Page 6 of Switch Hitter

“Cobre,” he says, firmer. “Look at me.”

I force my head to turn, just a little, cheek scraping the chain link. Emiliano’s face is close behind my shoulder, eyes dark, focused, hungry. He looks like he always does on the mound.

Like he already knows how this ends.

“You’re wanted,” he says quietly, and the sincerity in it almost ruins me more than the sex. “Do you understand? I want this. You get on my nerves out there… but here.” He pauses. “I don’t just tolerate you so I can get off. This is more than that.”

My throat tightens so hard it hurts, and my fingers squeeze his. The guilt flares deep, furious and bright, like an alarm bell going off in my chest.

This is wrong.

This is not who you’re supposed to be.

But Emiliano’s hand is on mine. His body is against mine. His voice is in my ear, telling me I’m wanted like it’s the only truth that matters.

And I can’t stop.

Emiliano kisses the side of my neck. It’s not soft, not sweet, just a hot press of lips that makes me shake.

“Say my name,” he breathes.

I try to refuse.

I do.

I really do.

But then he shifts, finding the perfect angle, and the sound rips out of me before I can swallow it.

“Emiliano,” I gasp, wrecked.

He makes a low, satisfied sound against my skin. “That's it… oh, good boy… such a good fucking boy.”

The praise hits and my vision blurs, my body snaps tight. The fence bites into my hands as pleasure crests like a wave I can’t outrun. Cum soaks my underwear, and a choked, furious sound leaves my lips.

It’s half a curse, half a prayer.

Emiliano comes a beat later, moaning into my neck as he fills my ass, fingers still laced with mine like he couldn’t let go if he tried.

For a second, everything goes silent.

Not in the stadium.

Inside me.

The guilt pauses, stunned.

Emiliano’s breathing slows. He loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go.

He presses his forehead to my shoulder, a brief, intimate touch that makes my chest seize.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low.

I swallow hard, still trembling. “Fine.”

Emiliano hums like he doesn’t believe me, then gently releases my hands, pulls my pants up for me, and turns me around.

I expect a smirk. A joke. Something that lets me put the walls back up.