Jock Row

by Sara Ney

  Jesus he feels so good.

  “A little.”

  His breath. His nose.

  His mouth.

  It brushes the shell of my ear, hot breath making me crazy.

  “We can blame it on the alcohol in the morning if we want to, yeah?” His voice is husky, vibrating my nerves, just at the base of my ear.

  I tilt my neck. “We could.”

  Instead of pressing his mouth to mine, Rowdy drags it down the column of my neck where the skin is bare. Kisses my clavicle, sucking gently. Grazes his way up my chin, the divot of my bottom lip.

  My lips part, breath coming quicker, chest heaving.

  “You smell so fucking good,” he says into my temple.

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  “Good, ’cause I showered tonight, just for you.”

  That makes me laugh, not because it’s funny, but because he mentioned it—as if I couldn’t tell he smelled like soap and a little extra effort.

  The alcohol has gone to my head—I’m a total lightweight—but alcohol isn’t what has me tipping my head back, isn’t what has me biting back a small moan when Rowdy kisses the sensitive skin next to my right eye.

  When he drags his nose down mine and kisses the tip of it, my eyes shut. Lashes flutter when those callused hands of his graze my biceps, thumbs smoothing along my collarbone.

  I know what’s coming next and I want it.

  Want it more than anything I’ve wanted in a really long time.

  The couch cushions dip when we lean into each other farther, my breasts gently rubbing his pecs through his thin shirt. I’m grateful for it, relishing the heat and hardness of him.

  Then…

  His mouth is on mine, the light kiss scarcely touching my lips. It’s a hot, searing form of torture.

  My heart is beating so fast, pounding inside my chest so hard I can hear it in my ears, echoing in time with every breath I take.

  Ba bum, ba bum, ba bum.

  Rowdy is hesitating, waiting to really lay one on me, his penetrating green eyes roaming my face. Lips. Hair. I lean back to study his face, too, wondering what he sees when he looks at me. Study his dilated irises and pouty bottom lip. His cheekbones and the stubble on his cheeks from the day’s growth.

  So handsome and serious.

  “What are you waiting for, Sterling?” I whisper.

  “I don’t know.”

  With a temperate nudge, I give his strapping shoulders a push, urging him back against the cushions, legs spread, hands at his sides.

  I don’t know what comes over me—sexual repression, probably—but I find myself straddling his wide hips, sitting my ass right on top of his thick thighs as if it has a right to be there.

  My eager palms rest on his chest, easing up the smooth fabric of his shirt, every tendon in his body beneath my fingertips. At my mercy when I pin him down.

  “Hands behind your head,” I murmur into his ear, dragging my nose up and down the shell of it, his hair tickling my nostrils.

  He complies quickly and without protest, clasping those great, masculine hands of his behind his head, lacing them together. His biceps bulge, whiter than the rest of him, veins blue and prominent.

  I graze my fingertips along the sensitive skin there, relishing how soft it is. How strong and solid the muscles are. Firm. Flattening my palms, they skim Rowdy’s flesh, over his armpits and down his ribcage.

  He’s breathing hard, squirming under me.

  “What do you daydream about the most?”

  “You.”

  Good answer.

  I kiss his neck, just below his jawline.

  “What is your best physical feature?” I whisper.

  “My…” He swallows, debating. There are so many choices. “My arms.”

  I agree. I kiss the flesh of his powerful underarm.

  “If you were given the chance to become invisible for one day, what would you do with this ability?”

  “I…” he begins. Swallows. “I would spend it watching you walk around naked.”

  “You think I walk around naked an entire day? My, my, what wishful thinking.”

  Nevertheless, I kiss the space next to his eye, where it’s tender, kiss his laugh lines.

  His eyes widen when my hands cradle his face, fingers flexing behind his head.

  Rowdy is so damn adorable; I want to eat him up. So huge, my five-foot five-inch frame feels so petite in his lap. With my front row seat, my fingers brush his jawline, stroking upward over the unshaven bristles. Over his pouty bottom lip.

  “Do it, Scarlett.” His fingers squeeze my waist to prompt me along, begging me to kiss him on the mouth. “Fucking do it already.”

  “Stop being so bossy. I’ll get to it.”

  Never would I ever have thought I’d be doing this with him, not in a million years…

  “You can take your hands down now,” I inform him magnanimously, orienting myself so I can rub my breasts along his chest.

  The first brush of my mouth against his is brief, sweeping. Soft.

  Electric.

  Zap.

  Sizzle.

  Startled, I pull back. “Did you feel that?”

  A short nod. “Yes.”

  He licks his gorgeous lips, lips still parted expectantly.

  “Do it again.”

  His hands grip my backside, fanned out on my spine.

  When our mouths finally fuse, I lose myself in him a bit. One small piece of my soul becomes Sterling Wade’s, whether he wants it or not.

  Up my back, one of his hands roams. Up my spine, strong and splayed. Up the column of my neck, fingers spread, plunging through my hair as his tongue plunges into my mouth, meeting mine.

  The other is firmly planted on my ass.

  This kiss is…

  Shock and shiver and memorable. Insanity. Divine torment.

  I cannot get my tongue far enough down his throat, body electrically charged, intensely aware of the throbbing member between my legs.

  I will not grind on his cock, I will not grind on his cock, I will not…

  Too late. My hips roll of their own accord; they can’t help themselves, wanting him as much as I do. His thick shaft is nestled snuggly between my legs, begging for attention the way Rowdy was begging for my kisses.

  Greedy. Needy.

  Hot and sexy, our tongues and lips are wet, dipping into each other as if it’s the only time we’ll have the chance.

  It’s madness.

  I want to tear his clothes off and bang him on my living room floor.

  Weeks of mutual, pent-up sexual tension have me reaching for the hem of his shirt and sliding my hands underneath. Aching and desperate to feel the weight of his skin, my fingertips glide over Rowdy’s textbook washboard abs.

  They were carved out of marble.

  Jesus, he’s so ripped and cut in all the right places I don’t know what to touch or stroke first.

  Greedy. Selfish.

  My hands find the light smattering of chest hair on his pecs. I sweep over it with the pads of my fingers; my selfish palms slither over the solid, brawny muscles of his clavicle. Brush over his hard nipples with the pads of my thumb. Rest on his ribcage, caressing there, too.

  “Don’t,” he warns into my mouth. “I’m ticklish.”

  I’m such an asshole. I tickle near his arm pit.

  “How ticklish?” I murmur, daring to torment him.

  “Ticklish enough that I’m three seconds from picking you up and tossing you to the floor.”

  My breath quickens. Picking me up and tossing me to the floor? How exciting.

  “Is that so?”

  I wiggle my finger under his pit, taunting the caged tiger, practically daring him to haul me up and do whatever nefarious things he’s going to do to me on the ground in the middle of the room.

  Do it.

  Do it, I dare him.

  My heart accelerates at the thought; I’ve never made out with anyone so totally male befo
re, making all the guys before him nothing but boys.

  Rowdy could lift me in one motion as if I weighed nothing, and I want to see him do it, desperately.

  “Are you testing my patience on purpose, Scarlett?”

  I nod. “How strong your self-control?”

  “Right now? Shitty.”

  “Good.” I tip my chin, giving him access to nuzzle it. Lick it if he wants.

  “You want me to toss you on the floor?”

  Another nod and my lips part. “Yes.”

  “How bout I do you one fuckin better?”

  Fuckin’ do me better.

  Sterling’s mammoth palms firmly grope my hamstrings before his arms brace and he stands, hoisting me up. Lifts me, as if I’m weightless, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

  God he’s sexy, lips and teeth still lapping me up. Mouth on my neck, sucking at my collarbone.

  Instead of laying me on the floor as he threatened, he takes three long strides, stalking across the carpeted floor, pressing my back flat against the living room wall.

  Bracing me between him and the kitchen.

  His erection digs into the apex of my thighs through his pants, and with slow controlled movements, Sterling hovers me over his cock, working me up and down over his jeans until we’re dry humping against the wall. Kissing. Making out like teenagers, devouring each other.

  Rowdy squeezes my ass every so often, our tongues mating. Fucking, really.

  Dirty.

  I can’t get my mouth open wide enough; this kiss is the best one I’ve ever had, messy and wet—so wet I’ll probably have to wipe my mouth off when we’re done, but I don’t care. I’m delirious with want and need, dirty and delicious tension making us frantic.

  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss Sterling Wade since the minute I walked out onto that porch with him, lying if I said I hadn’t thought about those mammoth baseball player hands rubbing on my body.

  They’re huge. They’re fantastic.They’re gripping my bottom, grasping my butt cheeks. Sliding up my ribcage, around my slender frame to cup my breast through the fabric of my tank top.

  I’m so glad I’m not wearing a bra.

  “Mmm,” I moan.

  This kiss is everything, and I will remember it for the rest of my life.

  I groan into his mouth when his hands firmly grip my body, holding me steady as if I weigh nothing. Moan again when his tongue does that sexy twirly rolling thing against mine. Draws my bottom lip into his mouth, nipping.

  I pant when his teeth drag along my throat and his mouth sucks at my neck.

  This kiss is everything…

  Everything.

  His mouth checks my vitals, sucking on the throbbing pulse in my neck, slowly driving me mad and probably giving me a hickey. I don’t even care; I’ll cover it with makeup.

  I love it.

  Love his mouth and tongue and rough, grasping hands.

  This is more than a first kiss. This is us losing ourselves in each other, an out-of-body experience. For once in my life I don’t want to be cautious. I want to throw caution to the wind.

  I want him as much as he wants me.

  But not against a wall. Or on the dirty carpet of my college rental. Or when we’ve been drinking.

  I meet his wild, half-hooded eyes. Stare down at his puffy lips, running the tips of my fingers along the bowed top of his mouth, tracing the curve.

  He parts his lips, tongue flicking the pad of my forefinger.

  Then, I bring a hand to my own mouth, replicating the motion, pressing gently.

  It’s tender.

  Thoroughly kissed.

  “Scarlett, let’s go to the bedroom.” He continues to kiss along my jaw.

  God I want to—I want to so bad.

  But I’m not spontaneous, and no matter how hot my body is—the fire inside blazing from head to toe—I’m not the kind of girl who’s going to have sex on a whim because it feels good.

  “If we go into the bedroom, Sterling, we won’t stop.”

  “You want to stop?” His expression is incredulous.

  “I don’t want to…but we should.”

  Rowdy still has me pressed against the wall, pelvis and cock digging into my crotch. He licks my cleavage, right in the valley between my breasts. “I want you to know, I have no problem playing the long game with you, just so you know what you’re up against.”

  I’m dazed. “The long game?”

  “I can wait you out, Scarlett Ripley.”

  Wait me out. “What does that mean?”

  “If you’re saying there’s even a chance of letting me inside your tight, wet pussy, I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”

  Jesus, his mouth is filthy.

  I love it.

  Warm heat floods my stomach, pooling in my lower abdomen.

  “You’re so fucking…” He’s practically growling, sexual frustration clenching his control like a fist. “Look, okay…I just need a second.”

  Even when he blows out an unsatisfied puff of air, releasing the pent-up tension from his lungs, it’s sexy. Watching this self-composed man come undone is…

  Powerful.

  “I’ve literally never had this conversation with anyone in my entire life,” he grumbles, the baritone of his voice reverberating deep. “My balls aren’t going to be blue, they’re going to turn purple.”

  I kiss the corner of his mouth, in no hurry to be put back on the ground. “Never have I ever had a sex talk before I tried sleeping with someone.”

  We kiss in lieu of drinking alcohol, still drunk on one another.

  “You’d rather just rip all your clothes off and screw?” I ask when we come up for air.

  “It’s always been easier than talking.”

  “We’re being responsible.”

  He grunts. “I guess, but doesn’t planning sex take the fun out of it?”

  I wouldn’t have a clue. “Doesn’t anticipation give us something to look forward to?”

  He considers the question. “What if the sex is crap after all this buildup?”

  “What if it’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” I tap him on the nose. “Just something to think about.” Tilt my head, studying him as he holds me up as if I weigh nothing. “Have you ever done that? Not just had random sex?”

  “I had a girlfriend once, my freshman year.”

  He had a girlfriend? This surprises me and my brows go up.

  “Oh yeah? What happened?” I try to keep my tone causal, but our breathing is labored and it’s difficult. Lean in to kiss his strong jaw.

  “The team happened.” He hoists me, readjusting my weight, mouth below my ear. “The pressure, the—”

  “Groupies?”

  “No. I was going to say I was away too much. She didn’t like it.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?”

  “Nothing.”

  He sets me on the ground, gazing down into my eyes. “Not nothing. What were you going to say?”

  “I was going to ask about fidelity.”

  “Why? I already told you I’ve never cheated. Fidelity was never a problem for me like it was for her.”

  “Can you clarify that?”

  “She said she was left alone too much and I wasn’t giving her enough attention.” The words come out slightly bitter, and in reply, no sound comes out of my mouth but for a short intake of breath.

  “Do you mean she cheated on you?”

  He grunts, running his fingers through my hair. “I got over it.”

  “But you haven’t had a girlfriend since.”

  “No.”

  “So you’re not emotionally scarred or anything?” I blurt out.

  He laughs. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “I’m just wondering if you were traumatized by it.”

  He rolls his brilliant green eyes at me. “I was eighteen, Scarlett. Nothing traumatized me back then. My shit didn’t stink.”

&n
bsp; “Whatever you say.” I’m not convinced.

  He sighs. “I didn’t lie in bed crying about it, if that’s what you’re thinking happened.”

  Yeah, that’s a little bit what I was thinking. “I want to have sex with you—I do—just not against a wall.”

  “Bite your tongue.” He bends at the knees, brushing my hair back and flicking his tongue along my lobe. Exhales into my ear. “I would never fuck anyone against a wall. Have you ever tried it? Stupid dangerous and way too much work on my end not to drop you.” He laughs into my hair. “Not worth it.”

  “Shut up.” I laugh, wanting to smack him arm. “I’m being serious. I’m not a hook-up kind of girl, and you already know I’m kind of a pain in the ass—ask any one of your friends.”

  “I’m not telling my friends shit.” After a few heartbeats, he adds, “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

  I believe him, holding my breath when his palm roams up the smooth front of my top. Kneads my breast through the thin fabric.

  “Scarlett?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to miss these boobs tonight when I get home.”

  Whether he palms one for good measure or to torture us both, I’ll never know.

  ***

  Rowdy: I can’t sleep, can you?

  Scarlett: No. I tried sleeping then finally started playing around on my phone. Watching for you to message me, lol, how lame am I?

  Rowdy: Not as lame as me doing the same thing. I gave up waiting—you’re a real stubborn PITA sometimes, Ripley

  Rowdy: I should have just spent the night. My dick would be tucked nicely into your ass crack. Was that TMI? Too soon?

  Scarlett: lol, I’m not sure that would have helped. And do you really think we’re at that point? Sleepovers?

  Rowdy: We’re friends, which is more than most people have when they start dating.

  Scarlett: Dating… Is that what you want?

  Rowdy: I told you I was playing the long game, remember?

  Scarlett: I didn’t forget, I guess I just didn’t realize that’s what you wanted.

  Rowdy: Isn’t what EVERY girl wants?

  Scarlett: I only want what you’re willing to give me.

  Rowdy: Scarlett, it’s two o’clock in the morning; I’m way too tired to get philosophical.

  Scarlett: Let’s talk about how you failed to nail me last night. What would we call that in baseball? A strike out?