Jock Reign (Jock Hard 5)

Yet another place no masseuse should dare to go.

She’s got to be the worst one ever.

“What’s this scar?”

“I had my appendix out when I was nine,” I croak out, voice hoarse.

The tip of her finger goes back and forth, back again along the fine flesh-toned line. “Did it hurt?”

“No, I was drugged up.”

“Any other scars?”

“I don’t think so.” Although one time at boarding school, Timothy Henry Wentworth, Fourth Earl of Glennenshire, cracked me over the knob with his cricket bat, the rat-arsed tosser. I’m surprised to this day that bat didn’t leave a scratch, and trust me, I had the nurse at school check thrice.

Eliza’s hands continue to roam freely, seemingly unaware of my uneasiness. I shift in place, moving the blanket covering my hips into a more secure position.

Distracted, it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her what she’s doing and where her hands plan to go next.

“I thought you were giving me a massage.”

“I am.”

“You’re shite at it, love—there is zero benefit to the rubdown you’re giving me.”

“Sorry. I’m distracted.”

Distracted?

Interesting…

That I like.

The rain hasn’t slowed down; if anything, it’s gotten worse, pelting the windows at an increasing pace as the wind picks up, too. It’s the perfect storm.

“Good night for a cuddle,” I lament quietly, worried my voice is going to crack.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for Eliza losing her hands inside the blankets and sneaking them down over my thighs. Her fingers gently encounter my kneecaps then slide up again. Down. Up. A rhythmic motion that feels nothing like a massage and everything like foreplay.

Once again, I hold perfectly still, afraid to move a muscle, afraid she will take her hands off my body and go back to her spot on the bed.

Is this what happens when it rains outside? She gets all kinds of horny and touchy-feely, forgets every rule she created? Not that I mind, but still—I don’t want her to blame this on me in the morning when I’m just lying here stiff as a board.

Stiff—get it?

Wait…she couldn’t possibly be trollied, could she? I think I would smell the alcohol on her if she were.

Nah, we spent the evening together—I would have seen her drinking, but she could have snuck off into the kitchen to have a beer when the storm started.

Liquid courage anyone?

As quickly as Eliza strokes my legs, she flops down beside me, as I was worried she would do. Hey, I’m a warm-blooded guy; sue me for wanting a woman’s hands on my body getting it all hot and bothered. Except she doesn’t stop touching me as I thought she would when she moved away—she kisses me on the cheek, chaste and sweet.

Snogs me on the bridge of my nose, tits brushing my arm as she leans in to get good and close.

What is she doing? I thought she wanted nothing to do with me physically. Friends only and all that shite. I’m so confused right now.

“Honestly, so am I,” Eliza mutters, and I was unaware I’d spoken the words out loud. “But it’s late and apparently when it’s storming out and I’m scared out of my wits, I don’t care about rules.”

“Then maybe we should get naked to pass the time, yeah? Rain doesn’t seem to be letting up.”

As if on cue, a thunderbolt flashes and thunder booms.

“I’m not scared, I’m not scared, I’m not scared,” Eliza chants, eyes squeezing shut.

“Come here.” I pull her over until she’s on top of me and she’s arranging herself nicely over my body, finally face to face. Eliza gives me a peck on the lips.

Once.

Then again.

Soon we’re kissing, mouths open. Soon my hands are in her hair. Soon my dick is fully hard and my hips begin rolling beneath her.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize for my woody, but I can’t speak with her tongue in my mouth.

Ha!

With Eliza on top of me, I’m powerless against her; my hands have no choice but to feel for her bum and squeeze. She lets out a little giggle in her throat as I massage her derrière, having a bit of fun despite the circumstances outside the windows that have brought her into my room.

Thank God for rain. Thank God for lightning. Thank God for thunder. Hallelujah, praise the Lord.

It was somewhat devastating the night she crushed my hopes and ego with her roommate rules, and she’s finally letting her hair down about it. Finally being honest with herself.

I know Eliza likes me as much as I like her, and there’s no doubt in my mind that at some point we would have begun a courtship—dating as they say here in the States. Granted, her roommate Kaylee did present something of a roadblock and a challenge, but my instincts tell me that eventually we would’ve found a way around it to make a relationship work.