Page 13 of Secret Baby With My Brother's Best Friend

"Fuck!" I groaned, gasping and inching closer to my release. I stroked my dick faster, picturing Harper the entire time. My body stiffened, and I finally came, grabbing the napkin on the table and wiping off my cum. I threw my head back, breathing hard as I lay there for a few more minutes.

This was all her fault, she was messing me up badly, giving me a boner each time I saw her, and it was driving me insane. I had jerked off more than four times in the last 48 hours and who knows how many more times before the trip was over. I slid out of bed and went to take a bath, getting ready for today.

I heard the knock on the door some minutes later and answered. As expected, it was Carl. "Just give me a minute," I said before he could even speak, closing the door in his face. I returned to the room and applied my cologne before heading out to meet him.

"Where's Harper?" I asked the minute I stepped out of my room. Before Carl could answer, the door next to us opened, and Harper stepped out.

Harper was dressed in a pair of fitted jeans, caressing her hips and accentuating her curves. She wore a white long-sleeve fitted top that revealed a glimpse of her cleavage, paired with sleek black boots. With her hair styled in a chic ponytail. Her neck was laced with a diamond pendant necklace, and on her ears a pair of earrings to match. She wore a little makeup which gave her face more color. "Good morning," she mumbled, darting her eyes to me momentarily.

"Morning," Carl replied, glancing at his watch. "Let's get going," he said, and they walked ahead of me. I walked slowly, consciously maintaining the five feet between Harper and me while I watched her chat with Carl the entire walk to the parking lot.

When we arrived in the parking lot, Carl took his place in the driver's seat, and I settled into the passenger seat while Harper occupied the back seat on her own. Carl briefly stopped at an eatery to grab some food, and soon we were back on the road.

The journey to the field seemed never-ending, and I spent the entire time discreetly observing Harper through the rearview mirror and catching her each time she stole a glance at me. She stole too many glances, and it made me smile.

After what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived at the field an hour and a half later. Carl kindly carried all my equipment to the field. He had met one of the assistant coaches and was chatting with him just above the dugout. I had spotted some of my old team members on the field as well, and quickly ran over to briefly chat and say hello.

I took a moment to do some warm-up exercises, jogging around the field a few times under Carl's watchful eye. Meanwhile, Harper sat behind the pitcher's mound, observing me intently and jotting down notes while the photographer took photos of me as I exercised.

Carl had arranged for the assistant coach to designate one of the rookies and I to practice together. That was a beneficial setup and lasted for a couple of hours. The other team members had eventually left, and then Carl had to leave to attend to some further business, leaving Harper and me on the field. I continued practicing with the baseball machine for a couple more hours until evening approached. Despite being drenched in sweat and my arms feeling tired, I kept on hitting the balls relentlessly, each shot demanding my utmost focus.

As the last ball flew towards me, exhaustion tugged at my muscles, and my swing connected with nothing but the empty air. It was a sign that my body had reached its limit, and it was time to call it a day.

"That's a terrible swing," Harper commented out of the blue, walking up to me and smirking. It was the first thing she had said to me all day, and I was glad she was even speaking to me at all. "I wonder if I should add it to the feature I'm writing," she added.

I grinned and turned to her. The ponytail she had styled her hair earlier was gone, and her hair now cascaded down her shoulders, curling around her face. It gave her a cute and innocent look under the light, which was very appealing. I lowered the bat to the ground, resting it on the fence.

"I had so many wins, yet one loss is all you'll account for?" I quizzed. "That's a little disappointing. Don't you think?"

"I'm not your fan," she shrugged. "So? Are we done for the day?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Only if you want to give it a go, hater."

"I'll pass. Thanks," she declined.

I spun around and took off my shirt, dabbing the sweat off my body. "I'll go take a shower in the locker room. Don't go anywhere," I said, but Harper didn't respond. I turned. She was glaring at my body with those hungry eyes burning through me. "Harper?"

"Huh?" she quizzed, tearing her eyes from my body to meet my gaze. A blush crept up her cheek. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah. I was telling you not to go anywhere. I'm going to take a shower. I will be right back. Okay?"

"Okay."

When I returned to the court, Harper was swinging in the air while the balls were hitting everything aside, the bat in her grasp. She didn't hit a single ball, and it made me laugh. "Now, this is what I call terrible swings. How many balls did you hit?" I teased, walking across from her and turning off the baseball machine.

She rolled her eyes. "It's too fast."

"Is it?" I quizzed, turning the machine back on and adjusting the speed. "Okay, I just adjusted the speed. It should be fine now," I said, resisting the urge to laugh.

Harper stood, holding the bat at the ready. She had it all wrong, and it was such a funny sight. The ball shot at her at half its former speed, and Harper still couldn't hit a single ball.

I turned the machine off again, cracking up. "Any other excuse?" I asked, and she didn't respond. "Here, let me show you," I said and approached her. Thankfully, she didn't resist me teaching her this time. "You're holding the bat wrong. Grip it tightly and maintain a firm hold, don't let it be loose like that. Like this," I demonstrated, placing my hand on hers, allowing it to linger for a moment longer than necessary.

"Also, spread your stance a little wider so you're stable on the ground. Keep your eyes focused solely on the ball. Nothing else matters except the ball," I whispered, leaning closer to her ear. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I leaned in as if I were going to kiss her before continuing. "Concentrate on the ball, steady your arm, and then swing. Do you understand?"

"I think so," she replied, her voice slightly shaky.

I returned to the machine. "Are you ready?"

---