forty-one
Vivian
When he kissed me, it was as if he forgot himself for a minute, and I was no better. We were both rudderless in each other. He put his hands between my legs, four fingers flat on my crotch. The fabric of the sweatpants didn’t stand a chance against him, yet it was too much of a barrier.
I reached for his dick, groaning when I found the shape of it.
He pulled back, panting. “Fuck, woman.”
I heard a click or a tap from somewhere in the building. Not the locker room itself but close enough to remind me that we weren’t alone. But he didn’t pull away. He kept his hand still and on the warm, damp spot between my legs, his body so close I could see the brown flecks in his blue eyes.
They narrowed a bit before he spoke. “Come on.”
He took his hand off my crotch and wove it in mine, leading me away.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer but pulled me alongside him, out of the locker room, past a long stretch of cinderblock hallway with buzzing fluorescents overhead, into a bigger area with benches and shelves full of equipment. He smacked the push bar of a nondescript door.
I assumed there would be another hall, another minimal room, a private place for us behind it. Instead the doorway opened into pure open space.
I stopped.
He pulled. “Don’t be scared. No one’s here yet. Almost no one. The grounds crew is on the way. We don’t have long. They’ll start wiping seats and heating up the hot dogs. I wanted you to see this. I wanted you to imagine me out there, thinking of you.”
I wasn’t scared, and I wasn’t worried about who was there. The stadium was empty. Just fifty thousand or so unoccupied seats. But I needed a moment to appreciate where I was going. Because the open space wasn’t directly across the outfield or across the parking lot. It was the view from the dugout. I hadn’t seen it since I was a ball girl.
I hadn’t even been allowed in the dugout as a ball girl. It was sacrosanct, and superstition dictated only players, coaches, and managers in uniform could enter.
“It gets disgusting by July,” Dash said when I stepped onto the concrete.
It was scrubbed clean. Every corner. Every surface. Every object I’d seen on television for years jumped out at me. The beige phone. The wood bench and bat rack. The bins of blue helmets.
He closed the door behind me.
The field was enormous. The seats went on forever. In the rows, people walked like ants on vertical pavement. Security guys checking for people and packages that didn’t belong. I remembered them from my ball girl days.
“It seems bigger on the inside than the outside,” I said, leaning over to touch the gravel.
I felt his hands on my shoulders then down my back, pushing me forward. I put my other hand down to steady myself, and he curved his body over me.
“You’re a fucking knockout,” he whispered in my ear, hooking his fingers in my waistband.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you to wear a dress.” He yanked down my sweatpants.
I stopped breathing. The morning air hit my bottom. He’d gotten the underwear too.
“You are not—”
“I am. I’m christening this field with your orgasm.”
“Jesus, Dash, I can’t.”
I had a reasonable explanation for why I wasn’t going to let him fuck me in the dugout, but his arm snaked around me, and his finger found my clit before I could get a word out. All the air left my lungs. My clit was hard and wet and ready for him to turn circles all over it.
“What if someone…”
I couldn’t finish. He unzipped, and the sound of it made my pussy clench and pucker for him.
He pushed my legs open with his foot. “No one’s coming but us.”
His dick at my opening, dry on wet, a four-alarm fire where we touched. I glanced all over the field. No one was looking. But it wouldn’t take more than a glance for us to be a spectacle. No one did. They were far away and doing their jobs.
Slow and steady, he pushed forward inch by inch, almost methodically. I was so soaked for him he didn’t have to thrust.
He pulled me up and spoke in my ear. “Act natural.”
“You’re joking.”
He slid out slowly, his finger circling my clit. “Kind of. But try anyway.” In again. Slow again. My eyes fluttered closed when he buried himself completely inside. “I want to fuck you on every base and eat you out in centerfield. I want to play every game with your pussy on me.”
“Yes.” I would have agreed to anything, logistics be damned.
“I need to come inside you.”
His fingers gathered sensation like cotton candy in a sugar mill.
“Do it. Come in me.”
“Show me first. Show me how you come.”
His finger twitched a little differently, flicking instead of circling, while he got the length of him inside, filling me with him. My hips pushed back, begging for more, and he pushed his finger down. My muscles stiffened, and my mouth opened with soundless satisfaction. I let everything go and came in the Dodgers’ home dugout.
“Thank you,” I gasped when his finger slowed and stopped.
He pulled me back, letting his dick slip out. He grabbed a waist-high bin of bats and helmets and wheeled it closer.
“Come back here. Put your hands on the edge.” Looking up, he changed the angle so I couldn’t see the stands anymore. “I’m not going to be able to be discreet about pounding you right now.”
I didn’t ask how discreet we could be if someone came through to the dugout because from behind me, he pulled back the skin of my thighs and licked my sensitive pussy. My groan echoed in the empty space.
“Shush.”
I felt his dick again, and again he didn’t pause. Just used my wetness to slide inside. Not slowly. No, this time, he slammed into me. I had to brace myself against the bin as he did exactly what he’d promised. He took me from behind, pounding my pussy deep and fast, hands gripping my hips for leverage.
“Harder,” I said. I wanted him to break me with it.
“All of it.” I knew from his voice that he was close. “Take all of it.”
“Yes.”
He went as deep as I thought possible, balls slapping my clit, the base of his cock pulsing against me, grunting like the sexiest animal on the planet.
When he slowed, I turned to see his face above me. He pumped me one last time and pulled out.
“I declare this stadium christened,” I said.
He pulled my waistband back over my ass. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
He bit his lower lip and shook his head. I didn’t know what a girl had to do to christen a stadium around here, but I was about to find out.