Page 71 of Hiding in the Outfield

“Yeah?” I say, still staring curiously at the book.

“Would you rather talk about sexy things that happen in this?” He lifts the book. “Or have the sexy things happen to you?”

“To me,” I blurt, stepping forward. “Definitely to me.”

“Lose the clothes,” he orders.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

He bites his lip, and his lids drop low. Anticipation skitters down my spine.

He likes being in charge of me.

“Did you have something in mind for us tonight?” I ask him, my shirt disappearing somewhere behind me. Then I drop my pants and boxers in one go.

His gaze lasers in on my dick, and…he just stares.

I clear my throat, and his gaze snaps to mine.

His lips curl. “Sorry. You have a very pretty dick.”

Said dick jumps. Like it knows its owner is calling for him. Which is a strange thought, but I suppose right now it does belong to Frankie.

“We do whatever you want, Jackson. This is about you. What do you want to experience next? Or we can stick to what you already know.”

A tight ball forms in my chest and builds. I know what I want to try. Desperately.

He crooks his finger, and I crawl onto the bed. Crawl until I’m on hands and knees hovering over him.

“Gimme kiss, bello.” His softly murmured words whisper over my lips, sending a wave of goosebumps rising over my skin.

I obey. Of course I do. And I fall into it because his lips are soft and sultry and soothe something in my soul.

I eventually pull back, and he tugs gently on my bottom lip. “Say it.” His eyes search mine. “Say what you want.”

I swallow hard. “I want to taste you,” I say hoarsely. “So much it hurts.”

His grin turns wicked.

“But I’m nervous,” I rush out.

Something sparkles in those mahogany eyes, a flash of something light, there and gone in a blink, replaced by something dangerous.

“Kneel on the floor.”

I slip off the bed and sink to my knees.

He throws back the covers, and yes, yes, he is naked. I let out a shaky breath as he swings his legs carefully over the side of the bed. He slides a perfectly manicured foot up and down my thigh, and my skin twitches. God, even his feet are as smooth as silk. Everything about this man is perfect.

“So thick,” he murmurs.

He wraps a foot behind my thigh and tugs lightly. I scoot closer. My gaze is locked on his groin. Neatly trimmed dark pubes. Dick at half-mast. Stone-hard muscled thighs covered in a dusting of coarse dark hair. He has more hair than I do. Most of mine is gone on my thighs, especially on the inside from the chafing.

He gives himself a slow stroke, his length hardening before my eyes.

“Put it in your mouth, Jackson. I want you to experience what it’s like to feel a dick grow heavy on your tongue.”

Oh God.