Page 55 of Tagging Bases

Each flick of Harrison’s tongue sends waves of pleasure radiating through my core, building an unbearable tension that threatens to snap at any moment.

“Spread your legs,” he says. I comply immediately, shrieking when he slips a finger inside me.

As his finger wiggles around, searching for that elusive bundle of nerves, I faintly wonder if Charlie will be jealous when he finds out about what I’m getting up to with Harrison.

As if he knows I’m thinking too hard, Harrison suddenly adds a second finger and presses down hard on my prostate.

An ear-splitting scream rips from my chest, my eyes rolling back as I unleash a torrent of semen onto the bedsheets.

Before I can fully come down from the all-natural high, Harrison flips me onto my back, wraps my thick thighs around his head, and spends the rest of the night sucking the life out of me. As he promised he would.

Chapter 20

Big Strong Caveman

Harrison

The first raysof sunlight peek through the thin white curtains, allowing me to admire Daniel’s sleeping form in all its glory.

Cute isn’t usually my thing, but on him, it works. His face is smooshed adorably into the pillow. His hands rest on either side of his body, palms facing up, fingers twitching. I wonder if he’s dreaming about catching fly balls.

The thin, crisp cream-colored blanket has ridden down his back from a night of tossing and turning. The top of his ass crack is visible, immediately reminding me of how much I loved diving deep between his cheeks. I shift onto my side, contemplating on if I should wake him or not. I know guys dream of being woken up by a blowjob, but what about by a tossed salad? Is that a thing? I could make it one.

Ready with a plan of attack, I sit up, only to be interrupted from moving further when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reluctantly tear my gaze from Daniel’s delectable ass.

Mother

Where the hell are you?

“Good morning to you, too, Mother,” I mumble, tossing myphone to the floor. It’s seven-thirty in the morning. It’s way too early to deal with her bullshit. She’s probably pissed that I left without telling her.

Emily, her assistant, who had put together the entire shindig, kindly informed me that my mother had hired a photographer for a photo op. One that would be on the front page ofThe New Yorker, showing the elitist world what a loving family we are.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. If my parents can’t loveme, if they can only love what having a son will do for their social climbing, then I need to cut my losses.

Maybe in the next life, I’ll have a family who cares. Brothers who protect me from bullies and include me in sports. Sisters who gossip about boys with me and give fashion advice. Parents who want to hear about my successes and give me all the annoying hugs and kisses I could ever want.

I slink back down into the plush hotel bed and pull the sheet up to my chin. I turn on the TV, lowering the volume to the point that I need to turn on the closed captions to understand what’s being said.

I flip through the channels and stop on the local news. They’re running a segment on the Ashford U Green Wolves and their current winning streak. Footage from the first game of the season plays.

The camera zooms in on Daniel stepping up to the plate with his bat held high. His stance is wide and powerful, his tree-trunk thighs straining against the tight uniform pants.

On the screen, he waggles his bat menacingly as the pitcher winds up. The camera zooms out, giving me an unobstructed view of his strong calves encased in those sexy knee-high green socks. Fuck, I love that even his legs are beefy.

He’s powerful and in control as he stakes his claim in the batter’s box. The complete opposite of how he appears now, drooling on the Egyptian cotton pillowcase.

The pitch comes in fast, but Daniel’s ready. He swings hard, his entire body coiling and unleashing with explosive power. Theresounding crack of the bat echoes through the room despite the low volume.

He drops the bat and takes off running. His thunderous thighs pump furiously as he rounds first base.

“Look at him go,” the announcer marvels. “Hollingsworth is a force of nature out there.”

Damn right he is. I watch, captivated, as he makes the turn past second and heads for third. The throw comes in from the outfield, and Daniel hits the dirt, tucking into a slide. His wide foot plows into the base just ahead of the tag.

“And he’s safe!” the announcer cries.

Holy shit.A triple. The crowd goes wild as Daniel stands up, brushing the dust off that glorious rump. Not only did he nearly hit a home run, but two of his teammates were able to make it across home plate. God, he’s incredible.

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