Daddies Brat

Riley

Schmidt, my catcher, tossed the ball back to me. I took a few seconds to circle the mound and collect my thoughts. Runners on the corners, two outs. We were up three runs, so I could afford to walk this batter if I needed to. That would load the bases, which wasn’t ideal, but it was better than giving up a bomb to Sacramento College’s cleanup hitter.

I stepped on the mound and turned my attention to the plate. The batter was a brick wall of a man, with arms as thick as my thighs. Probably juiced up. Drug testing was practically nonexistent in fall ball, so lots of players took a steroid cycle for a few months to bulk up before the spring season.

Lots of cheaters, I thought angrily. I didn’t want to walk this guy, even though second base was open. I wanted to strike him out. Especially since I was ahead in the count, one ball and two strikes.

My catcher spread his legs and flashed the pitch sign. Slider, low and away. It was the right pitch, something out of the zone that he would chase. But I shook him off. I didn’t just want to strike out this roided asshole, I realized. I wanted to humiliate him.

My catcher flashed a single finger. Fastball. I nodded.

Based on the scouting reports for this batter, I should have thrown him a fastball on the low, inner part of the plate. He struggled to hit those. Instead, I hurled the fastball up and in. Chin music, it was called, and this fastball would have broken Buffy McSteroid’s chin if he didn’t move. Fortunately for him, he fell backwards away from the pitch, landing on his ass in the dirt.

He leaped to his feet with fury on his face. His teammates chirped from their dugout, but I ignored them. I held my ground and glared at the batter, challenging him to do something. For a split second, I thought he would throw down his bat and charge the mound. Then his expression softened, and he stepped back into the batter’s box.

“Do it again,” he muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “See what happens, blondie.”

My catcher tossed the ball back to me. I gave him a look. He knew what the plan was now, and when he flashed the pitch sign, it was exactly what I’d hoped it would be. I gripped the ball inside my glove, rotating it until I found the right stitching for my grip. I let out a little snarl as I kicked my leg up and fired the ball in.

The ball soared directly toward the batter’s head. He had to think I was going to plunk him with a fastball after his comment. But it was a slider I had thrown, not a fastball. Anticipating the same thing as the pitch before, the batter turned away and fell backwards, avoiding the pitch.

But sliders had a tendency to slide, like a frisbee. And my slider was one of the best on the team. Instead of hitting the batter, it darted horizontally away from him, smacking into my catcher’s glove right over the middle of the plate.

“STRIKE THREEEEEEEEE,” the umpire called dramatically, ending the game.

“Let’s fucking go,” I shouted, pumping a fist. It had been a while since I pitched a complete game. Even though we only played seven innings in this league, it felt like a huge step forward for me.

The batter was on his feet, lumber clutched in his hand like a sword he intended to drive into my heart. I ignored him and shook hands with my catcher, then allowed my infield teammates to smack me on the ass.

“That’s the Riley we’re used to,” my third baseman said.

“You love to see it,” exclaimed the shortstop.

We showered, packed up our gear, and then got on the team bus for the five hour drive home. I pulled out one of my environmental science textbooks; I had a huge test next week before Thanksgiving break.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, son,” Coach Boothe said as he walked up the bus aisle to me. “But I wish it had gotten into you sooner.”

“You’re like your old self,” my catcher said in the seat across the aisle. “Like a switch got flipped. What happened?”

I shrugged. “Finally found the right mindset, I guess.”

“Take a Polaroid of that mindset and hang it up in your locker,” Coach Boothe said with a grin. “You pitch this well in the spring, and you might go as high as the second round in the draft.”

“What’s a Polaroid, coach?” one of the bench players asked from the back.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Ha hah, the old man uses outdated words,” coach said acidly. “When we get back to campus, I want you to run poles until the sun goes down.”

Running poles was a punishment coach liked to hand out. The player had to run from one foul pole to the other, back and forth, until coach told him to stop. “What?” the player asked, but coach had already walked back to the front of the bus. “Seriously, I don’t know what a Polaroid is!”

“It’s a camera that prints the photo right after it’s taken.”

The kid twisted his face in confusion. “Why would you want to print the photo out?”

“Boomers liked to do it, I guess.”

I put my headphones on and smiled to myself. Despite what I had said, I knew what had gotten into me: Leslie. As stupid as it had seemed, her strategy of pummeling me with baseballs at the batting cage was actually working. By facing my fear, I had taken away its bite. The fear was still there, just under the surface-I doubted it would ever disappear completely. But it was manageable.

I felt like my old self again.

On a whim, I texted Leslie and told her she would make a good psychologist. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell her how the game went.

Yet when we got home and I walked through the doors, I saw Leslie cooking pasta in the kitchen, and my words escaped me. She had headphones on, and hadn’t heard the door open. I stood there for a few moments watching her gently sway to her music while stirring the pasta, admiring the way her skirt accentuated the curves of her body.

She’s beautiful. I liked coming home to her. It felt right.

Leslie carried the pasta over to the sink and strained it. She turned, then yelped and almost dropped the pot. “How long have you been standing there!”

“Long enough to decide you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

She favored me with an eye-roll, but her blush gave away that she enjoyed the compliment. “I’m making us dinner! I want to hear all about your game.”

I let my gear bag slide to the floor and approached her. “Just the two of us?”

“Harper’s at the planetarium,” she explained “And Avery is studying with friends. Apparently he has a big accounting test next week, right before we leave for Thanksgiving break.”

They’re both gone. That was the only thing holding me back, and now the restraints were gone. I took Leslie in my arms and kissed her like we had been apart not for two days, but two months. Her body came alive in my arms, a soft hum vibrating from her throat as I deepened the kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

“Two days is too long.”

I lifted her onto the countertop and she spread her legs for me, giving me a glimpse of the lacy panties peeking out from within her skirt. I dove into her neck, nuzzling that place she loved the most, then fell to my knees right there in the kitchen. I buried my face in her panties, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

Leslie tilted her head back and moaned through the empty house as I pulled her panties aside and ate her out. She tasted better than any meal, sweeter than any dessert. Her legs tightened around my head and she gripped my hair in a fist, holding my face against her pussy. Her phone vibrated on the counter, but we both ignored it while focusing on each other.

“I need you,” she moaned before long. “I can’t wait any longer.”

I had worn gym shorts for the ride home, and they came off in the blink of an eye. Leslie gazed up at me from her seat on the countertop, eyes wide with desire.

“Hurry,” she begged. “Please.”

I pulled her panties aside and gave her what she wanted, slamming the full force of my cock into her. The cry of ecstasy that filled the kitchen was music to my ears, but she had no interest in savoring the moment-she was rocking her hips back and forth, demanding more. I held both her legs up in the air and fucked her hard, crashing into her with every desperate thrust.

I couldn’t believe how good she felt. My body was extra sensitive, every nerve ending on fire with pleasure. Leslie was already clamping her pussy down around me and crying out with a quick orgasm, eyes clenched shut and mouth chewing at the air. It was more than I could handle; I exploded seconds later, a toe-curling climax that was almost more than I could stand. I kept fucking her as I came, unable to stop myself, as rope after rope of my come filled her.

Her phone lit up on the counter again. I glanced at it and said, “Nothing important, I hope?”

“Exam grades being posted,” she said, not taking her eyes away from my face. “It can wait until later. Although I expected later to be farther off.” A teasing smile touched her full lips.

“Sorry,” I said, panting from the effort. “I meant to last longer than that.”

“You lasted exactly as long as you needed to.” She grabbed a handful of my shirt and pulled me into a kiss. “Besides, this just means you’ll last longer when I coax you into round two after dinner.”

I grinned at her and said, “God, I love you.” She grinned back at me.

Then her smile faded.

There was an awkward moment where we stared at each other, still joined by our sexual parts.

“Is…” Leslie licked her lips. “Is that true?”

“I don’t know,” I blurted out, even though I now knew I meant it. “The words just spilled out of me. I didn’t mean to say that. It wasn’t planned, I mean.”

“Oh. Okay.” She pulled to the side and slid off the counter, then busied herself with the pasta that was still steaming in the pot.

Now that the words had been said out loud, I knew that I meant them. I loved Leslie. Maybe it was the fledgling love, still new and growing, but it was love all the same. I couldn’t take the words back.

“I want to tell the others,” I found myself saying. “I’m sick of hiding this, Leslie. What we have is good. So good. I want to have a real relationship with you.”

“I know,” she said softly while adding a jar of pasta sauce to the pot. “I feel the same. I hate hiding things, tip-toeing around the house like we might get caught. But I don’t know… how the others will take it.”

“I don’t care,” I replied. “I won’t let Harper’s insecurities about the past affect my future.”

“You’re not wrong,” she said, finally turning to look at me. A man could drown in those eyes. “Thanksgiving break is next week, and after that we need to study for finals. I don’t want there to be any drama during that time. Let’s get through the rest of this semester, then we can all… sit down and talk. Okay?” She wrapped her arms around me. “I promise I want the same things you do.”

I hated the idea of waiting, but everything she said made sense. “Okay. We can wait until then.”

She leaned up to kiss me. “Thank you for understanding. Now, I want to hear all about your away games. I avoided peeking at the box score online because I wanted to hear it from you.”

Leslie bent over to take a pan of garlic bread out of the oven. I gave her ass a gentle squeeze. “You sure you want to wait until after dinner for round two?”

She gave me a lusty smile. “When you put it like that…”

As she leaned in to give me a kiss, the front door opened and Avery walked inside. He didn’t look in our direction at first, which was good since we both took a giant, obvious step away from each other.

“Something smells good,” he said, finally turning toward the kitchen.

“You’re back early,” Leslie said, glancing at me. If he had come home a few minutes earlier…

“Study group was canceled. They always flake on the weekend.” He frowned at us. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, why?” Leslie asked.

“There’s a weird vibe in here.”

“You sound paranoid,” I replied. “Maybe lay off the weed?”

“I don’t dose before study group. Makes it hard to focus.” He shrugged. “Is there enough for me?”

“I think we can share!” she said cheerfully. “Riley, grab some plates for me?”

Before we could all sit down, the door opened again and our fourth member of the house stepped inside. He flinched when he saw all of us together.

“What are you doing home?” Avery asked him. “You said you would be at the planetarium until late.”

Harper scratched the back of his head. “I, uh, left early.”

Leslie turned a concerned face toward him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Actually, I’m glad you’re all home. There’s something that’s been going on that we all need to discuss.”

Everyone froze, myself included. He knew about me and Leslie. How could he have figured it out? We had been careful!

But then Harper said the last thing I expected: “Leslie and I slept together.”