I lay down on the blanket and look up at Christian as he removes his shirt and tosses it aside. His chiseled abs glisten in the moonlight and I crave his touch and taste. I can’t wait to revel in his body. He looks down at me and I can tell his thoughts are the same as mine. I reach for the button of the shorts I am wearing but his hand stops me.
I look up at him and see him pulling at his own shorts. Before I can blink, they are pooled on the ground below him. His cock stands, erect and hard, waiting for my touch. I take in the beauty of him, his full form in front of me, the shadows creating little pockets of intrigue on his body that I want to explore, touch and taste. He walks closer to me and I sit up on my elbows. He kneels to one side and I know exactly what he is asking for, and am happy to oblige. I open my mouth to accept him and he thrusts forward.
I take as much of him into my mouth as I can, my lips clasping on his stiff, throbbing cock with enthusiasm. I can feel his hand on the back of my head, but instead of guiding me, he’s holding my hair back, allowing him to clearly see my face as I pleasure him. I revel in the attention, knowing how much he loves watching me worship him with my tongue. My lips slide across his delicate veins while I swirl my tongue around the head. Christian groans with pleasure above me. I look up and can see his piercing dark eyes silently demanding that I continue. My hand reaches up to stroke him as I move my lips further down his shaft, licking and sucking underneath. His moans grow louder, enough that I am sure we would be caught if anyone was even remotely near us. Christian doesn't seem to care at all, and moans louder. The sound sends shivers through me, and I can feel myself grow even wetter with desire.
Christian takes one of my hands and slowly pulls me into a standing position. I use the opportunity to lick his body as I stand, only stopping when his hands pull my face to his and we melt into a passionate kiss. Our tongues dance together as Christian reaches behind me to undo my top. I feel the strings fall loose and he reaches up and yanks it off, tossing it to the blanket on the ground. His mouth doesn't leave mine as his hands reach for my breasts. He leaves our kiss and drops to his knees before me. He takes one breast into his mouth and his tongue swirls around my nipple.
He moves his attention to the other breast now and his hand dips down my waist, heading for the warmth of my core. I reach for his hair and grab a handful of it. Christian continues to massage my nipple with his tongue, making them as tight as possible, as he drops my shorts and yanks on the strings of my bikini bottom. They open and the cool night air caresses the heat, but only for a moment. Christian begins moving his lips from my breast to my stomach as his hand traces my inner thigh. He pulls my leg up so that it rests on his shoulders and I can feel him move quickly, not hesitating for even a second, as he hungrily takes my pussy in his mouth.
I cry out in both surprise and pleasure as his tongue rolls through my slick folds and slides into me briefly before finding its way to my now aching clit. One hand grips my ass, forcing me into place while the other moves up my thigh. I feel his finger penetrate my tight slit and his tongue increases its speed at the same time. I marvel at how the feelings of pleasure are intensified as he holds me in place, one leg over his shoulder. I can’t move, not even if I wanted to. Not that I have any desire to do so. I can feel my orgasm coming. I tried to cover my mouth with my free hand, but Christian reached up and pulled it down before fucking me with his fingers once more. He wanted to hear me.
Knowing that he wants to hear me come sends me crashing into my orgasm, unable to control myself. I scream loudly, a whimpering pleasured sound that crashes and echoes in the waves. I shake uncontrollably but Christian holds himself in place, allowing me to ride the feeling before removing his mouth and standing. He bends down and pulls a foil wrapper from his shorts and tears it open. He has barely reached down with the condom before he pulls my leg back up to wrap around his waist. I lean back against the tallest rock and suddenly he is inside of me.
Christian thrusts forward, filling me completely and I gasp. The pleasure of my orgasm from earlier hasn't fully ended before I feel on the verge of another. He thrusts forward over and over again, deeper than before. Christian moans and whispers into my ear, his body taking control and ravaging me with a hunger that is evenly matched by my own. He lifts me by my ass until I am completely suspended between him and the rock. I know I am safe, but the danger of being caught only adds to the thrill as he continues to pound into me. He reaches his mouth down, taking my breast into his mouth as he rocks back and forth. I suck and nip on his neck, drawing grunts of pleasure from him. I can feel my body wrapping around him, clenching Christian, driving him closer to his own orgasm.
He releases my breast and crushes my mouth again while his pace quickens. I can tell he is close now, and one hand leaves my ass to massage my breast again. Faster now, he pumps forward, and he releases the kiss, resting his forehead on mine. I lose myself in his eyes and everything else fades from focus. Only his eyes and the rush of my impending orgasm. Just as the waves of my own pleasure crash around me, Christian lets out an animal-like roar and pushes as deeply into me as possible. I feel his cock throb as he grinds into me with his entire body, pressing me into the rock behind us. Slowly the throbbing dies down and he slides out of me, spent. I slide down to the blanket and he curls beside me. I tuck into his arm and rest my face on his chest, kissing it lightly as my body finishes vibrating with its release. I could sleep here, stay here, live here forever in this moment. I stare at the sky and the cloudless, star-filled night and wonder how things could stay this way.
It's an unexpected thought, and one I try to push away immediately. I remember how Christian acted earlier when we first talked about the festival. He seemed uncomfortable as if thinking about his family, and even his country for some reason, put him on edge. I hadn't meant to upset or offend him when I asked why he left home. His reaction to my questions, though, had been restrained, but obvious. There was something behind those dark eyes that reminded me of the lives both of us lead without the other. Our time together was halfway over already. He wasn't sharing his real thoughts with me, which meant he didn't want me to know about them. I respect that. As we cuddle on the blanket, I find myself brainstorming other ways to reassure and comfort him.
Chapter Eight
Piper
Two days later…
"So, what do I do with this again?" Christian asks, looking at the baseball glove in his hand as he walks beside me.
"It's for catching a stray ball if one comes our way during the game."
"Does that happen very often?"
"I mean, Boston is leading the league in homers this season, so yeah, actually, it kind of does. You want to be prepared if one ends up in our seats. It would ruin your day if it hits you, but if you catch one, you will have an awesome souvenir."
"Homers? Oh, home runs. Right. Lead the league?"
"Yeah, Baxton has twenty already and it's only June. He might break the record if he can stay healthy."
Christian nods in a way that I assume means he has a general idea of what I just said and why it would make sense. He seems excited, if confused by the rules I slowly explained and repeated to him during the car ride here. While at first, he wanted nothing less than to go back to Boston, my love of baseball eventually won him over, and I scored a pair of tickets last night. It has been years since I’ve actually been to a game, primarily because Boston is a few hours from Westover, and in the rare instances I’m home, I’m usually not in the mood to go into the city. I still follow the team though, even in the most remote areas of the world. In my organization, I am known for fanatically keeping up with the daily scores and games during baseball season. When I found out Christian had never been to a baseball game, I knew I had to include it in his education of Massachusetts.
We reach the ticket booth and I see Christian's head perk up as he looks around.
"What's that smell?"
"Ballpark food. It’s half the fun of going to a game."
"Pe
anuts and Cracker Jacks, right?"
I laugh. He at least has some frame of reference.
"Some, but that's not the star here. Here, the star is The Mega Dog."
A loud and booming laugh escapes Christians lips. A few people stop and look at him before turning back to their scorecards and smartphones, but he doesn't seem to care or notice. When he laughs, it always seems completely genuine. It’s like he laughs with everything in him. It's one of the things about him that draws me to him. I've always tried to not care what people think of me and live my life exactly as I want to. Christian, however, makes me look restrained.
"I have to eat something called a Mega Dog. What the hell is it?"
"No way I'm going to tell you and ruin the reveal," I say. "It's way better to just show you. It's all part of the experience."
As we enter the ballpark, I smell the grass and the dirt and suddenly feel like a kid again. Baseball games will always remind me of my father. His love of the Boston Red Sox was second to none. In fact, he would have gone out of his way to make sure he saw today's game against New York. I haven't seen these teams face off since he died, but somehow, knowing that I’ll have Christian beside me, makes me willing to face it. We begin to weave our way through the crowds of fans in red and white jerseys as we make our way closer to our bleacher seats.
"Why are we sitting all the way out here?" Christian asks. "What are those little rooms over there?"
I follow his gaze and scoff.
"Those are the VIP boxes," I say.
"Why aren't we in one of those?"
"You are so fucking spoiled. Who are you? When you watch baseball, you sit in the bleachers. That's just the way it is."
"I'm not sure if you noticed this, but there seem to be a lot of people who aren't sitting in the bleachers."
"Not true fans," I say.
"Seriously," he says as we sit down, "there are a fucking ton of people here. How many games are there a year again?" Christian asks as we wait for what seems like an endless parade of unattended children to stream past us. One glances his way and I can't help but laugh at the expression on his face.
"A hundred and sixty-two during the regular season, more if you make the playoffs."
"Good Lord, that is a lot of games. That's a barbaric pace for an athlete."
"Yeah, for everyone but starting pitchers, they only play once every five days," I say. I know it means nothing to him yet, but I still think it’s an important distinction. "The main issue my dad had with baseball was how babied the starting pitchers were. Especially in our league, where they don't even have to hit."
Christian glares at me.
"I have no idea what anything you just said means."
"You will."
"Fine, but if you ever come to Cambria, I'm boring the shit out of you with every historic site and obscure tradition I can possibly think of."
It was meant as a mere teasing threat, but what he says weighs heavily on my chest. It's the first time either of us has even mentioned the possibility of seeing other again after the end of his visit. I don't know how it makes me feel just yet, so I decide to move past the comment without acknowledging it.
"We have some time before the first pitch. Now that we've found our seats, do you want to grab some food?"
"Sure."
The bleachers are general admission, so there are no assigned seats, but I feel confident walking away from the position we chose. The people on either side of us will keep an eye on them for us. Bleacher bums look out for each other. That’s the way it is. We round the walkway behind the bleachers when I spot the Mega Dog stand. Unable to contain his excitement, Christian nearly jogs as he beelines to the stand. We reach the counter and thankfully the line is still fairly short.
"It's a hot dog?" Christian asks incredulously as he sees the menu pictures and the dancing neon dog sign.
"Not a hot dog, the Mega Dog," I say with a dramatic gesture that fails to impress Christian. "It's the only dog to eat for a true fan," I say. When he still doesn't look as excited as he had been, I sigh. "It's a hot dog and a sausage dog covered in red onion, chili, pulled pork and onion rings. And any other topping you want, I suppose, but I usually get them regular-style."
"That’s the regular? How the hell do you eat that much food?"
I shrug.
"That's why you get them before the game. Gives you all nine innings to finish it."
Christian finally laughs. He looks at the man behind the stand.
"Two Mega Dogs. Regular. And two beers."
"Look at you; acting like a real baseball fan," I say.
He grins as he leans down to kiss me, and I feel my body ignite.
* * *
We find our seats in the bleachers again just before the game begins. Christian looks relieved to sit down as he balances a Mega Dog, a beer, a foam finger, his glove, and a scorecard precariously in his hands. I might have gone slightly overboard.
"You've seriously never seen baseball?" I ask.
"Believe it or not, I have never seen a baseball game, either on television or in real life. It's not a thing in Cambria."
"I choose not to believe it. Baseball is a wonderful game, and everyone should love it. It's an absolute crime that you were in the States before and no one took you to a ballgame. What sports do you follow in Cambria?"
"Polo. Croquet. Synchronized water ballet."
I look at him, my mouth open, and Christian laughs.
"I live in Cambria, not fucking Narnia, Piper. We have other sports like you do here. Soccer. Tennis. We just don't happen to have baseball." He takes a sip of his beer. "I actually do like polo, though."
I scoff as I take my first bite of my Mega Dog.
"Spoiled fucking rich boy," I mutter.
"So, it's a bit like cricket, yeah? The diamond looks awfully familiar."
"Don't say that," I say. "Don't be that person."
"I'm kidding," he says. "I'm not a cricket fan, either."
"Too busy with water ballet?"
"Something like that."
I point to the field as the players take their places.
"See that guy? That's our pitcher, Lester. We bat in the bottom half the inning. So, Lester is our guy on the mound for today. He has a wicked slider, four-seamer, and curveball. He's also a lefty, so he gets a lot of pop-up outs against lefty-heavy teams like New York."
"I'm just going to go ahead and say I believe you."
"Shh, first pitch."
From the corner of my eye, I see Christian pick up his Mega Dog and spin it a few times, examining it from all angles.
"Since you apparently have rules for everything, do you know how I'm supposed to eat this thing?"
"There is actually a debate on that. Some people use a fork and knife to cut pieces off and eat them individually. Some eat from the top down, picking off the onion rings like an appetizer. Some people separate the bratwurst and the hot dog and eat each on their own. Me? I am a traditionalist like my dad. Pick it up, open wide, and eat it like a regular hot dog. It might be a little messy, but that's the point.”
"You'll have to demonstrate opening wide and taking it when we get back to the hotel later," he murmurs against my ear.
I feel a shiver of anticipation roll through me, and for the first time in my life, I hope it's a short game.
"Eat."
I want to tell him there's something else he should eat, but I'm afraid if I do, he'll fuck me right here on the bleachers.
Christian dives into his Mega Dog with a giant bite. I explode into laughter as I see chili splash across his face. He nods as he chews and swallows it, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Like that?" he asks.
"Just like that," I say, leaning in to kiss him.
As the game goes on, I continue to explain the rules to him, and by the fifth inning, it seems like he kind of has figured it out.
"So, if our guys hit one where we are sitting, that would score all three men on the bases, tying t
he game?"
"Yes, plus the guy hitting the ball. So, we would actually take the lead."
"If the other team were to hit it out here, can I just throw it back?"
"What?"
"What stops people from catching home run balls and tossing them back onto the field?"
"Security, for one. For another, they are highly collectible. And third, it doesn’t change that the home run happened. Even if you got the ball back to them, they can't use it again."
"That's a stupid rule."
"I get the feeling you might like things to go your way," I say sarcastically.
"Like I said before, I get what I want."
"Except the ability to change century-old rules."
"We'll see. So, if one comes our way, we just try to catch it," he says, holding his glove aloft as he sips on his beer.
"Yes. I don't think you need to sit there with your hand over your head, though. You'll notice if one of them is headed here."
He leans in toward me, and I feel his hot breath on the side of my neck. His hand slips under the back of my shirt and down into the waistband of my pants as I feel his fingers squeeze my ass.
"Don't tell me what to do, woman," he growls. "I might just toss you over my shoulder and carry you out of here."
My cheeks flush and my thighs grow warm. Before I can say anything, the older man sitting behind us returns from his concession stand run, and Christian hastily removes his hand from my pants.
"Have you ever caught a home run?" he asks casually as he sits up.
The memory hits me hard.
"When I was about eleven, I came out here with my dad for a game. I didn't actually catch a ball, but he caught one in his beer cup. They played the video clip on sports shows for a week."
Unexpected Daddies Page 80
