Page 52 of Pitcher Perfect
Misc. notes:Robbie spending night in Boston (practice). Borrowing my car.
“Hey.I’min there.” He couldn’t control the grin that spread his mouth. Their schedules were intertwined. “When did you write that?”
“You told me on the ride here, so I wrote it in when we arrived.”
“Cool. You’re still okay with my using your car?”
“Yes.”
“Great.” He jerked his chin at the tiny book. “I assume MOP stands for making out practice. How much time will we have?”
“It depends when you’re leaving to reach Boston.”
“Around four, I’d say.”
“Oooh. We might have to reschedule MOP.”
“No. We’re not rescheduling MOP. We’re MOP’ing.”
A corner of her mouth wiggled. Almost like she was pleased to know he wanted to make out with her. Did this girl own a fucking mirror, or what? Any man worth his salt would kill for a shot. “We’re only going to have about twenty minutes between getting back from rock climbing and you leaving for practice.”
Robbie scoffed. “I can make magic happen in half that time, Rocket.”
“Really? Maybe I should be callingyouRocket.”
“Nah, you’re going to be calling me Big Daddy later,” Robbie boasted, forgetting all about his erection and standing up while scratching his chest hair. At least, he forgot about it until Skylar’s eyes grew three times in size. “Shit.” He turned to face the opposite direction and glanced down to get an accurate picture of what she’d seen. Good God, he looked like he had a torpedo in his pants. “Sorry about that.”
“I-I...” She struggled for words. “When did it get like that?”
“I woke up like this.”
“And you were just carrying on a normal conversation with it?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s a skill we’re all required to learn during puberty, Skylar. These things have a mind of their own.”
“Well...” Was she breathing harder than before? “What are you planning to do about it?”
“Honestly?” He looked back at Skylar over his shoulder, inordinately pleased to find her attention locked on his ass. “Wait until you go out to pitch, then...”
Two beats of silence passed. “Then what?”
That whispered question had Robbie’s forehead wrinkling, his gaze seeking her out once again over his shoulder, his cock thickening that final, painful degree when she looked flushed and... interested? Excited? “You want details?”
Her nod was slight, but it was there.
Pulses were firing at the speed of light all over his body. Wrists, neck, chest. His dick had been hard so long without being attended to, his stomach was beginning to hurt from keeping the weight of his sex hoisted. From keeping the pressure locked inside, not letting it out. And so he gave in to the need, gritting his teeth and gripping himself through his sweatpants, heat prickling up his spine at the sound of her gasp.
“Details...” he muttered thickly, sweat beads beginning to pop up on his chest, upper lip. “I was going to lock your door, track down some tissue, lie back down. Spit on my palm a couple of times and... try and not grunt too loudly while I stroke one out.”
Her pupils dilated. “You grunt when you do it?”
“Yeah.” He raked the heel of his hand down to the thickened ridge, cupping his balls and jostling them lightly, before massaging back up to the tip. Ahhh, fuck. So good. Ten times better than usual because Skylar was in the room while he did it, her voice the soundtrack to his lust. “I think so. I’m not really focused on the sounds I’m making.”
“Oh.”
“Oh what?”
“I don’t know. When I watch... porn?” Her voice was slightly muffled, as if she’d covered her face. “That’s my favorite part. When the guy groans.”
