Spring Training by Roz Lee Page B

in the Minors that he found the fulfillment he’d been looking for. The Mustangs’ former third base coach had introduced him to the BDSM lifestyle. For the first time in his adult life, he had found complete sexual satisfaction, being a Dom. As some people preferred cherry preserves on their toast, he preferred a cherry-red ass to a plain one. The need to dominate sexually, the desire to explore a woman’s needs through measured pain and what he called mind-fucks was something he no longer questioned. Being part of the lifestyle showed him his sexual inclinations weren’t abnormal.
    He’d come a long way in the last few weeks toward comprehending the psyche of a submissive, but he wasn’t any closer to a mind-meld with voluntary slavery than he was in the beginning. He recognized the competitor in him—not wanting to admit defeat. Perhaps he was fighting a losing battle within himself, but the consequences of losing this particular skirmish were too high.
    Brooke needed him to provide for her. As her Dom, her Master, he had made a commitment to give her what she needed. If he couldn’t, he had no other choice than to cut her loose so she could find a man who could meet her needs.
    “Wake up, man!”
    Todd jerked his gaze around in time to get his glove in front of his face before the thrown ball rearranged his jaw. He took a second to shift his focus where it needed to be—on the field—then threw the ball to first base.
    “Thanks.” He smiled at left fielder, Bentley Randolph, who’d jogged up behind him while he’d been wallowing in self-pity. “I better get my head in the game.”
    “You sure as shit better.” The man tapped him on the arm with his glove. “You okay? It’s not like you to be staring off into space. That’s more Tanner’s style.”
    Todd couldn’t help but laugh when the other player, having heard the comment, flashed them a one-fingered salute shielded from the fans by his glove. “I’m fine, just distracted today,” he said.
    “Troubles at home?”
    More than you’ll ever know. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
    “You all alone out here? I am, and I don’t mind telling you, I’m going bat-shit crazy. If you need some company, give me a call.”
    “Thanks for the offer.”
    They tapped gloves before Bentley returned to his spot in the outfield. It was good to have friends. If he hadn’t made plans to occupy himself every evening, he’d probably invite the guy over for dinner one night. The left fielder, once a legendary horndog, had finally found a woman he couldn’t let go. Baked by Brooke had provided the cake for Ashley and Bent’s lavish wedding in December. As magnificent as the confection was, it didn’t compare to the way Brooke had looked in the simple, midnight blue dress she’d worn to the affair.
    He stopped that thought before it could embarrass him. Playing with a hard-on wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t wise. Imagining how he would explain how he’d snapped his dick in half was enough to dash any trace of an erection.
    The game passed in a blur. The Mustangs bested Tony Ramirez’s old team, the Marauders, by one run—a solo homer contributed by Tony himself in the seventh inning. Todd hadn’t made any errors, but he didn’t need anyone to tell him he hadn’t given one hundred percent effort either.
    “Hey.” Jason Holder hailed him as they walked to their cars in the parking lot after the game.
    Todd slowed, waiting for his friend to catch up. “Hey, yourself.”
    “How’s it going? Carrie said Brooke was in town.”
    “Yeah.” Thinking about the days he hadn’t known where she was could still make him break out in a cold sweat. “Showed up on my doorstep last night.”
    “She’s okay?”
    “She’s fine. We’re trying to work things out.”
    “She didn’t come to break things off then?”
    “No. But it’s not that easy. I’m doing my best to keep her, but sometimes I wonder if I’m what she really needs. If I’m not, I need to