Page 98 of Hiding in the Outfield

But…he’s underestimating my strength.

I slide my left palm to cup his asscheeks, and satisfaction ripples through me. There’s something heady about the fact that I can practically palm his entire ass in one hand. His hands still, and he cocks his head the tiniest bit. I slide my other hand away, and his legs immediately tighten, arms flying around my neck.

“Nm-mm.” I shake my head. “Back against the wall.”

His arms loosen, but he doesn’t let go as he leans back again.

I scoop up some suds and coast my hand over his thigh, slow and encouraging. I lean forward and brush my lips over his. “Let go, Frank. Trust me. I’ve got you.”

He stills, and I’m not sure why, but then his arms fall away, and he gives in to me.

I smile reassuringly at him. “See, you’re light as a feather?” I bounce him lightly in my palm. “I bench at least double you.”

He rolls his eyes, but his dick jumping against my stomach gives him away for how hot he thinks that is.

“I should take insult to being called light as a feather. I work hard for this body, I hope you know.”

“I know you do.” I slide my hand up his torso and down his arm until I grip his wrist. I bring his hand to his chest, mine covering his. “It deserves to be worshipped, don’t you think?” I guide his hand over his pec, grazing his thumb over his nipple.

He bites his lip and nods slowly.

I slowly let go of his hand. “So worship it. Touch yourself.”

My hand falls to our dicks, curling my fingers around us. His legs tighten, but I don’t think it was from feeling like he’s falling this time.

His other hand joins the one on his chest, and he slides them lazily over his chest. His head falls back, eyes still on me. God, that neck, stretched back like that… I want to lean forward and kiss him, but it’ll have to wait. I’m enjoying the show too much—and my hand on our dicks.

His fingers skim feather-light over his pecs, and every time he passes over his nipples, his body gives a sexy little jerk. I’m loosely stroking us, just enough to maintain the wicked ache, but not enough to make it build.

“That’s it, babe,” I breathe. “I know how much you love your nipples being touched. Give them the attention they deserve.” I can’t look away from those swirling sudsy fingers.

A strangled groan rumbles from his throat. His fingers keep skimming just shy of his peaked nipples, his back arching as his body fights with his self-control. Teasing himself.

“God, they’re sexy.” My voice is husky, heated from the show he’s giving me. “Small dark discs that are perfect to suck on.”

I lick my lips. “You know one of my favorite things? Flicking my tongue right over the tip.” I graze my teeth over my tongue. It’s almost like I can feel the little peak tickling over it. “The way your skin shivers, the way you squirm.” I groan, my balls tightening just at the memory. “Makes my dick so hard.”

“Where in the fucking dirty talk did this filthy mouth of yours come from?” Frankie says between pants. His black lashes partially shield his glazed eyes, his tanned skin flushed darker over his cheeks.

He’s right. I’ve never dipped into dirty talk, but the words are effortless. Because all it is is talking about how much I love his body, what I love to do to his body, what I want him to do to it. And knowing it’s turning him on? Big. Fucking. Bonus.

“Stop teasing,” I order. “Pinch them. I know how much you like a bite of pain.”

A dark glint enters his eyes, and he circles his nipples. But doesn’t touch them. Disobedient. A thrill runs through me.

“You shouldn’t tease a dog, Frankie. He might bite.”

Frankie’s nostrils flare, and his hips jerk. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Jackie.”

I squeeze my fist and thrust into it a few times, then abruptly stop. Frankie squirms against me, but I hold firm and arch a brow. “Pinch them. Or my hand doesn’t move.”

His eyes flash fire at me. “Oh, someone’s confident now.”

I can see it—the war he’s having with himself. I may be bigger, but we both know Frankie’s the one who runs the show. He’s enjoying me taking charge, but there’s a part of him that wants to snatch it back. Sometimes I wonder about that…like maybe there’s more to how much he loves control than just sexual preference.

I’d love for him to trust me enough to hand that control over to me. So, I continue our little game and see where it leads.

I stare up at him, my lips teasing up at the corners. My hand slides up our dicks in a glacially slow glide. He watches, wary. I slip my hand off our dicks completely, then stroke back down.