Page 27 of Moonshot

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” I growl into her ear before kissing her on the temple. Oh, what I’d give to lick her everywhere.

“You’re a bad, bad boy, Mr. York.”

You have no idea.

* * *

We’ve been watching the game for over an hour and having a blast. We took a short break to grab a brat and a beer for me and a soda and some sugary glazed pecans for her. It’s been a great night so far. Ava’s being a good sport about trying to keep up with everything I’m teaching her. It’s probably a bit much for a first big league game, but I want to give her examples so she might remember some of the terms.

“That last guy hit the ball and made it to third,” I say, pointing toward the base. “That’s called a three-bagger or a triple.”

“Got it. I feel like I can remember double plays and three-baggers,” Ava responds like a serious student of the game.

Suddenly, the ball cracks sharply against the bat, and the player swings it behind him as he darts in our direction, down the first base line.

“Wow, that was good.” Ava claps.

“Nah, that was a cookie. A cookie’s a pitch that’s easy to hit. I was a bad-ball hitter. It was why I was so good. Honestly, it’s probably why I earned my scholarship.”

“What’s a bad-ball hitter?”

“I hit a lot of balls that were thrown outside of the strike zone. But I paid for it. The constant strain on my shoulder is what eventually did me in.”

Ava reaches up to stroke my arm, and I can’t help but look into her clear, blue eyes. Bending down, I place a chaste kiss on her sweet lips. Thwack. Both of us simultaneously jerk our eyes to home plate, realizing we’ve probably missed a few plays, lost in each other. We manage to see the batter drop the bat and run to first.

“Now, there are two ducks on the pond.” I point to the players on first and second base. “They just need another good hit to bring them home.”

I feel her soft hand curve around my bicep and can no longer keep my hands to myself. Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pull Ava into me. The contrast of her platinum locks tumbling over the dark, black and red ink of my arm makes my dick twitch.Focus on the game, Mick.

“Ah.” I shake my head. “See how that pitch looked like it was thrown wide but then curved back in, and he missed it? That’s what they call a backdoor slider.”

I feel her body shake against me momentarily before I realize she’s giggling.

Turning my head toward her, chuckling, I ask, “What?”

“That sounded dirty,” she whispers.

My mouth drops open, stunned. “Ha, you dirty girl.” I nudge her with my elbow.Lord, I can’t let my mind even go there.

Thwaaack!

“Holy shit!” I blurt, instantly on my feet, my eyes trailing the ball’s trajectory as it travels high and long. All the Nationals fans are on their feet cheering excitedly. “Yessss!” I yell, clapping wildly. One, two, three players run across home plate.

“That was the prettiest home run I’ve ever seen,” Ava shouts above the crowd, clapping.

“Yeah, they call that a moonshot. It’s what every hitter prays for.”

The next player makes it to first, but the fans seem to settle down after the same runner is picked off in the following play.

“Ah, man. That’s too bad,” Ava mutters.

“He got caught napping.”

“Ah.” She giggles, lifting the sugary pecans wrapped in a paper cone up to her supple lips. I watch as she darts her tongue out to grab one, pulling it back into her mouth.

Fuck, there goes my dick again.She slowly chews before repeating the strangely erotic sight. I can’t help but picture her kneeling before me, holding me tight in her hands as she flicks the head of my swollen cock teasingly before swallowing me whole. “You’re killing me with that, Ava.”

Her head quickly rotates to face me, tongue still outstretched toward her awaiting treat. “What?”

---