Jock Row

by Sara Ney

  Sterling’s thumbs hook my pajama bottoms and underwear, dragging them down together my hips until I’m completely naked. His large hands drift slowly up my torso, over my breasts, weighing them in his palms before working their way back down.

  He’s sweet and tender and easing my legs apart, broad shoulders nudging my knees open with a gentle bump.

  He hums, content. Studying my vagina as if committing it to memory and later there will be a test.

  Two large fingers spread my—

  “Oh lord,” I gasp.

  “Go ahead and pray to Jesus, baby,” he coaxes. “I’m about to make you come all over my face.”

  The words—so dirty.

  The tongue—so wet.

  One slow lick up my slit, then another, and I raise my head to watch. God, I want to watch.

  Fascinated, I breathe hard, tiny jolts of pleasure racking my ovaries as he licks and sucks and licks my clit. Sucks again as if auditioning for the starring role in a porno.

  “Uhh…oh god…” My hands white-knuckle the sheets, head hits the pillow when Sterling makes round circles with his thumb on my—“Oh god”—clit as he sucks.

  Wow. He’s really good at this.

  My lips part and I try to get actual, coherent words out, but the only ones I can find are, “Uhhh,” attached to a long, drawn-out groan.

  His groan.

  Sterling is enjoying this as much as I am.

  He never comes up for air, not once, never takes his mouth off me.

  Not until I lose myself. Not until I fall apart, coming and coming—on his mouth—and even after he’s licked me completely dry, he drags my orgasm out until my pelvis trembles with tiny shocks. Grips my ass, holding me down, sucking until I throw an arm over my brow, lying motionlessly like a limp doll.

  I catch him licking his fingers and want to die—absolutely die, mortified and turned on, both at the same time.

  He’s so fucking sexy.

  So greedy.

  So tall when he stands, leaning in to plant a kiss on my mouth, dragging his lower half along for the ride. Grinding. Flexing his firm ass.

  That delicious, erotic tip of him eases into the wet spot between my legs. Digging in just enough that I inhale from surprise, the sensitive nub still swollen from my orgasm. I give Rowdy a push with my hands to get him off my body.

  “You better stop before you get carried away.”

  “I won’t. I can control it.”

  “You won’t—you’re too…” Horny. Aroused.

  Desperate for me. For sex.

  “Babe, please.”

  “No. We should stop.”

  I’m such an asshole, numbly watching when he peels himself off me, off the bed, cock stiff in his underwear, jutting out proud and dejected, the loser in this game.

  Sterling peers down at my body, hand cupping his balls through the thin fabric, stroking absentmindedly. Turns his back on me and strides a few paces toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  I drag myself over the edge of the bed, covering myself to the waist with the white cotton sheet.

  “To finish myself off in the bathroom.”

  Finish himself off? Oh lord.

  “I can’t let you do that—it wouldn’t be fair.”

  His beautiful mouth is amused. “No. It really wouldn’t be.”

  “I’ve never really—I mean, I don’t want you to finish yourself off.” How embarrassing. “I want to do it for you. I want…” A lump forms in my throat, but I’m determined to say the words. I’m mature enough to offer him a blow job, can at least freaking say the words. “Do you want…”

  Ugh.

  “Yes, Scarlett, I want you to suck my dick.” He says it softly but oh my god, the words!

  He’s standing next to the bathroom door, hand still on his erection, leisurely stroking it through his boxer briefs.

  “Don’t judge me, okay? I’ve never done it before.”

  “It’s pretty easy,” he says slowly, hands up in surrender. “All you have to do…is put…your mouth…on my cock…and suck.” He makes himself moan. “You can’t screw it up.”

  I swallow my nerves, crooking my finger. “Then come back to bed.”

  Those five words are an aphrodisiac, ones he wants so badly.

  I can see that he’s exercising all his self-control by not bounding over. I can tell by the way his body inches toward me, halted, taking its time, approaching unhurriedly.

  Still, he’s desperate for me to blow him.

  “You sure?”

  I almost roll my eyes—he’s being coy, and we both know it. He’s positively vibrating from excitement, eyes slightly wild. Pupils dilated, nostrils flaring.

  “Yes. Come here.”

  He does, standing at the foot of the bed so I have to crawl to him on my knees until I’m face to face with his erection, my greedy palms connecting with his sinewy skin. Touching. Caressing.

  Stroking.

  Lovingly trail one of my hot fingers down his abs, following the dusky hairs of his happy trail.

  Half-hooded eyes watch, transfixed, while I fondle him through his underwear, lids getting droopy. Chest heaving, hands hanging and clenched at his sides.

  He’s aroused, painfully so, if his thick dick is any indication. I can see every part of it outlined inside his briefs—the head, the thick shaft.

  I swear I can see it throbbing, but maybe that’s just my imagination.

  I want to see it.

  Tugging the elastic band circling his waist, I drag his boxers down, down, careful not to catch them on the head of his dick, anticipation needling every nerve cell in my body. My body hums with energy.

  Both of us are breathing hard.

  Sterling is thick, hard, and throbbing.

  My hand grips it, testing its girth.

  My legs climb off the bed so I can turn him, pushing him onto the mattress so I can get down on my knees on the carpet in front of him.

  “God, Scarlett,” he chokes out, voice strangled before I even have my mouth on him, the simple sight of me kneeling driving him to distraction.

  Still, he grabs a fistful of my hair, brushing my long strands aside so he can watch me. I read in a magazine once that guys love the sight of themselves getting head, and Sterling is no exception.

  His eyes close when my mouth closes over him. His head bobs back like it’s on a string when I suck it for the first several seconds—just the tip.

  “Fuck…oh fuck.”

  The vulgar language spurs me on, and I take him deeper, a novice, but enthusiastic. I mean—his dick is in my mouth, how bad could I be at giving him a blowie? He already seems to be enjoying it, and based on his begging, this won’t take long.

  “Oh god, yeah, Scarlett, suck it,” he pleads.

  And he is begging.

  Begging me.

  Me, the girl they called Cock Blocker the night he kicked me out of the baseball house. Me, the girl he fell in love with when we weren’t even trying to get along.

  I lift my head, removing my mouth. “Would you rather…”

  “Don’t you fucking dare.” He moans. “I s-swear to f-fucking god, Scarlett…”

  “Would you rather come in my mouth or in my hand?”

  “C-Come in your mouth—Jesus, please keep sucking,” he implores frantically, glassy eyed and gorgeous. “I want to come in your mouth.”

  So he does.

  He comes and groans and makes so much damn noise I have to shush him before someone calls customer relations to complain, and I’ve never felt more powerful.

  Later, when we’re lying side by side in bed, spent and wrapped in each other’s arms, I gather one more shred of courage.

  “I’m going to assume you brought protection? Because I’m not on any form of birth control.”

  I definitely want to have sex with him this weekend.

  It’s happening.

  His brows go up as his hand strokes my hair. Kisses my temple. “Yeah, I took care of
it, all kinds of optimistic. Since I met you, I’ve only ever come inside my pants or your mouth.” He laughs. “No offense, but I’m looking forward to coming inside a condom instead.”

  Never has a single soul made me blush this much. My body is in a state of burgundy. My toes actually curl from the thrill, and will I ever go back to my normal shade of pale?

  Somehow, I doubt it.

  SUNDAY

  Scarlett

  Today has been a dream.

  Rowdy and his family took me snorkeling—a first for me. We’re back after an entire day on a charter boat, splashing in the tide on a beautiful public beach near the ship’s dock.

  Standing waist deep in the water, I trail my palms on the surface, having just snorkeled my way from a colorful reef not fifty feet out. The sand is white, the water crystal clear, the occasional fish darting around as we wade closer to shore.

  I’m dawdling, in no hurry, lifting tiny shells out of their beds of sand. Turn them this way and that, studying each one with a keen eye.

  Nearby, Rowdy dips into the waves, tipping his head into the ocean and brushing his hair back. My eyes suction to his pecs when he rises, salty seawater sluicing off his hard, tan body.

  Dripping.

  Wet.

  Droplets fall down his backside, glistening along his spine, absorbed by his aqua blue and hot pink swim trunks.

  His beautiful mouth was on me last night, down between my legs.

  I try not to gawk at him, but it’s damn difficult. He’s smiling at me, white teeth and sun reflecting off the water, sparkling like diamonds on his shoulders, chest, and abs.

  Dear lord.

  I drop the shell in my hand and it drifts away, gone.

  The sound of the waves is a seductive caress and has me feeling exhilarated. Reflective.

  “Rowdy?”

  “Yeah?” He strides toward me, dragging his snorkel through the water.

  “Why did you invite me here?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Because you love the water.”

  “Not to the beach, you goof—on this trip, to Florida to spend time with your family.”

  Shrug. “Airfare was cheap.”

  We’re closer to the shore now, my blue goggles resting atop my forehead, toes digging into the sandy ocean floor with every step I take.

  My hand shoots out, grabbing him by his brawny bicep.

  We both glance down at my hand, barely able to cuff halfway around his thick muscle, before our eyes lock.

  “Sterling, stop.”

  I’ve taken to calling him that lately, rather than his baseball nickname. It makes me feel closer to him, like we share something special, and only I can use his given name to address him.

  He takes my other hand, sliding it around his narrow waist with a shiver under the blazing, Caribbean sun.

  “Is that the only reason? The cheap airfare?”

  He pauses, uncertain. “Of course not.”

  “Why then?”

  “I wanted to make you happy.” As he says it, his hands drift from the water, up my arms, resting on my shoulders.

  “Why?”

  His thumbs rub my wet skin, scorching it into oblivion. “Jeez, Scar, why are you asking all these questions? Is everything okay?”

  Because I want to hear you say you love me—to me, not just to your mother.

  “I’m not trying to be dramatic.” Too late. “I’m just curious—the waves got me thinking, that’s all. I’m so happy right now, I can’t even believe I’m here. I could stay here forever, right here in this spot.”

  With you.

  “You grew on me like a weed, babe—of course I want to haul you along everywhere.”

  “A weed,” I deadpan.

  “A cute weed?”

  Cute? I narrow my eyes.

  “A smoking hot weed with a beautiful set of tits I’d give anything to see naked right now?”

  Tits.

  Jeez, that word.

  “Sterling!” I chastise, though his words get me so hot I moan. No amount of cool ocean waves can tamp down the electric sizzle running through my spine.

  Those giant man hands of his graze my bikini top, thumbs hooking the straps, tugging.

  “There are people watching.” There are families everywhere, kids. Couples. Grandparents.

  His parents.

  My eyes roam the beach, locating them under a cluster of palm trees, lying on deck chairs, his dad reading a World War II book, his mom sleeping with a towel draped over her face.

  Rowdy follows my gaze while the tips of his thumbs brush across my nipples. “If we were alone, would you let me take your top off?”

  That’s a no-brainer. “Yes.”

  “What a coincidence,” he croons, deep voice giving me goose bumps. “We’re going to be alone later.”

  “Is sex the only thing you think about?”

  “Who said anything about sex? I’m talking about sucking on your boobs.”

  If my face wasn’t already red from snorkeling, I’d be blushing, but the bright sun is sparing me the embarrassment.

  Rowdy leans in, licking my ear. “But if you want to have sex later, I won’t shove you off the bed—promise.”

  “How romantic.”

  Now his hands are at my waist, pulling me against him, water sloshing around our midriffs. My breasts press against his chest—his gorgeous, firm pecs. His nipples stiff, dark areolas puckered.

  “You look so fucking cute in that snorkel.”

  Snort. “No one looks cute in a snorkel.”

  “You do, especially with your purdy little ass sticking up out of the water.”

  “Were you even looking at the fish?” I ask accusingly, palms sliding up over his abdominals.

  “What fish?”

  I smack him in the bicep. “These fringing reefs provide habitats for some of the most beautiful creatures on this planet, Sterling. I can’t believe you’re not even paying attention! There was a Nassau grouper back there!”

  “You are so hot when you get feisty.”

  I glare, disappointed. “Babe, it’s not funny.”

  Suddenly, his eyes widen at the endearment, hands reaching beneath the water to scoop me up, lifting me into his strong arms, out of the water, legs dangling over his forearms.

  “Stop! Put me down,” I demand through a laugh.

  “What did you just call me?” He kisses my collarbone, next to the yellow strap of my bikini top. “Baby, did you seriously just call me babe?”

  “Stop teasing, you big jock, put me down.” I barely put up a fight.

  “Damn right I have a big jock.” The lips that woke me up this morning sweep across my mouth. “I want to stick my tongue in your mouth so bad.”

  “I would honestly die. Your parents are right there.”

  “Just once?”

  “Everyone can see us!” I throw my arms wide, gesturing to the human-filled beach as he bobs me in the water. “Literally every passenger from the ship is on this beach with us.”

  “Will you at least let me take a peek at your nipples? I’ll block you with my back so no one sees.”

  My nipples harden into solid pebbles.

  He notices.

  “Please?” He’s begging, and lord if it isn’t turning me on. “Just a peek.”

  I roll my eyes and bite down on my bottom lip at the same time, swim bottoms getting soaked—and not from the sea surrounding us. “I swear I’m going to kill you.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, but be quick.”

  He’s strong enough to hold me with one arm so he can peel away the slick fabric of my yellow triangle top with the other, stealing a peek at my bare breast, nostrils flaring when he uncovers my entire, dusky nipple.

  “You’re sure you won’t let me suck on these?”

  I squirm, out of breath. “We’re in public!”

  “But they’re so fucking pretty and it’s right fucking there.” He groans, bending his neck. “God Scarlett, I’m so hard. All
I want to do is go back to the ship and fuck you.”

  “You sound like a horny fourteen-year-old. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

  “Do you blame me? Baby, I run on adrenaline and haven’t gotten my workout in today. I’m like a bomb ready to detonate.”

  Babe.

  Baby.

  I can see already we’re going to be one of those disgusting PDA couples.

  The fabric of my suit might have fallen back into place, but

  he’s right—one peek isn’t enough. Looking won’t be enough. Sucking and wandering hands and tongue aren’t ever going to be enough.

  Not for me. Not for him.

  Not anymore.

  “All right, Sterling.”

  “All right what?” He looks so confused.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Do what?”

  Honestly. “If you can’t figure it out, then sorry buddy, it’s not happening for you tonight.”

  “Don’t you dare fucking joke about sex. I’ve been jonesing to screw you since the day we met—I swear my nuts are about to fall off.”

  He sets me down on the sandy sea floor and rubs his erection into my ass.

  “You couldn’t stand me when you met me.” I let him grind it into my crack, strapping arms wrapped around my middle from behind. “You called me Cock Blocker.”

  “And now all I want to do is get this cock inside you.”

  “God you’re a pervert.”

  His hands dip below the water, fingers running into my bikini bottoms. Forefinger pressing the sensitive nub between my legs.

  “Should we skip dinner tonight?” I tip my head back, wanting nothing more than for him to make me come—but then a Frisbee whizzes by and we both look in its direction, startled.

  He groans miserably at my suggestion. “No, we can’t skip dinner. My parents will know why we’re not there and I promised my dad I’d behave.”

  “You think they’d think we were…?” Screwing?

  When he laughs, I want to lick his Adam’s apple. “That’s definitely what my parents would think we were doing, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have my father try to kick my ass.”

  I wade a few feet before donning my goggles again, fitting the mouthpiece of the rented snorkel into my mouth, floating buoyantly on my stomach. Stretching my arms wide, I float, legs doing little scissor kicks in the ocean while Rowdy watches over me a few feet away.