Soft Sounds of Pleasure (4 page)

He shook his head. "You guys were hardcore into this baseball stuff, weren't you?"

"You just wait," she retorted. "You become an expert on sports you don't care a lick about when your kid decides to play." She elbowed him in the rib. "Give it up, Jonah made a team, didn't he?"

He figured he had her dressed and halfway to the truck, so he gave in. "Yup, thanks to you. He's gonna play for Reggie Martin."

Lila drew up short at the corner of her house, staring at him in dismay. "Oh, my God no. Anybody but him."

Chapter Six

The converted house she directed him to had lurid matadors painted on black velvet lining the crappy gray-paneled walls, but the barbeque smelled fantastic. "What's wrong with Reggie?" he demanded, once they had ordered.

"Well, for one thing, it staggers me to realize that his twins must now be thirteen or fourteen, meaning there's dirt in the parking lot that's not as old as I am. And for another, Reggie might know baseball, but I don't like his ethics." She squeezed the lemon slice into her tea. "I didn't realize Jonah pitched. That presents a whole new set of potential issues, too." She frowned.

Colton snorted at her joke. "You're not old, Lila. I was thinking when I stood there in your garage that you haven't aged a bit in ten years. But what about Reggie's ethics?" He leaned forward over the wobbly table and captured her hand. "What issues?"

She ignored his compliment in favor of gnawing at her lip. "Pete used to run a lot of tournaments for Tucker, and Reggie coached in most of them. I've seen him lose all perspective," she finally said. "And when you're the grownup in charge, an attitude like that can send an ugly message to these kids that look up to a coach."

"What sort of ugly?" he persisted. "I never got to play sports, Dad made us all come straight to the garage after school."

"That winning is everything, that you don't have to respect authority, that sportsmanship isn't important." She leaned toward him, her eyes intent, as her fingers tightened on his. "Colton, do not hesitate to jerk Jonah off the field and out of his control if you think some line is being crossed. It's just a game, but the damage done can be very real."

He was dead serious when he spoke again. She was making this so easy. "Lila, I think I might need some more help. I was going to ask you if you knew someone who might help me learn to catch for him, but it sounds like I'm in over my head even more than I figured."

Lila snapped up the bait like a catfish going after sweet corn as the waitress slapped down squares of waxed paper decorated with their barbeque sandwiches and fries and topped off their tea glasses. "I can show anybody with decent hand-eye coordination how to catch. But what do you know about pitch counts, icing down, and injury prevention in general?"

He studied her serious expression, genuinely concerned now about his lack of knowledge, but folding it into his plan. "Nothing, I'm a blank slate. Can I sit at your feet this afternoon while you work on that chair and gather pearls of wisdom? I took the afternoon off, hoping you'd help me get whatever I need to learn to catch for Jonah. I saw a spray gun in your garage. I could spray your furniture in return for your help."

"That spray gun has never been out of the box. All my stuff is hand-rubbed," she said absently, dousing her fries with the malt vinegar from the little glass bottle with a spout in the center of the table. "But if you want, we can talk while I put a second coat on the chair—" she glanced at her watch "—in two hours. Leaving time for a little lesson in catching," she added, with a twinkle in her eye that made him wary, but still game.

The idiotic waitress brought separate checks, but he managed to grab them both.

All the way back to her house, he had visions of being pelted by baseballs, but when she led him through the walk-in door to the two-car garage he'd bet had never held a car and unearthed a set of shin guards from an old cedar chest in the corner, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least she planned to give him body armor. His cock noted the way her skirt tightened over her ass and reared its head, throbbing with approval.

"Uh, do you want to change while I get this stuff on?" he asked, figuring she didn't want to mess up her pretty outfit.

Instead of answering, she pointed to the track attached to the high ceiling of her garage that held the roll-up door. "Can you get your hands around that?" she asked.

"No problem," he said, glancing up in the direction she was looking. "Why?"

"Who's giving the lessons here, Colton?" she asked, kicking off her sandals and placing her sunglasses on a shelf. She balanced one foot on the edge of the table holding the chair frame she was refinishing, fastening the strap of one shin guard above her knee. He would swear she was eyeing his stiffy.

"You are," he replied promptly, wondering where the heck this was headed. Because if she meant to squat in that skirt, since she was putting on those shin guards…
oh, hell
.

"Well, safety first, then. You need to stretch out a bit. And lose the shirt, too."

He glanced up again, then back at her, wondering what she was up to. "Coach, I need a few more directions, maybe."

"First rule of sports, Colton. Always stretch out properly to avoid injuries. Lose the shirt and grab that rail."

She had both shin guards on now and he responded to her order, peeling his shirt off before reaching up to grab the thin track.

"While you stretch, I'll explain the basics, and give you a demonstration, so pay attention, Colton, but until I say, don't let go of that rail."

"Trust me, Coach, you have my complete attention," he vowed, staring at her with heat in his gaze. "I can promise that much," he added, knowing he was going to have to touch her.
What the hell was she up to?

* * * *

Lila stepped close to him, tentatively touching his upraised arms, loving the way his olive-toned skin felt to her hands as she caressed him. The hair on his muscular forearms was silky to the touch, so was the dark hair of his underarms. She inhaled, sure he didn't wear cologne, but the scent of his skin was pleasing to her. It gave her pleasure just to look at him. Simply touching him aroused her. His body was so hard and sculpted he took her breath. She had every intention of worshipping his beauty appropriately.

"Catching is just lining up two objects that were designed to fit together." Her hands slid over his shoulders and reached his chest. She raked her nails across the flat, coppery discs of his nipples. His growl prompted her to do it until they hardened. To tease him, she slowly licked her lips as her palms slid lower still, caressing the hills and valleys of each of the lovely pairs of bulges marching in tandem to the waistband of his jeans. Sweat began to appear on his chest, the gleam highlighting his strength.

Tracing the tattoo around his left side with her fingertips, she studied how the heavy black tribal barbed wire entwined with graceful tubular flowers of red and gold and star-shaped white ones. The white ink was stark against his bronzed skin. He sucked in a hissing breath as she memorized the tattoo the way a blind woman would. His stomach hollowed, revealing a tantalizing gap at the top of his jeans.

She went down on her knees, and looked up. "There's a projectile, and a receiver. Are you with me so far?"

"Got it." His eyes were mostly green now, she noticed.

Prying open the button at his waistband, still looking up, she pressed her cheek to the bulge beneath his zipper. "So, pretend my mouth is the glove, or receiver."

God, his smile was so sexy, she felt her channel clench and her juices rush to the soft tissues of her folds. "I think I get the picture." His voice was a low growl.

She lowered the zipper and took his jeans down, but not the underwear. Her fingertips caressed his muscular thighs through the cotton, as she inhaled the muskier scent of his groin. "So once the projectile makes contact with the glove, the most important thing is to apply pressure, or squeeze, so the object stays in the glove."

"I think I need a demonstration of that." The rasp in his voice flayed her nipples to hardness. The hunger on his face started an ache in her clit.

"That's in my game plan." She curled her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, smiling back at the sunny, grinning spheres covering the black cotton. The darkened head of his cock pushed above the elastic band.

Seeking
her
. She let the power of that knowledge wash over her.

Lila peeled his boxers down until they joined the jeans around his lightly furred thighs. Taut ridges of muscle upholstered his hip bones, leading her eye to what she sought. She stared at the wakening monster that was his cock, assessing his length, wondering if she could do the thing she most wanted to do, which was wrap her lips around the base of it, letting it slide down her throat. She knew how to do this. She didn't stop to question why she wanted to do it, maybe just to reward him for being the sort of person she'd thought he was.

"Remember, the pitcher is aiming for the glove, so it's just a matter of keeping your eye on the prize. Catch, squeeze. Try to get the projectile into the sweet spot." Maybe because their young waitress had assumed there was no way the two of them could possibly be
together
and had brought two checks.

She could do it
, she decided. Some devil in her head was determined to prove to him she'd been doing this since he'd been in grade school. In nearly two decades with one partner she'd learned one important thing. Technique was nice, but there was no substitute for enthusiasm. Sometimes, Lila, she'd been told, just go after it like you own it.

That was her plan. Just for a short time, she was going to own the monster. She wet her lips and looked up at him. "So the game plan here is that you're going to come down the back of my throat."

She didn't give that time to sink in before wrapping her lips around the sensitive head, swirling her tongue around the swollen glans just twice before working her way lower. Keeping the flat of her tongue moving in a sweeping pattern, she tried to relax, seeking that trancelike state where nothing existed except his scent, her mouth, and the throbbing monster. His head fell back as a groan tore from his chest.

Her long nipples hardened further at the taste of him, chafing inside her sensible cotton bra, but it added to her state of mind, enhancing her pleasure.

"Yes, baby, suck me. That's so good, Lila, fuck, baby, it's so good," he crooned.

His moans guided her, his involuntary jerks delighting her as she learned what he enjoyed. She felt her throat relax and pushed forward, one hand coming up simultaneously to massage his balls while she kept the other moving not only up and down, but around his pulsing shaft.

Once her lips found their goal, she held the position for as long as she could, glorying in the sounds her mouth ripped from him as her folds swelled and the sweet ache in her clit intensified.

She dropped her hand from his shaft, reaching for her own sex under the skirt, rubbing her clit through her briefs.

"Lila." He shouted her name as she swiped her tongue across the firm fruit drawn tight below his cock. And then she did it all over again, picking up speed, slowing down, guided by the involuntary movement of his hips as he tried to take control, pleased he still played along by keeping his hands on the overhead track.

He kept up the encouragement, and his hoarse words spurred her onward, but probably not the way he intended. She didn't want him talking. She wanted him incoherent. The small climaxes she gave herself made her moan, and she knew that was good for him too. She got so into the task that she found that other gear, the one allowing her to take most of his length on every downward stroke. Twisting her head from side to side so her tongue caressed as much of the soft skin stretched over his hardness as possible, Lila listened as he shouted out his approval and felt tears escape from under her tightly closed lids, but for a change, they weren't tears of sadness. She kept rubbing herself, barely teasing her clit with light touches, so turned on now every stroke made her whimper around him.

She felt his sac tighten, could tell by his movements and the appreciative sounds he was making he was close to the edge, and when he buried his hands in her hair and held her face to him, she swallowed, knowing it increased his pleasure. Aware from the way he held her to him that he was too lost in the ecstasy to think of her well-being for the moment, she didn't hold that against him, because she'd deliberately set out to get him to this mindless place. She gloried in her victory as tears stung her eyes. And climaxed hard with a moan as she felt his hot seed hit her throat.

His roar of pleasure was choked, hoarse. No words were formed; his pleasure so intense he was inarticulate.

Success.

She pulled back after a long moment, self-preservation kicking in. Wrapping her fist around his slick shaft, she slowly massaged him as he came down, licking at the last drop of cum playfully as it welled. Glanced up and found awareness returning to his eyes.

She let the now-tamed monster go and sat back on her heels, holding his gaze as she playfully swiped the back of her hand across her lips, smacking them loudly, and gave him a saucy wink.

He stared down at her, his chest heaving as he groped for the battered dresser beside him to lean on. "What was
that
?"

Her answer was involuntary. "Pete called it the Bad News Special."

It was the wrong thing to say. In an instant, everything changed. Pete might as well have been standing at the top of the step into the kitchen; she could almost feel him glaring at her. Her thoughtless response to Colton's question had summoned a ghost.

Lila reached back and unhooked the straps from the shin guards, her eyes fastened to her fingers. But for the life of her, she could not shut the fuck up. "Pete swore whenever I did it, I was going to tell him I'd wrecked a car or that Charlie needed braces or that we were being audited."

Ignoring his outstretched hand, she stood and moved away from him, toward the steps. Guilt tore at her, spoiling her pleasure and chasing her desire away. "I think I have a few booklets about injury prevention for young pitchers and what-not. I'll round them up while I'm upstairs changing into my work clothes. Get dressed and help yourself to some tea."

* * * *

Colton watched her nearly run from him with dismay. Half a minute earlier, he'd wanted to shout with laughter. Bad News Special indeed. She could've told him the world was ending and he'd have said 'wonderful', but then something had gone terribly wrong. He realized what he'd done. He hadn't meant to hold her to him that way. But he'd been nearly out of his mind at the time. Not that there was any excuse for what he'd done. Lila had always been hell on his self-control, but this wasn't funny.