Triple Play - Cassie Cole Page 0,30

like it had in my hotel room all those weeks ago, the kiss just sort of happened. We locked eyes, shared an unspoken agreement, and drifted together until our lips connected. Once again I was reminded that Rafael was a very good kisser, and I sighed and melted into him. His long fingers traced the outline of my neck with just the right amount of strength. If a meteor had struck Texas at that very moment then I would have died happy.

I pulled away and gazed up into his dark eyes. “Goodnight, Rafa.”

“Goodnight, Natalie.”

My keys rattled as I searched for the lock, missing twice in my flushed emotion. Rafael started to walk away. The night was over.

But then it wasn’t.

“Hey,” he said, turning back. There was a soft smile on his lips. “Can I come in?”

12

Natalie

I turned to face Rafael. “What happened to keeping things professional?”

He cupped my cheek. “I don’t think I can do that, Natalie. Do you?”

I shook my head.

We kissed our way through the door and into my apartment, tossing aside articles of clothing as we went. There was no time to make it to the bedroom, so Rafael pushed me onto the couch and then buried his face in my pussy. His tongue was so long, and the things he could do with it? He made my toes curl until I wrapped my legs around his head and held his face against me while I came.

He lifted me into the air and carried me to the bedroom after that. Underneath the sheets we slipped, Rafael covering my body with his. A warm blanket of muscle. He sank between my legs gently, filling me with his cock. He held himself there, as deep as he could go, while kissing me tenderly.

While our first encounter had been fast and hard and frantic, this time was slower and more passionate. The difference between fucking and making love. We had all the time in the world. He held me in his arms and rocked his hips back and forth, while never taking his lips from mine. I wanted every inch of his skin touching mine. His arms around my back, his pecs against my breasts, his muscular legs warming the inside of my thighs. I couldn’t get enough of him.

We surrendered to each other’s bodies completely, under the sheets in a cocoon of warmth and safety. I lost track of time while focusing on his body against mine, on top of mine, inside of mine. Rafael’s muscles tensed at the point of climax and he groaned into my mouth, breath quickening, and I wrapped my arms around his wide back and let my own gentle orgasm join his as we came together.

Rafael refused to let go of me after. He held me tightly and planted soft kisses all over—on my lips, my cheeks, my neck. I closed my eyes and savored the perfect moment with this beautiful, sexy, athlete.

I was totally, completely, satisfied. Mentally and professionally satisfied from succeeding at my job that day. Emotionally satisfied from having a fantastic first date—and the knowledge that that’s what it was.

And of course, I was sexually satisfied from everything that had just happened.

We were spooning in bed, Rafael’s soft cock pressing against my bare ass and my back against his chest. He had an arm draped over me and was gently tracing figures on the bare skin of my neck, breast, and belly. Like a painter caressing paint all over a canvas.

I squeaked happily and said, “Is this a bad time to mention you’ve been traded to the Cubs?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he rumbled softly in my ear.

“It was my decision. I told Theo to trade you for two minor leaguers and a bucket of balls. Don’t worry—it’s a big bucket. We got our money’s worth.”

“So you’re saying I slept with the coach for nothing?”

Now it was my turn to make an offended noise. He vibrated with laughter and wrapped his arm around me, holding me tight against him.

“Hopefully I proved I’m good enough to keep in your dugout.”

“We’ll see,” I replied. “You’re going to have to put in a lot of work in my batting cage, but we might keep you on the roster.”

“I’m a pitcher. We don’t spend much time in the batting cage.”

“You’re not allowed to poke holes in my sex jokes.”

“Then you need to think of better sex jokes,” he teased. “Let’s see, what’s a good pitching metaphor…”

“Something about catching?” I suggested.

“Too easy. And overdone.” He snapped