Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

“I don’t want to make a mess,” I choke out.

“That’s okay, babe, I’ll swallow. You just relax.” Her fingers grip the waistband of my bottoms beneath the blanket and push it down around my hips, my dick springing free from my pants. “A little help here?”

“Shit. Right.”

I kick the sleep pants off until they’re lost in the dark depth of bedding and lie still, anticipation coursing through my veins. Every cell in my body sparks to life, a ripple effect of excitement that has my left leg wanting to bounce.

My body buzzes.

Lilly hums, kissing her way from the base of my neck down the center of my chest. Stomach. Belly button. She follows the happy trail until she reaches my cock, disappearing under the blankets. I can’t see her, but I can feel her—can’t see what she’s doing, but I can imagine it.

Warm lips on my inner thigh.

Light fingertips tickling my balls, cupping them.

Shit that feels good.

This is…

Fun?

Is that right?

The unknown. The slight fear. The thought of getting caught a thrilling element, as much as I’d hate for it to happen.

Then my dick is in her mouth and she’s sucking gently on the tip before taking me in, inch by inch. Wet and hot. Hands on my shaft, stroking up and down.

Oh shit.

I’m never going to last.

Holy hell her mouth is warm—like dipping my wick in, fuck, I don’t know—chocolate fondue sauce or something. Goddamn what am I even saying?

A moan escapes my throat; it’s loud and unexpected. Another one comes out when Lilly fingers my taint, pressing on the spot between my balls and my anus as if trying to activate the launch sequence.

“Yes,” I hear her say. “Make some noise.”

Erm. Too much noise and the cavalry will arrive; my mother has the ears of a hawk or whatever.

But I seriously cannot stop the noises from coming, turning my head so they’re muffled by a pillow. Lilly’s hands and mouth sucking and tugging and stroking me into oblivion—the pleasure is so intoxicating my hips come off the mattress for a brief moment, thrusting.

Do not fuck her mouth, you are not a porn star.

I see stars, eyes closing and mouth gaping.

Oh shit…

Fuck.

Without thinking, my hands find her hair and I bury my fingers in the thick mass. I don’t pull, but I’m tempted to, my brain functions not working. Short circuiting.

Malfunction.

Loss of power.

14

LILLY

I lick, lapping up Roman’s cock like a lollypop, just as my friends have taught me—okay, honestly it was my friends and ex-boyfriends and tutorials on the internet that taught me.

It takes a village.

If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s get a guy off with my hands and mouth, the combination of the two a key component. Judging by the moaning and groaning coming from Roman’s lips, I would say he’s enjoying himself.

I know I am.

I feel powerful. Beautiful.

Sexy.

I can be in a stadium surrounded by people—men, leering and watching me instead of the football game in front of them—and it has nothing on this moment.

I feel in control, one hand firmly gripping the hard length of Roman’s gorgeous dick, sucking on the end with my mouth. I use my lips and tongue to draw out another moan.

Feel the bead of pre-come and smile around his cock.

He’s going to come soon—better for me since I’m under the blanket and it’s not like I’m getting much fresh air.

It’s too easy.

A few more strokes and his fingers tighten their grasp in my hair, gently jerking but not to the point where it hurts. Not that I mind having my hair pulled…

“Holy shit, I’m g-gonna come,” he stutters adorably, panic in his voice. “Lilly, I’m…shit…oh god…”

Such sexy noises.

Mmm.

I know he thinks I’m going to take my head off his dick, but when he comes, it’s in my mouth, deep in my throat.

He’s warned me, but I don’t care—I swallow it so there is no mess; he hasn’t got any rags nearby, and the last thing I want to do is get out of bed and get semen off my hands and face and wherever it’s going to unpredictably go.

This isn’t my first rodeo.

I do, however, hop out of bed so I can gargle with mouthwash—but it’s an easy task, taking no more than a few seconds—before climbing back in beside a limp Roman.

At first, we lie there cuddling, his arm around my shoulders as we lie on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, the only thing illuminating the room reflection from the bright snow outside.

Then he moves.

With a quick kiss to my mouth, Roman crawls down my body the same way I maneuvered down his, parting the bottom of the silky sleep shirt to kiss my belly button. His fingers pluck at the tie on the bottoms, undoing the bow and loosening the waist.

My heartbeat quickens, elated he’s going down on me.