Going Deep (32 page)

Jason shrugged. “Last
week?”

She rolled her
eyes and spun on her heels. He followed her out, passing her when she stopped
to open drawers looking for flatware.

He opened one in
the island behind her. “Utensils are over here.”

“Thanks,” she
said. “Toaster?”

He pointed to a
corner cabinet. “Over there.”

They sipped
coffee and nibbled toast until they’d taken the edge off their hunger. He
managed to refill their mugs then he sat back down, tracing the handle of his
with his fingertip. She waited for whatever he was getting up the nerve to say.

“I almost died
when I was nine,” he said.

* * *

Carrie sat to
one side of the packed media room at Mustangs Stadium, along with Jason’s
parents, his brother Jeff, Megan, and Doyle Walker, the Mustangs’ manager. His
teammates formed a solid line around three walls of the room, standing in
support of one of their own.

She admired the
inner strength it took for him to bare his soul here today. Of course, no one could
possibly guess how difficult this press conference was for him. He wouldn’t let
them. He stood tall, his posture relaxed, his voice confident. He was
completely in control of himself, and his welcoming smile insured he controlled
the room. She thought her heart might burst with pride.

 “Good
afternoon,” he greeted the crowd. “My name is Jason Holder, and I’m a catcher
for the Texas Mustangs, in case you didn’t know.” A chuckle rose from the
assemblage.

“Many of you are
aware that a player on another team has accused me of not only using, but also
providing steroids to him and other players,” he said, his tone indicating how
much he disliked the subject matter. “I have remained quiet, under the
assumption that lies should not be given credence by speaking of them. I’ve
called this press conference today to tell you a story. There are only a few
people who know what I am about to tell you, and they have kept it to
themselves at my insistence. First, let me say, the Mustangs organization has
known this from the beginning of our association. Actually, since the first
scout watched Jeff and me play at a high school tournament.

“When Jeff and I
were nine years old we came down with a case of strep throat. It’s a common
ailment at that age, and we were given antibiotics to combat the bacterial
infection. We both recovered, but where Jeff resumed his normal activities, I
did not. The infection was gone, but I had very little energy, and things went
downhill from there. Weeks went by, and I underwent every test known to medical
science. At least that’s what it seemed like to a nine-year-old.”

The crowd
chuckled again. Jason cleared his throat. He looked directly at her, and she
saw a lifetime of pain in his gaze. She offered him a weak smile for
encouragement. His lips lifted on the corners ever so slightly, then he looked
out across the room and continued his prepared speech.

“I was diagnosed
with Patent ductus arteriosus, a congenital heart defect. I won’t bore you with
the details right now, but it was something I was born with, and it had gone
undetected until the incident with the strep bacteria. A small opening in a
blood vessel that should have closed itself shortly after birth, had failed to
do so, allowing the strep bacteria access to my heart. I spent four weeks in
the hospital where I was given massive doses of antibiotics to combat the
infection. By then, the damage was done, and I underwent open-heart surgery to
repair my heart valve and to close the artery that was the cause of all my
problems in the first place.

“I know you’re
wondering what this has to do with steroid use, so bear with me another moment.”
He paused for a drink of water from the bottle provided for him. He cleared his
throat again. “I was in the hospital for nearly two months. My brother came to
see me every day after school. He brought my school work, kept me up to date on
everything that went on in my absence, and told the worst jokes you’ve ever
heard.”

 A low rumble of
laughter filled the room. Jason glanced at his brother who smiled and shrugged
his shoulders.

“We’d always
been baseball fans. We played Little League the year before I became ill. Just
two little boys having fun. But Jeff had another idea. Somehow, he got it in
his head that we were good, and if we worked at it, we could play major league
ball. He brought my glove to the hospital, and everyday he told me how he was
going to learn to pitch, and I was going to be his catcher. It was his dream,
but it became mine, too.

“I eventually
got out of the hospital, and we returned to the baseball field. We were pretty
awesome in high school, if I do say so myself.” He grinned like the braggart he
must have been back then, and the crowd erupted in laughter. He had them eating
out of his hand, and he knew it.

 “Every year we
went for our physicals, and by then, it was pretty clear my heart was doing
fine, but I still had to have special clearance from my cardiologist in order
to play. When I was thirteen, he warned me about steroids. You see, there’s
evidence linking steroid use to the reopening of PDA. He was right to warn me. We
both knew players who chose to use steroids in high school. For kids with major
league, hell, even college aspirations, it was tempting. But my experience in
the hospital, and the months of recovery following, convinced me I’d never do
anything to risk a repeat performance.

“So, long story,
folks, but that’s it. I’d have to be insane to use steroids, and even though
some people—” He nodded in Jeff’s direction—“like my brother over there, might
question my sanity, I assure you, I’m completely sane. Given my medical history
and seeing what performance enhancing drugs have done to otherwise healthy and
rational people, I would never use steroids or under any circumstances
encourage anyone else to, and I certainly wouldn’t provide them for anyone.

“I thank you for
your patience today. If you’ll hold your questions for a little longer, we have
some information for you that explains more about PDA. Inside, you’ll find an
excellent article written by Carradine Taylor, the reporter who originally
broke this story, outlining my commitment to local children who are going
through similar experiences to mine.”

Players handed
out the prepared press release folders. Hands shot up. He called on reporters
one at a time, patiently answering most questions and politely referring others
to the more detailed report they’d been handed. She understood his reluctance to
speak publicly about his private pain, and she’d been happy to help him translate
his thoughts and emotions into words.

It seemed like
they’d never run out of questions, but finally, Jeff joined his brother,
followed by the team manager who took over while they stepped away from the
microphone.

“That’s all
folks. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a game tomorrow in Kansas City. I hate
to break up the party,” he said and motioned to Jeff, Jason, and the group
still lining the walls, “but I gotta get these guys on a plane.”

* * *

 “It’s only
three days,” she said, nuzzling his neck.

“Three days too
long.” He caressed her breast, his tender massage coaxing her body to a slow
simmer. Dipping his head, he teased her nipple with his tongue, and she moaned.
“I like the way you taste.”

Her arms felt
useless, but she managed to lift one enough to run her fingers through his
hair. “That feels good,” she sighed. “So, so, good.”

And wicked too,
lazing around the house naked. She’d never dared before, but she’d dare just
about anything to see Jason smile. She floated while he turned his attention to
the other breast, giving it the same attentive care he had the other. His
erection pressed against her hip. She wiggled her ass in hopes he’d take more
of her. He released her breast, but before she could protest, his mouth came
down on hers. His kiss spoke of good things to come—things they probably didn’t
have time for—but his lips were hot, his tongue insistent and thorough in
communicating his desires. She gave herself up to his demands, opening for him,
welcoming him between her legs. His cock nudged at her entrance, teasing. Her
hips rose, inviting.

“Shh,” he
soothed. The weight of his body pressing hers into the sofa cushions felt like
Heaven.

She groaned, and
he placed feather light kisses on her temples, her cheekbones, her jaw line.

“I want to think
about this while I’m gone. I want this image in my mind. You underneath me,
offering yourself. This is what I want when I get home, to find you in my bed,
all soft, warm, and willing. I want to make love to you all night then do it
again in the morning for the rest of my life.”

His hands
stroked her hair, the lines of her face. He traced the shell of her ear with
his tongue, and she shivered.

“Tell me you’ll
be here when I get home.”

The head of his
cock breached her. She groaned, and her hips lifted. “I’ll be here.”

“Uh-uh, angel.”
He rolled slightly to one side and pinched her nipple, sending a desperate
message to her pussy. “None of that.”

He tweaked her
nipple again, and she arched her head back with another groan. Her pussy
clenched, begging him to go deeper.

 He scooted off
her, and the sofa. Carrie cried out.

“Wait here,” he
said.

It was only a
moment before he returned and swung her around, pulling her ass to the edge of
the sofa. He grabbed throw pillows, wedging them behind her so she was in a
half-upright position.

Kneeling between
her knees, he guided his cock to her pussy and stopped. “I have something for
you.”

 She sat up at
the sight of the white velvet box he produced. It was too big to be a ring box,
but still…he’d never given her anything in all the time they’d been together.

“I want to seal
this deal. I want you, forever.” He opened the box, revealing not only the most
stunning diamond ring she’d ever seen, but a matching necklace and bracelet. “I
bought the collar, but I wanted something you could wear all the time in
public, so I got the bracelet, too.”

She fumbled for
words. Questions tumbled through her brain, so many she didn’t know which one
to ask first. She finally settled on one. “And the ring?”

“I want you to
be my wife, and I want you to belong to me, too.”

Her heart went
out to him, the poor guy was as confused as she was.

“I think I
understand,” she said, running a finger over the beautiful, sleek lines of the
collar. “The collar is a symbol of my submission, and you’d like me to wear it.”

“Yes, that’s
what I want, and I realize you can’t wear it all the time. But maybe you could
wear the bracelet? I want you to wear the ring because that’s something
everyone will recognize. I mean…the collar and bracelet are for me, for us. Our
private commitment. There’s a wedding band, too, and one for me. Will you marry
me, Carrie? Will you wear my collar and my ring?”

Tears sprang to
her eyes. She dashed them away with trembling fingers. He wanted her! Forever!
Oh God. She’d wear anything he asked if it meant being his for the rest of
their lives.

“Yes, and yes!
They’re beautiful, Jason. I can’t believe you did this.”

He slipped the
ring on her finger then placed the collar around her neck.

“Mine,” he said,
securing it with a
snap
.

“Yours,” she
said. “I don’t want to take it off, ever, Sir.”

“I’ll understand
if you don’t want to wear it in public, but promise you’ll wear it for me.”

“I promise.”

 She reached for
him. He captured her wrists and guided her hands to her mound.

 “Open for me. I
need to be inside you.”

She gently
pulled her labia back, exposing herself to him. She blushed crimson. He’d seen
her before, many times, but that had been in the Dungeon room where it didn’t
seem so…naughty. And then, she had been safe behind the blindfolds, only
imagining the expression on the face of her unknown lover.

Now, she didn’t
have to imagine his face or the raw lustful expression on it. She could see his
face with her own eyes. She’d never believed a man could look at her that way, like
he’d been wandering in the desert for a week, and she was a fountain of fresh spring
water. He licked his lips, and her pussy gushed.

“Christ
almighty, Carrie.”

He grabbed her
ankles and brought them up to the edge of the sofa, spreading them wide, taking
her knees along with them. He buried his face in her pussy. He fucked her with
his tongue, made love to her with his lips, taking her to a place she’d never
dreamed existed. If she thought she’d found Heaven before, she’d been wrong.
This was it.

The moment his
mouth closed over her, her fingers slipped into his hair. She clutched at his
scalp, digging her nails in to keep him there. It was the most erotic display
ever—his dark head rested between her legs, bobbing and thrusting while he held
her ankles wide. Occasionally, he looked up at her, seeking her eyes in silent
communication.
See. You’re mine. This…this is mine.

“Master…Jason!”
she cried when the promised orgasm ripped through her.

He continued to
torment her, teasing her clit with his tongue and teeth, drawing out her
pleasure until the last ripple, the last twinge subsided. He placed a tender
kiss on her inner thighs then one on her swollen mound.

He quickly
sheathed himself, and fisted his cock. He brought it to her pussy. “Watch,
angel.”

 He pushed
inside, just enough so the plump head of his cock disappeared. “Look. Isn’t
that fucking something?”

Seeing her pussy
lips stretched to accommodate him was beyond erotic, but she needed more. “Please,
Jason….”