Sweet Spot for Victoria (Men of Baseball Book 4) Page 6

  Maybe I won’t make him wait so long to fuck me again ….

  “Time to go,” he barks.

  I roll my eyes. No way am I leaving my plate of food. I would stab him before I let him take this food away from me.

  “I’m eating, Carlos, you can wait,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him as I continue to eat.

  “Everything good?” Jarrod asks, setting two completely packed plates on top of the table across from me.

  “Yeah,” I murmur distractedly as I watch him begin to inhale the food in front of him.

  Jarrod looks up and flicks his eyes from Carlos to me, as if to make sure that everything is indeed good. I wonder what they talked about while we were separated into our girl and boy groups.

  “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow,” Amalie asks as she sits down with her own plate of food.

  “Brunch and then we have to check out. Reality time,” I say with a frown. The truth is out now, but I don’t feel any different. I should feel better about this whole thing, but I don’t.

  “I’m so glad we have all of next week off to just relax. I need some downtime,” Carlos announces.

  I feel the blood drain from my face. I forgot about his appointment for a vasectomy. I haven’t even told him about it yet. I may have made the decision in haste...

  “Are you all right, Victoria? You look really pale?” Amalie asks. I give her wide eyes, trying to tell her to shut the hell up, but she doesn’t get it.

  “Maybe you should go lie down? You don’t look so good,” she encourages as I grimace.

  Of course I don’t feel good, my husband has a vasectomy Monday and I have neglected to tell him. He’s going to freak the fuck out.

  “Maybe I should go take a rest,” I stammer. Carlos catches on and I watch as his eyes narrow on me.

  Oh, shit.

  “Yeah, let’s take a rest,” he practically hisses.

  Amalie finally catches on and mouths, I’m sorry. I give her a shrug and walk away from the table toward our room. It’s time to come completely clean.

  My eyes are glued to the sway of my wife’s gorgeous ass as she walks in front of me. She’s hiding something else. I could tell by the look of panic on her face. I have known Victoria for over half of my life, the woman can’t hide shit from me. She may not always tell me every single thing, but I know when she’s freaked out, or when she’s hiding things, and she’s definitely hiding something.

  I’m going to have to get it out of her.

  My favorite way.

  I’m going to fuck the truth out of my wife.

  Again.

  I smile as I walk through the bedroom door and lock it behind me. I don’t want anyone to bother us.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s got you turning white as a ghost, morenita?” I ask as I slowly shed my clothing.

  I’ve had a few beers, but nothing compares to being drunk off of my wife. I lust for her constantly and right now is no different. I am going to apologize to her for my behavior, of course, but first, I want everything she’s keeping from me.

  “Uh…” she stalls as she slowly takes off her own clothes—her cover-up, her little bikini top, and then that scrap of fabric she claims is the bottom. I hate how much skin she shows when she wears her bikini, but I love what it does to my dick.

  “Answer me,” I bark, watching her pretty brown eyes jump to mine.

  She nods before she opens her mouth to speak. Her next words rock my fucking world. They surprise me more than finding out I am to be a father again — to twins.

  “I made an appointment for you to get a vasectomy tomorrow,” she quickly rattles off. I stand gaping at her.

  Complete and total shock.

  Cock hard and mouth open.

  “You WHAT?” I scream.

  I watch as her bottom lip trembles and then she starts to cry, again. I’m not buying her fucking tears this time.

  Fuck no.

  “You need to get a ride with Jarrod and Amalie, I’m leaving Victoria. I can’t look at you right now,” I say as I quickly walk over to my suitcase and start to pack my clothes, still naked, still in shock.

  “No, Los. Don’t leave. Let’s talk,” she begs.

  I can’t look at her. The woman I love is making major decisions without me and it fucking hurts. This decision of hers doesn’t just affect her, it affects me, too, and she decided to do whatever she wanted. This isn’t like buying a new fucking couch, this is my goddamned nuts we’re talking about.

  “I told you I can’t talk to you about this right now, Vic. I’m too fucking shocked and, frankly, I’m too fucking angry,” I confess as I quickly drag on a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

  All my shit is thrown into my bag. I grab my keys and chance looking back at my wife. The love of my life. She’s standing at the side of the bed, naked, crying and trembling. Everything inside of me is begging to run to her and hold her, but I can’t. Shit isn’t that fucking simple.

  “The kids,” she mumbles. I shake my head.

  “Tell them I’m away at work. I’ll call you when I can,” I mutter turning to leave.

  I can’t stay. I’ll fuck her and forgive her immediately if I do. I’ll probably forgive her anyway, but right now, everything is too raw.

  How would she feel if I made an appointment for her to tie her tubes or get her a tummy tuck? I love her the way she is and no way would I change a damn thing about her; I wouldn’t take away her ability to have more children, not without consulting her first. This is a decision that we should make as a couple, together.

  I leave my wife, pregnant with my babies, crying, and I feel like a total fucking shit for it.

  I need time.

  I need to process what has just happened.

  It is too much, too fast.

  First, she had my mind racing with what-if’s when she refused to tell me what was wrong. Then, she finally tells me and just throws it out there. I freak out, I can admit I freaked way the fuck out. Then, finding out we’re having not one but two new babies, I can’t even describe the pure elation and fear I felt all rolled into one.

  Just when I start to accept the twin baby thing is happening, I mean I saw the pictures, it’s real and it’s happening, then my marriage starts to unravel before my eyes. I grasp at it but it’s slipping through my fingers and there’s nothing I can do about it. I feel as though I’m on the outside looking in, unable to control my actions and my reaction.

  Finally, she throws a vasectomy at me, and not just the idea, no she made the fucking appointment. I can’t deal. I can’t handle it all. I have to leave or I’m afraid I’ll say something I can never take back. I don’t want to say something out of anger that will forever scar my Vic. Sure I say a ton of asshole shit to her but I don’t want to scar her. I love her too much.

  I had to leave.

  I watch in shock as Carlos walks past us and out of the Inn. He is pulling his suitcase behind him and doesn’t even look in our direction. He and Victoria just went upstairs a few moments ago and now he’s leaving, looking like an enraged bull. I take a step in his direction, but Jackson wraps his hand around my bicep to stop me.

  “No, little bunny, it isn’t your business,” he warns, his voice low and lethal. It sends shivers down my spine and I love it.

  “But Jackson, he’s leaving,” I point out.

  Jackson shakes his head and pulls me into his side as his hand slides up my back and gently tugs on my hair.

  “Something is wrong with them. Do you think they fought about the babies?” I ask.

  Jackson shakes his head and wraps his hand around the back of my neck before he leans down and brushes his lips along my neck, right below my ear.

  “They’ll work it out. They’ve been together a long time, babe. Just be her friend. Nothing else you can do besides that,” he murmurs against my skin. I feel as though I’m on fire.

  Will he ever not make me feel this way?

  “Do you need something, bunny?” he chuckles as
I press my thighs together.

  “Please,” I shamelessly beg.

  “Get upstairs and wait for me next to the bed,” he commands.

  I stand and practically sprint toward our room. Jackson laughs but I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. I’m horny and I want to play with my husband.

  I quickly strip off my swim suit and flip flips before I sink to my knees next to the end of the bed. I wrap my hands around my elbows, behind my back, and spread my thighs before bowing my head.

  I am waiting for my husband, my lover, my best friend, and my dominant. Dressed only in my collar and wedding rings, the most important pieces of jewelry I will ever own. I can’t imagine taking either of them off. I would feel truly naked without them.

  I close my eyes and my breath hitches when I hear the door click closed, then the lock put in place. His soft steps come toward me and I instantly smell him – Jackson.

  “What a good girl I have,” he says.

  I listen to the sound of his clothes rustling and almost whimper when they all fall to the floor.

  I am wet.

  I am needy.

  I am his.

  “What does my good girl want?” he asks as his hand gently strokes the top of my head, petting me. I love it. I’ll always love any way he touches me.

  “You,” I whisper hoarsely.

  “Lift your head,” he orders, and I do.

  I raise my head and then my eyes, looking right at him, his black eyes focused intently on me.

  “Open your pretty mouth for me, Marguerite,” he groans, and I do.

  I open my mouth as widely as I can.

  Jackson slips his cock past my lips and down my throat in one deep plunge. I suppress my shiver and try to keep still as he slides his hands to the sides of my head. He twists his fingers in my hair, pulling tight as he begins to thrust, hard, deep, and slow in and out of my mouth.

  “Every single fucking time, Marguerite,” he growls as he fucks my mouth, taking his pleasure with my body. I watch as his eyes turn wild and dark, as his thrusts become erratic and merciless.

  Tears fall from my eyes and breathing is a luxury at this point, but I relish in it all. His fingers twisting in my hair causes pain to shoot throughout my scalp and down to my toes. If I could touch myself, I’d probably come within seconds. I whimper with need. He knows what he does to me, every time, every single fucking time.

  I cry out when Jackson takes a step back. His cock is so hard it looks like it’s about to explode, and I want it to, inside of me — anywhere inside of me. I look up at him through my lashes and watch as his chest rises and falls, his breaths deep and harsh. He’s just as turned on as I am, except where I am ready to let go and fly, he is trying to stay in control.

  The perfect balance.

  “You’re going to ride my cock, little bunny. You’re going to bounce those pretty tits in my face and you’re going to make me come so fucking hard, I see stars,” he rambles.

  I quickly scramble to the bed, ready to do as he says.

  Jackson sits against the headboard, his thighs spread, his cock jutting out, and waiting for me. I crawl over to him and straddle his thighs, grasping his thick, long, hard, length in my hand. I align it with my body and I slowly sink down on him, taking him completely inside of me. We both groan at the contact. I still with him inside of me, his eyes on mine, and his hands wrapped around my waist.

  All of my Jackson consuming me.

  I ride him slowly, gliding up and grinding down on his hard cock. My eyes don’t leave his. They are intently focused on his expression of awe as I take my pleasure from his body. He loves the little moments I own him. He lets out a ragged breath before his hands tighten on my waist and he stills my body.

  I throw my head back, crying out, as he surges deep inside of me from below. My body still, accepting him, taking him in as he fucks me from beneath.

  “Pinch those hard nipples, bunny—squeeze them tight,” he orders.

  My hands fly to my breasts and I take my fingers and pinch my nipples, hard, following his command. My thighs start to shake as my climax pulses and crashes throughout my entire body, fast, sudden, and so strong.

  Jackson doesn’t stop or even slow down, but continues to fuck me roughly. My knees are the only thing keeping me upright and I want to collapse on top of him so badly, but I don’t. I keep my eyes trained on his and relish in the beauty of his release. He stills and groans as he fills my body with his climax. I moan when he pulls me down on his chest, still rooted deep inside of me, and begins to stroke my hair.

  “I love you, Maggie,” he murmurs against my hair.

  “I love you too, Jackson,” I say with a smile as I exhale.

  “Think that made another baby?” he asks as his hand lazily drifts down to my ass before he squeezes gently.

  “I hope so. I want a boy. I want him to have your black eyes,” I confess.

  “I kind of want another girl,” he admits. I look up with confusion.

  “Why wouldn’t I want more sweetness in my life? I want my house filled with all the sweetness you can give me, Marguerite.”

  “Are you trying to make me cry?” I ask as tears begin to fall from my eyes. Jackson cups my cheek and gently wipes the wetness from my cheeks.

  “Never, beautiful. You make me the happiest man on earth,” he murmurs before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

  He left me.

  He’s gone.

  I sit down on the bed, after putting on some yoga pants and a loose fitting shirt.

  I am in a daze as I stare at the empty closet in front of me.

  Carlos has been pissed countless times in our relationship, but never has he left like he just did. Ever.

  I feel like I should be crying. The tears dried as soon as he closed the door behind him. Now I am not only hurt and angry, but I am pissed off.

  Who the fuck does that?

  Who leaves their pregnant wife four hours from home with no vehicle of her own? Who leaves her to pick up their children and explain to them why daddy isn’t home and then try to explain that she doesn’t know when daddy will be back?

  I fucked up.

  I admit it.

  I’ll apologize for it.

  I freaked out.

  Admittedly, I freaked way the fuck out.

  I made a decision that affected both of us, but the decision isn’t irrevocable. All I have to do is call and cancel the stupid appointment in the morning. I made a mistake. I didn’t fuck another man, I didn’t spend every dime we have on shoes, or something stupid.

  How dare he leave me like this.

  Honestly, I don’t know if this is something I can easily forgive. For whatever reason, we’re both fucking this up at a moment when we need each other’s support the most. I don’t even know if I want him back. Not if this is how he is going to behave, abandoning me – us.

  I decide to try and get some sleep. Unfortunately, tomorrow is going to be a long day. It’s going to start out with my trying to explain what’s happened to all of our friends. Then, after four hours of travel, I am going to have to explain it to our children and Carlos’ parents.

  I lie down in bed and pick up my phone. I need my mom.

  “Mama,” I cry as soon as I hear her sweet voice.

  “Hija? What has happened?”

  I don’t hold back. I tell my mother everything. I tell her about the pregnancy, I tell her about the rash decision I made, and then the rash decision my husband made. I cry the entire time.

  “You’re both running scared,” my mom explains. I nod as if she can see me.

  “I’m terrified,” I admit.

  “You will be okay, my beautiful hija. You think I wasn’t scared when I gave birth to a fifth child that I could not afford? You have the advantage of being able to afford help. Get the help you need, do not make this life harder than it needs to be. As for your husband, I have half a mind to call him myself and have some words with him. It isn’t as if you drugged him and took him to the appo
intment. You were scared and made a decision that wasn’t the best, but is not irreversible,” she explains. I love, adore, and cherish that my mama is always on my side.

  “It was wrong of me, though,” I admit.

  “Well, of course it was; but you’re scared and hormonal, he should understand. Is he ensuring you’re eating enough? Getting enough rest? No, he is not. He’s off doing god knows what. I’ll be there by tomorrow. You need your mama,” she decides.

  I open my mouth to protest but I don’t want to. I want my mama. I want her to take care of me and make everything better, like only she can.

  “Okay,” I whimper.

  I kind of can’t wait for my mama to come. I need her to hold my hand, look me in the eyes, and tell me to get my shit together, because I can do this.

  I can do this, right?

  I AM A SHIT.

  I am a shit husband.

  I am a shit father.

  I am a fucking coward.

  I take another drink from the tequila I bought before I checked into this hotel.

  I am so fucked up its ridiculous.

  I bought the liquor to forget about everything, but all it seems to do is help me remember all that I have fucked up.

  Will Victoria take me back after I just left her at the Inn? After I deserted her to get a ride home and pick up our children, and care for them, all on her own? All while I selfishly drink myself into a stupor?

  My phone rings and I hold my breath, looking down to see if it’s her. She hasn’t tried to call me once. I wish she would. If she asked me back, I’d probably fucking fly over to her.

  I am such a fuck up.

  I don’t expect the name I see on the Caller ID.

  Jackson.

  “Hello,” I slur into the phone.

  “I think you could be the biggest fuck up of us all. I find it ridiculous that this is not the first time one of us has said this to you either. Just in case you were wondering, I made sure your wife and children were safely delivered to your apartment,” Jackson barks.

  “What about Jarrod? I told her to go home with them,” I say, ignoring the hostility coming from my friend.