Don’t You Dare

By the time we’re showering to clean ourselves off—which takes far longer than necessary because I can’t keep my damn hands to myself when Aspen is naked and within arms’ reach—it’s gotta be close to seven in the morning. He would’ve already been back from his run under normal circumstances, and I’d still be dead-ass asleep.

But this morning, and more importantly, last night? Nothing’s normal about it.

My entire body is at war with itself, both regretting the lack of sleep and saying I’ll sleep when I’m dead to ask for another round of sex.

I try not to let the latter get to my head, otherwise I know it’s sure to explode at the memory of him fucking up into me and his cock stretching me so perfectly and—

Shit.

I wrap my towel around my waist to hide my erection from sight, not needing Pen to call me a nympho after one time riding his cock. Which he would, and I can’t really say I’d blame him. But even as I calm my libido enough to start toweling off, I can already feel myself losing my second wind. Or maybe it’s my third. At this point, I can’t keep track.

All I know is I’m in desperate need of about ten hours of sleep to even have the most remote chance of being human today. And…I’ll also need an entire bottle of Tylenol, seeing as I’m ridiculously sore, not just from the sex, but from the games.

My hand reaches up to brush my fingers through my damp hair, and I wince when the movement causes a sharp pain on my side. Turning, I find the bruise imprinted on my ribs looking worse this morning than it did yesterday, the shades of black, blue, and purple becoming more pronounced against my skin. They don’t feel much better either, when I run my fingers over them softly.

Honestly, I feel like the team’s trainer was right when he said there was a chance one or two of them might be cracked. The pain is…brutal. But hell if I’m gonna mention it and be put on the injured reserve list for getting hit by a pitch. Not in this lifetime.

Aspen cuts the water and steps from the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. A frown mars his face when he catches my wince from dropping my arm back to my side, but at least he keeps his thoughts to himself.

Too bad they’re screaming loud enough that it doesn’t matter if he chooses not to verbalize them. I don’t have to know him as well as I do to tell he’s pissed. I’d be irritated to no end if he came home every weekend in the shape I do, covered in cuts and bruises, and I’m not nearly as protective as he is.

I meant it when I said it’s part of the game, though, and it’s the part he’s just gonna have to accept. Especially if baseball becomes a permanent part of my life as a career.

I’d told Mom the same damn thing on the phone yesterday when she called me after the game, worried sick about the hit I took.

My eyes track him as he dries off, taking in the expanses of skin that’ve quickly become my personal kryptonite.

“Keep looking at me like that and you’re gonna need another shower,” he murmurs softly as he moves to stand in front of the vanity. His gaze lifts, meeting mine through the mirror, and my stomach flutters with those stupid fucking butterflies.

“I love when you threaten me with a good time.”

The heat in his eyes is downright searing now, and what’s sleep again? I don’t know her anymore. I’m too busy being dick-drunk on Aspen Kohl.

“Don’t even think about it,” he mutters, as if reading my thoughts. “You need sleep, and I have class at eight.”

He’s right on both accounts. I also have class, though it’s not until one. At least I don’t have practice today, just a light day of weight training.

Pen slips by me out of the bathroom, but I grab his wrist.

“Skip with me instead,” I murmur, dragging him toward my room this time. “I’m exhausted, and I know you probably are too. Let’s catch some sleep, and then maybe get a late lunch.”

He looks like he’s debating it for a whole two seconds before a grin pops his dimple as his fingers lace with mine. My heart stutters in my chest.

“You are such a bad influence, Keene Waters.”

My smile is instant, and he lets me drag him all the way to my bed where we both drop our towels to the floor. “That might be true but, Aspen Kohl, you’re the biggest pushover I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll give it to you,” he says with a laugh as he climbs beneath the covers, completely naked.

I join him, settling my good side into him, and he wraps an arm around me. It’s protective and comforting all at once, and I burrow deeper against him. Legs tangle beneath the cool sheets, a juxtaposition with the intoxicating heat of his skin radiating against me.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. Especially when we’re like this. Just the two of us in our own little world where nothing else exists.

“You feel okay?” Pen asks, fingers dancing up and down my arm. Goosebumps break out over my skin at the soft caresses.

Nestling my cheek into his shoulder more, I murmur, “Yeah, I’m good.”

He pulls back slightly, his bullshit look written all over his face. “Why don’t I believe you?”

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I press them to his skin. “Hmm, maybe your mountainous pile of trust issues is to blame?”

His frown gets deeper. “Be real with me for five seconds, Kee. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. I promise, you didn’t hurt me. I’m mostly tired. Yeah, I’m sore too, but it’s mostly my legs. I might live half my life in a squatting position behind the plate, but it’s a completely different feeling when an eight-inch dick is being shoved up there while doing it.”

A crack forms in his grimace, and soon, a smile takes over instead. “God, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

Your idiot, are the words that almost slip past my naughty lips, but I manage to keep them in. Barely.

He settles back in against the pillow beside me. Fingers continue to dance over my skin, tracing a sensual path up and down my arm, every once in a while skimming over to the edge of my back. Just having him touch me like this, soft and sweet, is enough to make me melt.

His nose burrows into my hair, and I hear him give the faintest inhale through his nose. If I thought I was a damn puddle for him before, it’s got nothing on how I’m feeling right now.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, he murmurs, “But you…liked it? The sex, I mean?”

Part of me wants to laugh, because how the hell would he think I didn’t?

But when he doesn’t laugh or play it off, I realize—

“You’re being serious?”

His silence speaks louder than words, and it doesn’t sit right with me. I shift to lean up on my elbow, getting a better look at his face. I see the slightest amount of torment etched into a crease on his forehead, and he lets his eyes dart away by rolling his head to the side.

“Pen,” I murmur, cupping the side of his face and dragging his gaze back to mine. When he still tries to resist me, I do the only logical thing I can think of.

I crawl on his damn body like it’s my own personal jungle gym, straddling his hips the way I was only a few hours earlier. My muscles scream at me more than they did when I was riding his cock, and that delicious sore feeling radiating through my entire body tells me everything I need to know.

I loved every fucking second of him inside me. I just don’t get why he’d be thinking any differently.

Of course, I realize my mistake of doing this the second his dick starts to thicken beneath me. During this conversation, I’d somehow forgotten that we’re both naked.

“Get off me,” he mutters, a frown on his face. But then his eyes soften, and his hands start rubbing up and down my thighs. The heat from his palms sears my skin in a way that’s pure torture.

“Not until you quit being stubborn and actually hear what I have to say,” I counter.

Arching a brow, I silently wait for him to disagree or put up some kind of fight. Yet, like I figured, he doesn’t. Instead, two sapphire eyes roll, and a hand lifts off my thigh, sarcastically motioning for me to get on with it.

“I don’t know why you think I didn’t enjoy what we did last night, but I did. A helluva lot. Sure, I’m sore as shit from it, but, Pen…” I trail off, letting out something between a laugh and a scoff. “I can’t wait to do it again. And again and again after that. I’d hop on your dick again right now if I thought you—”

“Not a chance,” he warns, shoving me off him. “You need to rest, ya damn nympho.”

Yep, there it is.

“I’m a slut for your cock. Sue me.”

Something between a laugh and a snort escapes him, and he shakes his head. “A cock-slut? Really, Kee?”

I shrug. “If the shoe fits, I’ll wear it without complaint.”

This time he really does laugh, and the sweet cadence of it vibrates through my body and straight into the very marrow of my bones.

I’ll never get tired of hearing that sound.

“So now that we’ve got that covered,” I say, raising my brow, “where the hell did that come from?”

His tongue swipes out over his bottom lip, and damn if I’m not tempted to take it between my teeth right now. But this is more important. After all, he was the one who made the rule about us talking shit out if we were gonna hook-up. Being honest with each other about how we’re feeling was the most important thing.

I settle back into his side with my arm tossed over his stomach, even managing to keep my hands to myself when I’m greeted with the sight of his erection thickening beneath the sheets. A true miracle for me.

But when he looks away again, it causes a niggling worry in the back of my mind.

What if he didn’t like it, and that’s why—

“I…” He cuts into my thoughts before trailing off again. His expression is unreadable when he brings his gaze back to mine and searches my face. “I just don’t like the idea of doing something that will end up hurting you, Kee.”

Why I didn’t see this coming sooner, I’m not sure. I definitely should have, though, considering he’s mentioned this very fear to me multiple times, last night included.

“You could’ve spent hours prepping me, but I don’t think it would’ve mattered.” It’s the truth, and we both know it. It’s just whether or not he’ll accept it that’s a toss up, so I go for a lighter approach. “Dicks are a lot bigger than fingers, you know? Which is a good thing, if you think about it.”

Rolling his head a couple times against his pillow, he sighs. “You give me too much credit, sometimes.”

“I think I give you just enough, actually. It’s you who doesn’t.”

A yawn hits me out of nowhere, the exhaustion starting to take over.

Pen’s fingers move up to my head and start running through my hair. The slow, continuous sensation coaxes me closer to slumber with every pass through the strands. “Maybe. But I’d never be able to forgive myself if I ended up fucking up somehow and making it bad for you. Especially when I know how important this is to you. Figuring out”—he motions toward my junk with his free hand—“what he likes.”

My lips curve at the corners in a sleepy smile. “By now, we’ve come to a unanimous decision. We both like you. A fucking lot.”

He snorts. “Glad to hear it.”

“Good.” I trace over his abs with my fingers, letting the tip slide in the valleys of each toned muscle. “And you know, pain and pleasure come hand in hand a lot of the time. Some people get off on the pain.” I can feel him inhale to start making his rebuttal, so I quickly rush out the rest of my thoughts. “I’m not saying I’m one of those people who likes pain with sex. But that first moment, when it was mostly an uncomfortable burning sensation, didn’t take away from what was going on. At all. Sure, it wasn’t the best feeling ever, but once we started going at it, I was in heaven. I can’t even describe it.”

Some sort of groan rumbles in his chest, vibrating beneath my ear. “So what you’re telling me is I did hurt you.”

I laugh a little, because really? That’s what he’s getting from this?

“Everything you did felt good. Great, actually. I wouldn’t want to do it again if it didn’t.”

I glance up to find he’s gone back to silence. Fantastic.

Of course, not being one to just let things go, I give him a playful poke to his abs and smile up at him. “You don’t need to treat me like I’m glass, Pen. You’re not gonna break me. You should know that better than anyone.”

A long, slow sigh leaves him, and I feel him nestle his nose against me before pressing his lips to the side of my head. It’s a clear sign that this conversation is over, at least for now. Which is only proven when he murmurs softly into my hair.

“You’re not doing a very good job at getting some rest, Kee.”

Ah, yes. Deflection. His MO.

But I’m too damn tired to continue hashing this out now, so I do the only thing I can. I nuzzle my face against his skin some more and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear.