And finally, my Iron Man braces come off. At least that’s what my teammates call them. My shin guards and cup are two of the most important things I wear during a game. Miles has always joked that if they ever get damaged, I can always replace my dick with a bionic one. Said the girls would all want to hop on my superhuman cock.
I miss Farriston, my other best friend on the team. He left for a great deal in the minors, and to follow his girl two months ago. His presence is sorely missed on the team; he was our best hitter by far. But I miss his goofy jokes and the way he would razz Owen and Parker.
Removing the last of my pads and braces, I finally stand and stretch, feeling multiple pops and cracks as I go. Catchers don’t last long. Not only is my job physically draining, crouching and tensing for hours on end while a ball the size of a fist is hurled at me. But it’s a mental mind-fuck too. I am the shot-caller, the overseer. I patrol not only my guys and where they stand, how they play, but I have to assess the other team too. Read plays before the batters and runners even have their own minds made up. I am exhausted after each and every game we play.
“What was all that banging I heard coming from your room last night, Bellows?”
Owen and Parker enter the locker room and begin peeling out of their sweaty practice clothes down to their birthday suits. I envy them. They are so confident. I am still adjusting to my new frame. I have what some docs called body dysmorphia. And yeah, I googled that shit. I’ve been so big for so long that I still feel like that mentally. It’s going to take some time.
I flush at Owen’s question, which only gives me away more. I was an idiot this morning when I ran straight into Kelsey. No one had known about last night, but they sure do now.
It’s not that I don’t want my friends to know, but convincing Kelsey that this should be more than just a fuck-you-very-much situation is going to be tough. If everyone knows about it, it will be damn near impossible. I can just see Owen and Minka now; calling us lovebirds, giving us a couple’s name. Klintelsey. O’Bellows.
“He’s had a mile-wide grin on his face all day, so the ass he got must have been good,” Kyle Havis speaks up from across the locker room.
“Damn, Bellows landed the redheaded minx? I heard she gives great blow …”
Phil Dorset’s words cut off in his throat as I slam my fist into the locker in between us. Dorset is a sleazeball, always going too far. Sure, the guys on the team talk about sex. Some have even slept with the same girl, Some at the same time. But Phil always knows how to take a normal sexual conversation between teammates and turn it into a twisted perversion. And I’m not letting him talk about Kelsey that way.
“Not another word, Dorset. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about her again. I don’t want to hear her name coming from that sick, filthy mouth of yours,” I choke through my teeth.
Dorset is enough of a prick to poke out his chest, but I can see the fear in his eyes. Another perk of molding my body into a steel frame of muscles. It gets me a lot more respect.
He still hasn’t answered me. “Understood?”
Dorset gives a harsh laugh. “Whatever, man, I was just playing around.”
The rest of the team shuffles slowly back into action, removing their pads and braces and heading for the showers. After washing off and pulling on fresh basketball shorts and a green tee, I headed out to wait for Owen and Parker at the car. We all drive together to practice lately, as if we can feel our time together dwindling.
Soon Owen will be headed for the majors, some superstar pitcher on a top market team. Parker will do who the hell knows what, go into the majors, buy a secluded cabin and be a shut in? Whatever it is, it will be totally Parker.
And me? I don’t know. Sure, the majors sounds nice. But I can already feel the ache in my legs. The stiffness in them when I wake up in the morning. How many years do I really have left? And what other damage could I do?
I’ve never been particularly book smart, school isn’t my thing. So anything extremely intelligent or thought-provoking is out of the question. I just don’t know yet. And I am running out of time.
As my friends walk to my truck, I push the key into the rusty driver’s side lock and twist. The locks spring up with a groan.
“Why did we decide to take your old junker today?” Parker ribs me as they slide in.
“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of the poor kid why don’t you?” I smile a shit-eating grin at both of them.
It’s true. I didn’t grow up with much. Barely anything. I got into college on my God-given talent and am thankful. I’m not ashamed of where I come from, and while my friends like to bust my chops, I know they accept me for exactly who I am.
“So what’s really up with you and Kels?” Owen starts right back in on the line of questioning as I pull out of the sports complex parking lot that flanks the left side of campus.
“I have to say too. It’s weird. Seeing you with a chick. If you needed me to find you a bang buddy, you could have asked me to act as your wingman all these years.” Parker’s long, wiry body is stuffed in the back.
I stay silent, willing this subject to turn into anything else.
“You know, come to think of it … I’ve never actually seen you bring a chick home.” Owen mulls this thought over in his head.
Suddenly, Parker springs up, hitting his head on the roof of the car. “Wait a second. Wait a goddamn second. Don’t tell me it’s true!”
My heart starts beating double time. Because I know exactly what Parker has just figured out in his head.
“What?” Owen is all ears now.
“She took his V-card. Our little Clint here is a grown man.” The smirk Parker wears rivals the Cheshire cat. That prick.
I think Owen’s mouth is on the floor. “No! You were a virgin, man? Damn … I remember my first time. Allison, my high school girlfriend, in the basement at her parents’ house. I almost spilled my load in my boxers.”
“You’re not the only one …” I mutter before I can stop myself.
“I knew it! You celibate son of a bitch!” Parker is laughing his ass off in the back. I think my face is as red as a fire hydrant now.
Owen senses my discomfort. “Well, welcome to the club, buddy. How was it?”
I smile a bit. “Fucking awesome. Who knew something could feel that good? And head … why have I gone so long without that?”
I feel like a man finally being able to join in this conversation.
“Dude, it’s like pitching a perfect game in the World Series. No … it’s better than that.” Owen’s eyes go fuzzy, and I know he’s thinking about Minka naked.
“If someone told me I could have a twenty-four-hour blow job but at the end, I’d die, I might consider it.” Parker shakes his head solemnly in the back.
We all just nod for the rest of the ride home, respectively thinking about just how great blow jobs are.
It’s almost dark out when we pulled up at the house, and I can hear the low thump of music coming from inside.
“Who is having a party in our house? That we all live in and had no idea about?” Parker looked quizzically at us.
The three of us hunker up the stairs, all sore and tired from the brutal practice we just endured. Making the College World Series means Coach is lighting a fire under our asses. We aren’t going home losers this year.
When we get inside, the blaring hip-hop music is only coming from one corner of the house. Kelsey’s corner.
I wave the guys off, signaling that I’ll take care of the problem. As I get closer, I can make out the lyrics. “Drunk in loveee. We be all night! Loveee. Loveee. We be all night!”
Chuckling to myself on her choice of song, I knock on the door. I wait a few seconds, nothing. This time I bang my entire fist in an effort to rattle the door on its hinges. Still nothing.
“Roo …” I open her door, letting myself in, and stop dead at the sight in front of me.
Kelsey is in the middle of the room, her hair piled on the top of her head like
some fiery tornado, a glass filled to the brim with red wine in her hand. And she’s dancing like a mad woman.
She’s donned a white tank top that exposes the sides of her breasts, and a pair of entirely-too-large gray sweatpants that pool over her feet, making her look like a dwarf. She’s utterly adorable and fucking mouth-wateringly sexy.
At the creek of the door she turns, her naturally red lips splitting in a megawatt smile.
“Hi!”
I can tell from her dancing and the slight blush of her cheeks that she’s tipsy. It made her even cuter.
“Hi yourself. What’re you doing there?” I can’t help her infectious smile from spreading across my face too.
She shakes her hips wildly as the song changes to something faster. Pitbull maybe. But I was never good with music. “I had a long, hard day. Kick-ass, but fucking hard! So I’m dancing.”
Kelsey makes this more evident by raising the wineglass to her lips, taking a huge swig, and then raising it above her head and twirling in circles.
I drop my baseball bag on her floor and toe my sneakers off. Then I join her in the middle of her floor and begin to move.
She gives a happy shout and moves closer to me, joining her free hand with mine and swinging us both.
“I had my fingers up a zebra’s ass today. Well, technically, it was a whole fist!”
She announces this like it’s the most normal thing in the world while I pull quickly out of her grasp. Kelsey begins to giggle at my astonishment.
“Oh my God! Don’t worry I had gloves on. But I did have to juggle her placenta in there …”
“Kels, stop. I am going to throw up.”
She does that sexy little giggle again and raises the glass to her lips. As she swallows, she raises it to mine. I let her pour some into my mouth, watching her cinnamon eyes over the brim. I know the instant desire sparks in them, and I can feel myself harden in the meshy basketball shorts.
Reaching up, I hold the delicate stem in my fingers and pry it out of her hand. Setting it down on the desk, I begin to stalk toward her like she’s the meal and I am ravenous.
Kelsey’s eyes go saucer wide, a pink tinge marking her alabaster chest and cheeks. I walk her back without even touching her until her back hits the wall.
Time to show her she’s not dealing with a fumbling virgin anymore. It’s my time to act on all the things I’ve thought about doing to her. With her. This is where watching all that porn was going to come in handy.
8
Kelsey
Clint’s body is so enormous compared to mine that I have to fully tilt my head back to look up at him. And I have to tilt up because I physically cannot take my gaze off of his.
Those sexy aquamarines are now deeper than the darkest colored denim. He looks feral. And I couldn’t be more turned-on if I tried.
The wine is making me heady, making each sensation feel even better so that my usually sensitive clit is now throbbing like there’s a heartbeat emanating from it.
“Well, are you going to just stare at me, or are you going to fuck me?” I taunt him. I want to see what Clint is like between the sheets when I ruffle his feathers.
Not even a nanosecond passes before he crushes his lips onto mine, the mix of red wine and pure male is a delicious taste in my mouth. He runs his tongue along the inside of my mouth, stroking and lapping at the already raging fire between my legs. He’s slipped his hands into the large arm holes of my muscle tank, pinching and rolling my nipples.
Clint brushes the hard buds with the blunt tips of his fingers, sending shivers down my spine until I feel wetness coat my panties. He sticks his tongue in my mouth, kissing me with a roughness I haven’t experienced from him yet. At the same time, he pulls not so gently on my heated nipples until I feel the wire coiling tightly in my heat snap.
And with just him kissing me and kneading my hard buds, I’m coming. I’m so surprised I think I actually laugh as the orgasm rips through my body, leaving me weak-kneed and blissed out.
Clint levels his eyes, full of amusement and ego, to mine. “Did I just make you come?”
The pride in his voice makes me snort. “Don’t brag about it or anything. So you’re good with your hands. We knew this already, Mr. Catcher.” I lift my shirt up over my head before scampering over to the mattress on the floor. “But I want you to show me again how you use that thing in your pants.”
I begin to wiggle out of my sweatpants, a pair picked up from some ex-fling or another. Clint stands, immobile, as I get naked by myself. I let him watch for a minute.
“Are you going to stop drooling and come over here to do something about it?”
In a flash he’s pulling off his clothes, whipping them so hard that his shirt nearly knocks over the neon lava lamp I have perched on my dresser. I watch in delight as he fists himself in his hand when he’s finally naked.
His dick is really one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Just as long as it should be, but not overkill, and the perfect girth. It’s unmarked, no circumcision scar like some guys have. He’s already impossibly hard, and his tip is so red it’s almost purple, and I can’t fathom how it isn’t painful.
“Condoms?” Clint breaks me from my cock admiring spell.
“Top drawer of the desk.”
I admire his shapely buns as he turns and retrieves them. Clint has the nicest male ass I’ve ever seen. I want to do dirty, dirty things to that ass. But … maybe that will come later. If he lets me.
As his knees sink into the mattress, I reach for that gorgeous dick, but he swats my hand away.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
His demand, in that deep growl of a voice, sends a shiver of illicit thrill up my spine. I could get used to dominant Clint.
Doing as he says, I flip over and get on my hands and knees. I love this position, and can’t wait to show him all the benefits it provides. I hear the plastic snap as he rolls the condom all the way on, and then I feel his warm, giant frame shield over my own.
“I’ve always wanted to try this.” He leans over me until his front is flush to my back. And then I can feel him, there, pushing so good through my wet folds.
“Mmm …” We both sigh at the same time as he sinks into me.
Clint holds himself there, and I can feel his heart beating a wild rhythm against my back. I arch just enough to pull him in deeper, and he groans. I feel his hot breath on my ear as he begins to pull out and push back in at a slow and tantric pace.
“Oh my God!” I feel goose bumps explode on my skin when Clint leans even farther onto me and bites my earlobe, sending tingles scattering through my pores.
“So, you like that …” Clint grumbles as he picks up speed. I can feel us both getting frantic now, working our bodies so that they slap against each other at the perfect time. “What else do you like?”
I can barely breathe, much less tell him what I need. He’s giving it to me.
“Don’t stop.” Stars are beginning to implode in front of my eyes, and I groan loudly when he sits up on his knees and grabs my hips. His grip is not gentle, and I freakin’ love it.
“Come on, Kelsey,” Clint snarls. And then I am. Hot and fast and epicly.
“Fuck!” It’s a harsh shout that leaves Clint’s lips before he stills and I feel his whole body go lax.
Jesus. We damn near mauled each other. My body is spent after two orgasms, and yet I’m not pushing Clint out of my door. Usually, I’m wishing the guy would disappear into thin air before the condom even comes off. But oddly, it feels nice to still have his body wrapped around mine. What the hell is going on?
“We are getting good at this.” I laugh as we flopped down next to each other.
“Shit. Who knew a thing called doggy-style could be so fucking sexy.” Clint stares up at the ceiling, one hand on what I can only imagine is his rapidly beating heart, the other thrown over my thigh.
A loud pounding on the door startles both of us.
“If you two are done making a f
ucking porno in there, could you turn that goddamn shitty music down? Some of us are actually trying to relax,” Parker yells through the closed door.
It’s then I notice that my rap mix is still blaring through my speakers.
“I think that guy needs to get laid.” Clint snorts.
I can’t do anything but dissolve into a fit of giggles.
9
Clint
The next two weeks fly by in a blur.
Baseball. Practice. Scouting reports. Sex. Kelsey. Partying until we can’t take anymore.
Because after this week, we’re done. College is over. All of us are moving on, foregoing senior year. This championship is our last hurrah. We have the house until September, but after that? We are out in the real world. Adults. In essence … fucked.
I spend every moment I can with Kelsey. Fucking. Talking. Eating takeout. Watching hours upon hours of Netflix marathons.
And surprisingly, she hasn’t freaked yet. I haven’t brought up the fact that we are acting like boyfriend and girlfriend. That I come home almost every other night with her favorite wine and vegan pad thai. That more often than not, we cuddle and talk after we have fucking out of this world orgasms together. That when we go to parties or out to Sammy’s, we never leave each other’s side, eye fucking each other until we can’t take it anymore and have to get each other naked.
And fuck do we ever get each other naked in a lot of places. A bathroom at Travers’s house. In my car in the Sammy’s parking lot. In the woods against a tree at one of the summer frat parties. And finally, in the alleyway where everything first started.
Kelsey has taught me the standing position. Cowboy. Reverse cowboy. Road head. And she keeps talking about anal and something she calls “butt stuff.” Which is meant for me. I don’t think I am quite ready for that. But the rest of it? Shit. I have never felt so good in my life. And half of feeling so good is the fact that it is with her, the bossiest, craziest, sexiest most amazing girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
Over the Fence Box Set Page 48