“I am yours,” I whisper, and his eyes darken. Striding over to the arm of the sofa, he drops me on it. I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him down for a kiss and he obliges, slipping his tongue past my lips. I can taste myself on him and it’s intoxicating. Dean Anderson is my greatest high and I’m not sure I ever want to come back down.
He pulls back and watches as he presses inside of me, filling me to the hilt. I whimper, wrapping my legs around him. He wraps his arm around my back to brace me from falling over.
“So fucking tight,” he grits out, pumping in and out of me as I meet him thrust for thrust. “God baby, the way you fit my cock. Fuckin’ incredible.”
I moan in agreement because he’s right, it’s never felt this good with anyone else. Dean is the only person that’s ever brought me to orgasm and each time is better than the last. I grind myself down on his dick and he brings his thumb to my clit, pressing in on it and I come instantly, my head thrown back, legs still wrapped around his waist as his orgasm hits him, thrusting inside me once, twice, and stays rooted inside me on the third thrust, his cock spurting inside of me. I’m breathing heavy, trying to catch my breath as he slides out of me and helps me down off the arm of the couch.
“God baby, that was incredible.” Dean says, pulling me in for a quick kiss. We break apart and follow the trail of clothes to the front door, both of us dressing. I’m tying up my tennis shoe when there’s a loud honk outside. He glances at me and grins.
“Woop!” I holler and jump up, slapping Dean on the ass and throwing the door open. Game time.
Dean
“What the hell?” I ask, glancing at Whitley standing beside me in the driveway. I’m staring at the most obnoxious purple and gray school bus that I’ve ever laid eyes on. Take me out to the Ballgame is blaring from the speakers inside and the bass is thumping, rattling the windows. The door hisses open and Fred, the town cabbie, is seated inside. He flashes me a toothy grin before motioning us on board.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask Whit and she shakes her head, her ponytail swishing from side to side.
“Nope,” she says, emphasis on the p before she bounds up the steps in front of me. “Come on, sport!” She throws back over her shoulder.
“Fuck me,” I groan, trailing behind her and up the stairs. I turn towards the back of the bus just in time to see her hop on one of the three stripper poles - yes, three - and swing herself around it before dropping down in the seat next to Lex, who is seated next to Ford. He stands and offers me a beer, which I happily take.
“No better way to welcome you home, officially, than the Split Finger Hoochie Mamas tournament,” Ford says, and I spew beer out of my mouth, causing Jaxson to guffaw.
“Please tell me that’s not the name of it?” I ask and glance at Ford. He winces.
“Wish I could, man.”
“Where did that name come from?” I ask, and Jaxson laughs even louder. I narrow my eyes at him. “What the fuck is so funny?”
“Your ma named it!” Fred shouts from the front of the bus and I drop my head down.
“That sounds just like something Darla would fuckin’ do,” I say, and Ford slaps me on the back.
“Come on, I’ve got whiskey.” I follow him to the middle of the bus where everyone else is seated, tugging Whit from her spot, and then depositing her back on my lap. The door hisses shut and we’re off to an albeit rocky start, the bus sputtering as Fred grinds first gear before finally getting it. We all lurch forward as he takes off.
I drag my hand down Whit’s back and let it rest on her ass. Her sweet, round, virgin ass. My cock starts to grow hard as I think about taking her, and I press up so she can feel it. She never breaks her conversation with Avery, but her cheeks turn pink and I grin, knowing I’m affecting her.
The sex we had before we left was so fucking hot. I was three seconds away from telling her I’m head over heels in love with her when the bus honked, and she was out the door. Probably for the best. I don’t want the first time we say it to be after a rough and dirty fuck. She means more to me than that, even though that’s a bonus.
The bus careens around a turn coming to a stop at an actual bus stop and more people pile on, all dressed to play softball. I know pretty much everyone from before I left, but there are some new faces, and Whitley introduces me to the people I don’t know. I finish my beer and toss it in the trash can.
The song changes to Get Low by Flo Rida and Whit lets out a loud whoop and jumps off my lap, pulling Avery to her feet. Avery shoots a nervous glance at Jax, whether it’s because she’s head over heels for him or because he’s her boss, but he just grins and shakes his head. Pretty soon, her and Whit are grinding all over each other and we are careening into the parking lot of the baseball field.
It’s good to be home.
***
Dropping down onto the bench next to Whitley, I let out a pitiful groan. She pats my knee.
“You okay, honey?” She asks, and I rest my head on her shoulder, the liquor finally getting to me.
“You’re so pretty,” I slur, closing one eye, trying to only see one Fred up to bat instead of two, but it’s no use. Still two of him. Damn. She presses a kiss to my forehead before pushing me off her and standing, slipping her helmet on because she’s up to bat next. She bends over to grab her bat and I slap her on her ass. She narrows her eyes at me over her shoulder and I shoot her a sloppy grin that earns me an eye roll. There’s a commotion to my right but it’s just Jaxson, tripping over the bat bag, catching himself on the wall of the dug-out, and then using the bench to guide himself to me. He flops down and lets out a sigh.
“Lady trouble?” I ask. Him and Avery have basically been eye fucking each other all night and if someone doesn’t make a move, I might lock them both in the porta potty. Jax solemnly nods his head, staring longingly at Avery in the outfield.
“I’m so fucked,” he hiccups, clearly intoxicated too. I pat his knee consolingly.
“I know the feeling, bro.” Whitley, hearing our conversation as she practices her swings, snorts a little.