Page 22 of The Catcher
Each movement of his tongue on my throat sent a throb right down to my cunt. He twisted a hand in my loose ponytail, searching for more, his tongue running eagerly up and down my neck and shoulder.
I struggled ineffectively in his arms, trying to get away.
“You’re acting like a psycho, Tanner!” I cried.
“Goddamn, Emrys, I can’t stop,” he said, tightening his hold on me, his grip making my scalp prickle, the other hand grabbing my waist so tightly it squeezed the breath from my body. “You taste like nothing I’ve ever had before.”
“It’s just sweat, Tanner!” I cried.
“It’s not,” he hissed, putting both hands on each side of my face so that he could lick and flick his tongue up and down the front of my neck. I felt his cock against my stomach, so hard that it felt like it was punching a hole in his pants. “It’s you.”
I tightened my lips, but I couldn’t help a moan as his tongue reached that hollow again and my core turned to liquid.
“See?” he said arrogantly. “You want it too.”
I was so infuriated by this that I opened my mouth and screamed as loudly as I could.
“HELP ME!” I shrieked.
He immediately covered my mouth with his big hand, but it had been effective.
“Tonight, Em,” he said, before moving away with a growl. “No more running away.”
Tanner Courtenay went 3-for-4 tonight
Is the game’s biggest catcher superstar finally coming out of his slump?
Is it enough to win back his fans?
After the away game I was sitting cross-legged on my hotel room bed in my pajamas stupidly watching the local sports news. This was a bad idea since I didn’t want to think about Tanner, but now that I had gotten in the habit of monitoring baseball news it was hard to stop.
I was jolted out of my thoughts by a knock at the door.
Maybe it was a mistake.
Maybe it was housekeeping. But I hadn’t called housekeeping.
Maybe it was room service. But I hadn’t called room service.
“Emrys?” a deep voice rumbled from the other side, and I clenched my fists in anger.
“Tanner? What are you doing here? Go away!”
He knocked again. “Let me in.”
“Are you crazy? No!”
There was only silence, and after several minutes had gone by I steeled myself to look through the peep hole.
He wasn’t there.
I tried to take a deep breath.The door was locked.
Then I heard a rattling from the balcony, and Tanner was there, trying to force the French doors open.
For a moment I was frozen in place. My room wason the seventh floor. How in the world had he gotten on the balcony? His room was on thesixthfloor! Had he climbed up the balcony from below? I felt sick to my stomach.
“Don’t run,” he warned as he looked up at me through the glass. “You know I hate it when you run away from me.”
