Page 21 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

Robbie scoffed. “I can make magic happen in half that time, Rocket.”

“Really? Maybe I should be calling you Rocket.”

“Nah, you’re going to be calling me Big Daddy later,” Robbie boasted, forgetting all about his erection and standing up while

scratching his chest hair. At least, he forgot about it until Skylar’s eyes grew three times in size. “Shit.” He turned to

face the opposite direction and glanced down to get an accurate picture of what she’d seen. Good God, he looked like he had

a torpedo in his pants. “Sorry about that.”

“I-I...” She struggled for words. “When did it get like that?”

“I woke up like this.”

“And you were just carrying on a normal conversation with it?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s a skill we’re all required to learn during puberty, Skylar. These things have a mind of their own.”

“Well...” Was she breathing harder than before? “What are you planning to do about it?”

“Honestly?” He looked back at Skylar over his shoulder, inordinately pleased to find her attention locked on his ass. “Wait

until you go out to pitch, then...”

Two beats of silence passed. “Then what?”

That whispered question had Robbie’s forehead wrinkling, his gaze seeking her out once again over his shoulder, his cock thickening

that final, painful degree when she looked flushed and... interested? Excited? “You want details?”

Her nod was slight, but it was there.

Pulses were firing at the speed of light all over his body. Wrists, neck, chest. His dick had been hard so long without being

attended to, his stomach was beginning to hurt from keeping the weight of his sex hoisted. From keeping the pressure locked

inside, not letting it out. And so he gave in to the need, gritting his teeth and gripping himself through his sweatpants,

heat prickling up his spine at the sound of her gasp.

“Details...” he muttered thickly, sweat beads beginning to pop up on his chest, upper lip. “I was going to lock your door,

track down some tissue, lie back down. Spit on my palm a couple of times and... try and not grunt too loudly while I stroke

one out.”

Her pupils dilated. “You grunt when you do it?”

“Yeah.” He raked the heel of his hand down to the thickened ridge, cupping his balls and jostling them lightly, before massaging

back up to the tip. Ahhh, fuck. So good. Ten times better than usual because Skylar was in the room while he did it, her voice

the soundtrack to his lust. “I think so. I’m not really focused on the sounds I’m making.”

“Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“I don’t know. When I watch... porn?” Her voice was slightly muffled, as if she’d covered her face. “That’s my favorite

part. When the guy groans.”

Damn, he was learning some invaluable lessons about her this morning. A treasure trove of Skylar-isms that he would put to

incredible use, if and when he was afforded the opportunity. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess... the girl always seems to be faking it, but the guy... when he groans, he seems to be authentically

enjoying himself. It’s hot.”

Robbie’s chest was heaving like he’d just swum the Potomac. “You wouldn’t be fake moaning with me. I’d probably have to cover

your mouth to keep you quiet.”

A shuddering breath from Skylar.

Fuck it.

She’d given him this opening. He wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Do you want to watch me fuck myself, Skylar?”

An audible swallow. “Yeah. Yes, please.”

Oh my God. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

Actually, that might physically kill him. Messing up the bond they were building.

“I’m sur—”

“Great. Good.” He turned, his knees almost losing power at the way her attention zeroed in on his cock, her eyelids sagging,

fingers digging into the bedding. And when he sat down on the left edge of the mattress, leaned back onto his left elbow,

took out his dick in his right fist, and settled it against his abdomen, her mouth formed an O that did remarkable things

for his ego. “I’m going to spit on my hand now.”

She nodded, cheeks bloomed with pink spots.

Robbie spat in his palm.

Before he could bring the natural lubricant where it needed to go, Skylar snagged his wrist, brought his hand to her mouth...

and spit in his palm. All while looking him in the eye.

Coming without touching himself became a very distinct possibility in that moment.

“Christ,” he said hoarsely, fisting his cock before he could humiliate himself. One slide of his clenched fingers was like

throwing a match into a puddle of kerosene, though, and he just went for broke, groaning behind his gritted teeth, watching

her face while he masturbated. “You like having your spit on my dick, baby?”

Son of a bitch, she was mesmerized. “Yes.”

“Ohhh. Fuck.” He pumped his fist faster. “No one’s ever watched me do this before.”

“Really?” Her smile was drowsy, horny. “I’m the first?”

First girl he could fall in love with, too.

Don’t say that out loud.

Don’t even think it. So dangerous.

“What are you fantasizing about?” she asked. Closer than before? Was that her breath on his shoulder? Lord. “While you do

it.”

“I don’t have to fantasize about anything,” he said in stops and starts, the pleasure beginning to hit an overwhelming high.

“Not when you’re lying there with no bra. Your fucking thighs...”

She shifted the legs in question, rasping them on the sheets. “My thighs?”

Too close now. Filter gone. “I’m thinking of my spit all over them. How I’ll lick it on there to help my hips slide when I’m

riding you into the goddamn ground.”

A hitched moan from Skylar was the absolute end of him.

His balls tightened, wrenching a groan from the pit of his stomach, and he got off in his frenzied hand, his thighs jerking against the edge of the mattress, his head tipped back, mouth wide, while he captured as much moisture as possible in his moving fist, the rest of it seeping out around his knuckles.

During what he thought was that final wave of pleasure, he looked over at Skylar’s perked-up nipples and blew another hard rope, then another, his whole body collapsing back onto the bed, gasping for fucking air.

Whoa.

Whoa, what the hell?

Sex had never been so... satisfying. And she hadn’t even touched him.

Okay. Yeah. I’m in deep-ass trouble here.

Robbie shook himself free of the lingering bliss of relief and studied Skylar, trying to figure out where she was landing

on all this. Was she regretting the intimacy? Was she still processing what happened? What? Her eyes were glazed and glued to a spot in the near distance, those sexy nipples still in perfect peaks. Thus, his brain

said horny.

Deciding to trust that assessment, Robbie leaned over and brushed their lips together, that zing of connection winging around

his chest like a majestic bald eagle only driving home the fact that, yeah, he was screwed. “Do you want me to take care of

you?” Entranced by those chips of gold in her eyes, he cupped the side of her face with his clean hand, keeping their lips

close. So close. “No fake moans with me. With us.”

Us.

That word visibly grabbed her attention. In a good or bad way, he couldn’t tell.

Not right away.

But when she bounded off the bed and crouched down in front of her suitcase, pulling out clothes and backing toward the door? He concluded... bad.

She didn’t want an us.

She wanted Skylar and Madden.

Not Skylar and Robbie.

“Hey, listen,” he said, voice gravelly as he yanked his sweatpants up to cover himself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. I just need to pitch. I’m late to pitch.”

He swallowed a handful of tacks. “Okay. I’ll see you after.”

And then she was gone, leaving Robbie to stare at the closed door.