Jock Hard

by Ney, Sara

  Her fingers tighten on my shoulders. Squeeze. A warning.

  “Th-This isn’t a good idea. I’m not steady enough to stand here w-while you do that without falling.” She’s stuttering—a good sign.

  An excellent sign.

  I rise slowly, dragging myself along her naked body, licking her tits as my hands slide up her backside, gripping her ass cheeks.

  Scarlett gasps when I haul her up, rotate and lower her to the bed. Stand back and get rid of the boxer briefs clinging to my thick thighs.

  Arms above her head, she’s spread out like an angel, dark hair fanned out on the white bedspread, skin a light golden brown from her time in the sun.

  Cheeks? Pink.

  Lips? Pouty and parted.

  Dimple? One hundred fucking percent lickable.

  Her eyes are expectant and wide when I crawl over her body, sucking on her nipple along the way and wetting it with my ravenous tongue.

  Scarlett’s throat constricts in an uneasy swallow when she glances between our bodies, at my hard dick swaying in the breeze. “Just so you know, I harbor no illusions about this going well.”

  I pause, listening. Watching her chest move up and down. “What do you mean?”

  “I know it’s going to hurt, Sterling, and only one of us is going to enjoy it.”

  My stomach drops and I actually move my fucking hand there. “Why would you say that?”

  “None of my friends liked sex their first time.”

  “None?”

  Her head gives a bashful shake. Well shit. This will not do.

  Not on my watch.

  “Not only are you going to like it, you’re going to orgasm.”

  Scarlett laughs, shoulders shaking at the confident tone of my voice, her hands sliding along my arms to cup my face, pulling me down so she can smack a kiss to my lips.

  “You’re adorably full of yourself.”

  Maybe, but since when is that a bad thing? “It’s called confidence.”

  “You’re confident you can make me orgasm the first time I have sex? You’re not a magician. It’s going to hurt.”

  “Magic has nothing to do with it—this does.” I lower my pelvis, letting my cock drag across the slit of her pussy while my tongue plays along her lips until her mouth opens. “I’ve been hard for you for weeks.”

  “You have?”

  “You couldn’t tell? I feel like I’ve been walking around with a fucking boner in my pants since I hauled you onto that porch.”

  “You didn’t haul me onto that porch—I followed you.”

  “Probably so you could check out my ass.”

  She reaches around, hands skimming the sensitive skin of my ribcage. Slides them down to my buttocks, squeezing. “And what a lovely ass it is.”

  Firm? Yes. Lovely? No.

  Moaning when my painfully stiff dick slides back and forth over her pussy, she sucks on my tongue. Comes up for air when I nudge the tip between the folds. “Don’t get too carried away with that thing. It’s dangerous.”

  But fuck does it feels good.

  “Then hold that thought.” I climb off Scarlett for a few seconds to grab a condom from the bedside table; I stashed them there the first night we arrived, optimistic and wanting to be prepared—just in case.

  She locks eyes with the blue metallic wrapper as I toss it to the side. Blushes furiously, breasts and all.

  * * *

  SCARLETT

  This body is a temple—we don’t wear it down, we build it up. Feel free to worship at the shrine…

  I remember him saying that to me once, and it comes back now as he grabs a condom from the bedside table, casually tossing it on the pillow. It lands near my head, the wrapper

  blue and shiny. I’ve never put one on a man before, let alone had one inside me.

  Well I’m certainly worshiping his body now.

  Sterling Wade is sleek and impressively built, and I admire the efforts of his endless athletic training. I admire the Venus kisses above his fantastic butt—it’s pale, down to his dense hamstrings, unlike the rest of his ridiculous body that seems to have been dipped in liquid sun.

  Every muscle flexes when he reaches for the bedside table, every tendon strains.

  He tosses the condom and a small bottle of lube on the bed like it’s no big deal.

  I blush furiously because to me, it is.

  I’ve never been naked like this with anyone before, and I’m not sure what to do with myself while I lay here, on full display. Because I’m about to have sex.

  About to have sex! Finally.

  I resist the urge to cover my bits with the palms of my hands; he’s already seen them, sucked and licked them. He’s had his mouth on my—

  Sterling slips back onto the mattress, inching up next to me, long arm reaching to the foot of the bed, towing the sheets up to cover us both.

  Kisses me.

  Kisses and kisses and kisses me, erection digging into my thigh.

  It’s distracting, my brain focused on three things: impending pain, trying to relax so I’m not tense (too late), and praying this won’t be a complete disaster.

  God, I hope it’s not terrible.

  God, I hope I don’t disappoint him.

  God, I hope it doesn’t hurt like a mother.

  “Babe, are you okay? You look a little pale—we don’t have to do this.” Sterling’s voice is a welcome interruption to an imagination taking a downward spiral.

  “I’m overthinking it.”

  “We can stop. Just tell me when and I’ll stop.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I demand, sounding bossier and less tense than I feel.

  “I’d be happy sucking your pretty boobs all night.” He nips at one, drawing a nipple into his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue. “If I died doing this, I’d die happy.”

  “No. This is what I want.”

  * * *

  ROWDY

  I stare down at her longer than I probably should, arms braced on either side of her head, kissing the corner of her mouth.

  She cuffs my biceps with her palms, squeezing. “This is what I want. Don’t you dare stop.”

  “I won’t.” Even if it’s going to kill me to hurt her.

  “I think you should get on with it. I’m way too tense to drag this out—just rip off the bandage.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I’m not as eager as I thought I would be to slide the condom on, nervous energy replacing the anticipation of screwing Scarlett, anxious to do it right the first time.

  I rise up on my haunches and unroll the condom down my dick, crack the tube of KY lube, squeezing out a small amount on my thumb and forefinger, rubbing them together. Reach down and rub them over her clit in tiny circles, watching as her lips part and eyelids lower.

  Beautiful.

  Run my hand over my cock, the lubricant getting me slick. I lower myself, face inches from hers.

  Reach between us and guide myself in. Push until the entire tip is inside, and motherfucker is she hot. I slide in easy, cock lubed and hard as I’ve ever been.

  Christ, I’m sweating, beads of perspiration breaking out on my forehead as I inch forward, centimeters at a time—and damn if my arms aren’t shaking…

  My head dips.

  Scarlett kisses the crown of my head, my hair. Fingers roaming to my backside, tenderly splayed over my ass.

  Deeper still…

  Her nostrils flare and eyes widen with shock when I push through her hymen, her hips rearing away—fight or flight. I cover my mouth with hers, muffling the squeak of protest tearing from her throat. Kiss away the pain, motionless, listening to her breathe.

  I love you, Scarlett. I’m sorry if it hurts. Pull out.

  Push in. Out. In.

  Slower than I’ve ever gone in my entire fucking life.

  Rise to my knees again, locking eyes, breathing hard. Pressing my thumb against her clit and starting slow little circles.

  My lips part, too.

  I lov
e you.

  Out.

  In.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah.” She pants, watching me as my hips thrust forward. Pull back. Thrust forward.

  I peer between our bodies, hand on her pelvis, dragging us tight together, round and round my callused thumb goes over her pussy.

  “You feel so good, baby.” I barely have any breath in my lungs.

  I feel my face contort, and I imagine it looks like I’m terrified—she’s so fucking tight. So tight.

  A dream.

  Round and round. “Does that feel good?” She nods, biting her lip. “You like that?”

  Another nod and her head thrashes on the pillow—a fantastic sign. She is going to come if it kills us both.

  I want to pound into her so hard my ass cheeks are flexing, self-control the only thing holding me back.

  Quiet sex has never been my style—I like it loud and dirty and messy—but there’s something to be said about what she and I have now, here, in this moment.

  It’s more than a physical connection because I love her. Then, something incredible happens.

  Scarlett’s eyes widen, this time not from pain, but from pleasure. Cheeks flush, boobs bounce as I thrust just a little harder, thumb still working the hot button between her legs.

  “Oh…” she moans.

  Moans again, head tipping back, hands grasping the pillow. Yes…yes.

  Fuck. Yes.

  My hips swivel. Pelvis rocks. “Sterling…”

  The look on her face matches mine—panicked. Frantic.

  And it’s magical when she comes. I will never forget the look on her face, or the sounds she makes, the gasping noises and tortured near sobs.

  Gorgeous.

  I love you, Scarlett

  MONDAY

  SCARLETT

  It’s much too dark in our cabin, curtains pulled closed, and I can barely make out the shape of Rowdy as he yanks on his gym shorts in the corner of the room, trying not to wake me but failing when he bumps into the compact-sized coffee table.

  Black mesh shorts with red stripes running up the sides. Formfitting tank top. White socks. Black trainers.

  He’s going to drive all the women in the workout room crazy.

  Even in the dark he looks hot.

  I roll toward him, resting my chin in the crook of my arm. “What time is it?”

  He sits down on the edge of the mattress, stroking my back. Leans down to kiss my bare shoulder. “Shh, babe, go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Next, his lips kiss my temple, hand sliding beneath the sheet and skimming over my waist. He’s so big and warm, and I want to cuddle, missing him already.

  “Don’t go.” I stretch, reaching for him.

  “Go back to sleep.” Another kiss to my exposed skin. “I won’t be gone long, maybe two hours.”

  Two hours!

  “I’ll take a shower in the gym then wake you up with post- workout morning sex.”

  “But I’m already awake.” I yawn, rolling to my back.

  “Think of it this way,” he croons in the dark. “I’ll get a better workout knowing my reward is a slow bang when I get back. Do me a favor and be naked when I get back.”

  I’m already naked under these blankets, neither of us bothering to get dressed after having sex last night; our pajamas never even made it to the party.

  “Unless.” He trails a finger down my stomach, circling my belly button. “You want me to get you off before I go?”

  I moan, sore but greedy.

  His hand strays back up, gently kneading a breast. “Shit, I shouldn’t have started touching you.” He leans over me, kissing my cheek where my dimple is. “Maybe I should get naked and stay.”

  “No, you should go. You’ll regret it all day if you don’t.”

  We regard each other in the near dark, only a thin sliver of light peeking through the shades. He knows I’m right; he would regret it if he didn’t go.

  “Promise you’ll be in this spot in two hours when I get back?”

  “It’s five o’clock.” I stretch like a cat. “I’m not about to hop out of bed.”

  “Okay, I’ll hurry.” He rises, standing over me. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  I yawn. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Instead, I dream of him.

  Dream of the night we met—only this time when he leads me out of the party, he’s holding me by the hand. This time when I follow him out to the porch, there are lavender roses on the swing, their fragrance drifting up to my nose. It rocks back and forth in the wind, the flowers falling to the floor, one at a time, petals scattering in the wind.

  When I reach for Rowdy’s hand, he’s gone, replaced by a tall, looming—

  I jerk awake, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.

  It’s light outside now, sun furiously pushing through the shades, hot white light. That one sliver of light is blinding, so I shift, turning toward the door.

  Rise up slowly, feet thrown over the mattress.

  The space between my thighs is sore, tender. I test out my legs before standing.

  Not the best, but not the worst.

  Sterling isn’t back yet, but he will be soon, so I stand and hobble to the bathroom.

  When I pee, it burns, and I cringe, wiping away a little blood. Stare at the toilet paper in my hands—at the blood and what those red spots mean: I am no longer a virgin.

  My heart gives a thrilling pound as I remove my toothbrush from the travel case and stand idly at the sink, brushing my teeth. Wash my mouth out with spearmint.

  Brush the knots out of my hair until it’s shiny and straight.

  No sooner am I climbing back into bed—naked—than I hear the keycard being swiped over the security pad, the lock clicking open.

  The door eases open bit by bit, Rowdy steps inside, dropping his bag by our tiny couch. Kicks off his shoes and pulls off his socks.

  I watch from the bed as he lifts his shirt, balls it up, and tosses it next to the bed. Shucks his shorts, sliding them down his tapered waist.

  Rowdy’s muscles are dense and taut, veins rushing with liquid oxygen. He braces his arms behind his head and stretches, rotating his waist to the left, then the right, pulling on his forearms.

  His abs contract. My body gets hot.

  When he’s done stretching, he turns his back on the bed, walking to the bathroom, every muscle in his body contracting.

  I hear the sink running when he steps inside then the tapping of his toothbrush against the porcelain. The toilet flushes.

  I’m on my back when he comes out, sheet up over my torso, hands folded behind my head. Content and lazy, like a cat waiting to be petted.

  Worshiped and adored.

  “You’re up.” He smiles in the semi-darkness.

  “Mmm,” is my reply. “I’m up.”

  “What a coincidence.” He chuckles. “I’m up, too.”

  There is a noticeable bulge in his boxers that he adjusts when he moves closer, squatting a few inches to lift and shift his dick from one side of his shorts to the other. It’s a total jock thing to do.

  Now he’s next to the bed, leaning over to kiss me, his minty fresh mouth opening to taste me, tongue sliding in. I let my hands slide into the waistband of his underwear, edging them off his hips.

  He tugs them off completely, stepping out, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

  Slides the sheet off my body and crawls into bed, arm already reaching for the condoms in the bedside table.

  One of those big, rough hands skims tenderly down my hip. “Are you sore?”

  “A little.”

  He kisses me again. “Sorry.”

  But his large body feels divine. Heavy and warm, brawny arm draped around my waist, hauling me in. Bodies lined up, perfect.

  “It’s all right. I knew what to expect.”

  “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

  No. I want him to fill me like he did last night; insatiably curious, I want more. Everything, not
just his tongue.

  “Or do you want a quickie?”

  “No.” I shake my head slowly. “I want it slow.” I want him gentle. I want to take our time.

  I want Sterling to feel how fast my heart beats when he touches me, big bear paws gently caressing the skin along my hip, lips warm. Tender.

  I love everything about him; he is everything.

  We kiss with our eyes open, mouths open, tongues lazily stroking so I can see everything he feels reflected in his eyes—the same way I did last night.

  The self-control for my sake. The adoration.

  How he knows my body is still sensitive and treats me like a breakable piece of glass when really all he wants to do is pound into me. His self-control is like nothing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

  Remarkable. Impressive. Admirable, really.

  Inch by glorious inch, he pushes in, inhaling the air at the crook of my neck. Murmuring. Checking to make sure I’m okay.

  “Are you all right?”

  I’m better than all right.

  I reach up to brush back his hair, the words I love you, Sterling burning the back of my throat. The telltale signs of my nose tingling give my brain the signal to send water to my eyes.

  These tears are my feelings for him, tangible proof that everything between us is right. Last night was everything a first time should be, and I couldn’t have chosen any better.

  Sterling eyes widen when he spots the tear sliding down my cheek. “Why—are you okay? Scarlett…”

  “I’m happy.” I love you.

  He holds himself above me, buried inside. Leans down, those massive, strong forearms braced on either side of my face.

  Instead of brushing the tear away with his fingertip like I expect him to do, he licks it.

  Flicks it with his tongue.

  I grip his biceps. “Deeper.”

  I never get tired of seeing his bottom teeth drag along his lower lips, and it arouses me more seeing them now. White, gleaming, perfect.

  He pushes deeper. Rotates his pelvis. “Yeah, like that…”