“God, how awkward.” She laughs. “Let’s have sex, but first, sign on the dotted line to see my dick.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, not the finest moment for a professional baseball player, but we all had them. It’s something your agent talks to you about and forces you to adhere to. Some teams encourage them as well.”
“So crazy.” She sips her wine and says, “So any crazy fan stories you want to share?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, any girls a little too aggressive trying to get back up to your hotel room?”
“You know”—I study her for a second—“these are questions I’d never want to know about you. I wouldn’t want to think about you with someone else.”
“Well, that’s because I’ve only ever been with one other man.” She shrugs. “My stories are lame. Unless you consider giving Ansel a hand job in a Wendy’s parking lot, thrilling.”
“Yeah, think I’ll pass on the details of the Wendy’s hand job.”
“You sure? There’s a drive-in story attached to it and a free frosty.”
I hold up my hand. “Really, I’m good.”
“Fair enough.” She grows quiet for a second and then looks up at me through her lashes. “You know, what we did in St. Croix, I’m pretty sure that was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done, and we didn’t even . . . you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say through clenched teeth, thinking back to how amazing she felt up against me, riding my cock with a layer of fabric between us.
“You got me off multiple times and I haven’t even truly felt you, held you in my hand. How is that possible?”
“Trust me, Natalie, if you know what you’re doing as a guy, it’s very possible . . . as you experienced.”
“I guess so.” Her cheeks stain red and then she clears her throat, moving her fork around on her plate. Is she thinking what I’m thinking? The morning we left, her ass up in the air, my cock grinding unapologetically against her until we both came with a roar? Because I feel like I have that moment in my head on replay most of the time. “Are you thinking about when I rode you?” she asks, whispering now.
We’re seated at a faraway table, a very exclusive spot where no one can bother us. The rooftop is covered in heat lamps so even though we’re outside, enjoying the winter air of Chicago, it doesn’t feel like we’re outside from the fireplace in front of us, and the heat lamps above. It’s actually quite comfortable, but just in case she is cold, I offered her my jacket. She said maybe later she’ll take me up on my offer.
There isn’t another patron in sight, but it seems like Natalie is shy when it comes about actually voicing what she’s thinking, at least in public.
I run my tongue over my teeth and say, “No, I was thinking about your perfect, fuckable ass in my hands as I ground my dick on you.”
Her eyes turn lusty and she looks away, a smirk pulling at the corner of her maroon-stained lips.
“Oh, yes, that was . . . different too.” She picks up a piece of non-existent lint and asks, “How often do you think about it?”
“Often enough to make me uncomfortable.”
She chuckles. “Will there be a repeat tonight?”
“No,” I answer.
Her eyes spring up to mine in surprise. “No? So yesterday wasn’t a one-time thing? You’re really not going to have sex with me?”
“Nope.” I bring my wineglass to my mouth and sip. “I’m dating you, Natalie. Which means, we take it slow.”
“Jason did the same thing to Dottie, you know.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “He told her he wanted to date her right, take things slow. Pretty sure she won him over in a few shorts days.”
I take the last bite of my steak. “Jason has no willpower. Don’t forget the hotel room. I wanted you that first fucking night.”
“Yeah, but you snapped the minute I scraped a fingernail over your penis.”
I chuckle from the way she said penis. “Yeah, but you’ve shown me the goods, Natalie. And I’ve tasted them. Tasted you. That will hold me over until I can have you again.”
“Oh my God.” She laughs and tosses her napkin at me. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
I take her napkin and fold it up, setting it nicely on the table. “But did you notice, I didn’t hand out the goods, and you’re the one who keeps bringing up sex.” I quirk a brow at her. “See how that works?”
“Wow, Cory . . . just wow.” The smile I’m addicted to stretches across her face while she folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “Maybe you aren’t good at this dating thing.”
“Nah, I’m amazing at it.” I stare at our plates and ask, “Dessert?”
“Oh, we’re having dessert,” she says, her voice rising in challenge. “You’re paying and I’m getting all of the desserts.”
Fuck. I like her so goddamn much.
* * *
“The mousse, easily.”
I nod in agreement, licking my spoon, trying to get all the flavor off it. “It was the raspberry compote. That shit was really good.”
Natalie dips her finger in the bowl and swipes the side. “Really fucking good.” I watch her stick her finger in her mouth and lick it clean. She’s not making it sexual in any way, but it still doesn’t stop my dick from stirring from the sight of her sucking hard.
I cough into my hand and say, “Want to get another one?”
“Seriously?” she asks in surprise.
“Yeah, why the fuck not? We’re adults.”
She glances at the half-eaten cheesecake and says, “What about that?”
“I’ll take it home, have it as a late-night snack at some point. Come on, indulge with me.”
She pats her stomach and lets out a long sigh. “Fine, but if I have a food belly when I stand up, you’re going to have to accept that it’s on you, not me.”
“I’ll make sure to hold your food belly in my palm, as if it’s my own baby.”
I call the waitress over and order another mousse, telling her it was the best thing we tasted all night and we need more. She was very happy to oblige, which I’m sure she was since the dessert is thirty-two dollars a pop. Ridiculous, but worth it.
“You never told me about a crazy fangirl story.”
We scooted our chairs a little closer so we’re not directly across the table anymore, but more side by side. I made the excuse that I didn’t trust her around the dessert and accused her of swiping it before I could have a taste. But honestly, it’s because I wanted to touch her.
Reaching behind her chair, I drape my arm on the back and pick up a piece of her hair, twirling it in my finger. “I thought I got away with that conversation.”
“No way. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to bring it up again. Don’t be shy.” She pokes my leg. “Tell me.”
“Fine, but you asked for this.”
“I did.” She leans on the table, facing me, which pulls the strand of hair out of my finger. I settle for her shoulder. Her skin is so damn soft.
I think back to probably the most horrifying moment of my young career and can’t hold back my grimace, followed by a laugh.
“Oh, it’s good, I can tell.” She sets her hand on my thigh. “Entertain me.”
Drawing small circles on her shoulder, I say, “I was fresh from the minors, I think second year in with the Storm. I was still getting my feet wet and learning my way around the outside world and the attention I was getting. Like a douche, I was out at some club with some of the guys. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but I knew I wanted to hook up.”
“Classic.” She chuckles and rolls her eyes.
“There were these girls that kept trying to get VIP access into our suite that overlooked the club. Mind you, Baltimore wasn’t the place for clubbing, but there was one establishment downtown that we would go to. Good music, drinks, and they treated us like kings.”
“Because you’re the hometown heroes. Let me guess, you didn’t pay for much?”
“Not really. They were just happy to have us there. They would tweet about it whenever we showed up; it’s why there was a line of groupies always waiting outside to be let in. Bogsie was on the team at the time.”
“Brad Bogsie?”
Surprised she knows who I’m talking about, I nod. “Yeah.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her cheek. “Kind of hot you knew that.”
“Brother is a baseball player, so it’s in my blood to know those things.”
“Well, Bogsie was a huge player before he met his wife and settled down. I honestly am surprised he didn’t wear his dick down from how much action he chased. He was always in charge of vetting the girls before they came in, but one crazy one slipped by without us knowing. She had her eyes set on me and made it known.”
“Please tell me how,” Natalie says, far too amused by all of this.
“It started innocent. Sitting on my leg, arm around my shoulder, practically speaking with her breasts.”
“Ah yes, I do love a good nipple talk.”
I chuckle and kiss her again because fuck, she’s amazing. “We were just enjoying the music, she would lean in occasionally and nip at my neck, simple shit, you know, and then “In Da Club” came on and it was like Pavlov’s dog-type shit. She straightened in my arms, twitched a few times, and then whipped her top down so her tits were smacking my face.”
“Wait, what?” Natalie laughs out loud. “She slapped you with her boobs?”
“Straight-up lifted her tit and slapped my cheek. I was so fucking caught off guard, I didn’t know what to do. Meanwhile, Bogsie is on the other side, watching her lift her breast to my face, attempting to give me a black eye and he kept encouraging her. Hit him again, hit him again, he called.” Natalie laughs so loud, she draws attention from another table. “Encouraged from the chants, she straddled my lap, lifted up on her knees, gripped my shoulders and whipped her chest so hard that the pillows of her breast felt like a goddamn mallet cutting across my cheek.”
“Oh, this is too good.” Natalie wipes under her eye.
“I could barely see as whack after whack took over. It was hard to breathe, hard to gain control. I was being heavily motorboated to death. Her nipples were like razors, slicing at my face and the sheer power behind this woman’s ‘shimmy’ could have taken down any Navy SEAL.”
Natalie’s head falls back as she laughs, and I take in the long length of her neck. She has no idea how hot she looks right now.
“So you got a black eye?” she finally asks.
“Oh, I’m not done.”
“There’s more?” Her eyes nearly fly out of her head. “What else could she have done to you?”
“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.
If I’m honest, the first time I introduced myself to him at The Lineup fundraiser, I knew there was something special about him, and it wasn’t his ability to annihilate a ball with a bat. It’s his personality. He’
s a family man, a kind brother, a thoughtful friend, just a true joy to be around, because his laugh and his smile make you happy. I crushed on him that day and as time went by, every time I ran into him, that crush grew.
I tried to deny it, I tried to convince myself I wasn’t good enough, but he wouldn’t let me see it that way. Instead he makes me feel beautiful and worthy of love.
Worthy of him.
I slide my hand up his chest, to his neck as I part my lips, letting him slip his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like wine and raspberry compote, and lust. It’s dizzying, especially when his hand keeps inching higher and higher up my thigh.
I feel like a teenager, making out with my guy in the car, just waiting to be busted, but luckily, Cory’s windows are tinted so you can’t see anything, which makes our make-out session that much more intense.
Groaning into my mouth, his tongue glides against mine and then he brings his mouth to my jaw, the hand that was on my thigh, sliding up my stomach now to my breast. I gasp into his mouth when he squeezes, surprised but also excited that he’s not keeping this completely PG.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, landing kisses down my neck and then back up. “Everything about you, your heart, your smile, your mind . . .”
Chills scatter over my limbs, causing me to shiver in his grasp as he continues to massage my breast, my nipple poking past my bra so he can play with it, swiping it back and forth.
God, the way he makes me feel, like I’m about to explode with need, as if with every kiss, it builds and builds and builds inside me, waiting to be sent off into a fury of pleasure.
“Your lips are so soft,” he says, moving his mouth over mine again.
The feeling inside me, this need for this man, it’s about to burst at the seams. If I don’t exit out of this vehicle soon, I might just hop over the console and straddle him. But, God, the feel of him under my palm, his thick pecs, bunching and twitching beneath my touch. I lower my hand to his stomach where he sucks in a sharp breath, his abs rolling, contracting. His fingers pluck at my nipple, which sends waves of hot lust between my legs. I shift as I start to throb for him, needing more. So much more.
The Trade Page 25
