Jock Rule (Jock Hard 2)

“What? Why would she do that?”

“Because that’s what Lilian Carmichael does.” I take a stack of folded clothes, brand new with tags, off the counter and hold them up. “See? These are for me. Half of them are too small.”

My mom still doesn’t get that I’m six foot four and don’t wear a size large—haven’t since I was a freshman in high school.

“She can’t help herself, babe.” I apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize—it’s so thoughtful. I’ll have to send her a thank you text.”

Between my mother and sister, the three of them have this weird group text where they send memes and jokes back and forth almost every day—most of them at my expense. Har har.

Whatever. I’m just glad my family likes her.

I wasn’t sure how dating her would go over with my parents at first—she doesn’t come from money and she has no pedigree. But as it turns out, my parents are just uptight and not complete assholes. They want me to be happy, and I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t have mattered if they didn’t like Teddy.

Because it would have.

Teddy plans to move in with me at the end of the semester, out of her apartment with Mariah and into my house.

It makes sense, since:

She’s always at my place anyway.

Mariah hasn’t been able to get her grades up and will probably be transferring to community college.

The two of them couldn’t have grown apart any more than they have and it’s put a huge strain on their friendship, so Teddy would have moved out anyway.

She is always at my place anyway.

My parents totally support her moving in, and Teddy’s mom has been awesome too, glad her daughter will be struggling a lot less.

“Do you know what your sister sent me?”

Shit. My sister is becoming worse than my mother, sending ridiculous gifts, notes, and stupid shit Teddy is never going to use. Like inappropriate stationary, T-shirts with quotes on them, and gold bracelets—with profanity.

“Do I really want to know?”

“Actually, I think you do.” She slowly lifts the hem of a pink shirt that says Spread kindness like confetti. Out peeks a bit of red lace that covers her entire stomach.

“Uh…what is that?”

“It’s a teddy.” She laughs. “Get it?”

Yes, I get it.

“My sister sent you lingerie? What the hell is wrong with her?”

“It’s a teddy, Kip. A teddy?” She stares at me, waiting for it to sink in, but I’m slow. “Surely you haven’t been knocked on the head that much.”

She goes for the fly of her jeans, unbuttoning them slowly, then pushes the denim down her slim hips. Turns and heads toward the stairs, red lace thong nestled neatly between two very sexy ass cheeks.

A teddy.

“Oohhh…”

She shoots me a wink over her shoulder, hips swaying, palm sliding up the shiny bannister. Long hair swishing across her shoulders with every movement.

When she reaches the top, she turns, lifting the T-shirt and pulling it all the way off.

“Holy shit.”

I waste no time, taking the stairs two at a time, and my girlfriend squeals, racing for the bedroom.

She’s on top of the bed, on her knees by the time I get there, both of us out of breath and laughing.

“You are so slow,” she jokes. “And I don’t mean how long it took you to get up here.”

“My sister is a pervert, sending you underwear.”

She runs a finger along one of the satin straps, toying with me. “I think it’s clever.”

“Still, she shouldn’t be sending my girlfriend skimpy shit.” I sound like a disgruntled toddler.

“Really Kip? You choose now to turn into a prude?”

“My family is so far up our asses I can’t even see straight anymore.”

“Stop pouting and come kiss me.”

Climbing up onto the bed, I’m on my knees too, hands sliding up her bare arms to her shoulders. I hook my thumbs under the strap of the lingerie, tugging it down.

Palm her breasts, the pads of my fingers gently rolling over her firm nipples.

“I think I’m ready,” she moans, head tipping back.

I kiss the tender skin there, careful not to mar it with the stubble of my beard. “Ready for what, babe?”

“To have sex.” Teddy rolls her eyes.

We’ve been waiting—two months I’ve waited for her to say she’s ready, never rushing or pressuring her but wanting to fuck her all the same.

“My condoms are like, a hundred years old.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m on the pill.”

Say what now? “When did you do that?”

“Last month. I went to health services just to be safe—just in case.”

“You mean I get to bone you bareback?”

“Um…yes?”

Sweet!

I’ve almost never been this excited in my entire fucking life. “I’ve been training for this moment.”

Teddy laughs, a high-pitched giggle of nerves. “Would you knock it off?”

“Nope, can’t—too excited.”

“You’re supposed to be quiet and serious.”

“Why? I want to be loud and bang the headboard into the wall.” I hop a little on the bed to illustrate my point, bouncing Teddy’s tits in the process.

Win-win.

“You are not banging me into any headboards.” The sassy little brat shoves my arm before flopping onto her back and throwing her arms behind her head. “You can get me naked, though, if you want.”

I want.

And I do.

My dick is so stiff and hard it’s painful and becoming unbearable.

I get to have sex with my girlfriend.

I am having sex, motherfuckers!

I try to curb my enthusiasm, but it’s hard.

Really hard.

I grin at my own pun, even though I didn’t say it out loud, and as if Teddy can read my mind, she rolls her eyes up at me as I shuck my shirt, pants, and—

“Can you take off your socks?”

And socks.

If I wasn’t so damn horny, I’d be nervous too—getting blowjobs and jerking off is fine, but nothing beats the real deal. Not when all five foot five of beautiful, funny, and intelligent sleeps in bed next to you every night, reminding you.

It’s to the point where every one of Teddy’s quiet sighs and inhaled breaths gets me hard. Every flirty laugh and touch to my body.

I lean in, kissing the tip of her breast through the sheer, red fabric of her lingerie—her teddy—wetting it through the lace.

Kiss along her collarbone, the column of her neck.

We kiss, making out—tongues wet, mouths greedy—as my hands roam her body, feeling for the snaps at the crotch of her bodysuit.

Rub her pussy with my thumb until her pelvis begins rocking and she squirms.

Until she begs me to, “Take it off.”

Then I’m above her, teasing her clit with the head of my cock, guiding it along her slit, stroking up and down, watching as her pupils dilate and nostrils flare. This is different than when we dry hump—this is the moment we both know we’re going to fuck.

Screw.

Make love. Whatever you want to call it, I’m ready.

We both are.

“Go slow,” comes her soft request.

“Scared?” I kiss her forehead and brush away a few strands of hair.

“A little.” Her hands cuff my biceps, and she’s biting down on her lower lip.

“Me too.”

“You are? Why?”

“I’ve never done this with anyone I gave a shit about before.”

“And you give a shit about me, huh?” Her eyes are sparkling, pleased.

She knows what I mean—that I fucking love her even if neither of us has said the words out loud to each other yet.

We know.

I move again, this time pushing forward, cringing. Calling on my self-control—I have tons of it, I do; it’s just so fucking hard not to go balls deep.

She’s wet so my cock glides in easy, searching for that point of resistance we’re both dreading.