Page 65 of Studious
My dick throbs, close to bursting, and I think I might come without having touched myself, which would be embarrassing.
I watch as Danny’s hand moves faster and faster. Then he throws his head back and grunts, and it’s so fucking sexy I want to scream.
I almost do. Instead, I hastily reach under my own blanket and jack myself until I come all over my fingers.
We both sigh and then laugh.
And then I say, “I feel so much better. Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome, Alden.” He looks at me. An emotion I can’t name flickers in his eyes. But instead of saying anything more, he grabs a box of tissues and hands me a few. We both tidy up and toss the evidence into a small trash can in the corner.
He tilts his head. “Do you want me to give you privacy to change? Because truth? I want to see you.”
“That’s okay,” I whisper. We both hop off the tables, and before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for him. His naked warmth pressed up against mine ignites every nerve in my body. We’re all oiled up and relaxed, and I kiss him deep. I never want to leave this room, this moment.
But there’s a gentle knock on the door, so we break apart and get dressed, giving each other sheepish grins. With one last kiss, we’re on our way.
CHAPTER17
Danny
“GO DODGERS,” Alden cups his hand to his mouth and yells. “GO!”
I stare in amazement at my little nerd bookkeeper, who is indulging his wild baseball side. When he told me he liked baseball because of the statistics, I figured he’d be mild-mannered at the game.
Uh, no.
He quivered in excitement as we got closer and closer to Chavez Ravine. After going through security, he immediately got sidetracked by the team store, even though he came in a Tommy Lasorda jersey and a baseball cap, carrying a mitt.
He looks cute in a jersey.
When we got to our seats, we discovered mine was broken, so we talked to a service rep, and they ended up putting us right behind home plate.
Oh, man.
Now Alden won’t shut up. I sip my twenty-dollar can of beer while he lets out a stream of invective so foul, I’m about to remind him there are twelve-year-old children here.
But he’ssointo it.
“Fuck!” he screams, as the Giants’ slugger dongs one out of the park.
Then he looks at me, as if remembering I’m here. “Hi,” I say. “I’m Danny. Your date.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry.”
“I love it,” I say. “I love to see your passion.”
He nods vigorously, cracking open a peanut and letting the shell drop onto the concrete below our seats. “I just…”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
I like baseball fine—though these days I’m more of a basketball kind of guy—but watching anyone enjoy something they love is a thrill. Alden’s right there with the players, absorbed in the game. Every once in a while, he squeezes my hand, but in a stadium with fifty-two thousand other people, we’re discreet about PDA. Even in LA, better safe than sorry.
Still, his enthusiasm is charging up my libido. Because this isn’t the calm, quiet Alden from the office. He’s letting it all out. And if he can let it all out at a baseball game, then he can let it all out in bed.
I like my logic. Because I’m so attracted to this guy, I can’t stand it. From seeing him change clothes to kissing him, to practically dry humping him on the dance floor, to getting off while he lay next to me, naked beneath a sheet—I’m about to explode.
Fortunately for our seatmates, there are plenty of distractions to keep me from tackling him. Dodger Stadium is a riot of noise and images and the scents of nachos and beer. It’s like an old-school browser with all kinds of pop-ups and too much information all over the place. It’s hard to pay attention to what’s happening on the field when there are gold low riders bouncing on the DodgerVision screen to let the crowd play some trivia game.
