Sweet Spot for Victoria (Men of Baseball Book 4) Page 3

  “Carlos, fuck, baby. Please fuck me hard,” I scream, unable to take his slow fucking.

  “No, hermosa. You take what I give you. Your ass takes what I give it and your pussy takes what I give it. Wait it out, carino,” he instructs.

  I whimper.

  Then, I gasp when he is suddenly filling my ass at the same time the toy is filling my pussy — exactly what I had been waiting for. I am so full, stretched almost to the point of pain, but that pain feels so damn good.

  Carlos’ lips brush over mine before his forehead presses against mine.

  “Te adoro,” he murmurs before he starts to fuck my ass with short, firm, strokes. “Fuck your own pussy, baby, I need to watch you come and I want you to get yourself off.”

  I shiver and gladly take the toy in my hand. Carlos’ thumb presses against my clit and I begin to raise my hips as I plunge the toy into my pussy hard and fast. He takes that as his sign to fuck my ass the exact same way.

  Fuck, this man’s rhythm rivals nobody else’s on this earth.

  My body starts to shake as my orgasm begins to take hold of me. My mind is blank and all I can do is chase my climax. It is primal, it is urgent, and it is instinctual. I fuck myself harder than I ever have in my life as I begin to come around the toy, my ass also clamping down on Los’ cock.

  I scream my release, unable to stop myself from pushing the toy in and out as he continues to thrust deep and hard inside of me. Then suddenly, he stops as he spills himself inside of me.

  Carlos’ hips lazily continue to fuck me with his cock as he takes the toy from my pussy, throwing it down on the floor. I am completely spent and groan when he pulls out of my ass. I gasp when he starts to lick my pussy.

  “Carlos,” I say, grasping his hair.

  “I need to lick all this perfection from you Vic, I need it,” he whispers against my swollen, hot, core. I let him lick the evidence of my climax from my body.

  Minutes later, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

  Something is wrong.

  I suspected at the beginning of the week that something was off with Vic, but now I know one hundred percent. Something is wrong with my wife. My mind is racing as we drive through the crowded city streets to pick up the kids at my parents. I thought if my parents took Rocio and Junior that Victoria would tell me exactly what was up.

  I fucked her to exhaustion and instead of telling me what was on her mind, like she would normally do, she passed out. She thinks she’s been hiding her exhaustion from me, but she’s shit at it. I can tell by the way the house looks and the dark circles under her eyes—which she tries to hide with thick makeup—that something is definitely up.

  I am so worried about my wife, I find it hard to eat or drink anymore. I need to just come right out and ask her, but I know Vic—she’ll deny and hide until she’s absolutely ready for me to know what is wrong.

  Fuckin’ shit.

  She’s sick, I just know it.

  I know for sure that this weekend getaway with our friends is nothing but a ruse.

  She plans on telling all of us together what’s wrong with her and the thought pisses me right the fuck off.

  I’m her husband.

  I should know before any other motherfucker.

  I can’t help the millions of things that run through my mind that could be wrong with my gorgeous young wife. Cancer is the first thing that I can think of. It makes my stomach roil in fear. I can’t do it without her.

  I can’t live this life of ours without her by my side. She has been at my side since I was sixteen years old. I wouldn’t even know how to breathe without her next to me. I grab her hand as we edge closer to my parent’s apartment and squeeze her delicate fingers, sending a prayer up to God for protection.

  “We’re late. I’ll go up and get the kids,” I murmur, kissing her slim fingers. She rolls her head over to face me with a small smile and a nod. She looks fuckin’ beat to shit.

  I rush upstairs and grab the kids. Luckily, both have eaten. Leave it to my mama to fill their bellies. I don’t waste a second as I gather them and my mom informs me that she will indeed watch them in two weeks for our mini-vacation. I thank her and hurriedly go down to the car. I load the kids up and Rocio bounces in her seat, in anticipation of seeing Axel, Jarrod and Amalie’s boy.

  “I’m sure Axel is excited to see you, too,” Victoria says with a smile as my family and I head toward The Harrison’s lavish apartment.

  “You doin’ okay, Vic?” I ask, deciding to prompt her. Maybe she’ll tell me something if I prod her a little.

  “Yeah, I’m just extra tired, Los. I’ll be okay,” she admits with a shrug. Her eyes are staring out of the window and she looks as if she’s thinking. I wish I knew what about.

  Once we are inside of Jarrod and Amalie’s apartment, I don’t get another second alone with my wife. She’s busy with her girls and they begin to gab nonstop.

  I watch her from across the room as I hang out with Jarrod, Jackson, and Niklas – Amalie’s twin brother. She’s so beautiful, my Victoria. Every year she becomes even more gorgeous to me. I can’t believe I am so lucky, that God blessed me with a smokin’ hot wife, a sweet wife, and the best mother to my children I could imagine.

  “Something’s wrong with Vic,” I confess as I tip my beer back and take a pull.

  “What?” Jarrod booms. I shake my head.

  “I don’t know what it is, but she ain’t right. Ain’t been right for over a week.” It pains me to admit it, but I’ve been watching her and I don’t like what I see, not at all.

  “Any ideas?” Jackson asks, his brows furrowed in what I can only assume is concern. These are my brothers and they love their wives just as fiercely as I love my Vic.

  “None I want to think about,” I say, looking out the window of the high rise.

  “You sure it’s not something simple like being pregnant?” Jarrod asks.

  Originally, the thought crossed my mind; but no way would Vic hide that from me. She’d be pissed as hell I knocked her up again and she wouldn’t hold back. She’d let her fury fly.

  “No way. She’d tell me that. She’s been on my ass for a vasectomy,” I admit with a shrug.

  “She’ll tell you when the timings right, man. Victoria doesn’t strike me as a woman who would hide anything for long,” Niklas pipes up.

  A week ago, I would have agreed one hundred percent; but right now, in this moment, I can’t agree. There is something seriously wrong and my wife isn’t sharing. She’s possibly hurting and she’s carrying the burden alone, which fuckin’ kills me.

  I watch her as she laughs and then stifles a yawn as the kids run around their feet, one silly antic after another. She’s completely exhausted. I tell the guys goodbye and make my way over to my beautiful bride.

  “Hermosa, it’s time we call it a night,” I murmur in her ear as I slide my hand up the outside of her jean clad thigh.

  “It’s still so early,” she whines before she yawns a second time.

  “You’re beat, babe. Time to tell your girls bye. You need some decent sleep, carina,” I mutter, placing a kiss below her earlobe.

  She groans in what I can assume is annoyance, but when I lift my head, I see her exhaustion mixed with appreciation. She’s going to bitch that I’m making her go home, but I can tell she welcomes it.

  “I gotta go, girls, the warden is forcing me home,” she grumbles, making Amalie and Maggie laugh.

  “I’m so excited for our trip in two weeks,” Amalie squeals, standing up to help Victoria gather the children and all their shit.

  “Me too. Do you both have people to watch all the kids?” Victoria asks, stuffing some of Junior’s toys in her bag.

  “Jarrod’s parents are coming from Kentucky to spend the weekend with the kids. They decided to take on baby Quinn as well,” Amalie explains.

  Baby Quinn is Jackson and Maggie’s daughter. She’s sweet and quiet, just like her mama, but I can see the darkness Jackson harbors, break through e
very so often. I can see all of our friends’ personalities in their children, just like I can see my wife and I in our own children’s personalities and actions.

  Carlos knows something is up. I can feel it in his stare. He’s been looking at me more often, his penetrating gaze making me feel unsettled. I go through the motions of getting the kids ready for bed and tucking them in, all the while feeling Carlos’ stare. I feel the questions in his eyes, questions I’m afraid to answer at this time.

  Once I have had the ultrasound, it will be real and I’ll tell him.

  I’ll feel more prepared.

  “We need to talk,” he says as I change out of my jeans and tank and into some pajamas.

  “About?” I ask, playing dumb.

  “Tell me, Vic. Tell me what’s wrong,” he exhales.

  The look on his face kills me. He looks so fucking worried and sad all at the same time.

  “Nothing is necessarily wrong, Los,” I evade his question, trying to dance around in hopes that he’ll drop it.

  “Don’t fuck with me, hermosa,” he orders.

  My belly dips when he calls me beautiful. I love the term of endearment slipping casually from his lips. I will never tire of him calling me beautiful, ever — even when he’s irritated with me.

  “I’m not. I’ll be all right, mi amor,” I say; and he is my love. He has and will always be the love of my life.

  I have been with Carlos for sixteen years, never touched or kissed by another man in my entire life, and I don’t regret it for a single moment. I am not a lovey, gushy woman, but with Carlos I am. Behind closed doors, he’s mi amor and I am his hermosa. He allows me to be crazy, sensitive, emotional, and neurotic without apology.

  This man knows all of my dreams, joys and fears. Without him, I wouldn’t be the confident woman that I am. Still, I am nervous as hell to tell him about this future baby of ours. I know Carlos will be fine with it but I’m still not sure that I am.

  I need it to be real before I tell him.

  I sit in the waiting room of the OBGYN’s office, my eyes scanning the heavily pregnant women around me, and I shudder. I don’t want to be fat again and I can already tell my ass is going to swell up at least five times its size, if the past two weeks are anything to go by. It doesn’t bother Carlos as much as it bothers me. He likes it when I’m thicker—he’s not afraid to inform me, either.

  The nurse calls my name and I inhale deeply before I exhale and make my way into the back room. I am weighed, unfortunately, then I have to do the pee in a cup thing — something I will never get used to, no matter how many times I am forced to endure it.

  Once I am in the room, the nurse asks me to undress and I know what’s coming. Uncomfortable times are ahead. I smile brightly when my doctor comes through the door. I’m grateful that after my first baby was a cesarean, my doctor now visits me at every single appointment instead of a nurse. I love my doctor. He makes me feel comfortable and he makes me laugh.

  “Good morning, beautiful. How are you doing?” he asks.

  “I’m knocked up,” I deadpan. He just smirks.

  “Figured that, Victoria. Were you regular with your pills?” he asks. I want to roll my eyes.

  “Completely regular—to the freaking minute,” I say. He responds with a shrug.

  “Sometimes these things just happen. Now, lie back,” he suggests.

  I want to glare at him but I don’t. Instead, I do as he asks. It isn’t his fault my husband is too stubborn to get snipped.

  He takes a moment to feel around my belly before he pulls the gown back down over me.

  “Oh, seems you are pregnant, my dear, but not too far along. Let’s get a transvaginal ultrasound to get proper gestation.”

  I follow behind him into the ultrasound room; I know the routine all too well. I am dreading this part. I have a love-hate relationship with this part of the exam. I adore seeing the little blip on the screen, but I hate how they do it.

  I lie back with my feet in the stirrups and cringe when I watch him roll a condom over the ultrasound wand. I guess I should feel glad that he’s protecting me with a condom, lord knows my own husband won’t do it.

  Once he’s shoved the skinny wand up inside of me, he directs my attention to the screen.

  “Victoria, do you see that?” he asks pointing to the blobs on the screen.

  This is my third time looking at one of these and I should definitely be an old hat at it. I should know what every little thing on the screen means, but I have no fucking clue.

  “Honestly, it looks like blobs doctor. I have no clue,” I confess. He chuckles.

  “Those are your babies, Victoria,” he murmurs.

  My eyes water for a moment before my head whips over to him.

  “Babies?” I ask in surprise.

  “Twins,” he clarifies with a nod.

  “You’re fucking with me?” I ask, unable to look back at the screen.

  “Nope—twins. Congratulations!” he cries.

  I sit up, that damn wand still in my pussy, and grab onto his coat, pulling him in between my spread thighs. I don’t give a single fuck how awkward this is.

  “Do not fucking fuck with me,” I growl. His face pales before he shakes his head.

  “Calm down, Victoria,” he says, placing his shaking hands on my shoulders.

  “Calm down?” I scream, unable to understand why he is so fucking calm in this moment. “How can I fucking calm the fuck down when I have not one but two babies inside of me and two at home?”

  “Victoria, do you need me to call Carlos?” he asks, his voice calm but his eyes darting around in fear—he should feel fear.

  “No,” I scream, trying to get my shit together. I lie back without another word and let him finish his exam.

  Fuck.

  Fucking Fuck Fuck.

  Fuckity Fucking Fuck Fuck.

  That asshole.

  My husband, the asshole with his super, fucking sperm.

  I’m going to kill him.

  I plot his demise after the doctor leaves me alone to get dressed.

  When I reach for my purse, a new idea comes to mind. Instead of killing him, I call the urologist and make him a vasectomy appointment for the Monday we get back from our romantic getaway.

  His sperm is getting cut the fuck off.

  This shit is not happening to me again.

  MY EYES SLICE OVER TO the sleeping form of my wife next to me. We have been in the car all of fifteen minutes and she’s already snoring softly against the window. I smile and turn back to the road ahead of me. I have four more hours of driving and, apparently, they will be four silent hours as Vic sleeps beside me.

  I let out a breath and check my rearview mirror to see that Jarrod and Amalie are following behind me in her sporty SUV. They are smiling and Amalie looks as if she is laughing. I wish Victoria were awake to entertain me like Amalie is with Jarrod. But she needs her sleep. I’m just as content talking to her as I am glancing over to her gorgeous face, relaxed and peaceful.

  Once we arrive at the Inn Victoria has booked, I smile. My girl — my wife. I remember this place now; we spent a weekend here when we were first married. A great fuckin’ weekend, too. I wonder if this is how she is going to break the news of whatever is wrong with her to me? Replacing a great memory with a fucked up one?

  My palms sweat just thinking about what is coming next.

  What will she tell me?

  How will it change our lives?

  “Victoria, we’re here.” I gently shake her shoulder and watch her head pop up and her eyes widen, obviously startled from her sleep.

  “Already?” she asks as her eyes dart around the grounds in front of us.

  “Yeah,” I chuckle. “You snored for four hours straight. We’re here,” I bitch and watch her eyes narrow.

  “I do not snore,” she huffs, grabbing her purse from the floorboard.

  I don’t respond with anything but a laugh. The bitch has snored since the day I met her. It doesn’
t bother me though. She’s cute as fuck no matter what she’s doing. Snoring is no exception.

  We all check in and promise to meet up in a few hours for our first event, planned by my lovely wife—my lovely wife who wants to break the fucking bank.

  The check-in girl snaps her gum and hands me a folder, a fucking folder of shit, and then explains that the yoga class will promptly begin in two hours.

  Fuckin’ couples yoga bullshit.

  I turn to look at Victoria, who is smiling widely at me, knowing I detest shit like this. She doesn’t give a damn; sometimes I think she gets off on pissing me off.

  “Okay, see you assholes in a couple hours for fuckin’ yoga,” I grumble. Jackson laughs at me. He loves this kind of shit. Kinky fucker.

  I wheel Victoria’s obnoxiously large luggage into our designated room and let out a sigh of relief that at least our room isn’t complete bullshit. The room is a light, baby puke green color with a king sized bed that has some bullshit flowers on it.

  It could be worse.

  Last time we were here, the whole room was covered in floral wallpaper and it made me dizzy just being in there. It also made me think of my abuela — grandmother — and my erections were few and far between. I kept imagining her seconds away from bursting through the bedroom door, screaming at me that touching myself would cause blindness.

  “We have two hours,” I murmur, grabbing a cookie off of the plate in our room.

  “We do,” Victoria yawns. Watching her mouth so open and wide causes my cock to twitch.

  “Wanna fuck?” I ask after taking a bite of the good as shit chocolate chip cookie.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower, but thanks for the offer.”

  “You’re going to shower before you work out?” I ask in confusion.

  “I’m all gross from the car ride,” she explains as if she’s making perfect sense, which she is not.

  “Vic, you were in the car for four fuckin’ hours,” I explain.

  She just shrugs, ignoring me as she shuffles through her luggage, gathering her bathroom items. I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her delicious, familiar scent.