Pitch Please (There's No Crying in Baseball 1)

“Don’t,” he ordered harshly, then lightened his tone. “Please don’t.”

I froze with my hand around the towel, and knew that I had a decision to make. I could either continue to be self-conscious around him, or let it happen naturally. He’d made no bones about the fact that he liked my body. He liked that I was on the thicker side.

Hell, if the erection that was tenting the towel, which might I add was wrapped fairly tightly around his waist since it was pinned with the way he was sitting, was anything to go by, then he quite obviously liked what he saw.

And I knew, I knew, that I was going to give me to him.

All of me. The good and the bad.

I was going to be me. I wasn’t going to be a fraction of me like I was with Langston.

I was going to let him see that I enjoyed food. I was going to let him see that when I came home from work, my bra came off because wearing bras sucked. I was going to show him everything, and hope that he was there when the dust settled around me.

Once the decision was made, I dropped the towel, and then turned to sit on the bed directly in front of him.

His mouth was relaxed, but his eyes were dancing with happiness.

“You made a good decision, Half-Pint,” he informed me. “I’m glad.”

I could feel the flush taking over my face.

“Want to play a game?” he asked casually.

My head tilted to the side, and I stared at him.

“What kind of game?” I finally worked up the courage to ask.

The smile that overtook his face was as close to a leer as I would say one could get.

“One that ends in your orgasm and mine,” he promptly replied. “So, what do you say?”

“What does this game entail?” I pushed as if his erection hadn’t jumped in anticipation, and his pebbled nipples weren’t affecting me at all.

“It entails you doing what I say, when I say it, and you get rewarded,” he explained teasingly.

Before, I hadn’t doubted that Hancock was an alpha male, but now...well, now I knew he was. He was an alpha in the bedroom and out. There was no doubting it now.

The fact might’ve been a turnoff for anyone else. Generally, I made it a rule to stay away from the bossy men since I had enough of bossy men growing up.

I liked to do my own thing, and I enjoyed it.

Being bossed around wasn’t my idea of a good time, and if someone tried, I’d let them know really quick that it wasn’t for me.

But when Hancock did it, I lost the ability to think.

The actual rules didn’t matter. If he wanted me to do it, I’d do it, and all he had to do was ask…or tell.

If he said jump, I’d ask how high.

“Okay,” I said without hesitation. “What’s in it for me?”

The teasing didn’t have the desired effect.

The moment I agreed, he was out of his chair and pushing me backwards onto the bed, his large hand between my legs.

In a matter of seconds, he was playing with my clit, swirling it around with his thumb while his fingers probed my wetness.

Which was embarrassing.

We’d been out of the shower a whole five minutes and my readiness for him was more than evident.

Something he found himself liking.

Immensely.

His mouth came down on mine as the first finger penetrated my depths, not stopping until he was at the webbing of his fingers.

“So fucking wet,” he said in between breaths against my lips.

I moaned shakily as I moved my heels up to rest on the edge of the bed, and he moved the rest of the way in between them.

The towel he still had around his hips rasped against the inside of my thighs, but the things he was doing to my clit and pussy had me forgetting everything else that had happened.

“Please,” I pleaded. “Please.”

I was going to come.

He’d only thrust one strong finger into my pussy and had played with my clit for less than thirty seconds, and I was already right there.

The moment I realized I was close, I came.

Just giving it the awareness that it needed was enough to draw a scream from my lungs as another orgasm, my second in under thirty minutes, overtook me.

My pussy rippled around his long finger, and being the expert he was, he stopped the movement on my clit, knowing on instinct that I would be too sensitive for his continued ministrations.

It was only after I caught my breath that he spoke his next words.

“That’s what’s in it for you,” he growled against my lips. “So, are you ready to play?”

God yes, I was ready to play.

All freakin’ night long if he wanted me to.

“Yes.”

Was there any other answer that I could give at this point?