by Lizzie James
“Someone’s being a little bossy.” He winked, making me blush.
My heart sped up whenever he winked at me. Or smiled. Or talked to me. Fuck, I was so screwed. Hopefully Joy would come home earlier than planned.
“Would you like one?” I asked, holding the tub of strawberries to him.
He shook his head, making himself comfortable. “Would you like me to take my top off?” he asked, placing his hands on the hem of his t-shirt.
“No!” I practically yelled at him.
He smirked, obviously loving my reaction.
“Just sit there and relax.”
He sighed, dropping his arms to his lap and doing just that. Relaxing.
I was ready to feel uncomfortable for the next hour. I was prepared to have him stare at me constantly while I drew his frame, but he didn’t. Instead, he split his time between watching me and looking around the room. His eyes routinely came back to the picture of my father and me at my graduation ceremony, but he never said anything.
I grabbed what was probably my fourth strawberry out of the tub and bit the bottom off it. I held it to my mouth, sucking some of the delicious juice from it. I sensed movement from the bottom of the bed and looked up, my eyes widening.
Johnny had stood up, the chair behind him seemingly forgotten.
“What are you doing?” I asked, surprised. Was he bored already? It hadn’t been that long. I had only managed to get his upper body frame down. I still had so much detail to get.
His chest heaved, almost as though he had been jogging around the block, not sitting still in a chair. He moved toward the bottom of the bed and climbed onto it, moving swiftly up it until he got to me. He rolled up my pencil collection and gently placed it on the floor before taking my sketchpad off me and tossing it haphazardly to the floor with it.
He leaned over me, his knees on either side of my hips and pressed his lips swiftly to mine. He pulled back, his chest still heaving. “If you think I can sit there,” he nodded his head behind him, cocking a sexy eyebrow at me, “while you eat those strawberries in the most erotic way I’ve ever seen, you are sorely mistaken.”
That was all the warning I got.
He pressed his lips to mine, lowering me down so that my head was on my pillow. I wound my arms around his neck, parting my lips for him.
His tongue slowly entered, moving against mine.
It felt so good.
I unconsciously arched my back, rubbing my chest against his. I moaned softly, loving the way he felt against me. He groaned, his hands moving from either side of me to rest against my ribs. Seconds later, they slowly moved up until they were cupping my clothed breasts.
I gasped at the sensation, my head dropping back. His lips quickly descended, kissing and nipping down the column of my neck. He rotated the palms of his hands, squeezing my rather small cup size in his hands.
Fuck.
I was feeling things I had never felt before. If he could do this to me fully clothed, I was going to be totally screwed when the time came for us to see what’s beneath the clothing.
Royally screwed.
Literally.
His hands trailed to the bottom of my shirt and began slowly lifting it up, his fingertips leaving electric sparks all over my skin.
I gasped, my hands going to the bottom of his shirt. I pulled it up and before I could get any further, he leaned back on his knees and began moving it up his body. He tossed it to the floor. My eyes trailed up, widening when I fully saw just how fit he was. I pulled my hands back. I froze, Lucy’s voice flashing in my mind.
Shaking my head, I pushed him back so that I could escape him. Walking to the door, I jumped in shock when Johnny ran ahead of me, slamming his hand against the door and shutting it.
“What happened?” he asked.
I ducked my head, not knowing how to explain.
How do you tell someone you’re not good enough for them? I was never going to be a Lucy of the world. I was always just going to be me—my geeky, insecure self.
I wasn’t stupid.
Johnny deserved someone who was confident and sexy and someone who knew what they wanted. Art was all I knew and letting someone in, offering myself up to love someone as much as I loved art, was scary and I was destined to fail at that.
I shook my head, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Don’t shake your head.” He took my head in his hands and tilted it until I was forced to look at him. “Stop pulling away from me.” He sighed, staring into my eyes. “Is this because of Lucy?” He continued to look at me, waiting patiently for my answer.
I flicked my eyes away, feeling like a stupid, insecure girl.
He sighed, releasing his hold on me and taking my hand in his. He pulled me back toward the bed, only this time he sat on the side of the bed with his feet firmly planted to the floor. Positioning me in between his legs, he took hold of both of my hands and placed them on his shoulders before moving my right hand down until it rested over his heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I smiled at the feel of his pulse beating through my hand.
“You feel that?” he asked, placing his hand over mine.
I nodded, blushing at the feel of his skin against mine. It was so soft. He had a light dusting of hair on his chest. Having my hand on his, a warmth began building in my chest. I slowly realized that warmth was a feeling. I had always felt skittish around the opposite sex, but right now, being here with Johnny, I felt completely safe. Protected.
“I will never hurt you,” he whispered. “If I am with you, I am with only you.”
He pressed a small kiss to my knuckles, my eyes closing.
I wanted to believe him so badly but there was still that part of me, a big part, that was scared to let go—scared to let him in fully.
I moved my eyes down to his, needing to trust him. “Have you ever slept with her?” I asked, needing him to be truthful.
“Never,” he replied. “Nothing sexual has ever happened with Lucy.”
I nodded, accepting his answer. “Okay.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief at my answer. “Can we talk about the other problem?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, waiting for my reaction.
I frowned, confused. “Other problem?”
“Every time I touch you, when we’re alone… when it goes past a certain line of intimacy, you freeze up.”
Oh. That problem. “I, uh… I… well…” How the hell did I explain this to a man that had slept with half of the college campus? “I’m a virgin.”
His eyes widened in shock. “Well… okay. I wasn’t expecting that answer.” He chuckled, looking surprised. “So, you’re all mine, then.”
I blushed further at his words. ‘Mine’. I’d be happy being his.
8
Johnny
Training was kicking my ass.
I had been sacked twice by my own teammate and threw the ball to the wrong side three times.
Fucking hell.
If I wasn’t as good of a player as Coach knew I was, he would have benched me by now.
“Baker!” he yelled from the side of the field. “Get your head in the game!” He tapped his finger against the side of his head roughly.
“Dude, what’s the problem?” Chunk asked, running next to me.
I shook my head. “No fucking clue. Things have just been tense, man.”
“Well, knock that shit off.” He frowned down at me before smirking. “I need my line-backer out there at the top of his game. Get her to rub one out or something.” He nodded his head toward the stands that would be packed this weekend.
I stopped running.
Centred a few rows back, sat Tillie. She waved enthusiastically at me, grinning. I waved back, loving that she had chosen to come and watch us train. Well, ‘watch’ was a loose word. She had no clue about the rules of football. I had tried explaining them to her, but she quickly got bored and started talking about art pencils. She ducked her head, focusing back on
her sketchpad. She never went anywhere without it.
The coach ordered the whole team to run suicides for the last twenty minutes of practice. It wasn’t a problem for most of us as we were used to Coach’s orders, but Sammy and Logan were struggling. Sweat was pouring off them and they were groaning like a couple of senior citizens.
The coach called time and it was followed by a few groans of enthusiasm. He smirked, walking toward his office.
I jogged over toward the bleachers as the rest of the team made their way to the changing rooms and I leaned over, giving Tillie a quick kiss. “What are you drawing?” I took a seat next to her and she immediately slung her legs over mine. I smiled at her growing confidence. Every day she was getting more comfortable around me.
She turned her sketchpad in my direction, grinning.
“Not bad.” I shook my hand back and forth with an unimpressed expression. It was a beautiful and detailed sketch of the field we played on.
She rolled her eyes at me, scribbling her initials in the bottom right and dating it. I expected her to rip it out, but she never did. It stayed firmly attached to the spine.
“So, what are we doing?” She wrinkled her nose, her eyes flickering down to my chest before looking back up. “Aren’t you going to shower?”
I laughed, tossing my head back. “What’s the matter? I don’t smell that bad.” I slung my arm around her, pulling her toward me while digging my fingers into her ribs and tickling her.
“Stop! Stop tickling me!” she shrieked, trying to pull away from me.
I laughed, letting her move away.
One by one, each of the boys trickled out from the changing rooms and made their way to the exit of the field.
Logan and Sammy gave us a wave before jumping on their skateboards and escaping home. They had a ‘Call of Duty’ marathon that night with a few of the boys.
I stood up, holding my hands out to her. “Want to come in and wait for me while I take a shower?” I looked down at her, chuckling at the way her face blushed bright red before she took it.
Leading her into the locker room, I went to my locker, taking my towel and shower gel out before toeing off my shoes and socks. Winking at her, I walked between the lockers, taking my jersey off as I went.
The mirror ahead of me showed the way her eyes trailed over my back muscles before quickly looking away.
Standing beneath the spray, I zoned out, letting it run down my back muscles, soothing the burn there from practice.
After a few minutes, Tillie's voice filtered through. “So, are you ready for the game next week?” It was higher pitched than normal but that was probably due to the ambience in there.
“I’m always ready.” I wasn’t being cocky. I was all ready for the game. My training, exercise and diet made sure that when it was game day, I wouldn’t fail. Looking down, I groaned at the way my cock was standing at half-mast. It had basically been like that since I’d kissed her. It was used to having pussy on a regular basis and lately, it hadn’t.
Grasping myself in my hands, I decided to rub one out.
No way could I fucking go out there fully erect. It would only scare her. Right now, I was on a mission to win her trust and acting like the horny jock was only going to push her away.
Pumping myself a few times, I groaned when her voice filtered back through.
“I can’t wait to watch you win,” she said excitedly.
Fuck, if she continued talking, I’d be marking this wall in no time. I closed my eyes, imagining what I had always stopped myself doing.: Tillie in my bed, her hair fanned out around her in a halo with my hand between her legs.
Fuck, she'd be perfect.
Completely untouched.
Only for me.
I groaned quietly, feeling my balls tighten at the vision of her in my bed: chest heaving, legs open for my touch, her hips slowly lifting off the bed, urging me to go deeper. Rougher. Harder.
I gasped, my eyes shooting open as I unloaded against the tile wall.
Fuck.
This girl was going to be the death of me.
“Everything okay?” she called. “You’ve gone really quiet.”
Nothing got past her. I shook my head, chuckling. I directed the showerhead to wash my mess away before turning the shower off and wrapping the towel around my waist.
This was going to get interesting. In my rush to get in the shower, I’d left my clothes in my locker. Right where Tillie was sitting. Walking toward her, I smiled when I saw she was over by the picture cabinet. According to rumor, it was a cabinet of the previous teams the coach had trained. She had her face pressed so close to the glass, she was leaving little condensation marks when she breathed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, grabbing my underwear and jeans out of my locker.
“I’m just...” She froze, gawking at me before I slipped my left leg into my boxers followed by my jeans. She spun around so fast I thought she was going to collide with the glass.
I snickered. She really hadn’t been expecting me to be standing behind her, practically naked. Lifting my jeans up, I kept the towel on until I could zip them up. Hoisting my Texas Cowboys t-shirt on, I walked toward her, wrapping my arms over her chest with her back to my front.
She leaned her head back against my chest, before pointing to the photo on the top shelf.
It was the oldest photo in the cabinet. It was of the coach's first team and it had been taken in the 1970's. It had been the first and last time the college had won the championships. We were determined to beat that record this year. Every member was determined to get to the championships and lift that cup.
She looked surprised that the coach had worked here so long.
She turned around and pressed a kiss to the column of my neck.
I swallowed heavily, not expecting her to do that. If she carried on, I’d be hard and ready to go for round two, which she really did not want to happen in the middle of the boys’ locker room.
Grabbing my backpack, I led her out of the block and began walking her home. We spoke about our college essays mostly. I was trying hard to remember that art was her passion. I didn’t want to fuck her first year up by taking up too much of her time. I’d keep her locked in my bedroom if I had my way.
Giving her a kiss, I kept it PG and watched her go inside.
It was pitch black when I walked into the house and flicking the light on, I headed upstairs, determined to get some research done for my Economics class the next day. Walking into my room, I froze in the doorway. There, on my bed, was a half-naked female student and sadly, not just any female student…
Lucy Fucking Jones.
She was dressed in pink, lacy lingerie lying on her stomach with her legs at the foot of my bed.
I walked toward her, causing the smile on her face to grow. As I reached her, her hand automatically went out, catching hold of the buckle on my waist. She had lust in her eyes and she assumed I was going to deliver.
No fucking chance.
“Get the fuck out of my bed!” I snapped.
Her eyes widened in shock at my outburst. “Excuse me?” she shrieked. Sitting on her knees, she put her hands on her hips, looking at me in shock. “I know you want me!”
My eyes trailed down to her chest, noticing the way her tits were pushed together and forming a very edible cleavage. If she were Tillie, I’d already be on her, but she wasn’t.
“You heard me!” I grabbed her clothes neatly folded off my desk and tossed them at her. “Go and seduce some other idiot.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but I just didn’t have it in me to care. Not with her.
She slammed my door as she left, stomping down the stairs.
I rolled my eyes, taking the seat at my desk and turned the laptop on.
It was time to lose myself in the boring world of political statistics.
Jogging to campus, I cringed when I realized I was twenty minutes late for my first class. Falling asleep at my desk last night hadn’t be
en part of the plan. Running inside the marketing building, I snuck through the door when the professor’s back was turned.
Taking my seat, I wanted to high five myself when it went unnoticed. Grabbing my note pad, I cringed when the professor turned around, his eyes immediately settling on me.
“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Baker.” He cocked his eyebrow at me, making me feel about two feet tall.
I smiled politely, giving him a two-fingered army salute. He rolled his eyes, turning back to the board.
I grabbed my pen, taking down as many notes off the board as I could. One thing I hated about this class was that he used a lot of algorithms. I had enough trouble remembering shit without him throwing those in.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, disturbing me. I ignored it until the class was over. Forty minutes later, it vibrated a few more times. The professor called the end of the class with orders to catch up on the handout. Tossing everything in my bag, I exited class, taking my phone out of my pocket. I had several text messages of congratulations from a few boys off the team.
What the hell was going on?
I then got to a few messages off Logan asking me what the fuck I was playing at?
I replied, asking him what the fuck his problem was.
I froze when I got a reply.
They say a picture can say a thousand words. This one did. It was a picture of me in my room from last night—more importantly, a picture of Lucy and me with her hand on my belt buckle. He sent more pictures of Lucy on my bed. Some were censored but a lot weren’t.
I was going to fucking kill her.
Turning around, I ran straight into her.
“Hello, lover.” She slid her arm around my neck, attempting to pull me toward her.
“What the fuck have you done?” I’d never wanted to hit a woman as much as I did right then.
“Sweet, little Tillie isn’t going to want you now.” She smiled up at me before walking away.
Fuck. Tillie.
I ran down the corridor and didn’t stop until I reached the art building. Spotting Bex in the crowd, I ran up to her. She’d know where Tillie was.
“Where is she?” I gasped, my chest tight with lack of breath.