Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(78)

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.”