Strike Out: Mustangs Baseball #6

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Authors: Roz Lee
hissed, digging his fingers into her scalp.
    Tricia hummed her agreement, earning another growled oath from his lips. She used her tongue to taste him, sweeping along his length then swirling around the bulbous head until he rewarded her with another drop of pre-cum. He smelled like he tasted, salty and pure male.
    Addicting. For a second she gave in to the sheer panic of thinking she could not live without tasting this man again. Then one of those missiles of sanity lodged in her brain.
    What am I doing?! She tried to pull away, but his big hands held her steady.
    “Fuck, no. Finish it, Tricia. Fucking finish it.”
    Her heartbeat was bruising her ribs, pounding with enough force she thought the protective bones might crack.
    Just this once. Never again. One time. For him. For me.
    She wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of his cock and braced her other against his hip. She’d only done this once before—in a car with a gearshift knob grinding into her tit and a steering wheel thumping against her skull. She’d been underage and stupid enough to believe the college senior when he’d said he cared about her. When she let his cum jettison onto his dress shirt, he’d called her a bitch and took her home.
    This was different. She wanted to take Royce into her mouth. His desire was nothing more than a physical one, but it was one she returned wholeheartedly. She craved his scent, his taste, his strength. And when he took control, holding her head steady while he fucked her mouth, she submitted to him. He clearly knew what he was doing where she knew next to nothing.
    He let go of her head with one hand long enough to force her fingers from his shaft, gently guiding them to his hip, silently encouraging her to hold on tight. She dug her nails into the rock-hard muscles as he drove his cock to the back of her throat.
    Anatomy lessons were her friend. She remembered to breathe through her nose and relax the soft palette to lessen the gag reflex. He was big, but she was taking nearly all of him by the time he tensed and let go of her head, giving her the option to swallow his impending release or not.
    There was no decision to make. She pulled his hips forward. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Royce’s fingers bit into her scalp. Muffled curses exploded in the fetid air. Liquid heat bathed her tongue then slid down her esophagus. She worked the muscles in her throat, swallowing and draining him at the same time.
    When his body relaxed a tiny fraction, telling her he was spent, she eased back on her heels. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but watched through her lashes as he righted his uniform, the wayward electrode still in need of repair.
    She said nothing.
    What could she say?
    She’d literally blown her research project. On the second day.
    “I’ve got to go. Do you want these back after the game?”
    He meant the sperm-like electrodes. She shook her head, unable to explain that she had different ones to try out each day. She wouldn’t be needing them now. He had every right to be angry. She’d used him. Not like he’d expected to be used, but in the most degrading manner and unprofessional way possible.
    “I’ll take them off myself, then. Meet me at the player gate after the game.”
    She remained on her knees long after he’d left, the door closing behind him with a decidedly final kerthunk .
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    He was so blind with rage he couldn’t see where he was going.
    He could still feel her lips on his dick, and damn, if he didn’t want to feel her hot, wet heat again. He should have stopped her. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been an ass, had pulled his pants down and let her fix the damn electrode instead of making her sidle up close so she had to put her hand down his uniform…. But, Christ Almighty, he’d wanted to feel her hands on him, wanted to provoke her.
    You did a damn fine job of it, asshole. If anyone had discovered

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