Wild Pitch (Daytona Fury, #1)

by C.L. Rose

The old Monroe needs to die so the new one can be born. I have a chance to be anyone I want now, and I’m choosing to be a bad bitch who takes what she wants and doesn’t let anyone walk all over her.

And keeping an emergency pair of panties in my glove box? What a power move.

I am a proud manwhore.

The only thing I know when it comes to women is that if you curl your fingers just right when they’re buried inside their pussies, it makes them go off, like that. But as far as dating them or knowing when you’ve met the one? Yeah…no thanks. Hard pass.

Where am I going to find a fake girlfriend who will not only be okay with going through with whatever this crazy-ass plan brings, but also won’t want anything more from me after we’re done? What I need is someone who hates me.

Nothing good ever comes from an interaction with Riggs Valentine.

“You could be on fire, and I wouldn’t piss on you to put you out.”

Riggs Valentine was built for a night of sin, and that’s exactly what we did. I’ve never been fucked that way in my life, and I’m certain I never will be again.

One thing I will say about this woman: she may drive me fucking mad, but goddamn is she a showstopper. Even when I know she just flung herself out of bed after what looks to be a rough night of sleep, she’s still one of the most stunning women I’ve ever had my hands on.

I can’t believe I got her to agree to this. That was some Jedi mind shit, right there.

“Rule number one of this arrangement,” she says, looking down at my open palm like it’s covered in dog shit before bringing her narrowed eyes to mine. “Don’t touch me.” I drop it to my side, giving her a tight nod. “Whatever you say, Mayhem.”

Either I’ll help Riggs get out of trouble with his team and return home quickly, or I’ll kill the stupid motherfucker and flee the state of Florida without a trace. Both are possible honestly.

As long as I have access to McDonald’s french fries and Coca-Cola every now and then, I’m good. To me, those are the finer things in life.

Riggs Valentine belongs to the streets. I am not equipped, nor do I have the patience, to turn a ho of that caliber into a husband.

I just wanted to be regular guy with her—not a famous athlete.

he starts being sweet and buying me snacks, it’s only a matter of time before I fold like a dollar store lawn chair.

“I have to say, you look damn good in my jersey,” he says lowly, as more of a growl than anything else. “Any chance I’ll ever see you wearing it and nothing else?”

“And look at you being a good girl for me, opening that slutty little mouth to be filled. I love it when you’re agreeable, Mayhem.”

I have perfect vision, and she seems to get more beautiful every time I blink.

I haven’t forgotten what it felt like to be with him.

I’ll be damned if I don’t make it clear to all these people that they’re lucky to have a guy like Riggs Valentine on their team.

He wants to prank me? I’ll prank him right back. Uno reverse, motherfucker.

He’s wearing a tight black Daytona Fury t-shirt that rides up slightly at the hem, gray sweatpants that hang so low, I can see the delicious V of his abs peeking out from under the waistband, and a fitted white baseball cap, turned backwards. Damn it. This guy is as slutty as they come.

I look down at her one last time before reluctantly heading out the door with a secret that I’m positive I’ll be thinking about for the rest of my fucking life.

“Ooh, I love that trope,” he says,

Best friend’s brother with a little forced proximity?” he says before kissing the tips of his fingers like a chef.

“I think you’re my good luck charm, Mayhem,” he laughs.

“Mayhem is the perfect nickname for you,” he quips, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me down the hall. “You’ve got me acting crazy out here.”

My body feels like it’s on fire as angry heat radiates from my skin. This is it. This is where I snap. And once I do, there’s no going back.

“Your pussy is a drooling mess for me, Mayhem. It doesn’t matter if you like me. She does.”

“Mine,” I growl,

I carefully wash her, watching as the evidence of our pleasure slides down her body and disappears into the drain. The sight makes me want to cover her with cum again. To make her smell like me so everyone knows who she belongs to. Because whether she likes it or not, she’s mine just as much as I’m hers.

Because whether she likes it or not, she’s mine just as much as I’m hers.

So what if they all think I’m whipped? I know I’m not. I probably won’t even text her when I get back tonight. I’m a fucking liar. I’m definitely texting her. I want to hear about her day.

Not because she isn’t gorgeous—because she is. But she’s not Monroe. Ace was right. I’m down bad.

the thought of any other woman has affected me the same way. I don’t want them anymore. I want her. In any way that she’ll have me. If she’ll have me.

“Monroe, that language isn’t very ladylike. I raised you better than that.” “Actually,” I reply smugly, “you didn’t. They’re bitches. Every last one of them can eat my ass.”

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m having an amazing time with Riggs Valentine.

Monroe is a knockout, seven days a week. But first thing in the morning, when she’s all mussed from sleeping? That’s when she’s the most beautiful. I love the way she does her makeup for a night out, but there’s something about her bare face and wild hair that drives me crazy. Mine.

I love the way you look in my clothes. I love the way you look in my house. You make me want more.

She’s the piece I’ve been missing my whole life.

This girl is a literal storm, and I couldn’t be happier to be standing in the middle of it.

I lift her off her feet, pressing my mouth to hers. “Good job, Mayhem,” I murmur against her lips, causing her to smile against mine. Fuck. There’s no way she doesn’t feel this. The chemistry between us is explosive, even in the most ordinary moments.

She’s everything I never expected her to be when I asked her to be my fake girlfriend.

She makes me want to be someone that this organization can be proud of. That she can be proud of.

“Why are you hitting me? It’s your fault for being so sexy!” “Oh my God, Riggs,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Can you at least control yourself until we get home?” That straightens me right up. I’ll be the best boy she’s ever seen if it means getting inside her again. She may be the boss here, but tonight, I’m in charge.

In other words, horny rich women will drop stacks to put their mouth anywhere Riggs Valentine has put his.

I can tell he’s on the verge of snapping completely. I’m thankful he’s making that clear, but in this moment, he’d have to rip me limb from limb before I’d put an end to any of this. I need it just as much as he does.

I've never felt safer and more protected than I do in this moment, with this man who could break me in half if he really wanted to.

I don’t like him licking his own cum. Like a little lick but not sucking ALL of it.