Page 30 of The Sweet Spot

I just smile, trying to walk, hold her, and keep my boner in check at the same time.

I round the golf cart before putting her down, and she glares at me with confusion.

“What—” It’s only when she looks down and sees me adjusting my cock that she steps back.

“Oh, um, okay.” It’s all she gets out as she smooths down her catfish skirt and looks anywhere but at me.

Is she trying to hide a smile?

It certainly looks like it. She's happy. Actually happy, and I want to take it in, but I'm aware of how weird that would be while I’m still nursing an erection. So I look at my hand instead, studying my fingers and thinking about where they were just an hour ago. My boner is still there, wishing it was invited to the party at the tenth hole.

After a few minutes, she steps forward and rests her hand on my shoulder.

“You played well today,” she says, which I can only assume is a vain attempt at changing the subject. “The back nine was solid. Hopefully, we can play like that tomorrow.”

Yeah, that’s only gonna happen if—

“You seemed relaxed too.” I cut off my own thoughts, knowing full well how we can ensure we play like that.

“I wasn’t relaxed. I was focused.”

“Mhm, but it's a different kind of focused.” I hold her gaze, trying to drop a hint that it had everything to do with her coming undone on my fingers.

She looks at me for a second before turning her attention to the clubhouse, purposefully not picking up on the hint.

Oh, you want to play it like that?!

“Things shifted after the cart,” I add, removing any pretense of subtlety. “Everything started clicking into place.”

Like my fingers in your pussy.

Her lips purse, her cheeks flush, and instead of looking at me, she shakes her head vigorously.

“It was nothing,” she says with wavering conviction. “Just a way to release some pressure.” It sounds so rehearsed, I wonder if she's been practicing it in her head this entire time. She flits her hand in my direction. “We had tension, and it needed somewhere to go. It was a release valve, if you will.”

Release valve?

That's an unexpected way to describe what happened, but she's clearly in denial if that little squeal and moan she gave me just before she came is anything to go by.

“Sure, that's what it was,” I say, watching her expression. “But don't you think it's interesting that we weren't playing great until the cart? After that, everything worked... almost like magic.”

“Magic?” She starts adjusting the golf clubs in her bag to distract herself. She did the same thing earlier, thinking she’s subtle. She’s not.

“Yeah, you know, I think you relaxed because you knew I had something of yours on me."

She takes a deep breath, and I hold back my smile, knowing I’ve poked the bear.

"Helped me play a lot better knowing I could smell you.”

Whit whips around so fast her ponytail nearly knocks me out. “You can’t be serious?”

I shrug, taking a tiny step back to give myself some space. “I dunno. This just feels a lot like that fourteen-game winning streak I had back in my first big league season. Didn't wash my batting gloves once.” I pause and raise a brow. “Same principle.”

Her nose crinkles, her lip curls, and she looks at me the same way she did when I mentioned I'd shower before today. Disgust and slight intrigue, though she'd never admit it.

“That is—” She stops herself, shaking her head.

“I'm just saying, we've got another round tomorrow.”