Page 151 of Hot Streak

“Good?” Jackson asked, panting hard.

“Yes, yes, God, please, fuck me now,” Connor said in a sharp exhale, as Jackson waited only for the first affirmative before he was doing exactly that, with insistent thrusts that had him wailing and reaching for his own cock. So ready to finally fall into the orgasm that had been building for what felt like hours now.

He’d thought it was as good as it got, but then Jackson pushed him down on the bed, and really put his back into it, riding Connor hard and fast. Cock thrusting right against that spot that kept making his cock twitch and his brain see stars.

“You’re gonna come for me, just like that,” Jackson ordered. But his voice was unsteady now, sounding just as desperate as Connor felt, and he twisted his own cock insistently until he couldn’t help it any longer. He came, arching and pulsing, clenching around Jackson’s cock, making the man behind him groan.

Then Jackson moved out, flipped him over with one insistent movement, and a second later, hot stripes of come were falling across his chest.

Connor’s eyes fluttered open just in enough time to see Jackson working his cock through his own orgasm.

“Shit,” Jackson exhaled as he flopped down on the bed next to Connor.

“That was something else,” Connor agreed, his voice still gravelly.

A second later, Jackson turned to him, warm gaze skimming along his body. “You still worried that I wouldn’t find that sexy?”

Connor flushed. Maybe his anxiety had been silly. But it had been real. “No, but I did worry.”

“I know, and I’m hoping you won’t next time.”

“Maybe we’ll have to do it again, and maybe a third time, just to make sure,” Connor teased, and Jackson started to laugh.

“Maybe next time,” he said between chuckles, “it could be my turn.”

“You’d like that?”

“With you? Very, very much,” Jackson said.

Chapter 23

It was a beautiful night to play a baseball game.

The weather was surprisingly mild for September in Raleigh, the humidity receding to almost normal, and the sky lit up in swaths of midnight blue, purple and orange.

There was a whole stadium watching. A whole team.

But he only felt Connor’s eyes on him, from his spot in the bullpen with the other pitchers, as he waited on deck, warming up his swing and waiting for his turn at the history books.

Every single time he came up to bat he told himself it didn’t matter if he didn’t set the record. He’d tied it. And even if he hadn’t done that, it didn’t matter, in the scheme of things. He had a new career he was excited about, a new relationship to explore, and more love and support in his life than he’d ever expected.

But he still felt disappointed when at each and every at-bat, he stepped into the box, and then stepped out of it again.

Strikeout.

Fly ball.

Strikeout again.

Each time, a home run was elusive.

But this time, his fourth and likely final at-bat, was his last chance.

The Rogues’ starting pitcher had thrown lights out ball today, Charlie catching him, but unfortunately their opponent also had pitched well, and heading into the ninth inning, it was tied.

One to one.

Every time before this when he’d walked up to the plate, he’d been thinking of himself. Of the record.

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