Chapter 10
Bianca
All those years of teasing and I could have been feeling this. Maybe I knew this was what I wanted, to feel so full and filled. The semen that leaks from me as soon as Mr. Walker pulled free was a strange sensation, but now he seems more enthralled with me than ever.
We’re back in the stands at the baseball practice. His hand is once again between my thighs, but now he’s swirling his fingers through his own ejaculate as it drips from me. Mr. Walker keeps pulling his hand free and looking at the pink-tinged liquid before smiling over at me.
That wicked smile has me spreading my legs wider. Mr. Walker huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He leans closer.
“You keep up that teasing and I’ll be inside you again before this practice is over.”
My hips rock toward his touch of their own accord. Mr. Walker’s lips part in surprise. Two of his fingers thrust inside me. My eyelids flutter.
“Aren’t you sore?” he asks.
“A little. Wouldn’t stop me though.”
He closes his eyes on a groan.
Watching him come inside me was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Actually, it was more than that. It was the teasing. I teased him until he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t resist. I teased him until he fucked me so hard, even though it was my first time. I want that again. And again.
When his thumb rasps over my clit, I pull in a sharp breath. His gaze snaps to mine. My lips are parted as my hips start to rock into his touch, over and over.
“Already desperate for more,” he whispers. “There was never any universe in which I’d be able to resist you. I’m already hard again. If I could, I’d pull you onto my lap right now and thrust inside you.”
With a breathy moan, I reach back and grip the edge of the metal platform we’re seated on. Holding on tight, I lift myself slightly and thrust harder onto his fingers.
Mr. Walker’s nostrils flare as his gaze drops down to where his hand disappears beneath my dress. Arching my back a little, I tilt my hips down. This brings his thumb back to my clit, making me shudder.
I scoot forward a little on the seat until his fingers are even deeper inside me. I rock and rock and rock as people cheer on the baseball team. Everything around us feels muted, like background noise. All I can focus on is Mr. Walker’s hand as it moves against me, inside me.
Perspiration dots my forehead as I lift myself a little higher. My ass is no longer even touching the seat. All my weight is on my feet and my hands as I circle my hips and chase my orgasm.
The friction inside me builds as Mr. Walker spreads his fingers inside me. I’m thrusting my hips fast and hard in desperation. Luckily, the bench in front of us is full because otherwise, it would be very apparent what we’re doing.
My knees are in no way hiding where Mr. Walker’s hand is, like they did before he fucked me beneath the bleachers.
I don’t care about hiding. I care about keeping him inside me.
I care about coming. I care about making him as desperate as I am.
Desperate enough to fuck me hard and fast all over again.
When his fingers curve forward, my body stiffens. I feel pleasure so suddenly that I almost feel like I’m going to pee my pants. Or wet the bench since I’m not wearing pants. I’m thrusting. I’m lifting. I’m panting. My muscles are coiled tightly throughout my whole body.
I’m close. So close.
When I tighten my inner muscles, Mr. Walker groans quietly. He shifts in his seat, and I look down to see a definite tent in his shorts. When I lick my lips, that tent jumps in response. He wants my mouth on him again. I want that too. To show him, I lick my lips once more.
“That teasing mouth is going to be stuffed full soon,” he promises.
“Please,” I pant.
Mr. Walker leans close. Close enough to bite my earlobe and whisper, “Please, what?”
“My clit,” I whisper back.
There’s a loud crack. At first, I think it’s inside my head because that’s the moment Mr. Walker flicks his thumb over my clit. My body explodes into motion, rutting and clenching as pleasure floods my entire system.
My vision goes white and comes back hazy. My throat is a little sore. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m screaming. When I blink back to the present, still rocking myself onto Mr. Walker’s talented fingers, I realize that everyone in front of us is also on their feet, also screaming.
That loud crack must have been someone getting a good hit on the ball. Everyone is clapping and cheering. Combined, they’re loud enough to either drown me out or at least think I’m shouting with them, not because I just had the best orgasm of my life.