Curveball(38)

“It’s possible that you will just not play this year. The season will be over by the time your arm heals.”

Before I can speak another word, his lips crash against mine. He kisses me softly, telling me how much he loves me with his mouth. Taking my breast in his left hand, he massages it over my shirt, and in this uncomfortable position, that takes some skill with the weird angle and Mark only having one free arm.

He peels back the bedsheets and pushes them to the bottom with his foot, revealing a massive erection that tents his hospital gown.

“You’re hard,” I say, more confused than anything, especially after him having surgery.

“My arm is broken.” He lifts the gown, and my ovaries do a happy dance as I stare at his perfect cock, my mouth wide open, as I’m already thinking about how much I’ve missed having him inside me. “But my dick still works in case you’re wondering, and it’s not going to suck itself.”

I laugh because at least his sense of humor has remained intact. I give him a few strokes before I scoot down to take him in my mouth. He groans and moves his hand to the back of my head, damn near choking me with his dick.

I was worried that he would resent all the people who were around before his accident, myself included, once he figured out that his professional career was over. Instead, he has taken the news unusually well, which strikes me as odd. He’s still in shock. Once it fully sinks in, he will need support, and I want to be the one to give it to him.





Chapter Fifteen





Mark





Fact: My life is fucking over. My career is fucking over. My car is totaled, nothing more than a giant heap of fiberglass and metal. Racing is fucking over. Everything I’ve ever loved is gone, taken from me in a split second.

I knew racing was dangerous, and I knew the risks associated with taking money from the Long Island Lowriders. But I couldn’t give up on the easy money, not when I was so used to making bank off the bookmaking I did with Luca and Hunter.

Olivia insisted she take care of me since going back to my fraternity house and having to walk all those steps with my injuries wasn’t such a great idea. At least it’s quiet here, and I have someone to do the little things for me, like make dinner and wash my clothes. After all the years of depending on myself, I hate that I have to force this upon my girl.

I don’t want to be a burden on her or anyone else. Now that my shot at the majors has gone down the tubes along with the income from racing I needed to support my family, I feel useless.

What good am I if I can’t support the women in my life?

That’s all I’ve ever done and for as long as I can remember.

Olivia’s apartment has an open-floor plan, and from the living room, I can watch as she makes lunch for Luca and me while we watch the Flyers game on the huge flat screen I had Luca bring over from the bedroom in my fraternity house. My girl almost never turns on her TV. The one she had in the living room was so small, I thought it was a computer monitor.

“I got the cable all hooked up,” Luca says after he finishes adjusting the TV and plops down on the microfiber couch next to me. “You should get all the premium sports channels now that I rigged it.”

I had sex with Olivia on this very spot on the couch right before Luca came over, which makes me grin like a fucking idiot as I think about her sweet pussy while she bends over to put the wings in the oven.

“Mario and Anthony are going to take care of the problem,” Luca mutters under his breath, checking to make sure Olivia cannot hear. “You’re family, and we take care of our own.”

His entire family visited me in the hospital before they discharged me a few days ago. Even Luca’s father came to see me, and he rarely leaves the villa in New Jersey where he runs his criminal empire. Luca’s older brothers, Anthony and Mario, are twins who also work for their father. So, when Luca says they are fixing the problem, what they have in mind will probably end up on the six o’clock news.

I lean back against the couch with my legs propped up on the coffee table. “Good. Those fucking bastards deserve worse than death for what they did to me.”

He nods and lifts his beer from the table to take a sip. “You’ll have another chance, you know. After your arm heals and you do the rehab and conditioning, you can go back to that scout and see if he’ll give you another shot.”

I hold up the cast on my right arm, frowning. “What if the break doesn’t heal right? The doctor said there’s a chance it will never feel the same again. I need full range of motion to pitch. If I played any other position, I’d be a little more optimistic. And, once I graduate, people will forget about me. I’ll just be another washed-up college athlete who had a chance and blew it.”

“At least it’s not your shoulder. That would have been far worse. And you didn’t blow anything. You’ve been a fighter since we were kids.” He chugs down half of his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before setting the bottle on the table. “We’re hustlers. Always have been and probably always will be. We didn’t grow up like some of the guys in our house. And you’re not fucking giving up, you got that? I will not let you.”

For days, I’ve been depressed about my career, or lack thereof, but Luca always knows what to say when I need someone to beat some sense into me.