The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 1)

Sebastian

Jameson’s warm sexy body is burrowed in the crook of my frame, head tucked under my chin, ass nestled against my groin. Like two pieces of a complex puzzle we’ve finally managed to solve, we fit together.

Perfectly.

I don’t think we slept this way throughout the night. When we finally finished fucking, she told me I was a “hot box” and settled on the far side of the bed facing the window, sighing contently, happy with her own space.

Like a dude.

Jameson Clark is not a cuddler, but when I awoke to yet another raging boner, there was no resistance to my hauling her naked body to my side of the bed. No complaining. Only blissful sighs when I enveloped my strong arms around her, drawing her close, immediately folding her into my body.

Tenderly, I nuzzle her neck. Sniff her hair and brush back the loose strands so I can kiss the long column of skin below her ear. Palm settling on her breast, I tease her areola until her nipple puckers beneath my wanton fingertips, waking up.

Wanting to play.

Mission accomplished.

“Mmm…” She yawns, stretching beneath me, elongating her torso and making it easier for my hands to roam, drag them up and down her feminine curves. Marvel at her smooth skin.

“That feels good.” She luxuriates beneath my touch. Kissing the spot between her shoulder blades, I move upward, sucking gently on her neck, careful not a leave a mark on her flawless skin. I nestle the tip of my erection into her ass crack.

I’m affected by every one of her muttered coos.

“You feel good.” I lightly caress her hip while rotating mine and land a kiss on her shoulder. She has a smattering of freckles, and I rest my lips there.

Moaning, her arm comes up to cradle the back of my head while I palm her breast, raking her fingers along my scalp—damn, aren’t we the picture of domestic fucking bliss?

“Sebastian.” Jameson gasps softly, pelvis beginning to rock, ever so slowly.

Yes, baby, just like that.

“You’re never wearing clothes to bed again,” my brusque voice informs her.

“I’m not?”

My head gives a definitive shake. “Now that I’ve seen you naked? Hell fucking no.”

The words settle on the air; we’re quiet then, basking in each other. When Jameson rolls onto her back, she smiles up at me, satisfaction on her relaxed brows. “Does this mean you’re keeping me around for a while?”

My chest swells with pride. I feel like I’ve done something right with us, something long lasting.

Something permanent, and goddammit, I suck at this emotional bullshit, but baser instincts prevail and have me wrapping my arms around Jameson’s waist. Embracing her. Planting open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Resting my hands on her lower abdomen, the most womanly part of her body.

The source of her feminine power.

“Do you want to be around for a while?” I ask the crook of her neck.

“You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Her soft lips kiss the side of my forearm, and, as if she senses the change in me—the pensive silence—she tilts her neck toward my face.

“Sebastian? I thought you were going to…” Jameson prompts, bright blue eyes coyly reading my expression, and she shifts position, reaching between our bodies. Enfolds my thick morning wood in her hands, squeezing. “Have your way with me this morning.”

Up and down…up and down, my cock pulses in her hand with every even stroke until my thighs are shaking—the need for her is that urgent. That real.

“Is that what you want? Me to have my way with you this morning?” The question comes out in a hiss when her hands round the tip of my dick, thumbs brushing the head.

“Yes.”

It takes me a few seconds to grab a condom, tear it open, and slide it on, position myself above her. Jameson’s eyes cloud, hazy with lust and desire when I slip in. She’s warm, dripping wet, and willing. So willing.

Soft.

Sexy.

Hair pooled around her like some kind of goddamn angel, she watches me quietly, braced above her.

We go methodically, painfully slowly, the only sound in the room our labored breathing and the headboard bang, bang, banging the wall with each and every languid thrust. The thumping sound gets me harder.

Toes rooted and digging into the mattress, I glide in and out of her slick heat like it was made just for my cock.

Jameson’s palm strokes my cheek and I bend my head, covering her lips with mine, breathe her in and out, then in again, like she’s the air I need to survive.

Because she is.

Somehow…

Shit, this girl means everything to me.

“Mmm, mmm.” She moans sweetly into my mouth when her body begins to climax, the muscles in her tight pussy contracting and squeezing the shit out of me in the best possible way.

I come moments later, the shockwaves quivering my lower body.

“Baby.” I speak the promise into her hair, lovingly stroking the damp locks away from her temple as I cradle her in my arms. “Jameson.”

She is mine.

Sebastian

Zeke is waiting for me in the kitchen when I return from taking Jameson home, seated at the kitchen table wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a scowl.

I walk past him, pull open the fridge, and take out the cream cheese. A bagel. A butter knife from the drawer.

Zeke crosses his brawny arms and shifts in his seat. “I heard you fucking last night. All night.”

I pop the bagel in the toaster and turn to face him, adopting his posture by crossing my own arms. “So? What the hell is your problem, dude? You brought home who-knows-how-many chicks last night after that scene at the party, and you’re pissed you had to listen to Jameson and me?” The toaster ticks, and I give it a shake and a smack to keep it working. “Get over it.”