Jock Reign (Jock Hard 5)

I scoff.

Mr. Nosey? Who, me?

“I just don’t want anyone treating you like shite—or ganging up on you.” Pick at an imaginary lint ball on my track pants with a sniff. “I’ve had you here for a few weeks and I’ve gotten to know you. They don’t deserve you. Don’t jump down my throat because I’m protective.”

Eliza rises from the chair and walks around the counter to put her arms around me. Kisses my cheek. “Awww, bae, you’re protective of me?”

Bae.

She’s being playful and teasing, but I still feel my face flush like a school girl at the endearment, cheesy as it is.

Snort. “All I’m saying is she kicked your arse out.” I can’t stop myself from pointing this out every chance I get because I don’t want her to leave; it’s not a difficult concept.

I’m used to her now.

I’d be so fucking lonely without her in the house, and she’s only been here a short time.

Goddamn you’re pathetic, Dryden-Jones, get a grip.

It would be better if she left, then you could date her for real and not have to invent more roommate rules.

All these bloody rules are exhausting!

Speaking of which…

Back to the topic at hand.

Clearing my throat, I’m all business. “So I’ve already come up with a few roommate and relationship rules, but we need to go over the list together. Our previous list is obviously null and void now that we’ve gone and shagged.”

Eliza rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

I slide the sheet of paper across the kitchen counter, and Eliza pulls it toward her with an index finger, humming as her finger skims across the paper.

She glances up. “Um…I see zero rules here, only gibberish.”

Well no shite—who wants to come up with rules in the first place?

“I’m not as good at coming up with this nonsense as you are. It’s bollocks. Plus, I’d rather keep things wimbly bimbly and fly by the seat of our pants. I’m only doing this list for you—no bloke wants to be shackled to guidelines.”

“How kind of you.”

Her head dips again as she reads.

Rules for Dating Your Roommate

1. Don’t date your roommate.

2. Completely disregard Rule 1.

Rule two makes her laugh, thank God.

3. Don’t assume your roommate wants to sleep in your bedroom at night. They might want space.

Eliza is quiet before saying, “What if she wants to sleep in your bedroom at night?”

“It’s allowed. The rule just states that one should not assume one’s roommate WANTS to sleep in one’s room.”

“Really? Is that what one should assume?”

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“Cheeky.” She grins. “No one has ever called me that.”

I lean over and sneak a kiss to her lips.

“Rule four,” she goes on. “Both parties are responsible for contraception.” She looks up again, face turning a cute shade of pink.

“You know…bulletproof vests.” Like the one I had on the first time we fucked.

“Um—what did you just call it?”

“Bulletproof vest. Shag bag.” I snicker, knowing full well I’m embarrassing her.

“Okay, we can both be responsible for um, those. And I’m on the pill, so we’re covered.”

“So I could come inside of you and you won’t get knocked up?”

She shakes her head. “I did not say that—I meant we have extra protection. My aunt Stephanie was on the pill when she got preggo with my cousin Madison, so—you never know.” Eliza wiggles her eyebrows.

“Fine, we have extra protection.” I hesitate. “We should go upstairs and count the condoms we have, just in case.”

She watches me skeptically, eyes narrowed. “In case what?”

“I don’t know. In case it rains.” I glance toward the window. “Oh, would you look at that? I see a storm brewing.”

I get a whack across the arm. “Stop it, you do not!” She looks worried though, biting down on her lower lip. “Do you? Check the weather app.”

Instead, I stand at the counter and move around to her spot, swooping down and scooping her up with my arms under her legs and rear end, heading toward the stairs.

“Put me down!” She laughs with a flirtatious little giggle. I can tell she’s pleased, though, and she doesn’t do much else to protest as I whisk her away toward my bedroom, taking two stairs at a time and striding boldly down the hall.

I set her at the edge of my bed; the mattress and box spring are raised off the ground so it’s conveniently level with my cock, which is already half hard and aching. Pull Eliza toward the edge of it, my fingers setting to work on the waistband of her leggings.

I pull them down as she watches me, propped up on her elbows, eyes sparkling.

Kneel when I’ve got her bottoms and panties off.

Spread her legs as she gasps, my mouth going straight to her core without another word.

“Oh shit,” she curses. “Um…”

If my mouth weren’t on her pussy, I would laugh at her obvious surprise. As it is, I focus on the task at hand, working toward an orgasm.