Chapter Ten #2
He feeds a ball into the pitching machine. It shoots out, a white blur. I swing wild and miss it by a mile.
A few chuckles echo from the dugout. My face flushes hot.
“Don’t rush it,” Aiden says, unbothered. “Wait for it to break. Trust your hips.”
He feeds another ball. I dig my shoes into the turf, exhale, and focus. The ball spits out. I twist my hips, driving my weight forward, and swing.
Crack.
The vibration hums up my arms, a sweet, stinging sensation as the barrel connects perfectly. The ball rockets to the back of the netting, hitting the canvas with a loud thud.
“There we go!” Miller yells from the bench.
“Attaboy, Jax!” another player shouts, clapping his hands.
Aiden grins, feeding another ball. “Do it again.”
I do. I hit the next one, and the next. The guys on the team start hyping me up, cheering whenever I send a line drive into the back of the net.
I can’t stop grinning. Sweat drips down my temples, my muscles burning.
I feel a bright, sudden spark of joy light up in my chest—a spark I haven’t felt since my parents kicked me out.
When the session finally wraps up, the players head for the locker rooms. I stay behind, walking the length of the cage to help Aiden gather up the scattered baseballs. We toss them by the handful into a giant plastic bucket.
“You’ve got a decent swing,” Aiden says, tossing a ball up and catching it single-handed before dropping it in the bucket. “A little rusty, but the power’s there.”
“Thanks,” I say, wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my arm. “I had a good coach.”
Aiden pauses, looking over the netting at me. His brown eyes are dark, a playful smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? You think you could learn to take instructions from me on a regular basis?”
I suck in a breath. He’s talking about baseball, but we both know he’s talking about a lot more than that. I bite my bottom lip, holding his gaze as I toss my last baseball into the bucket.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice dropping a fraction. “I think I could.”
The concrete hallway leading down to the locker rooms echoes with the squeak of sneakers and the fading chatter of the team.
We hang back until the last of the guys filter out the glass double doors at the other end of the corridor, heading out to their cars.
It leaves the two of us alone in the quiet underground facility.
My muscles ache a little from those batting drills, a good kind of sore, the kind that makes my blood hum.
Aiden pushes through the swinging door into the locker room and dumps the canvas equipment bag in the corner.
He rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head.
His t-shirt rides up, flashing a sliver of tanned stomach.
He grabs the hem and pulls the shirt off, tossing it onto a wooden bench.
“You worked up a sweat out there,” he says, kicking his shoes off and unbuttoning his baseball pants.
He shoves them down his legs, stepping out of them and leaving them in a pile.
He stands there bare, unbothered and confident, pulling a fresh towel from a stack near the door.
He points a finger at me. “Jump in with me.”
I swallow hard, my eyes dropping down his torso to the dark trail of hair leading past his navel. “Yeah. Okay.”
I don’t hesitate. Pulling my own shirt over my head, I drop it onto the bench next to his gear.
I shuck my shorts and underwear, kicking my sneakers aside.
Walking around naked in a brightly lit locker room still makes my face flush a little, but Aiden doesn’t give me time to overthink it.
He turns and heads for the communal showers, and I follow him, my bare feet slapping against the damp tile.
The shower area is a wide, open space lined with stainless steel showerheads.
Aiden walks to the furthest corner and turns the dial on one of the nozzles.
Hot water blasts out, hitting the floor and sending a rush of steam rolling into the cool air.
The fog builds fast, clouding up the mirrors over the sinks and clinging to the tiled walls.
Aiden steps under the spray. He tips his head back, letting the water sluice over his face and run down the broad expanse of his chest. I step into the stall behind him, ducking under the stream. The water is scalding, and a long sigh escapes my lips as the heat soaks into my sore shoulders.
The space under the single showerhead is tight.
I step closer to him to stay in the warm water, bringing us chest to chest. Water sheets down between our bodies, pooling at our feet and swirling down the metal drain.
Aiden opens his eyes, wiping water from his face with the back of his hand.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and then he steps forward, closing the last fraction of space between us.
Our skin slicks together. His wet chest slides against mine, and lower down, my cock brushes against his. The sudden, startling contact sends heat down my spine.
Aiden’s eyes darken. He reaches out, wrapping one hand around the back of my neck. His thumb presses into the pulse jumping in my throat. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls me in and kisses me.
His mouth is wet and hot, demanding my attention.
I open my lips, letting his tongue sweep inside to taste me.
The water beats down on our heads, running over our faces and mixing with the kiss.
I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him closer, my fingers sliding over the slick, hard muscle of his back.
We get hard fast. Our erections press together, stiff and eager, trapped between our stomachs.
Aiden groans against my mouth. He walks me backward, backing me up until my spine hits the tiled wall of the shower.
The tile is freezing against my skin, sending a violent shiver through my body while Aiden’s furnace-hot chest pins me in place.
He pulls back from the kiss, breathing harsh and fast. His eyes burn into mine. He braces one hand flat against the tile beside my head, trapping me there. His other hand drops down, sliding over the wet curve of my ass.
“Coach,” I murmur, my voice catching on the word.
Aiden smirks, a wicked curve of his lips. He cups my cheek, his thumb dragging over my jaw, before his hand slides down to my ass again. His fingers trace the cleft, finding my hole and pressing against the entrance.
“Let’s see,” he murmurs, leaning in close. His wet hair brushes my forehead.
He pushes a finger inside me, using the running water and a dab of body wash from a pump on the wall to slick his skin. I gasp, my back arching as he slides in deep. He curls his finger, testing me, and I whine, my hands gripping his slippery shoulders.
Aiden’s mouth drops to my ear. He bites my earlobe, his breath hot against the wet shell of my ear. “You’re still open from last night,” he groans, his voice raspy and low. “Still ready for me.”
“Aiden,” I gasp, my hips jerking forward, seeking the pressure of his hand.
“Turn around,” he commands, his grip on my waist firm.
I obey, spinning around to face the wall. I brace my forearms flat against the wet tile, my forehead resting against the cool surface. Aiden steps up behind me, his chest flush against my back. He reaches around my hip, guiding his cock to my hole.
He pushes into me in one long, smooth glide.
A loud moan spills out of my throat, echoing off the empty locker room walls. The stretch is full and aching, filling me up so deep my knees buckle. Aiden catches my hips, holding me steady, holding me up as he bottoms out inside me.
He pulls back, his wet hips slapping against my ass, and drives back in. The sound is wet and loud over the rush of the showerhead. I squeeze my eyes shut, my jaw hanging open as the pleasure spikes through me.
Because I’m pressed against the wall, my cock gets trapped between my own stomach and the tile. Every time Aiden thrusts into me from behind, he shoves my body forward, dragging my hard cock up and down against the slick surface.
The rubbing is maddening. I can’t touch myself because both my hands are braced above my head to keep me from slipping on the wet floor, but the continuous slide of my erection against the wet tile is too much. My toes curl, my breathing fracturing into desperate pants.
Aiden sets a punishing pace, fucking me relentlessly. He doesn’t hold back. He drives his hips forward, using the leverage to pound into me, hitting my prostate dead on with every thrust.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls behind me. He drops his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the back of my neck, his teeth grazing the juncture of my shoulder. “You take cock so well now. Such a good boy.”
His praise shoots straight to my groin. My hips stutter, rolling back to meet his thrusts. The combination of him filling me up, stretching me out, and the slick, constant drag of the wall against my cock pushes me over the edge.
I don’t need to touch myself. I cry out, my voice breaking, and come violently.
My orgasm rips through me, hot and uncontrolled, spurting white splashes all over the shower wall and my stomach.
My legs turn to jelly. I sag against the tile, panting, riding out the wild waves of pleasure while the water washes my cum down the drain in milky streaks.
Aiden feels my hole clench tight around him. He groans deep, his grip bruising on my hip bones. He slams into me one final time, burying himself as deep as he can go, and finishes inside me. The hot rush of his cum floods my insides, spreading a deep, pooling warmth that makes my spine shiver.
He slumps forward, his chest heaving against my back, pinning me to the wall. We stay like that for a long minute, letting the hot water beat down on us while our breathing slows.
Finally, Aiden pulls out, slow and careful. I groan softly at the loss of pressure, leaning my side against the tile for support.