The Dugout(84)

“Step out of them,” he whispers.

“Carson . . . waffles.”

“This won’t take long. Your hand is already shaking and your breath is coming in short spurts. You’re turned on, so let me ease that for you.” He lifts my shirt over my ass, exposing the morning air to it. He rubs one palm over each globe. “Spread them, Milly.”

Even though I want to hold strong, there’s no point. My body is already humming and I need the release.

I spread my legs, gripping the edge of the counter.

“That’s my good girl.”

From behind, I feel him slide below me until his head is between my legs.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?”

“Helping myself to breakfast.”

Before I can protest, his fingers are spreading me and he’s licking long strokes up my slit, and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever felt. Something I’ve learned very quickly about Carson is he loves going down on me. No, he doesn’t just love it, he craves it. I swear his head has been between my legs more than any other part of his body. And every time he offers, there’s no stopping him, not that I want to because he’s so damn good at it, like he’s been practicing the act just as much as he practices his swing.

His mechanics are perfect.

His pressure is light and hard all simultaneously.

His precision . . . accurate as hell.

His strokes, the best flicks and sucks I’ve ever felt.

“Yes,” I whisper when he brings my clit into his mouth. “Yes, Carson.”

He glides his large, calloused hands up my thighs, the coarseness of his palms spurring on my arousal as he brings two fingers to my opening and inserts them the same time he sucks on me harder than ever.

“Oh . . . fuuuck,” I drag out, my orgasm teetering, collecting, building, so ready to burst any moment that my legs start to shake, my grip on the counter goes numb, and everything seems to pool at the pit of my stomach.

He senses my coiling tension, the precipice of desire hitting me and, in that moment, he matches his finger strokes with his tongue, hitting every pleasure point, so I can’t stop the loud scream that falls past my lips as I come.

I ride his tongue, my hips flexing against him until I can’t take it anymore and I lower my head to the counter, completely spent.

He climbs up from between my legs and leans over my body, his erection pressing against my back. Casually, as if he didn’t just deliver one hell of an orgasm, he says, “Should I heat up the waffles in the toaster? Might be nice to have them extra crisp.”

Oh no, he doesn’t . . .

I reach behind me and grip his straining cock through his shorts and he falls against my back, groaning.

“Sit yourself up on the counter. I need your cock in my mouth. Now.”

“Fuck, Mills,” he groans and obliges, shucking his shorts before hopping up. He leans back and offers himself to me. Gripping his thighs, I lean over and press my tongue against the tip. His eyes fall shut and he says, “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And then I suck him until he yells my name . . . just like I screamed his.





“I’m really jealous of your TV. Fuck the baseball loft, I’ll be spending my nights over here, watching the games on the big screen.”

“I’m sure there’s more than one reason you want to be over here, other than the TV,” I say, our legs intertwined together as we lie on my bed . . . naked.

Are you really surprised? We’re rabid beasts at this point.

“Yeah, the concierge service is killer.”

I pinch his side, and he yelps before bringing me on top of his stomach. “You know you’re the only reason I really want to be here . . . that and Freddy downstairs. His English accent and attention to detail when we’re ordering something, it’s fucking awesome.”

I roll my eyes and plant a kiss on his lips. Before resting against his chest, letting his hold on my back soothe me.

There are boxes scattered everywhere, nothing has been put away, and the apartment is in disarray, but I have Carson here. I’ll have all the time in the world to organize, but my time with Carson is ticking down. With his last game coming up soon and then regionals and the draft, he’s going to be gone. Our access to each other is going to change drastically, so I need to soak up as much time with him as possible.

His fingers lightly stroke my back, sending chills up and down my spine. “Tell me about the proposal. Is it ready yet?”

I smile against his bare chest. “It is.”

“Really?” He lifts my chin to look me in the eye. “Were you going to tell me? Show me?”

“Do you want to see it?” I ask, not realizing it’s something he’d be interested in. It’s baseball, yeah, but it’s also business with metrics and graphs and boring stuff.

“Fuck yes, I do. Mills, you worked hard on this, I want to know all about it.”

“Yeah?” I ask, excited.

“Yeah.” His hand falls to my ass and he gives it a slap. “Get your computer. I want to see it.”

I shimmy off his body and grab my computer as he sets up the pillows so we have something to lean against. When I get back into bed, he loops his arm around me, and I set the computer on our laps. I open my proposal and show him. Renderings of the facility addition have been created, I added my investment to the proposal, and everything I envisioned for the space.