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When a fielder dives to make a play on a batted ball.
SYDNEY
Do you see that woman wearing yoga pants?
I caved and bought a pair. Fucking sue me, but can I just say Lululemon is worth the hype.
Look at that woman? Do you notice the smile, the flush to her cheeks, and her breathing light and easy?
Do you want to know what her secret is?
Maybe it’s Maybelline.
I’m kidding, but that’s a catchy saying, isn’t it?
Seriously though. I’ll tell you what the secret is.
Sex. I know, so simple, right? She’s having lots of freaking sex. At night, of course. And there’s not a goddamn thing wrong with that, so don’t you dare burst my bubble.
And I’ll tell you another thing. Cason Reins can do more than pitch. But you knew that already.
While he plays ball during the day and while I try to negotiate single-parent life, at night behind the closed doors of my bedroom, he shows me that his way of putting a Band-Aid on my emotional scar is the perfect way to stop the bleeding.
Thursday, he doesn’t have class, and instead, before leaving for California, he has me cornered in the kitchen. Thankfully, Tatum’s at preschool and can’t see her mother being undressed.
“You need a pair of these in every color,” he notes, sliding the legging off me.
His hands slide up my body and palm my breasts. I thread my hands in his hair, a smile tugging at my lips. “What are you doing? I thought you had to leave.”
“I can’t leave without eating breakfast.” And then he drops to his knees on my kitchen floor. “I wouldn’t be able to focus on school anyways.”
Let me tell you, his mechanics for pussy licking are as good as his pitching. His two-finger fastball is accurate as hell. Okay, I’m done.
No, seriously.I am.
Holy fuck.
He brings my clit between his teeth, smirking, knowing I came all over his face. As I struggle to catch my breath, he lifts his head, yanks his jeans down, and climbs on my kitchen island with me. After rolling on a condom, he doesn’t give me time to say much before he thrusts inside me, a beautiful groan falling from his lips.
It’s a good goddamn thing I live in a gated community and have cameras to know if someone shows up because imagine walking in on this. Oh, hey, Janice. Would you like some coffee? Yeah, those are my marble countertops, and over there, next to the bananas, I got fucked.
Also, I don’t know anyone named Janice. So I don’t know why I fake invited her into my home.
Cason draws me out of my own head, thankfully, as he’s starting to lose control. Resting his weight on his elbows, Cason’s mouth finds mine, his kiss as eager as his movements. He’s screwing me. Fucking me like we don’t have much time, or tomorrow.
I’m here to tell you, we might not.
Maybe there’s no tomorrow for us.
His pace breaks, his pumps quicker, deeper, and messier. “Fuck,” he gasps, his hips twitching. He pushes into me, long, punishing strokes I can’t get enough of, and here I am, bare to him in the worst possible lighting a kitchen has to offer, and completely oblivious to everything else around me.
I feel him everywhere, our sweat cementing us together, and his cock so hard and thick inside me. Breaking the kiss, he sucks his way down my neck, so hungrily.
Time slows down, for me at least, and I watch him as his orgasm takes over, merciless and grunting hard with each thrust. The raw noises get louder and louder, the closer he gets. It’s breathtaking to witness him so vulnerable.
He groans into the curve of my neck when he comes, fisting my hair in his hand as he empties himself inside me.
Steading his breathing, his thrusts slow, and he lifts his head and kisses my nose.