The Trade(84)

“Oh, so much more.” I clear my throat as Natalie leans an elbow on the table, totally engrossed by my story. “So she’s batting me with her boobs, right?” Natalie snorts and nods. “And in the moment I was like, what the fuck do I do? I don’t want to be rude or look weak in front of my friends.”

“Because a tit to the face isn’t your worst day,” Natalie cuts in.

“Exactly.” I chuckle. “So I grip the girl’s hips, thinking maybe she’ll get the hint to slow down.” I shake my head. “Not the case.”

Natalie’s lips twitch with humor.

“Apparently my hands to her hips was a secret signal to this girl to start dry-humping me right there in the middle of the club. She released her tits, gripped my shoulders, and started bouncing up and down on my lap.”

“Her very own pogo stick.”

“If only.” I shift and run my hand down her thigh. “She wasn’t just bouncing up and down, she was crashing. Using my cock as a jump pad. Boom, boom, boom. Every beat of “In Da Club” that rattled the walls, also rattled my bones as she haphazardly collided onto my cock.”

“Oh God.” Natalie is in a fit of laughter now.

“And then she stopped. Out of nowhere, she paused, looked me in the eyes, truly as if a switch flipped and she realized in fact she was a human and she smiled . . . right before lifting up to the highest point she could, and slamming down again. The blow buckled me over into her chest, which she thought was a good sign but in fact, I was hoping she didn’t just break my dick.” Natalie cackles. “From there it only got worse. She was relentless, grinding so hard on my broken rod, that I truly—and I’ll still hold my hand to heart when I say this—I truly think she was trying to turn my cock into applesauce.”

“Oh my God.” Natalie is bent over, gripping the table, sucking in air just as the waitress brings us our second dessert . . . or third I guess.

She takes a long look at Natalie, and I just give her a polite thank you, hoping she moves on, which she does.

Hand on her back, I ask, “Are you going to be okay?”

Natalie shakes her head and says in between giggles, “Applesauce,” then she busts out some more.

Well, seems like she’s busy. Guess I’ll just start on this dessert by myself.





Chapter Twenty





NATALIE





“I had the best time.” I release my seat belt and turn toward Cory. His jacket is draped over my shoulders, his masculine scent seeping into my bones, and his hand is on my thigh, where it was when we first started driving back to my place . . . or almost the entire night for that matter.

“I had a great time too,” he says, turning the car off and facing me as well.

I poke his chest playfully and say, “I still can’t believe you took advantage of my laughing fit and started eating the dessert without me.”

“Still not sorry about it,” he says. “Don’t worry though, while you were in the bathroom, I ordered another just for you, it’s in the bag.”

“Are you serious?”

He reaches out, runs his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes looking hazy as he stares at me. “Of course. You liked it so much, I wanted to make sure you got one more bite of it . . . or several for that matter.”

I press my hand to his chest and ask, “Are you always this thoughtful?”

“I try to be.” His hand cups my jaw and he brings me in closer, as his other hand slides higher up my thigh, causing a twitching sensation to float up to where my leg connects with my hip when his thumb connects with my inner thigh. “Thank you for going out with me tonight. My time is going to be more and more limited, so I’m sorry if I ask you out with late notice or have to cancel. Please know, it’s not by choice.”

“Cory,” I sigh into his touch. “My brother is your teammate, are you forgetting that? I know what’s coming up for you and how you are get ready for spring training right now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do,” he says quickly. “I don’t want you associating me with the way your ex treated you.”

“I know you won’t. You’re nothing like Ansel. Just from sharing a room with you, I know you’re nothing like him.” And it’s true, Cory really is one of the most considerate men I’ve ever met.

“I’ll try to take you out as much as I can before I have to report to spring training. Okay? Because when the season starts, it’s going to be harder.”

“You know I’m going to be happy with just being with you, right? You don’t need to take me out.”

“I do.” He leans in, dragging his thumb over my cheek. “I want to. You deserve to be taken out.”

My breath hitches in my chest when he closes the last few inches and brings his lips to mine.

This still feels so new—unbelievable—that Cory Potter kisses me freely, whenever he wants, that he has claimed my mouth as his and no one else’s. It’s unreal that I get to call him my boyfriend, that I get to spend alone time with him, tease him, joke with him, see the real him.

It’s moments like right now, when he’s telling me exactly what he’s feeling, that makes falling for this man inevitable.