Page 44 of Scoring Position

Only one way to find out.

I tossmy phone into my duffel bag, pulling out my batting glove and fitting it over my hand. I’m at the practice facility for another hour. Then I’m meeting Lark back at my place for one last study session. The final exam will be posted to the student portal on Monday morning, and then we have until midnight on Sunday to turn it in. She’s right—I don’t reallyneedthe review, but I have plans for tonight that I think we’re both going to enjoy.

“You’re up, Mathers,” the hitting coach yells as I put my helmet on and walk into the netted area. I take a few practice swings, loosening my shoulders before getting into my stance and awaiting the pitch. He throws it, and I bring the bat around, connecting and sending a grounder between second and third base.

“You’re chopping down on your swing,” he says. “Angle upward next time.”

I nod, choking up on the bat and watching as he throws another one. This time, I follow his instructions, hitting the ball at a lower point. A loudcrackbreaks through the air as the bat makes contact, sending the pitch over the fence with plenty of distance to spare.

“Good. Again,” he says, and I repeat the action several times, each one cleaner than the last. We spend a while perfecting my technique, making sure I’m ready for the next series before I return to the locker room to shower and gather my things.

By the time I’m driving along the ocean on my way home, the sun is already setting. Water rolls toward the shore, eating up the sand for a moment before pulling away. I look out the windshield, enjoying the view and the excitement of having a beautiful girl waiting for me when I get back to my apartment. I’ve convinced Lark that it’s easier for me if she’s set up and ready to work when I walk in the door, but I’ll admit I have other reasons for giving her access to come and go.

After my grandma died, my life felt so empty. Although it was a bit of a trek, I visited her several times a week when I was in the minors and even got her to come to a few home games before she became too weak. But once she was gone, I was completely alone. Sure, I’d go out with the guys and dance with women, but at the end of the night, I’d walk into a dark house or hotel room and get into an empty bed. Even though I made the choices that got me there, it was still lonely as fuck.

Now, there are times when I find myself going well over the speed limit just to get home if I know Lark is there. And she never fucking disappoints. Whether we’re here in Daytona or on the road, I know that beautiful smile will be waiting to welcome me back as soon as I step through the door. I don’t care that we haven’t known each other that long or how many years apart we are in age—I know, without a doubt, that I want her forever.

“Baby?” I say, walking in and setting my keys in the decorative bowl on the entry table. “Are you here?” The lights are dim, and music filters through the speaker system, but she’s not curled up on the couch with her laptop like she normally is when I get home.

“Sweets, where are you?” I call out, making my way toward the bedroom, where I’m completely frozen by the sight in front of me as soon as I step inside.

“Welcome to class, Mr. Mathers.”

Fuck.

LARK

“Holy shit,” Ace chokes out as I sit on the edge of the bed, a devious smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. After he blew my mind with our last role-play, I wanted to do something extra special to celebrate him making it through his course. I did a little shopping for the perfect outfit to go along with tonight’s study session, and I feel sexy as hell. My blonde hair is pulled into a bun on top of my head with rogue strands framing my face, and plastic-framed glasses sit on my nose for the fullnaughty teachereffect. His eyes lock onto the black lace bra that pushes my tits up so they’re spilling out of the cups just the way he likes. Slowly dragging his gaze down my body, he stops at the indecently short plaid skirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, including the matching lace thong underneath. Black patent leather stilettos adorn my feet, and by the look on his face, he likes what he sees—a lot.

I rise, sauntering over to where he’s standing like a statue, barely breathing. Stopping in front of him, I drag a finger down his chest, watching his throat work as he swallows thickly. A mixture of nerves and excitement radiate from his expression, and I take a moment to remind him that he’s still in charge.

“Use your colors at any time,” I say quietly, and he nods in understanding. We’re both still experimenting to figure out what we like, so we need to communicate at all times to make it work.

“Good boy,” I reply. “Why don’t you have a seat on the bed, and we’ll get started?” He doesn’t hesitate, moving over and taking his spot at the end of the mattress as I open my textbook and stand in front of him.

“I’m going to quiz you on some of the material you’ve learned this semester. If you answer right, you’ll be rewarded. If you answer wrong, you’ll be punished. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rasps, and my core clenches in response. Normally, as a woman in my thirties, I cringe whenever someone calls me that. But coming from his lips in this situation?So fucking hot.

“Okay,” I reply. “First question. Where are most of the nerve endings inside the vagina located?”

He takes a minute to think, shaking his head several times as though he’s trying to clear it of all the impure thoughts I’m sure he’s having. I inwardly chuckle at the way he’s already struggling.

Shifting from one foot to the other, I put a hand on my hip and give him a stern look. “Come on, Ace,” I taunt. “You want a reward, don’t you? Answer the question.”

He furrows his brows, taking a chance. “The outer third of its length?”

I smile coyly. “That’s right.” He exhales a relieved breath as I step out of my shoes, pushing them aside with my foot before setting my book on the bed and straddling his lap. I take off my glasses, tossing them across the room to get them out of the way. His hands immediately go to my ass as I settle myself on his already semi-hard cock and lean in, licking across his lips. He opens for me, and I plunge my tongue inside, kissing the breath from him as he grinds me along his length. He moans into my mouth, clearly needing more, but I don’t give it—instead, I stand back on my feet and grab the textbook before stepping away.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters breathlessly, adjusting his erection while I pretend to act unaffected. Turning a few pages, I choose the next question.

“Where is pre-ejaculate fluid produced?” His brows pinch and he fidgets with the comforter while he thinks, but I can tell he’s unsure.

“Can you repeat the question?” he asks, attempting to buy more time. This is a tough one, so I show a little mercy, leaning down so my hand is on his thigh as I look straight into his deep blue eyes.

“That pre-cum you leak every time you think of fucking me—where does it come from?” I say slowly, biting my lip as he groans in pain. I know he’s fully hard now because the evidence of his arousal is tenting his sweatpants. I want nothing more than to climb on and fuck him until we both explode, but this is his role-play, and I won’t stop until I’m sure he gets everything he’s asked for and more.

He clears his throat, swallowing. “The prostate gland?”

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