Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

Okay, that I don’t believe—not for a second. “My glasses?”

“Yeah.”

I sit up and roll off the bed, walking to my desk. Open the top drawer and root around for the only glasses I wear these days, my computer glasses. Fit them on my face and turn to face her again.

“These?”

Lilly bites down on her bottom lip dramatically. “Rawr.”

I feel a blush cross my cheeks, warming my face. “Ah shucks.”

“I’m serious. Get over here. And take off your shirt.”

Take off my shirt? This is my mom’s house—what if someone walks in?

Stop being a prude, Whitaker. Take the damn shirt off—it’s not like she’s asking you to shed your knickers.

I do as she asks and shed the shirt, tossing it to the ground.

Lilly grins and gets on all fours, tossing her long hair. It’s messy—she had it in a tidy, low ponytail for dinner, classy and elegant. But now…?

She’s a tigress on her knees crawling toward me, hands going around my waist.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss a guy wearing glasses.”

“Is that a hard feat to accomplish?” I mean, how hard could a spectacle-wearing guy be to find?

“Stop asking questions and kiss me.” Her lips pucker as she tilts her face in my direction so I can easily meet her mouth.

We roll toward each other, bodies now compelled to be together, lips pressed against lips. Hers are soft, warm—and can you miss a mouth?

This kiss is like the first one all over again; it feels new and different and exciting. I let my hands go to her backside, the silky fabric from the pajamas letting my hands glide smoothly across her derriere. Lilly’s hands travel up my spine, to my neck, then to my hair—she drags her nails across my scalp like she’s done in the past.

I never knew how much I loved having my head scratched until she does it now.

I feel myself getting hard; she apparently does too because she squirms, revolving her pelvis against my front side, teasing my cock.

“I love your dick,” she murmurs into my mouth.

“You do?”

She pulls back so she can see my face. “Um, haven’t you noticed that it’s slightly bigger than average? Like, do you ever look at it and think, ‘Phew, hey God, thanks for the little bit extra.’”

I chuckle, pulling her closer. “Ha ha, no.”

“I would.” She snuggles deeper against me. “Let’s get under the covers, I’m cold.”

We pull back the coverlet on my bed, the blanket, and the flannel sheets and climb underneath, yanking them back up around us, getting back into our snuggle position.

Kiss some more.

“You feel so good,” I tell her shyly, the compliment a tad stilted. Still, I want to try to say the things that are on my mind. It’s fair to her and good for me.

“So do you.” Her hands travel up my stomach and pecs. “I love your chest.”

Soon, those same hands are sliding into the backside of my sleep pants, the only thing I’ve got on having shed my boxer briefs when I put these pajamas on.

“Mmm,” she hums happily. “I’m so glad we chatted.” Lilly kisses my collarbone, warm breath causing me to tingle. “Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

Technically it was my mother who invited her, but I’m glad for it. We wouldn’t be in this position right now if she hadn’t, or if Lilly hadn’t accepted the invite.

“Thank you for agreeing to come. You didn’t have to.”

“I’d rather be here with you.” More kisses. “I missed you these past few days. I felt very lonely.”

I’ve been lonely too, as much as I hate to admit it. I tried to lose myself in homework and studying and this project that is due at the end of the semester but failed miserably. It’s not easy concentrating when there’s someone on your mind, and I’ve never had anyone in my life to worry about other than my parents, aunt, and brother.

I’m still learning, but I’m coachable. And I know I’m going to fuck up again, but next time I’m not going to hide. I’m going to be an adult about it.

“I can’t wait to try having sex again,” Lilly whispers in the dark. I just shut off the light so we can attempt to sleep, although that’s laughable. I have a feeling we’re going to be up late into the night talking and fooling around.

“Oh my god, I would die if somebody heard us or walked in.”

“Everyone is asleep,” she whispers again, her fingers squeezing my ass cheek.

“I really don’t want to risk it.”

“Can I at least…” Her sentence trails off. “I don’t know—blow you?”

“You’re volunteering to give me a blow job?”

“You voluntarily went down on me—why wouldn’t I reciprocate?”

Because as far as I know, girls don’t love blowing dudes—but I’ve been so wrong about so much shit before, so why wouldn’t I be wrong about this, too?