Aspen

 

“Are you sure this is where you want me to push?” I asked, eyeing Owen from over my shoulder. He shifted his weight while he gripped his stick tighter.

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“Yeah, cricket. Right there.”

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I expected the button to be red or green. Lit up. Something to show that it was the correct button to press that would haul a ball at my husband at a solid hundred miles an hour.

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“Alright.” I hesitated as I pressed the bright purple circle and stepped out of the netted cage. Why was the button purple? I’d never understand.

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Like the dutiful wife I was, I watched my husband swing his bat for the next ten minutes as the machine launched balls at him. He missed a few, which earned him some heckling from me, like telling him I could play with his balls better than he could.

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Thankfully, our teenage boys were not in earshot. They were busy playing hockey with their cousin Eli and uncle Colton at the new recreation center in town.

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Our youngest, Hazel, was spending the day with her grandmothers baking at Alex’s cake shop. She was five and a welcomed surprise, and had all of us wrapped around her fingers.

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For the first time in months, months, Owen and I had some alone time. And there he was, playing with his stick and balls.

“You want to give it a go?” he asked as he walked toward the machine.

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“I’m okay.”

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“You sure?”

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“Yep,” I said with a hint of hostility. I wanted to spend the day in the tub overlooking the creek where we built our house. Instead of securing one of the plots of land near my sisters, Owen and I chose a spot close to his old family land and the gazebo I frequented as a child.

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He started collecting the balls and placed the balls back into the machine, readying it for the next player. When Owen retired from Nashville after four years of playing, three of those years he took them to the World Championships where they won, we moved back to Ashfield. After a month of Owen being bored, he commissioned an indoor batting and soccer facility. It was always busy with teams.

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“Baby, please. I’m exhausted,” I complained. I’d been up all night with Hazel assuring her that there were, indeed, no monsters under her bed. But she refused to let me leave. Even after she fell asleep, it was like I was participating in Ninja Warrior every time I tried to sneak out between her flailing arms and kicking legs. It was just easier to lie in her full-sized bed with her.

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“I’m sorry, cricket. Let’s go.” He gestured for me to exit ahead of him. I never tired of hearing him use my nickname. I remember a time when it used to drive me crazy. That was until I learned he called me the small insect because he considered me his good luck charm.

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I sunk down into the bucket seat of Owen’s newest sports car. This one was a Ferrari and a set of numbers. Anything outside of that was not in my wheelhouse. The car zipped around the mountainous winding roads. I’ve never tired of the view in Ashfield. The Smoky Mountain range was breathtaking.

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“How about I make some chicken alfredo for dinner and give you a massage?”

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I turned my face toward Owen’s and smiled. “That would be amazing. My back still hurts from the bed.”

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It takes about forty-five minutes to get to our house and as we crest over the hill it still takes my breath away. I’d loved Owen’s home in California and the one we owned in Nashville was perfect for what we needed, but this house in Ashfield was where I wanted to grow old.

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It was a modern take on a Victorian, and I was absolutely in love with it. The enormous windows and turret sold me on the design and Owen promised to have it done by Christmas the year we moved back. And he kept his word.

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My favorite spot was my office along the back of the house with floor to ceiling windows. All the walls were covered in pictures I’d taken at all the places I’d visited with Owen and on the show I starred on for a popular travel channel. We were in talks to spread the show’s wings to internationally.

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Inside, I immediately made my way up to our bedroom. Owen was hot on my tail and by the time I reached the top of the stairs, his chest was pressed against my back and his lips were pressing soft kisses against my neck.

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“Owen,” I moaned. He still brought my body to life all these years later. His callused hands slipped under my shirt and upward toward my breasts.

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Giggling, I leaned my head back against him. “I thought you were going to give me a massage.”

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“Is that not what I’m doing?”

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A moan escaped my lips and there was no way I could deny that he was, indeed, giving me a massage. Reaching behind me, I stroked my hand across the growing bulge in his pants.

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“That’s it, baby. You want my cock?”

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I spun around and pressed my body against his, wrapping my arms around his neck.

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“I always want your cock, Owen.”

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Even though he had been my first, and my last, I’d wanted no one else the way I wanted him. Even all those years ago when I thought I wanted Tryston, who was now happily married to Kasey from the bank.

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“Good. Get on your knees, cricket.”

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Wordlessly, I dropped to the floor. My denim covered knees hit the wood floor with a thud. His hand reached down and gently caresses my cheek.

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“You’re such a good wife, obeying like this. How bad do you want it, cricket?”

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“So bad. It’s been too long.”

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“You had my cock this morning,” he said, and it was the truth. I slipped under the covers of our bed this morning before the sun rose.

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“And?”

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“Hungry for more?”

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“Hungry for you.”

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“Open your mouth, baby.” I did as he commanded, and he slipped the tip of his cock against my tongue. “Fuck, you look so pretty like that. Wrap your lips around it, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that.”

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It wasn’t long before I was sucking and slurping Owen’s cock. My gag reflex was too strong to take him fully down my throat, but he didn’t seem to care. His legs quivered as he stood.

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Suddenly, I felt his cock slip free from my mouth and he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed. He stripped me of my clothes in record time. He was a Hall of Famer, after all.

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“I know I promised you a massage, cricket, but I need to fuck you first.”

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“I’ll hold you to that.”

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“I’m counting on it. Now spread those legs, baby. Show me that pussy.”

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Within seconds, we were a mashup of legs and arms with his dick pumping in and out of my body. My release was within reach, and when he ran his thumb over my clit, I exploded around his shaft. My back arched, and he groaned as he filled me with his cum.

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When we both came back from the high, we gasped for air like we’d been unable to breathe for years.

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“Christ, everyone talks about how it gets worse as you get older, but how is it that it gets better?” Owen asked while we laid on our sides facing each other, sweet dripping off our bodies.

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“Because we’re not like everyone else, Owen. We’re just…us.”

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“The cricket and the ballplayer. No better combination.”

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