“Just the way you like me.”
Her lower lip curls in as she bites back a smile. “We’re here to teach you cricket.”
“Yep.” I step behind and circle my arms around her body, my hands covering hers where she holds the bat.
“What’re you doing?” she asks, laughing when I squeeze her to make sure she stays put.
“Getting ready to learn. So teach me.”
“Like this?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, placing my chin on her shoulder, my cheek brushing hers. Unable to control myself, I turn and bury my nose in the crook of her neck, taking a deep inhale of that fresh citrus scent I enjoy.
“Kissing my neck is no way to learn cricket,” Alia murmurs. Her voice catches on the last word and she shudders when I press an open-mouthed kiss on the exposed skin, feeling the fluctuation ofher pulse under my tongue. Her soft sigh, like she’s attempting to get her body’s reaction under control, makes me want to lose mine.
“Your fault.” I lick behind her ear, relishing her shiver. “You’re too pretty.”
She valiantly keeps her eyes on our joined hands and shakes her head gently, as if snapping herself out of it.
“Pay attention,” she says, just as she leans over, taking me with her. I’m draped over her back, her rounded ass pressed neatly against my happy cock that has roared awake, thickening and growing hard against her lush curve. She widens her stance, directing me to do the same, and bends at her waist a bit more. It’s only a few degrees of change but I’m holding on for dear life. How the fuck does she not feeling my dick stabbing her? I’m about to rip right out of my slacks.
And then she wiggles. Full-on fucking wiggles, practically twerking against my aching cock, giving it a lap dance that makes me whimper pathetically.
“Jesus fucking Christ, stop moving. How do you not feel what you’re doing to me right now?”
The look she slants over her shoulder is wholly innocent. I wouldn’t have suspected anything except she deliberately pushes her ass into me again, causing me to stifle my groan.
“What makes you think I don’t feelexactlywhat I’m doing to you?“ she says, throwing me a sassy wink.
My jaw drops and my grip slackens before I tighten my embrace, making her squeal as I playfully bite her ear. “Brat. I knew you were hiding a vixen inside you all along.”
“You made it too easy,” she giggles, slipping out of my arms and spinning on her heels. Her eyes are sparkling with delight; cheeks flushed with a happiness that makes her look ethereal.
In this moonlit night, with the inky sky overhead and the gentle lull of the waves cresting nearby, Alia’s effervescent spirit is breathtaking to witness. My heart pounds a quick beat that swells in myears, my entire vision filled with her beauty and nothing else. I have to force myself to look away before I’m consumed by her.
“Teach me cricket before I lose sight of why we’re here,” I grumble. She makes me feel like a boy with his first crush. I’d hoped this feeling would’ve abated by now. Instead, my craving for her has become unbearable.
She positions me and I follow, adjusting my hold as directed. I thought it’d be like golf, but batting for cricket has less swing to it and more linear motion to control the trajectory of the hit.
“Cal?”
“Hmm?” I swing the bat in the air, hitting an invisible ball.
“I know you said you wanted a distraction but, if you need to vent, I hope you know I’ll listen.”
She steps a few feet away and throws the ball low to the ground, allowing me to smack it lightly. I’ve scrolled through enough cricket reels to know she’s treating me with kid gloves, but I don’t mind. This way, she’s still close enough for us to hold a conversation. We go back and forth a few more times, before I answer her.
“I’ll snap out of it. One lost game shouldn’t bother me.”
“But it does,” she says softly.
Thwack.I land a gentle hit, sending the ball rolling toward Alia’s feet.
“I have it so good in life. I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted. Grew up in a happy house, had the best family, made a career playing a game I love. I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from or whether I’ll have a roof over my head. I’d be a real tool to complain about something as insignificant as one lost game.”
A crease forms on her forehead as she looks at me, making no effort to bowl again.
“Are you saying you’re notallowedto be disappointed?”