Pitcher Perfect, page 20
Her lids were heavy, but she forced herself to focus, to trace the muscular ridges and valleys of his body until mossy green connected with brown.
“Yeah, you love me in that mouth, don’t you?”
He moved in and out for the first time, leaving her mouth until just the tip rested on her bottom lip, before tunneling back in, slightly deeper than before and that thick pressure passing between her lips and his subsequent shudder reminded her to tease his balls in her palm. To keep her other hand moving, fondling him in time with his slow fucks of her mouth that were starting to happen faster already, his breath rasping in and out, filling the shower stall and encouraging her like nothing else.
“Don’t stop. Don’t . . . ahhh. Good girl. Don’t stop doing that. Fucking Christ.” That fist in her hair grew more and more firm, the tug of her scalp causing a corresponding ripple between her thighs, a satisfaction in some part of her inner self she couldn’t name. Joy of being possessed. Of making someone struggle with their own need, their own body. “Don’t need to teach you shit. Sucking my dick is easy when you love it, huh?”
Skylar moaned, intuition telling her to twist her palm now, cup his testicles gently, and his response, his faster pumping and bit-off curse, told her yes, keep going.
“That’s good, baby. Get sloppy now. Let’s go. There should be spit all over your chin when this is over.” Robbie took her mouth the way a man entered a woman’s body—with firm, fast strokes—but he never went past the point that made her choke, not until she invited him to do it, loosening her throat and blinking up at him in a wordless signal that it was okay, and in the back of her mind, she understood that not everyone communicated as seamlessly as them and this was unique. They were unique. But the head of his engorged sex found her throat at that moment and she stopped thinking, stopped focusing on anything but him. The power she wielded with a mere swallow. The power in giving permission. All of it. “I’m fucked now. Oh God, I’m so fucked. You’re . . . I’m . . . deep. I’m fucking your mouth so deep. Goddamn, Skylar.”
She swallowed again, constricting her throat around his hard flesh. Moving on instinct, she jostled his balls, grazing the trunk of his shaft with her teeth ever so lightly, looking up at him in wonder as he started to erupt. Saltiness met her throat, and she coughed out of necessity, tearing up, but didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not when he’d ripped his fist off the wall and pressed it hard to his mouth, barely managing to trap the strangled roar at the last second, his every muscle straining, his powerful lower body thrusting forward with low grunts, blasting exhales.
“I wasn’t going to . . . I wasn’t going to bust, I swear to God.” He looked half incredulous, half delirious as he drove deep and held, more saltiness going down her throat, his entire body shaking. “You made it too good. Fuck, that was so good.”
There was nothing to compare to the state she was left in. A daze, maybe, but her blood was pumping furiously, her sex beating like a heart. As soon as Robbie finished, doubling over to brace himself on his knees, sides heaving, Skylar lost her balance, too, slipping sideways onto her hip and leaning a cheek against the shower wall, a warm stream of water coating her cheek. With a swollen mouth and piping hot blood, her surroundings were a dream, complete with low light and the white noise of the shower. It would have been soothing if her body wasn’t primed for more. More.
No sooner had she acknowledged her own hunger than Robbie knocked open the shower door with his elbow, wrapping his arms around Skylar and dragging her out of the still pounding spray, into the bathroom. Soaking wet and breathing hard, she was settled carefully onto the fluffy bath mat, but there was nothing careful about the way her bathing suit was stripped from her body.
Robbie loomed over her, steam glistening on his body, his face.
In that moment and every moment for the rest of her life, she’d consider this to be the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. The one who rubbed his face between her breasts without a shred of self-consciousness, his right hand shuffling her legs apart. “Not even going to lie, I thought that would end with me fucking your brains out, but I couldn’t pull out of your hot little mouth to save my life.” Briefly, he brought his right hand to his mouth and spit on it, before bringing it between her thighs. Pausing. “Can I give you head, Skylar?” He licked his bottom lip, pupils dilating. “Please, baby. Please.”
She nodded so vigorously, she almost dislocated her jaw. “Yes. Yes.”
“God, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” he muttered, his wet fingers sliding down into the split of her flesh, the friction to her clit like shock paddled to the system, and she choked a moan in her throat, heels digging into the ground, her hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in, scraping up into his hair, core flexing. Flexing. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Drenched from making me come. She wears an innocent black bathing suit, but get the girl on her knees and . . . motherfucker. She’s a bright pink thong girl waiting to happen, aren’t you, Skylar? Never got off so fast in my fucking life.”
Someone had blowtorched her nerve endings.
As a lifelong athlete, Skylar knew physical highs, but she’d never experienced anything like this. For one, she had total and complete trust of this man to be telling her the truth. She wasn’t distracted by trying to read between the lines or judge his impression of her. She was free to feel—and feel she did. Everywhere. It was possible to be tense with need and languid with want all at once. She knew that now.
That tongue of his continued to skim back and forth on his bottom lip, but it paused as he looked down at her bared flesh for the first time, his hand tensing on her knee. “Damn, that’s beautiful. I’d love to be riding it right now, but you had to be so good with that mouth, didn’t you?” Robbie got down on his belly, releasing a hot exhale against her core with his eyes closed. “I’m good with mine, too. Drop those knees if you want to find out.”
Did she drop them?
Yes, she did.
And good was an understatement. He licked some kind of S shape along her damp seam, then slowly pressed her open with the flat of his tongue, his thumbs skimming up and down on her inner thighs, giving her goose bumps, butterflies, all of it, before he finally started a gentle French kiss of her sex, introducing his tongue with shallow strokes that went deeper the more she started to shake, her whimpers lost in the pound of shower spray on glass, the steam enveloping them both, muffling everything except her body’s overwhelming response.
“Can you . . .” she gasped.
“Bet.”
His tongue met her clit and married it. That’s what it felt like. A union. Two becoming one. He fused to her and stayed, groaning and holding her thighs wide while he raked his tongue up, down, and sideways on that sensitive bundle of nerves. “Oh my God,” she managed, sounding throaty, like a different person, her fingers clinging to the strands of his hair, pulling him close. “Robbie.”
“Shhh. We’re not the only ones in this house.” He pushed two thick fingers inside of her, his expression vivid with lust over the way her hips lifted, grinding up against his mouth, her legs trembling. “Might have to drive us the two hours back to Boston just to hear you scream my name the first time we fuck.” He kissed her clit, lapped at it with a savoring sound. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be loud, too, hitting my tight girl.”
He followed that raspy pronouncement with suction and she peaked without warning, her intimate muscles gathering in on themselves and spasming while she gasped for oxygen and attempted to absorb and fight the pleasure at the same time, because it was unexpected and too much. So much, she tore at his hair and shook, her body in a sort of divine shock, hot and fulfilled and relieved and sensitive.
Collapse.
Skylar wanted to marvel over the fact that she’d had an orgasm with a man for the first time, that Robbie was not all talk, but walked the walk. That she could, in fact, let her mind go enough to reach completion with the right person.
Was . . . Robbie the right person?
Had other girls ever wondered the same thing?
These feelings were coming on so fast and furious, she couldn’t tell if they were a product of her and Robbie’s close and continual proximity or if this glorious wrenching in her chest was authentic. If it was? God, that made her so vulnerable. Primed to have the rug pulled out from beneath her as soon as she let her guard down.
That startling train of thought was interrupted because she found herself limp, draped in Robbie’s strong arms, being carried to her bed. He laid her down naked on top of the comforter and covered her in a throw blanket.
Then he stared down at her, brow creased.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmured, snuggling into the blanket, admiring his body that was still covered in a mixture of shower steam and sweat.
“A lot of things.” He sounded dazed. “All at the same time.”
“Hmmm?”
“Skylar, you’re . . .” He trailed off with a swallow, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve never seen or touched or tasted anything better than you. I want to go back and erase everything but you. That’s mainly what I’m thinking.” He paused. “The other is I want to get in that bed with you and sleep, because somehow, I know I’ll sleep even better holding you than I would after a doubleheader. But I’m afraid you’re not going to let me do it forever. I’m afraid to get used to it.”
He’s as defenseless as I am. “Get in here, Redbeard.”
He laughed, pained. “Not this time. I’m feeling all vulnerable and shit.”
It hurt not giving him the answer he wanted in that moment. To erase all doubt. But she wasn’t ready to take that leap yet and taking back any promises later would be worse than leaving him hanging now, wouldn’t it? “What are you going to do?”
Robbie traced the outline of Skylar’s body with a conflicted gaze. “Jesus. I don’t know. You look so soft in there.”
“I am.”
“Baby.” He raked his hands down his face. “No. I’m playing the long game. So, yeah. Guess what? You rest. I’m going to work on making your family fall in love with me while you decide what you want. While you consider me.”
“I will,” she said, her heart pumping even as her body continued to come down from its climax. “I am.”
Did she really mean what she was saying, though? Or was she just shaken from what they’d experienced together?
No.
No, she was grappling with feelings for this man, but logic was the issue. Knowing his history. Still not quite ready to trust him with her heart, the way she could obviously trust him with her body. Even if she was beginning to wish she could. Beginning to wonder.
“Do you have a game plan to make them fall in love with you?” she managed, heart lodged in her throat.
“Not yet, but there will be alcohol involved.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is your dad going to take one look at me and know I just blew his daughter’s mind?”
Where was the lie? “You might want to put on a shirt, at least.” Her face heated. “There are handprints on your shoulders.”
Robbie looked at the prints in question and waggled his eyebrows. “My goal is to have some identical ones on my ass by tomorrow.”
“The schedule says maybe.”
“Right,” he said dryly, pulling on a shirt and finger combing his hair. When he seemed prepared to leave the room, he just looked at her, his smile fading. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay after what happened at the lake?”
“After you . . . did that to me on the bathroom floor?” Skylar buried her face in the blanket, a little giddy from the drop of adrenaline and the freedom to be so honest with him. “I don’t even remember what happened at the lake.”
“That’s nice.” Robbie shivered as he backed toward the door. “Meanwhile, I’ll have nightmares about it for the next five decades.”
Halfway out into the hallway, he stopped.
Strode back to the bed and leaned down, drugging her with a kiss. A long, soul-searing kiss that closed her eyes involuntarily and squeezed the region south of her throat.
Oh dear.
“Consider me, Skylar.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wipe the grin off your face, fool.
Robbie physically did just that on his way to track down Doug, dragging his palm downward over the lower half of his face. But damn, it wasn’t easy to hide the satisfaction of having finally given Skylar an orgasm. A good one, too. She hadn’t seen the intensity of it coming, if her unblinking eyes and flushed skin afterward were any indication, and all he wanted to do was get between those legs and give her more. Wanted her to chain-smoke pleasure until she was addicted to his body.
He realized he’d stopped walking halfway down the hallway, his dick telling him to go back. Go get in bed with her. With a wave of determination, though, he kept going. Because Jesus, he hadn’t lied about feeling vulnerable. Had any of the women he’d blown off felt this way about him? I hope not. It was tough business wanting to mean something to a person and not knowing if they were interested in more than sex. If they were willing to give a relationship a shot. The ache was heavy. Unrequited.
As he walked through the living area and out onto the back deck, he spied Doug sitting in an Adirondack chair, staring out at the line of trees with a frown, hands limp and resting on his bare knees. Moved to silence by the same woman for a very different reason. Robbie couldn’t help but feel responsible for forcing the family to make a breakthrough in the middle of their sacred yearly visit, although the fact that Skylar nearly drowned saved him from too much guilt.
“What’s good, Doug?”
The older man shifted, sat up straighter. “Robbie.” After a moment, he put his hand out for a shake. “It all happened so fast out there, I’m not sure I thanked you properly.”
They gripped and shook. “My mom will be glad to know junior lifeguard camp wasn’t a waste of money.”
A subdued chuckle from Doug. “It sure wasn’t.”
Elton joined them on the deck, but he had a much stronger drink in his hand than wine. Whiskey, maybe. “How is Skylar?” he asked, leaning a hip against the wooden rail.
Damn, it felt great to be the one who knew the answer to how is Skylar? A beat-his-fucking-chest kind of great. “She’s good now. Warmed up and resting.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her shaken up like that,” Elton said.
Doug let out a breath. “Me either.”
Robbie’s pulse was starting to race, just thinking about the moment he realized she was in trouble. “Maybe I should have a drink, too.”
Elton disappeared into the house, returning a minute later with a second rocks glass holding a golden liquid, handing it to Robbie. “Bottoms up.”
They clinked glasses and tossed back the liquor.
“You know, it’s a kick in the ass to find out you’ve missed something important happening to one of your children. And Skylar might not be mine biologically, but she is my daughter.”
“And she’s my sister,” Elton tacked on. “I should have seen it, too. She needed to be encouraged. Congratulated. And all I ever do is push for more. Bigger accomplishments.” He tapped the bottom of his empty glass on the railing. “Meanwhile, my best friend is going to the Yankees and I’m sitting here inhaling his dust. Who am I to expect so much from her when my own goals are still so far out of reach?”
Doug turned in his seat. “Are you talking about Madden?”
“Yeah. He told me this afternoon. He got scouted at spring training.”
“Son of a bitch,” Doug murmured, pride arranging his features. “Good for him.”
“Damn.” As someone who knew the time and toil it took to reach the professional level of a sport—even baseball—Robbie couldn’t help but give his romantic rival some credit. Even though it burned. “Being a pro was the one thing I had over him.”
“Meaning what?” Elton said, raising an eyebrow.
Robbie coughed. “Nothing.” Although, with both men opening up about their woes, he had the strange urge to share his own. This is what happened when three men drank on a porch. “Skylar isn’t totally sold on me yet,” he blurted.
Doug turned, dumbstruck. “What?”
Elton rolled his eyes. “Yes, she is.”
“No. She’s not.” Robbie shook his head adamantly, but he stopped abruptly when Elton’s protest really sank in. “Wait. Why do you think she is? Did she say something to you?”
“She let you carry her,” Elton said, shrugging. “That’s it. That’s how I know.”
“Okay, but I’m feeling vulnerable, so could you elaborate?”
“I’m feeling vulnerable, too!” Doug announced.
“Me three,” Elton muttered.
Doug slapped his knee. “I don’t like it.”
“Can we go back to the significance of Skylar letting me carry her, please?”
“Christ, needy pants. Fine.” Elton thought for a moment, then turned to lean back against the railing. “When she was twelve, we were all still getting used to our blended family. Dad and Vivica couldn’t make one of Sky’s games, so they made me take her. Cheer her on. And I went, but grudgingly. This was before she started with travel softball, so it was a baseball game.” His gaze softened. “That’s the day I claimed her as my sister. The guys were hard on her, but she kept her chin up. Kept pitching. But somewhere around the bottom of the sixth, she took a line drive to the stomach.”
Nausea pitched inside of Robbie at the unexpected turn in the story. “No.”
“Yeah. It took the wind out of her. Took her out of the game. And she was only twelve, but she still wouldn’t let the coach carry her. My sister crawled into the dugout. She doesn’t put aside her pride for anyone. Trust is even more sparing.” He waved his empty glass in Robbie’s direction. “She gave you both. Happy now?”
“No. Now I’m thinking about her almost drowning and with a bruised stomach.”
