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

I wanted to give him something that no one else had ever been able to give him.

Hancock struck me as a man who could go all night long.

A man who would make me feel things that I’d never felt before.

And I wanted to do the same for him.

If that was taking me like he wanted to take me, then I’d give him that.

Every damn time and twice on Sunday.

Sensing my need to please, he started to press forward again, his large cock filling me up so fully that I was panting by the time his hips met my round bottom.

“Oh, God,” he grated. “This is the best fucking feeling in the world.”

“Being inside of me?” I panted, my eyes nearly crossed from how full I felt.

“Yes,” he whispered. “So tight and wet. I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life.”

I’d never felt it before either. Then again, I’d never once felt anything like this because I’d never had a man inside of me bare. Nor had I ever had sex in the shower. And now that I was thinking about it…there wasn’t much I could say about my limited sexual experience.

Hancock was literally shattering all kinds of records right now.

And adding to that list was the near spontaneous orgasm I was on the brink of.

I’d thought orgasms were a myth—at least the ones from vaginal penetration. The man hadn’t even done much more than stick his large dick inside of me, and I was practically on the verge of coming.

That had to be some kind of record.

Then he started to move, and I forgot my own name.

My hands on the lip of the seat tightened, and I spread my legs wider to accommodate his hips.

The moment my feet moved, the angle he was entering me changed, and I immediately went from being on the brink of an orgasm to having one.

The blunt head of his cock hit some magical place so deep inside of me that a silent scream left my lips.

My breasts began to sway with his movements, and as he felt my orgasm taking hold, he pounded into me faster and harder. My legs started to burn with the effort it took to hold myself up against his thrusts.

“Oh, God!” I cried out loudly, the scream echoing off the walls, mixing with the wet slap of skin meeting skin.

His grip on my hips tightened as my pussy clamped down so hard on his cock that there was no way he could mistake my release for anything other than what it was.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned tightly as his thrusting became erratic.

My eyes closed and I did nothing else but feel as the most blissful feeling in the world took me over.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware that he was coming, too. My mind, however, was so focused on my own pleasure that I had nothing left in me to pay attention to his.

By the time I came back to myself, Hancock was curved over the length of my back, one arm looped under my breasts while the other was planted on the bench and supporting our weight.

Both of us were breathing so hard that it was more than obvious that we were both shaken by what had just transpired.

“I had no idea that sex was like that,” I admitted breathlessly.

“It’s not, normally,” he admitted just as breathlessly. “I haven’t lost my breath like that since I was fifteen years old.”

“You had sex when you were fifteen years old?” I squeaked, incredulity filling my voice.

“Yep,” he murmured. “I was a lively, growing boy. That, and I was a baseball player with a goatee. I was pretty damn irresistible.”

My answering snort was what he was looking for, and he pulled out of me carefully before he let me loose, his hands, now gentle on my hips, steadying me.

“You okay?” he asked, pressing a bearded kiss to the top of my shoulder as I stood.

I nodded.

Fan-fucking-tastic was more like it, but I didn’t tell him that, his ego would be just fine without that little boost.

Instead, I settled on something that was more subdued but definitely got the point across.

“Better than okay.”

He hummed in happiness as he grabbed the bar of soap from the soap dish before he quickly rubbed it over his body and then got to work on mine.

“You’re responsible for this, aren’t you?” I asked, gesturing to my shampoo and body wash.

His grin was almost boyish as he turned the shower off once he’d deigned I was clean. He took extra special care of my breasts and between my thighs, which inevitably made me ready to go all over again.

He was all business, though, as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels. He handed one over to me and wrapped the second one around his trim waist. I began to absently towel myself off while my eyes took in his perfectly chiseled frame as water droplets rolled down his tight abs, disappearing into the top of the towel.