Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots, #4)

by Tessa Bailey

“Details . . .” he muttered thickly, sweat beads beginning to pop up on his chest, upper lip. “I was going to lock your door, track down some tissue, lie back down. Spit on my palm a couple of times and . . . try and not grunt too loudly while I stroke one out.” Her pupils dilated. “You grunt when you do it?” “Yeah.” He raked the heel of his hand down to the thickened ridge, cupping his balls and jostling them lightly, before massaging back up to the tip. Ahhh, fuck. So good. Ten times better than usual because Skylar was in the room while he did it, her voice the soundtrack to his lust. “I think so. I’m not really focused on the sounds I’m making.” “Oh.” “Oh what?” “I don’t know. When I watch . . . porn?” Her voice was slightly muffled, as if she’d covered her face. “That’s my favorite part. When the guy groans.” Damn, he was learning some invaluable lessons about her this morning. A treasure trove of Skylar-isms that he would put to incredible use, if and when he was afforded the opportunity. “Why?” “I don’t know. I guess . . . the girl always seems to be faking it, but the guy . . . when he groans, he seems to be authentically enjoying himself. It’s hot.” Robbie’s chest was heaving like he’d just swum the Potomac. “You wouldn’t be fake moaning with me. I’d probably have to cover your mouth to keep you quiet.”