Pitcher Perfect, page 22
“I’m coming, Robbie.” Skylar leaned forward, digging her nails into his shoulders and grinding—oh shit, grinding on his dick and contracting so swiftly, so repeatedly, his back arched off the bed. “You made me come. You make me come.”
Now the girl was on her back again and he had no memory of putting her there. Only that her thighs were flat to the bed, her knees pointing at opposite walls and she was encouraging him by saying things like that’s it, baby, leave a mark in his ear. Use it. Use me. And he was now a fucking bull in a China shop, grunting into sloppy sucks of her neck, his lower body moving at a demon’s pace, flesh smacking flesh, the bed creaking beneath them, as if he could worry about something so inconsequential when he was seconds from letting go. This place, with Skylar, where he felt like his authentic self, giving up a part of himself because she was the right person, the only person, to trust himself with.
“Skylar,” he said, gravity in those syllables, his body falling onto her like a beggar, gathering her close and rubbing his open mouth over her hair, across her forehead, moving on total and complete autopilot. “I’m in trouble, baby. I’m in so much trouble over you.”
“It’s okay,” she whimpered. “We’ll make it okay.”
“Please.” Robbie choked on that word as he erupted, the release starting in the soles of his motherfucking feet and rocketing up to his groin, the pleasure so intense he yelled into the next kiss, his lower body rolling furiously, trying to get free of the pain, and it only subsided when she wrapped her arms around him and started planting kisses in random spots on his face, throat, and shoulders, as if she needed to do more when her cunt was seized up, throttling his body and his heart and everything that made him up. “Please, please, please,” he kept chanting while the headboard cracked off the wall, no idea what he was begging for, only that she was the only one who knew how to give it to him.
And finally, he collapsed, a human in the form of vapor, no idea if he’d ever move again. But even in his replete—and frankly, love-drunk—state, the irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d set out to teach her how to attract and keep a man, but she’d ended up teaching him about himself, instead. What he valued most. Who he wanted to be.
Where he wanted to be and with whom.
The answer to that had been obvious this morning, but now?
Now he had hope. A potential chance.
He wasn’t going to squander it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Skylar woke up alone.
Her panic only had ten seconds to bloom, however, because Robbie came skidding back into her childhood bedroom in white boxer briefs, red hair wild, grinning like he had a secret. It all kind of happened in slow motion, the realization that she had fallen for him somewhere in the middle of this week’s mayhem. Even before he’d shown up with Boston University swag, saved her from drowning, salvaged her father’s pride, suffered through karaoke, and . . .
Blown her actual mind in bed.
Like, blown it into the next decade.
Was it crazy that she half wished he wasn’t so good in bed? Because it was obvious he’d had a lot of practice. His hands and mouth and hips were confident in every movement. Knew exactly how to hold and touch and position her. She’d decided years ago she simply wasn’t the kind of woman who could mentally relax enough to have an orgasm through intercourse, but, holy shit, her uterus was physically sore from how intensely Robbie had twisted her insides up and strained them with that blissful rush of release.
She was hungover from that orgasm.
Even more terrifying was the churned-up sensation in the dead center of her chest. How had the worst of it happened while she slept? Had his protective arms around her all night allowed her guard to drop and her growing feelings to spread?
“Talent show,” Robbie stage-whispered, closing the bedroom door without a sound. “Your parents must have taken my rant yesterday to heart, because that’s the final challenge. Talent shows have very low mortality rates. What are we going to do?”
Skylar couldn’t answer right away because a wedge got stuck in her throat. Somehow on this giant planet, she’d collided with someone who got excited about her family’s nonsense, too. This man was already very important to her. Did she have full confidence he’d always want mornings like this? Want a long-term relationship?
Not quite.
Not one hundred percent.
But maybe she could try to trust him . . . for now? See how it felt?
“Oh wow,” she responded. “We haven’t had one for . . . at least five years.”
“I’m surprised they’ve ever planned anything that wasn’t physically harrowing. What are we going to do, Rocket?” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “I’m a man of many talents, you know.”
She stretched her arms and legs out as far as possible in the mess of sheets, yawning and wiggling her toes. “Oh, believe me, I know.”
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Wow. We’re getting straight to the point this morning, are we?” He pressed one knee onto the bed, followed by the other, and prowled closer, laughing when she flipped quickly onto her stomach and tried to hide herself under the covers. Such behavior was ridiculous . . . and she didn’t care. In fact, she coveted this freedom to act however she wanted in front of Robbie, knowing he’d respond in kind or simply be amused. Look at me. I can be playful and sexy.
The lessons had worked.
Skylar squeaked into a pillow when the covers were stripped off and she was covered, instead, by a thick blanket of hockey muscle, her butt fitting tightly into his lap like it had been carved specifically for that very spot and they both moaned over the way they locked together, her backside to his groin.
His warm, minty breath bathed her ear. “Since you brought it up, I’d love to talk about all the ways you find me talented.”
Skylar made a conscious decision not to think of his talent in terms of how it had been honed, but instead how it had been focused on her. That mental trick wasn’t easy to perform. She did it, though. She did it because their bare skin aligned in the morning haze was a heaven she’d never expected to visit and because she could still feel how tenderly he’d held her throughout the night. “You make me feel sexy,” she murmured.
Robbie scoffed. “Because you are.”
Heat bloomed on her cheeks, but she kept going anyway. “You make my body feel like it’s the most desirable body in the world.”
“It is,” he growled into her neck. “I promised myself I wouldn’t give in to the male urge to say this, but I can usually go for hours. I’m lucky I lasted eight seconds with you.” He let the weight of his lower body press down on hers, hips pinning hips, his bulge wedged between the cheeks of her backside. Rocking. Rocking. “There’s no feeling like the one you give me. I don’t know how I’ve been living without it.”
“Me either,” Skylar whispered, clutching at the bedding, wet warmth rushing to her center in a way she hoped/feared she would always associate with Robbie. “I’m wet, but I’m sore, but I want you anyway . . . ?”
“Thank you, Jesus. I’ll go easy, I swear,” he said hoarsely, reaching between them to tug down the waistband of his briefs, his breath growing more and more scattered, the force of it shifting her hair. “I’m sorry you’re sore, baby,” he mumbled into her neck as he pushed his stiff length inside of her, seating himself fully while she parted her legs a little, just inches apart, enough to allow him another sunken inch, his abs rolling up and over the curve of her backside, back down, up and over again, his flexed forearms coming to rest on either side of her face. Every thrust was a slow, deep journey of him pushing, pushing, pushing, bottoming out with a groan. “I’m sorry I made this soft little pussy hurt after everything it did for me.” He licked a path up the side of her neck, punched his hips with some added strength. “It was hard to be polite after you rode my cock so rough.”
“You loved it,” Skylar said on a shaking exhale, finding she meant it. Was confident in that statement. Confident in herself.
“Loved it? My fucking life flashed in front of my eyes.” Robbie wedged a hand beneath Skylar, sliding it between her sex and the mattress, her mouth falling open at the shiny new available option for friction there. There. There. She flexed her hips and bore down on his fingertips, gasping when he crooked the middle one just a little. Just enough. “Go on, baby. Help yourself come with my fingers. Please. Goddammit. You’re already making my balls hurt. I’d be embarrassed if I could feel anything but you.”
Her sensitivity from last night was almost too much, so much she wanted to shy away from it, but she was too turned on by the bold, hungry man on top of her to deny herself a chance to feel the pleasure he offered her with his rubbing fingers and grinding hips. Those digits rubbed and rubbed until her vision started to double, her teeth catching the meat of the pillow and biting down, her thighs scooting a hint wider of their own accord, the grateful, resounding rumble that went through Robbie serving as her reward.
“Bite down harder, baby. I need a few nasty pumps,” he slurred, his hand flying up to her throat, holding it securely. “Oh my . . . God. Couple more. Okay?”
She nodded, moaned, lifted her butt slightly, her climax reaching its end, but not her need for him. For his touch. His union with her body. That would never run out.
Muscle smacked flesh, breath caught.
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.” His hand slid up from her throat to her jaw, framing it, squeezing, pushing two of his fingers into her mouth. “I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking good at taking my cock. I’m done. I’m done.”
She did something she never expected to do in her lifetime, then. She smiled like a smug feline as he jerked and shuddered behind her, his unintelligible words fumbling in her ear. His fingers were still in her mouth, so she knew he could feel the smile and she liked that, too. Liked who she was with Robbie.
They collapsed like two toys who’d run out of battery power, Robbie landing beside her in the pillows, looking nothing short of dumbstruck, his big back heaving up and down.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, winded, squinting up at her through one eye. “But we can’t do this for the talent show.”
They finally succeeded in waking up the whole house.
Thankfully, their laughter was the culprit.
“The talent show won’t be until tonight,” she said when their laughter died down, indulging her urge to reach over and twist a lock of red hair around her finger. “What do you want to do all day?”
“Anything, as long as it’s with you.”
Skylar hadn’t held hands with anyone since a group movie date in seventh grade.
She tried not to be obvious now about stealing glances at her hand joined with Robbie’s as they walked through town. After a quick breakfast with her family where she found herself unable to look any of them in the eye longer than half a second, Skylar dressed herself in a white tennis dress her mother had bought her for Christmas one year that had remained in her closet ever since. The form-fitting nylon and the attached short, pleated skirt had always seemed destined for someone flirtier and more feminine, but today, all the once-negative qualities of the dress were positive ones.
She’d left her hair in a barely brushed tumble, and that felt nice, too, not having her mane restricted to a ponytail for once.
Better than nice. It felt freeing.
And if Robbie’s constantly pulling her into doorways and in between parked cars to kiss her was any indication, he liked the dress, too.
“Is it too late to buy this in nine hundred colors?”
“Probably. It’s a gift from a prepandemic Christmas.”
“Damn.” They were in line at a deli now and he was using their joined hands to gather her in close, his lips grazing her forehead. “Does it have those attached panties? It looks like it does.”
“Shh. No, I supplied my own.”
He made an appreciative sound in his throat. “That’s probably for the best.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t have to peel the whole thing off,” he said, as if she was nuts for asking. He snarled into her neck playfully, nipping at her. “You think I’m going to last the whole day with you looking this hot? Nah, Rocket. Not happening.”
Had she ever felt this light before?
Her stomach was floating somewhere in the rafters.
“Hey,” she breathed, impulsively, a rush whipping through her blood at what she was preparing to ask him, but she wasn’t scared. “Will you come to my home opener next week? If it doesn’t interfere with playoffs?”
Robbie had already let go of her hand to fumble with his phone, swiping a few times until he pulled up what looked like the Bearcats team calendar. “What day?”
“Next Monday. It’s a night game.”
His mouth tipped up at one end. “I’ll be there. I have away games Tuesday and Wednesday, but we’re here on Monday, then a home game on Thursday.”
They smiled at each other in the midst of the deli, Skylar’s heart nearly punching through her chest. Had she ever felt this heightened brand of wild excitement for Madden? Or had she only ever been . . . wistful over her brother’s best friend? Admiring? Because she knew for a fact she’d never had this sense of camaraderie or understanding or sexual anticipation. No, she would remember if she’d felt even a fraction of it. “Great.”
“Will you come to my game Thursday?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He laughed, crossing his arms, uncrossing them.
She laughed, too, because she was happy, and she didn’t know what else to do. Also, it was their turn to order and they didn’t realize it until someone in line cleared their throat. They got sandwiches to go (Robbie got three) and he carried the brown paper bag in his left arm, holding Skylar’s hand with his right. If every woman with a pulse stopped and stared at him on their way down the sidewalk, Robbie didn’t seem to notice and Skylar chose to ignore it. For today, she was just embracing the possibility of . . . them.
And ignoring the uncertainty that came along with it.
“You nervous about your home opener?”
“Definitely. First game as a senior. They’re expecting a lot out of me.” They reached the end of the row of shops and turned down a path into the park, shade enveloping the two of them. “But I know once I throw the first pitch, I’ll be fine. Sometimes right before a game, I have this weird what-if moment, like maybe I’ll get out there and my body will forget how to play and my arm will be jelly. Once muscle memory takes over, I just get further and further into the zone and I stop overthinking.”
He hummed, brow drawn in concentration. “Just have to get through the first pitch.”
“Yeah. How do you feel about playoffs?”
“Good. We have some momentum going in. Gauthier is at the top of his game and I’m trying to give him space without blending in too much.” A few beats passed. “My problem was the opposite of yours at the beginning of the season. As a rookie, they mostly played me hoping I wouldn’t mess with their chemistry. I think I’ve been so focused on not fucking up, I’ve forgotten to just play my game.”
“Do you think that had a lot to do with the way they sometimes treated you off the ice?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize it until recently. Until you. But . . . yeah.” Robbie traded their joined hands in favor of putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Who knows. Maybe the playoffs are when Corrigan comes alive.”
“No.” Skylar hip-bumped him. “They will be.”
“You’re right. They will be.” Abruptly, he stopped walking, looking at her like he was seeing her all over again for the first time. “Hey, you. Skylar Page.” His fingers delved into her hair and tilted her face up. “Just where the hell have you been all my life?”
A cool wind whipped through the trees, the clouds passing over the sun, leaving everything a shade darker momentarily. It was an odd event, almost like a rapid passing of time and she could see it, a glimpse of herself looking up into this man’s face for years to come, almost like she was watching it happen from a distance. And she had no idea how to respond. Couldn’t. Not with her heart in her mouth.
The light returned, along with sound and the movement of the branches above, his fingers still warm and anchoring in her hair. In response to his question, she wanted to say I’ve been waiting for you. It would have been a lie, though, because she never could have known to wait for this specific man, the polar opposite of who she’d envisioned for herself.
“I thought of our act for the talent show,” she said finally.
His lips jumped. “I told you. We can’t do that.”
“Shut up.” My face literally hurts from smiling. “It occurs to me we both know the original High School Musical soundtrack front to back. I mean, I haven’t listened in a while, so we’ll need some quick practice—”
“I practiced last night.”
“You what?”
“‘Start of Something New’?” He backed up and doubled over, as if his body couldn’t handle the coincidence. “I sang it at karaoke last night.”
“No. It’s a duet!”
“I sang it with Elton. A duet was the only way I could get some airtime with those two hams.”
“I played it so much growing up, Elton must have memorized the lyrics. Or downloaded it himself.” She covered her face with both hands. “That’s a lot to take in.”
He lunged at Skylar, lifting her up off the ground. “Admit you still listen to it.”
“What? No, I don’t. I don’t.”
“Liar. You lie so hard. Show me your list of most-listened-to songs.”
“You will never see that. Ever—”
He wrestled the phone out of her pocket and ran, his laugh booming through the park when she sprinted after him and jumped on his back. “No password, Rocket? I could have been snooping while you slept this whole time?”
