18. Boston

EIGHTEEN

boston

"Hey, let's take a quick look at the field before practice," Parker said. I nodded without hesitation.

"Sure thing, man," I replied, hastily shoving my equipment into my locker. I hung the uniform bag on the rack, then trailed after Parker. The field was as inviting as ever, the bleachers were updated—the dugouts were nice. We couldn’t complain. When we returned to the locker room, the atmosphere had shifted. The door swung open and panic coursed through my veins. Some of the staff were busy at work, pulling uniforms from their bags and hanging jerseys neatly in each player's locker. My teammates lounged around, the usual pre-practice locker-room talk filling the air, but all I could focus on was the potential disaster unfolding.

"Damn it," I whispered under my breath, scanning the room frantically. Had my bag been unpacked yet? And more importantly, where were Chandler's panties—the ones she’d trusted me with?

My heart raced. The idea of them being discovered here, in the sanctity of the guys' locker room, was enough to send me into full-blown crisis mode. It would be more than just embarrassing—it would be catastrophic.

"Everything cool?" Parker nudged me, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Uh, yeah," I lied, eyes darting around, wondering if they'd sorted out my jersey yet.

Parker clapped me on the shoulder, unaware of my internal mayhem.

When I reached my locker, I peered inside, trying to calm myself. The one item I was desperate to see was absent. Not in the bag, not draped over the jerseys, not on the floor. My stomach twisted with anxiety wondering where the fuck they were.

But then a hush fell over the room. I glanced up and saw Coach standing in the entryway, anger written all over his face. In his hand dangled Chandler's lacy underwear.

"Would anyone care to explain this to me?" His voice boomed, cutting through the stillness. "The locker room was spotless earlier. Now there's women's undergarments on the floor."

Light chatter passed through the team, faint snickers coming from the back rows. I sank onto the bench, my head falling into my hands.

"Doing this at our home facility is low, but here? While we’re away? It’s appalling," Coach continued, his gaze sweeping over us, searching for the person responsible. "You should all be ashamed."

He jabbed the air with the panties, Chandler's panties, and my face burned with mortification.

"Anyone want to step up? Who’s to blame for this?" His challenge seemed to echo endlessly off the walls.

"Coach, I—" my voice cracked.

"Speak up!" Coach demanded, his eyes narrowing in on me.

"Uh, I was just?—"

"Was what?" he pressed, clearly unimpressed by my stammering.

Bailey, who’d sat silently next to me, was watching me closely, probably catching on. I was on the verge of owning up to it when he shifted forward with a sheepish look.

"Coach, sorry," Bailey interjected, speaking up despite the glare piercing from Coach. "They must've just... fallen out of my bag. They’re a lucky charm from my girl."

The room held its breath, waiting for Coach’s reaction. His face turned a shade darker, the vein on his temple standing out as he processed Bailey's confession.

"Is that so?" Coach’s words came out wrapped in ice. "Well, congratulations, Bailey. You're fucking wearing them to practice." He tossed the underwear at Bailey, who caught them awkwardly. "I warned you all about messing around. Now clear out!"

I watched, helpless. My fingers twitched with the overwhelming urge to snatch them away from his hands. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen.

With a disgusted wave of his hand, he dismissed us. "Thanks to your little stunt, you'll be running drills for the next two hours—or until I decide I'm no longer pissed."

Bailey slipped the underwear over his shorts. Parker was holding in a laugh, a playful grin on his face. He pulled a piece of the fabric between his fingers and stretched it until it snapped back. "You're a fool, but those are some sexy ass panties."

I cringed as laughter erupted around us. Bailey scrambled to adjust the lacy garment back up.

"Whoever those belong to has good taste," Parker continued, not realizing he’d just touched his sister's underwear. He winked at Bailey before he said. "I'm sure they look hot on whoever they belong to—but definitely not you, my guy."

Groans and whispers rippled through the team as we began to file out, but Bailey hung back, leaning close to me.

"From the look on your face, I’m guessing these have something to do with your roommate this weekend. You fucking owe me," he whispered, barely audible in the shuffling of feet and clanging of lockers. "And her brother just said her panties were sexy," he whispered, the words seething through his clenched teeth.

"Bailey, you don't—" I started to protest, but the words died in my throat. Parker was ahead of me, his presence a reminder that I couldn’t exactly explain or own up to them being his sister’s.

"Let's just get this over with," he grumbled. This would have been hilarious under any other circumstance—but not knowing they were Chandler’s panties.

We trudged out onto the field, ready to get our torture of a practice over with.

"Hey, Bailey! Looking good, man. I think thongs are more your thing!" One of the outfielders jeered.

"Seriously, dude?" I shot back, throwing him a glare. "He's been grilled enough."

"Chill out, guys," Parker chimed in while mid-run, an edge in his tone that said he wasn't in the mood for games—none of us were happy about running drills.

The sun was high, casting the field in a harsh glare. But it wasn't the brightness that had me squinting—it was the sight of Chandler and Willow standing by the fence, frozen like deer caught in headlights.

"Shit," I sighed, jogging over to them and praying they hadn't seen what I thought they had. But one look at Chandler's face told me that she knew.

"You wanna tell me why Bailey is wearing my underwear?" Chandler said through gritted teeth. Confusion and pure horror ran across her face as she pointed toward Bailey, who was now hopping awkwardly from one foot to the other, trying to adjust the lacey garment without drawing more attention.

"Yeah... about that," I stammered, running a hand through my hair. "Coach found them and made Bailey wear them as a lesson." I paused, giving her an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry. I had no idea they were going to take our jerseys out."

Chandler's cheeks turned a shade of pink, but before she could respond, Willow buckled over in laughter, pointing at Bailey who was attempting to sprint down the baseline with as much dignity as one could muster in his situation.

"Woohoo! Go, Bailey! That’s how you put on a show!" Willow hooted, whistling loudly enough to wake the dead. Her laughter was infectious, and despite the mortification hanging thick in the air, Chandler couldn’t help but let out a laugh too.

"Willow!" Chandler hissed, trying to hide the smile on her face. She crossed her arms, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

"Sorry, Chandler," Willow said, trying to contain her laughter. "This went horribly wrong.”

"I have to get back before coach makes us run even more," I said, gesturing toward my teammates.

"See you later," Chandler replied, still visibly shaken but with a smirk beginning to form. "Try to get it back, okay?" As she pointed her gaze at Bailey.

"Will do," I smiled, throwing her a wink before rejoining the team, thankful she wasn’t angry.

After a long and exhausting practice, we showered then headed to the conference room for the team dinner, our bodies aching and minds scattered. I spotted Chandler immediately, hair up in a messy bun, cheeks flushed, a look of utter exhaustion on her face. She looked so beautiful, even worn down from the day's events.

"Hey, Boston!" Parker called out, waving me over to join him at the bar with a couple of our teammates.

"One sec," I said over my shoulder, already making my way to the buffet line. “I’ll meet you guys at the table.”

I grabbed a plate and filled it with all of Chandler's favorites—chicken alfredo, garlic bread, and a Caesar salad. I even snagged a large glass of water with a wedge of lemon, knowing she'd need it.

Just as she finished setting aside some boxes, I pulled her away. "Hey," I said, clearing my throat to get her attention.

She looked up, genuine surprise and gratitude in her eyes. "Boston, you made me a plate?"

"Least I could do after that... interesting practice," I smirked, nodding towards an empty table nearby.

"Yeah, thanks for that by the way," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly as I pulled out a chair for her.

"Lesson learned." I winked, taking a seat across from her. "So, how was your day?"

My fingers gently reached under the table skirt, moving slowly and subtly to avoid drawing attention. I caressed her ankle, slipped off her shoe, and lifted her foot between my legs to massage it.

Chandler took a bite of the chicken alfredo, her eyes closing in appreciation. "It was fine. Caroline had us running around doing things that didn't even make sense, but hey, our shift is over now."

"That's a relief," I sighed, before continuing. "Listen, I um... I wanted to talk to you about something."

She set her fork down, her expression shifting to concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," I said, trying to sound casual. “About tonight. We don’t have to share a bed. I’m happy to sleep on the pullout. It’s really no big deal.”

"I know, and you’re not sleeping on the pullout, Boston," she said softly, her eyes meeting mine.

I could sense the exhaustion in her every movement, but she still managed a grateful smile as she took another bite of food. Parker walked up behind her with his own plate, joking about today.

"Well, I'm always down to see women in lingerie," he chuckled. "But Bailey, today? That was a new experience."

Chandler and I exchanged knowing glances, suppressing our laughter. It was our little secret, and I was prepared to take that secret to the grave.

The rest of the team and committee members filed into the room, and Coach stood up. "I expect us to win tomorrow, there is no other option. You know what to do, so we need to get it done," he boomed, his steely gaze sweeping over the room.

Willow couldn't help but tease her father. "Oh, Dad. A man of many words."

The room erupted in laughter, easing the tension somewhat. The rest of the meal flew by in a blur of laughter. Chandler had a smile on her face most of dinner, and I couldn't help but marvel at how far we'd come. I couldn't wait to get her alone, to hold her in my arms and forget about the world outside our hotel room.

As dinner wound down, I stood up, helping her to her feet. "Ready to make our escape?" I winked, a mischievous glint in my eye.

She blushed, but her eyes sparkled with an answering fire. "I thought you'd never ask."

She slipped away first and waited around the corner, then I slipped out after her.

In the room, Chandler excused herself to shower, while I turned down the lights and turned on the hotel radio. She emerged from the bathroom with wet hair and wearing one of my oversized shirts. It took my breath away.

"You look," I stammered, words failing me. She smelled like coconut and sunshine, and all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and never let go.

"Thanks," she blushed. "I borrowed one of your shirts, hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" I grinned, stealing a glance at the way the fabric hugged her curves. "I've always wanted to see you in my clothes."

She laughed and I couldn’t keep my hands off her a moment longer.

I pulled her into my arms, her damp hair brushing against my cheek. "And I’ve wanted to do this all day."

I drew near and her lips parted, inviting me in and I eagerly obliged. The sweetness of her tongue danced with mine as the kiss deepened, our hands roaming each other's bodies. Her fingers raked through my hair, pulling me closer, as if she couldn't get enough. As we kissed a burning desire grew within me, an insatiable hunger that threatened to consume me whole.

I pulled away for a moment, trying to regain my composure. "Chandler," I whispered, "we can stop if you want to."

But she shook her head, her eyes burning with desire. "No," she said, softly, "I don't want to."

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” I said between kisses, doing my best to hold back from the urges threatening to overtake me. But she was having none of it. She pulled me back in, her lips crushing mine with a fierce intensity that took my breath away.

"Don't be a gentleman tonight," she murmured between kisses. "Keep going."

All my restraint melted away. I surrendered to the heat that coursed through my veins, the burning need that consumed me. I ran my hands over her body feeling the soft curves of her hips, the firmness of her breasts. She moaned as I touched her, her body responding to mine.

I could feel myself growing harder with every touch, every kiss. She reached down and traced circles through my pants, her fingers and nails teasing me, driving me wild with desire. I groaned, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"You're killing me," I whispered into her ear.

She laughed softly, a low, sexy sound that made my cock jump. "Good," she whispered. "I like seeing you squirm."

And with that, I gave in. I pushed her back onto the bed, my body covering hers. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer, grinding herself against my hard cock, searching for the friction we both desperately needed.

I knew I needed to hold back and take it slow with her, so I carefully rolled us onto our sides, making her lock eyes with me.

"Tell me what you want," I rasped, my palms journeying upwards, until they found their destination. My hands cupped her breasts, each one fitting perfectly in my large hands. I teased her nipples with my thumbs, feeling them harden under my touch. She gasped, her nails digging into my back as she pressed her hips against mine.

"Touch me," she begged, panting.

Reacting to her, my hand glided down her body, tracing the curves of her hips before slipping beneath the edge of her panties. Heat radiated off her, and I knew she was wet and ready for me. I slid a finger inside her, feeling her clench around me, and she let out a low moan.

"Oh god, yes," she gasped, her hips bucking against my hand. I added another finger, pumping in and out of her while my thumb circled her clit.

"Fuck, you're so wet," I groaned against the shell of her ear, as my dick twitched in my shorts.

"Please, keep going," she panted, her hands gripping my shoulders.

I upped the pace, my fingers moving faster inside her. Her muscles tightened around me, and I knew she was close. I leaned down to capture her nipple in my mouth, sucking and biting gently. Her face flushed with pleasure, her lips parted.

“Mmm, Boston,” she moaned.

I watched her as she hesitated slightly, and I carefully studied her face, trying to decipher her thoughts. Then she leaned in and whispered, "Let me do this." My breathing faltered as she trailed her fingers under my waistband. Her hand trembled slightly as she grasped me, then wrapped her fingers gently around my hard length.

"Holy fuck," I let out the moment she touched me.

My eyes rolled back when she freed me from my shorts. The sensation of her skin against mine was almost too much to bear. I slowed the pace of my fingers on her, becoming utterly distracted by the way she was taking control. I bit my lip, trying to regain my composure, but it was no use. My body was completely at her mercy. She began to move her hand up and down, her fingers tightening around me with each stroke, and I had to remind myself to keep my hands working her.

She was getting more confident with each passing moment, her movements becoming more sure and deliberate. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, but I didn't want it to end. I wanted to savor every moment of this exquisite torture.

I continued to explore the depths of her, my fingers curling and uncurling within her.

"Oh… fuck," she moaned, and it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel her inner walls clenching around me, begging for more as I quickened my pace. My mouth found hers once again in a passionate kiss, our tongues dancing together in a rhythm that mirrored the movements of my hand.

Her fingers stroked and teased my length, every delicate touch, every firm squeeze sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

"Shit, that's it," I groaned as she picked up her pace, her hand sliding up and down my shaft.

I could feel her getting closer as she let out a gasp. I moved my hand faster, curling my fingers inside her in just the right way to make her cry out in ecstasy. She threw her head back, her body writhing beneath me as she came undone.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she chanted, her body trembling as she came.

“That's it, pretty girl. You look so good when you come for me.”

I continued to move my hand, drawing out her orgasm as long as I could. When she finally went still, I pulled my hand away, licking her off my fingers.

"You taste so fucking good," I whispered, my voice husky with desire. My own orgasm was building, and I knew I wasn't going to last much longer.

I continued to thrust into Chandler's hand, the intensity almost unbearable. I warned her through gritted teeth. "Fuck, Chandler, I'm going to come." She looked at me, eyes sparkling with desire and mischief.

"You’re so big," she whispered, her hand moving faster. "I love the way you feel."

That was all it took. With a final thrust, I exploded, my come spilling onto her hand and her stomach. She kept stroking me until I was completely spent.

When the last tremors of my orgasm subsided, I looked down at her with a slight smirk. "Do you want to taste what you did to me?"

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the mess I had made on her stomach.

I slowly trailed my fingers through the come. Then I brought my fingers to Chandler's mouth. She opened eagerly, her tongue darting out to lick the come from my fingers.

“Mmm,” she moaned softly as she sucked them clean, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Holy fucking shit," I breathed, collapsing onto the bed next to her. "You're going to kill me."

Chandler let out a small laugh. “This would be a fun way to go.”

The moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room as I held her in my arms, almost drifting off to sleep.

"You’ve gotta be at a solid 10 points by now," Chandler yawned.

"Only ten?" I asked, trying to sound disappointed. “Thought I'd be in the hundreds."

"Someone had high hopes for himself," she teased.

I leaned in closer to her ear. "After that performance tonight, I might have to start keeping score for you too."

"Is that so?" she laughed. "Well, then I'd better step up my game."

"Nah. You’re doing just fine," I whispered, closing the gap between us with a soft kiss on her lips.

"Goodnight," she murmured, already halfway to dreams.

With one arm around her and her hand resting lightly over my heart, we drifted into sleep.