Page 59 of Brought By the Storm

“Ha! Carrington said to the man who’s been doing all the cooking and cleaning since he arrived. And tomorrow, my company expects all employees returned to work since the area has its power back. So much for a life of leisure.”

I frowned a bit. “I don’t like to think about us going back to work.”

He frowned too. “Me either. I wish this could go on forever.”

I was thinking the same. “Perhaps you should rise and shower. Let’s make the most of our last day together.”

Eric’s lips upturned into a mischievous grin. “We’re already in bed. Want to start the day off with a bang?”

I shot him a smile. “You are insatiable. How can you still have fuel in the tank?”

He licked his upper lip. “Uh, I don’t know. Just much younger than you, I guess.”

I chuckled. “You little devil.” I pounced on him and started to tickle him, causing him to scream with laughter, trying to squirm away from my attacks.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry,” he screeched.

I ceased my torture, smirking at his shaking form. “There are consequences to naughtiness, Eric.”

His expression indicated he had no intention of behaving. “Consequences like being forced to suck your dick?” He licked his lips again, then looked down at my rising staff.

“Incorrigible,” I remarked.

Once he finished blessing me with sweet attention and letting me orgasm down his throat, he looked at me with big, brown puppy-dog eyes—my softening dick still wedged between his lips. I gasped. “How is it you look like such an angel, and yet you are so dirty at the same time?”

He let me fall from his mouth. “It’s a gift, I guess.”

I paused, rubbing the side of his face. “Hmm, that it is. Thank you for that lovely morning greeting.”

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Oh, it was my pleasure. Fellatio gagging is so much better than…lollygagging.”

I snickered. “You best get your butt into that shower before it ends up over my knee.”

Eric saluted, which made me laugh. Then he jumped off the bed and scampered away.

After we were both dressed, I spent the morning outside with Eric teaching me the rules of baseball. I had convinced him that I wanted to learn, and he started to warm to the idea. Before long, I was pitching the ball to him, proud of him for hitting it quite well. Of course, that meant me continuing to fetch the plastic toy wherever he knocked it. When he allowed me to take the bat, I wiggled my jean-clad ass whilst taking the batting position. That made him laugh, so I decided to do it every time he was ready to pitch me a ball. As Eric thought—maybe even feared—my natural athleticism did allow me to become quite proficient at batting. At first, he was surprised and complimentary, but he soon started to bemoan that I would be too good to play with him. I assured him that I would always want to play with him—baseball or otherwise.

“We’ve been out here for a couple of hours,” he announced, not realizing it had been that long.

“The time flew. I was having fun, indeed. I like this game,” I told him. “But I suppose the boys will be coming by soon and I need to check in back home.”

Eric nodded, somewhat disappointed. “Maybe we can play some more the next time you visit.”

I smiled—glad he wanted a next time. “I would like that. In fact, I may buy and ship some equipment to Yastarus so you and I can play there. There’s enough acreage at the residence to play the hardball version you spoke of. Would you like that?”

He nodded, turning his face a bit to hide how he was beaming at the idea. “Um, I’ll get the ball. You can just throw the bat by the porch. Mateo might want to play with me at some point.”

I felt a stab of jealousy, but nodded and placed the bat by the steps. “Eric, I’ll make that phone call now. It will be a short while, yes?”

“Okay,” he shouted back to me, as he had crossed the length of the yard to retrieve the ball I had hit. “I’ll just go into my studio while you’re checking in. I have some pictures to delete.”

“Good man,” I yelled back, relieved that he had remembered. I went into the house, deciding to take the call from Eric’s room so there would be no distractions.

Once I was connected to my office, I was told the vice president wished to speak with me. I was patched through. “Joseph,” I greeted. “I trust all is going well.”

“Mr. President, there is an issue,” he responded, ignoring my greeting, worrying me that the concern was significant. “I just ended a call with Stefan. Has he already told you? I assume he’s in a nearby room?” I was too embarrassed to tell the vice president that Stefan might still be cleaning up from being balls deep in another man across town.

“Uh, perhaps. He may be speaking with our host,” I lied.