“Holy shit! Look over here!” Chance yells, and I go see what all of the excitement is over. “Babe Ruth,” he says in awe.
“He started as a pitcher but became the greatest home run hitter of all time,” I repeat Nick’s words exactly.
Chance looks impressed and I smile inwardly. It makes me happy knowing that I make him proud.
“And here… look. Joe DiMaggio! He holds the longest consecutive hitting streak in MLB history,” he tells me.
“Fuck that, he was banging Marilyn Monroe,” I add smugly.
Chance laughs and my heart warms. Nick’s tips are working like a charm.
He then spits out an obscure name, trying to throw me a curve ball. Is he testing me? But I answer with facts that I remember reading on Wikipedia. Nick didn’t even mention that guy. When I finish, I see Chance raise an eyebrow in question. I know he is wondering how I knew who that guy was. Fortunately, I have a photographic memory; it comes in handy when trying to memorize a script.
As he drools over the rest of the memorabilia, I take the opportunity to watch him. I mean really look at him. He is so gorgeous in his low-slung jeans and Yankee Jersey. His hair is cut short again – military crew - but is sporting a five o’clock shadow. He has his Ray-Bans on covering his eyes and they make him look almost dangerous. A chill runs up my spine. We are all alone out here and I use that to my advantage. I stalk over to him with one thing on my mind. I need to taste his lips. As I get closer, Chance turns to talk to me and he sees. I mean really sees what I need. We both eat up the few feet left between us, our lips crashing into each other. It isn’t sweet and tender. It isn’t loving and gentle. It’s passionate and rough. It’s teeth mashing and dirty. It’s perfect. We pull apart, both breathless, and just in time. The tour guide walks in and lets us know that it’s time for our next stop.
We leave Monument Park and I am relieved that I don’t have to pretend like I know who these people are anymore. The tour guide then tells us that we are going to have the opportunity to meet some staff members – an owner, some coaches, and the general manager. I really have no interest in meeting these people but I can see the excitement on Chance’s face. I once again have this nagging need to impress him. We fall back a few steps from the guide and I lean in to whisper in his ear.
“Is this where we meet George Costanza?”
“Huh? You mean George Steinbrenner?” he asks and I don’t understand why he’s confused. He knows everything and anything there is to know about the damn Yankees.
“No, George Costanza. Doesn’t he work for the owner, George Steinbrenner?”
Chance smiles like the Cheshire cat but doesn’t correct me. And that’s how I lost all of my street cred.
Chance
Parker doesn’t know shit about the Yankees, but I love that he tried to memorize a bunch of useless facts for me. It makes me fall even more for him, which is really kind of freaking me out. I’ve never let anyone in, never gotten this close to anyone. Why him? Why now? I have no answers. I just know that I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. Maybe it’s time for me to let him in a little.
The game is already in the seventh inning and I think that Parker is having a good time. We stand up for our stretch, still laughing about the opening throw. I was so turned on at the pitcher’s mound seeing him squatting covering home plate. I couldn’t concentrate. I was so wrapped up in the fact that 50,000 fans were seeing my hard on that I completely flubbed my pitch. I should probably be embarrassed, but the lustful look on Parker’s face, knowing that he knew exactly what happened, made it worthwhile. This guy is going to be the death of me.
Parker points over to the bar in the back of our suite to let me know he is heading over there.
“I’m gonna go grab a beer. Want one?” he asks coolly, completely forgetting that I don’t drink.
“Nah, man, thanks. Just a fresh bottle of water. Please,” I respond casually.
Parker nods and smiles, probably just remembering that I don’t drink. “You ever gonna tell me why you only drink water?”
I take a deep breath. I guess now is as good a time as any. I was just telling myself that it was time to start opening up to him, anyway.
I look away, not wanting to see his reaction. It’s not something that I’m excited to share. “My dad was an alcoholic. I promised myself that I would never be like him. The closest I’ve ever been to tasting it is when I’m sucking it off your tongue.”
But his reaction is not something I ever expected. Parker raises his sunglasses to his head, and then takes a few steps back toward me, invading my personal space. We are surrounded by people and I get nervous all of a sudden. I scan my eyes around, reminding him that we are not alone. But at this moment, I don’t think he cares. He pulls off my sunglasses, grips my chin, and forces me to look him in the eyes.
“Thank you for sharing that with me, Babe.”
Babe? Oh holy hell, I think I just creamed myself. I can’t respond, a knot forming in my throat, so he continues.
“If you don’t want me to drink around you, I completely understand. All you have to do is ask.”
In love. That is what I am with this man. “Thank you, P. Just the fact that you are willing to do that for me means more than you could fathom, but I couldn’t ask that of you.”
Parker lets go of my chin and takes a step back. He offers me a beautiful smile, one I don’t think that I’ve ever really seen on him before. This one reaches his eyes, and they are smiling, too. He slides his shades back on and heads to the bar. I flop back onto my seat and take a few deep breaths. I can’t believe that I just shared that with him. And I’m even more stunned of his, albeit brief, show of affection. In public. Fuck me!
Parker returns about ten minutes later with two bottles of water, a bag of peanuts, and a box of cracker jacks. I raise an eyebrow.
“You took me out to a ball game. I brought you peanuts and Cracker Jacks.” He sings.
I let out a laugh and it feels so good. He doesn’t bring up my father and I am thankful. We share the peanuts and cracker jacks, and every time we reach into the bag at the same time, our fingers linger an extra few seconds longer than necessary.
I lean in to whisper in his ear, not wanting anyone around us to hear. “Two more innings and you’re all mine.”
Parker’s bag of peanuts on his lap shakes a little and knowing that his cock is that hard for me makes me groan. It’s gonna be a long few innings.
Parker
My first and last baseball game. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time, but that’s only because of who I was with. That was the longest three hours of my life. It doesn’t help that I was hard the entire time, either. Damn, I need to get my rocks off and soon.
We are back in the limo and were able to escape the screaming fans. They all knew we were there because of the opening pitch debacle. I’m not going to let him live that one down for a while. We also appeared on the “kiss cam” during the eighth inning. Chance and I decided to punk everyone and pretended to kiss. I put my hand over his mouth and pretended to make out with him, crawling onto his lap and making a big dramatic scene about it. The fans were hooting and hollering, finding it hysterical. It did nothing to help with the situation, though. We were both hotter than ever after rubbing all over each other.
So here we are in the limo, alone, with the exception of the driver of course, but the privacy shield is up. My thoughts are running wild and I can feel the sexual tension buzzing off Chance. He is wound tight as shit. He must be able to feel my eyes roaming all over him because his eyes suddenly become hooded and he is biting his lower lip. My eyes drift down to his cock and it is calling to me. Before my head has a chance to talk me out of it, I hit the floor between his legs, unbuttoning his jeans as quickly as humanly possible.
I get them opened and unzipped in record time, yanking hard on them. He lifts his ass to help me drag them down, his cock standing at attention. Freaking asshole has been commando all day. Damn, I forgot how big
he is. Chance lets out a snicker, presumably at me, which turns into a hard hiss though his teeth when my hand finally lands on his rock solid cock. I pump it slowly up and down when the realization hits me that I have no idea what I am doing.
As good of an actor as I am, I just can’t hide my anxiety. He strokes my hair and speaks adoringly. “Just do what you like done to yourself,” he instructs.
I continue to pump as I let his calming words settle over me. I can do that. I lean forward, close enough so that his cock is now inches from my mouth. My tongue takes a swipe at his engorged tip. It’s purple and angry, and I feel the need to lessen its burden.
“Fuuuuck!” he bellows, his back arching off the seat.
His pre-come coats my tongue and instead of being disgusted, it turns me on even that much more. I perch myself back up onto my knees so I have more leverage. With my hands gripping his thighs like they are my life line, I take his dick completely into my mouth until his head hits the back of my throat. Chance groans and grabs hard on to my wrists. I guess he likes what I’m doing.
My cock is now achingly hard, but I’m still a rookie, and the thought of multi-tasking throws me off my rhythm. I take one of my hands off his thigh and grip the base of his erection, pumping up and down, giving it a little twist as I get close to the top. My mouth is still working his head and he starts to fidget.
“I’m not going to last much longer, Babe,” he whimpers, and the sound of him calling me “Babe” fuels me.
I smile at him without removing his cock from my mouth and just keep pumping. My hand and my mouth are in perfect sync. Up, down, twist. Up, down, twist. Shit, I forgot about his balls! I remove my other hand from his thigh and grip his balls. I start gently, adding more pressure as I see his excitement rise. Up, down, twist, squeeze. Up, down, twist, squeeze. I can do this. Why the hell do women complain so much about this?
“Parker…Babe…please. I can’t hold back anymore. If you don’t want me to bust in your mouth, you need to back away,” he warns.
Hell to the no. If I’m going to do this, I’m going balls to the wall. I shake my head so that he knows that I’m not pulling back then up my game. I take my middle finger from the hand that’s squeezing his balls and spit on it, getting it nice and wet. I slide my hand back down to grip his balls, then glide my middle finger into his ass.
His legs begin to shake and hands come to grip my hair. His fingers lace through and he tugs. Hard. And I fucking like it.
“Oh shit…Oh fuck…Oh God,” he moans, “Please don’t stop!”
No way in hell would I stop now. I grip his shaft a little tighter and hollow out my cheeks to add more pressure to the suction. I squeeze his balls roughly and begin making a ‘come here’ motion with my middle finger, slipping back and forth against his prostate. That does the trick. Two pumps later and Chance explodes in my mouth, his come slipping down my throat like an exotic cocktail.
He loosens his grip on my hair and I fall back onto my ass, stretching out my legs. Chance’s body is slumped; his head is leaning back on the headrest, his breaths rapid and erratic. Neither of us says a word.
Moments later, he lifts his head, a serious look on his face. “You didn’t have to do that but I’m not complaining.”
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Was it okay?” I ask, now insecure.
Chance lets out a loud laugh then covers his face with his hands, rubbing it up and down. “Are you fucking kidding?” he asks, pulling up his pants and tucking in his semi-erect cock.
My eyes remain locked on his crotch. “Are you still hard? How is that even possible?” I ask him in wonder.
“Have you looked in the mirror? I just had the hottest guy on the planet suck me off,” he tells me in jest, but I know he means it. “And he is sitting in front of me with a tent in his pants and a look like he wants to eat me alive. Fuck, yeah, I am still hard. You’re lucky we are in this tiny space or your ass would be mine!”
Thank god for small miracles because if we were anywhere else, I just might let him.
Chapter Twelve
Parker
When I first asked Chance to come with me to my great-grandmother's 100th birthday party, it was because I was being selfish and I didn't want to deal with my family on my own. Now that we are on our way, my gut is rolling. I'm afraid that my family, especially my douchebag brother, will say something to completely embarrass me in front of Chance. Or even worse, chase him away. We've been together now for close to three months, and they have been great, but no one knows yet; well, except for Charlie.
Chance's hand lands on my thigh and I jump. He frowns in concern. "You okay?"
I blink at him. "Huh? Oh, yeah...I guess."
“Are we going in? We've been sitting here for about five minutes now," he says, watching me carefully.
I glance around, only then realizing that we are still sitting in my car, in the driveway, in front of my parents’ estate. Damn.
"Shit, sorry, I was lost in thought," I mutter and scrub my hands over my face.
"I noticed," he smirks.
"Listen, I'm just warning you now, my family...they aren't like me. They think they are better than everyone else, like their shit doesn’t stink, and they aren't afraid to let you know that."
"And that's different from you how?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Fucker," I sneer.
Chance laughs and reaches over to grab the back of my neck. He pulls me close so that he can place a tender kiss on my lips. It has become so natural now, I don’t even think twice about it.
"It'll be fine."
"There can be none of this either," I murmur against his lips.
He sighs and nods. "Alright."
"Thank you."
He kisses me one more time before we both get out of the car. We are both wearing suits, mine is dark gray while Chance's is navy blue. And damn does he look good in it. He has a white shirt and no tie. The top button of his shirt is undone and he looks utterly relaxed. He has a bit of scruff on his face that it about the same length as his dark hair. His lightly tanned skin looks fabulous against the navy blue and white of the suit and shirt.
As we reach the front door, it opens, revealing my parents’ butler, Milton. His face is forever stoic as he motions us in. He closes the door behind us.
"Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Steele," he greets us with a small bow.
"Hey, bud," I reply, knowing that he hates it when I'm not formal with him.
I see his left eye twitch, but that's the only indicator that I irritated him.
"The party is out back, surely you remember the way?" Milton says.
"But of course, Lovey," I say in my very best Mr. Howell voice.
Chance snickers as I turn to make my way through the mansion that my parents call a home. I get a quick thrill knowing that he got my Gilligan’s Island reference.
"You grew up here?" Chance asks a minute later.
I glance over at him to see him looking all around in awe.
"Sadly, yes," I mutter.
We approach the back of the mansion, which is a wall of windows that are also sliding glass doors that open, leaving the room inside kind of like an enclosed patio. Beyond that, there is an enormous outdoor patio and garden, and a gigantic swimming pool, complete with a slide, waterfall, bar with underwater stools, and a hot tub.
"Holy shit," Chance breathes.
I look over at him to find him scanning the area, his eyes wide and his mouth open. My top lip lifts in disgust all on its own. Not at Chance, but at my family. I find this extravagant lifestyle to be unnecessary and over the top. There are so many people out there that could use the money, if only they were willing to share. Which they are not. Fucking assholes.
There are at least two hundred people, all high society, milling around the tables inside a massive tent that has been set up. All of them dressed to out-do one another. I know my great-grandmother could give two shits about these people, but she just lets my my mother do w
hatever the hell she wants, it's not worth it to argue.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my little brother, the big time Hollywood actor," comes my brother's voice from my left.
I look over to see Archibald strolling toward me, a flute of champagne in one hand. He is the epitome of a rich spoiled brat. He's wearing white pants, a pale pink button down shirt, and tan boat shoes. His blonde hair is parted on the side and swept over, while his face is clean-shaven. He just radiates douchieness. Even though he's a good-looking guy, he's just an ugly person. And his wife, who is a fucking super model, is just as ugly of a person as he is. They are the perfect match.
"Archibald," I reply in greeting. He hates it when I use his whole name.
His jaw ticks as his blue eyes flash in annoyance. "Parker, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
"As many times as it takes for you to realize that I will always call you that," I offer. Dumb ass.
"Prick," he snarls before turning his attention to Chance. "Chance Steele, am I right?" he asks, holding out his hand.
Chance shakes it. "That's right."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Parker's older brother..."
"Archibald, got it," Chance says with a devilish smirk.
Archibald sneers before quickly catching himself and clearing his throat. "Yes, well, I prefer not to use my full given name. Please just call me Archie," he says, his voice tight.
I don't even bother to try and hide my smile just because I know it will piss off Archibald. My brother looks at me, a glint of revenge in his eyes. Shit, whatever is coming out of his mouth next is not going to be good.
"So word around town is that you two are playing a couple of faggots in your next movie," he says and takes a sip of his drink.
I close my eyes to try to rein in my temper.
"Yeah, and?" Chance replies, his tone asking, "Your point is?"
"Well, I'm sure you heard the rumors saying that you two are actually together off set, too. I'm sure that has to smart," Archie says with a hoity-toity chuckle.
Crossing The Line (A Taboo Love series Book 3) Page 11