She simply moans, then nods her head. She’s lost to the incoming orgasm that I intend to repeat several times tonight.
I hover over her, sucking her hard nipple in my mouth as I run my palm along her wet pussy, then stroke myself a few times to make my entry smooth. I guide myself to her entrance and push in slowly, teasing her with every inch of my cock until I’m in deeper than I ever have been.
“What do you think about my cock, Coach?” I say against her earlobe.
She shakes her head and holds my hips against her, as if never wanting me to pull out.
“Do you want to see what it can do?” I ask, moving my hips back, my slick length leaving her pussy entirely.
“Oh, my God,” she moans as I glide into her again.
“Is my technique . . . good?” I say, giving a final push that scoots her up along the mattress. She yelps, and I pull out again.
“More. I want more,” she begs.
This time, I thrust into her faster. I lower my body to hers, then roll us to our sides as I grab her thigh, holding her leg up to my hip.
“What do you think, Coach? Am I doing it right?”
I push into her at a steady pace, one hand holding her hip while my other wraps her hair around my fist, keeping our gazes locked. Colby’s lips part, and she pants with each thrust, my cock flexing inside of her the faster I thrust. She whimpers as my cockfills her with my hot cum, and her body goes limp the moment I pull out and roll to my back at her side.
“Fucking hell, Colby. This is a really nice surprise visit,” I say, out of breath and soaked in our sweat.
She giggles, uttering a soft, “Yeah,” before rolling her head to the side and reaching her hand to my face. Her fingers run along my jawline, her nails scratching the stubble. I will never grow tired of her looking at me like this. It’s not just the attraction, or the burning lust, though those are awfully fucking nice. More so, it’s the way she stares at me as if I’m someone important. Like I’m hers. And she feels lucky to have me. Little does she know it’s the other way around.
I kick the blanket from my legs, my body still hot, and Colby moves her hand to my chest, her fingers drawing along the indentations of my muscles.
“You seem out of breath,” she says, flitting her gaze up to mine again through her lashes. Her lip pulls into a devilish smirk. “I think maybe we should work on your conditioning.”
“Again?” I ask.
Her eyes haze as her lips part.
“Again.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
COLBY
One month later
I’ve come to realize that for as long as I work in this world, I will always be on the fringe of fitting in. And I’m okay with that.
Still, though . . . there are days that it’s hard. There is always going to be someone who thinks I don’t belong here. Thing is . . . that’s also baseball.
We’re entering the last weekend series before the All-Star break as a five hundred ball club. In a classroom, fifty percent is definitely failing. In baseball, that’s considered a fair position to be in. In Texas? They want to drag our skipper out into the desert and pelt him with cactus needles.
So, as much as I get questioned about being here, at least my name isn’t the first one showing up in the online stories as the person to blame for being merely fair, and not spectacular.
I’ve done my job well, though. At least as far as Adriel goes. And when Philly or New York make him an offer during the off season that Texas can’t match, I’ll quietly take my credit for pushing him to be the best version of himself.
“I felt tight that round. I’m not getting my full swing out,” he says as he steps behind the backstop after sending four pitches over the left field fence in his pre-game BP.
“I mean, the results are there. Is it possible you’re nervous about my dad coming to watch today?”
My father hasn’t talked to Adriel one-on-one since he left high school. It’s different for him than it is for Jayden. Their bond came first, before my dad and Jayden clicked. And I sense a genuine worry on Adriel’s part that he’s constantly disappointing my dad.
For a while, he was.
