort of. I got the personal part of it. She should absolutely be included anytime I made any announcements in the future. But the rest? Fuck. It was an awesome post. Couldn’t she just appreciate it?

  I took her phone and turned it around so she could look at it. “Babe. This is my favorite picture of you.”

  She blushed.

  “I told you that you looked gorgeous.” I turned that pancakes-in-my-shirt, just-before-I-realized-I-was-falling-in-love morning photo into a soft black and white image. Her face was turned down but her smile radiated from the picture.

  “It’s a good picture,” she agreed, beginning to shift around nervously.

  I slipped my hand around her waist. “Didn’t you like what I had to say?”

  Her cheeks turned even redder. “It’s very sweet.”

  This. This ladies and gentlemen, was the moment my life changed. This is the moment I fell in love with my wife. Two weeks ago we made a leap of faith to love and honor each other forever. I’ve never been more sure of anything and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us. No matter what, I know it will be filled with love because this woman is everything. I love you, Dr. Carrie Anne Walker. xo Your Husband.

  “You’re sweet,” I whispered as I tucked back her hair and kissed her cheek. “You taste sweet, too.”

  “Wes . . . ”

  Normally I’d suggest a trip to the bathroom. Or car. And while I didn’t want to “change” I did want to alter some of our habits. “Can I take you home? I want to show you how sweet you are when I make you come.” And I’d do it as crazy and wild as I could because I wanted to prove to her we were no different.

  That got me a short little sharp intake of breath. Her pupils widened.

  She was turned on.

  Tonight we needed the toolbox.

  I needed to bring her back to me.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice all sweet and quiet. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”

  I didn’t even look at the guys. “Oh, babe. I’m sure.”

  13

  Carrie, six weeks earlier

  I’d never, ever done anything like this before.

  But he told me to.

  Well, he asked me to. Told me? He strongly suggested. And considering how much fun we’d been having playing with each other, and how well he’d been treating me, and how mind-blowing my orgasms had been, I decided to go with it.

  When he gave me his key because I might need it, I hadn’t a clue he meant this.

  Then the text came at the end of the game.

  Meet me at my place. Everything you need is on the bed.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Well, I knew the answer to that now. An unopened package sat on the bed with a handwritten note asking me to use whatever I wished in any way I wished and to draw a bath.

  And now as I floated in his very expensive super bath with clamps around my swollen nipples, a plug up my ass, and a jet aimed at my clit, I had to wonder if Wes was a genius or a madman. Consideri
ng I was about to come hard enough to splash water on the tile floor, I was going with genius until something told me otherwise.

  My breasts floated between the suds, my nipples little mountain peaks above the surface. At first that had been more than enough to make me dripping wet, but the new toys called to me. They begged to be used and my body ached to feel the way each one might make me feel different. So I’d unboxed everything, then cleaned each item, lining them up on the bed in order of my level of curiosity.

  The plug won second prize. I’d always found that part of my body to be extremely sensitive—in good ways and bad. With the wrong lovers I’d called that a no-fly zone. Mistreatment was painful and took away all the fun.

  But with the right lovers?

  Oh the pleasure. It was downright heaven.

  Wes and I explored our limits quickly and effectively and he’d proven to be very talented at making me feel good right up to the brink without ever pushing me too hard.

  So it was an easy choice to generously lubricate the toy and insert.

  But of course that only made me ache for more. To be specific, it made me ache for Wes’s mouth. The things he could do with it were . . . well, amazing. And that was the entire point of sending me ahead to his place, letting me play in my own way, and turning me on.

  He wanted me wet, hot, and ready for fun.

  And I was more than ready.

  The lights dimmed and a moment later, there he was. Hair wet from a post-game shower, dress shirt open at the collar, slacks, bare feet.

  Fuck.

  “Come, Carrie. Now.”

  I shuddered at the way he said it. A soft, needy command. His eyes dark with lust, his shoulders tight and twitching to touch me.

  I spread my legs just a little wider, letting the stream of water wash over my clit. The ache in my center—the ache to be filled—grew deeper, heavier. I was so empty but so needy, I couldn’t have stopped my orgasm if I’d wanted to.

  And oh, god, why would I want to when I had a man looking down at me like that? I would do just about anything in that moment to please him.

  I came hard, my muscles clenching around the plug, the pulses from my clit finding no relief around his cock. It felt good, but not nearly as good as it could.

  “Don’t move. Stay right where you are,” he said as he started stripping. First the shirt, then the pants. He took his cock in his hands and stroked down to the tip, then back up in a slow, lazy stroke, over and over, as his erection grew.

  He grew longer, harder, and so did his stare. The way he wanted me . . . sweet Jesus. That was everything I’d always craved.

  His strokes grew more frantic, coming up over his head with a flick of his wrist. “I will never forget this.” He shook his head. “What a sight, Carrie. You are perfection.”

  Then he stepped into the large tub behind me, sliding beneath my body so that his erection was trapped between us and I was essentially lying on top of him, my back to his front.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Yes . . . ” Except that the pleasure was quickly building again and I wanted more. The ache . . . it was becoming painful.

  His thumbs skated over the exposed peaks of my nipples, now hypersensitive thanks to the clamps. I hissed.

  “Is that good?” His breath whispered against my ear.

  “Yes,” I moaned.

  “Do you want more?”

  How was that even a question. “Yes. More.”

  The tips had turned a beautiful dark red by this point and I could feel every brush of his fingers, every breath as he panted, watching the way I writhed under his touch. He took the very tips between his fingers and pinched just as hard as the clamps.

  I felt the jolt between my legs. My muscles clamped hard around the plug.

  He tugged on the clamps, sending even more jolts to my core. “Hold still.”

  I froze as he quickly removed the clamps, then replaced them with his fingers.

  “Wes . . . ” I couldn’t stop murmuring his name at this point. I was going higher and higher. There were no thoughts. Nothing but Wes.

  “How do you feel now?”

  “Empty!” I cried out. It was the first thing that came to my lips and I didn’t dare stop it.

  “You want my cock?”

  “Oh, yes . . . ”

  He slid his hands down to my hips. “Are you plugged?”

  “Yes.”

  He shuddered. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

  “I want you, Wes. I want you now.”

  “Then you’ll have me. But I’ll go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He reached between us and fisted his large cock, then angled his hips until his tip pressed against me.

  He sucked in a gasp. “Fuck, you’re so wet. I . . . I didn’t expect that in here.”

  “Please?” I didn’t care if I was wet or not. I needed him. I needed this ache to end.

  He thrust carefully inside me and the stretch was exquisite. He was a lot to handle on his own but with the plug seated deep it was almost too much.

  Almost.

  “Now, Wes. I need you now.” My skin tingled everywhere. My head pounded. My clit felt like it might explode. I needed this orgasm.

  He thrust again. And again and again. His hips cocking up as he entered from behind, pressing right up against my G-spot.

  Then he plunged deep and stopped, wrapping one hand around my waist to angle me toward the jet stream. He took my nipple with his other hand and rolled. Then he bit my shoulder lightly.

  I lost all sense at that point. Too much pleasure coming from too many places. This orgasm wasn’t so much of an explosion of pleasure as it was suddenly being in heaven. Floating. Free. Electric. I didn’t feel pleasure. I was pleasure.

  I’d never felt anything like it.

  “Doc. Doc?”

  Why did he keep calling my name? Why did I feel so full?

  He moaned and I realized he was close. “Carrie. I need you to move, babe.” He withdrew and I rolled to the side, allowing him to sit up. He pulled up onto the side of the tub and stroked his length. His gorgeous muscles flexed.

  Thank goodness one of us was thinking. And even though I was still a little bit on another planet, I knew that I wanted his pleasure every bit as much as he’d wanted mine.

  So I moved quickly, taking him into my mouth and pushing his hand out of the way.

  “Yes!” he cried. “Yes, oh babe, yes.”

  Maybe I was greedy or maybe I was kind, I really wasn’t sure, but I took my time and watched every second of his eventual orgasm.

  Watched and drank it up, hoping the next time and the next would be every bit as incredible.

  14

  Wes, present day

  I’m not sure what I thought marriage to Carrie would be like, but I was fairly certain not much would change. For one, the guys all knew she was my lady. This was nothing different. We banged like crazy. Why should that change? She was cool, I was cool. We respected our schedules and responsibilities. She came to my games when she could and sat with the rest of the wives and girlfriends. Sometimes she even yelled at the other team, but mostly she hung out and watched.

  Boy was I wrong.

  Things changed.

  Not life changes, mind you. Nope. Those stayed pretty much the same . . . with a generous amount of reassurance on my part. Nope, it was the baseball change I didn’t see coming.

  My quiet lady turned into one of those crazed fans. Maybe I should have prepared for this. I knew she was a huge fan, but after she’d come to so many games and barely said a peep I just assumed she was a quiet fan.

  Apparently she was on her best behavior and now that the rings were on, the beast was out.

  “C’mon Ump! That was a strike all day long. Are you blind?” she yelled from directly behind us.

  I could feel Daniel’s pissed-off look from a mile away. So the minute the inning ended in a fly ball, I pushed up my mask and glared, pointing at the dugout. “Can I speak
with you?”

  The crowd around her all looked up, waiting for her reaction. She scowled at me. “Fine.”

  At the dugout I gave a wave to the security guy, Toni, to let him know Carrie was coming over. She leaned down, giving me a delicious view of her cleavage. “Yes, husband?”

  “Can you lay off the insults for a few innings? Or games?”

  She batted her lashes. “No. That umpire is giving them a box the size of a refrigerator.”

  “Babe.” I pulled and adjusted my equipment until it gave me some breathing room. “I appreciate that you care. Really I do. But I don’t come into your O.R. and critique your nurses or anesthesiologists, so please don’t piss Daniel off any more than he already is.” I gave myself bonus points for calling up the O.R. analogy. Truth be told, she did let me come watch a surgery through a window a couple of weeks ago and it was so fucking cool, but I didn’t know anything about what she was doing, so there was nothing I could say other than, “Whoa.”

  Carrie, on the other hand, knew as much about my profession as any of the guys on my team. It was different.

  After a few minutes of making eyes at each other she sighed. “Fine. I will chill.”

  Which was a relief to be sure, but I also felt a weird twinge of disappointment. I liked that she was so into the game. “Maybe only chill a little?”

  Her grin lit up my whole fucking world. “I can do that.”

  For the rest of the game she sat behind home plate cheering and only occasionally jeering when the call was really bad. I loved having her so close and so involved. My crowning achievement came when I caught a throw-in from the outfield and tagged Marcus Mayfield out way before his ass slid into home. Fuck if I knew where I threw my mask, but I knew exactly how loud my baby cheered for me.

  I held up the ball to Daniel. “This one’s mine.”

  He chuckled and tucked it into his back pocket. “Yours or hers?”

  I moonwalked over to my mask. “Hers. All day long.”

  “DUDE. YOUR WIFE IS CRAZY.” Samuel shook his head, pulling on his shoes.

  “Crazy like a fox. C’mon. You know you’re jealous you don’t have a woman who loves the game.”