Jock Rule (Jock Hard #2)(65)

The clenching of her inner muscles and ripples of pleasure send shocks to my dick, my balls receiving the message of all clear.

“Fuck,” I moan into her hair. “Oh fuck, Teddy.”

When I roll off of her, I take her hand in mine and hold it while we both stare at the ceiling, waiting to catch our breath.

***

“I cannot believe you actually had an orgasm.” Honestly. Still can’t fucking believe it. The odds of that happening were slim to none. I didn’t think virgins could orgasm their first time.

“Neither can I.”

“I must have a magic cock or something.” What other explanation could there possibly be?

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? If you hadn’t been rubbing me off at the same time, no way would I have come.”

“Wanna make a bet?” My dick becomes alert, interested in the conversation.

“Kip, I am not having sex with you again tonight.” Even in the dark, I can hear her eyes roll. “I’ll barely be able to walk to the bathroom as it is.”

“Fine, but if you change your mind, I’ll be over here, thinkin’ ‘bout that sex.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, unless you want to cuddle me.”

“Cuddling I can do. You want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

“Little spoon, please.” Her small body fits itself into mine, ass against my cock, back against my chest. Perfect fit. “Can you not drape your giant arm over my stomach? I won’t be able to breathe if you do—it weighs a ton.”

My phone pings on the nightstand.

I ignore it, obviously.

“Are you going to see who that is?”

We both know who it is, because I never receive texts from anyone but Teddy, my parents, and Veronica. Sometimes from one of the guys on the team, but rarely.

“I don’t want to know what Ronnie wants at this hour of the night.”

“Kip, it’s ten o’clock.”

“So?”

“That is not late, and she’s an hour behind us. Besides, what if it’s an emergency?”

I glance down at Teddy, speaking into the crown of her head. “Are you serious? Nothing is ever an emergency with my sister. She’s texting because she’s nosy.”

Her spidey senses were probably tingling, and she knows I just got laid so she’s texting to investigate.

On the opposite nightstand, Teddy’s phone pings. “It’s like she knows.”

Yeah, she knows all right.

“Send her a Snap of the teddy on the floor with my dirty underwear—that will get her to leave us alone.”

“Your sister?” Teddy cocks a brow. “She’d only screenshot it and use it against you later.”

True. “What she needs to do is mind her own business.”

“That’s funny, Veronica minding her own business.” Teddy laughs. “In her own way, she kind of played matchmaker.”

I’m quiet for a few seconds, considering that. “Holy shit. You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yes, and that made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

Teddy gives me a poke in the ribs. “Find out what she wants.”

I sigh, rolling toward the nightstand.

Ronnie: I told you so.

Me: That’s why you’re texting me at 10 PM? To say I told you so?

Ronnie: Yes.

Me: Explain

A few seconds later, a screenshot pops up—it’s part of the conversation we had weeks ago, on the weekend I brought Teddy back to my place. When I said we were only friends.

Me: She’s just a friend. Barely even a friend.

Ronnie: Mark my words, Kipling: this isn’t going to have the ending you think it will…

“God I hate it when she’s right. It’s so fucking annoying.”

Teddy is reading the text over my shoulder, and I can feel her smiling against my skin, her hand stroking my back. Lips kissing my shoulder.

“I love that,” comes her timid whisper. “And I love you.”

I set the phone back down, and, careful not to crush her, flip to my back. Find her lips and kiss her.

“I love you too, babe.” Then, “Can we not tell Ronnie she was right?”

“I think she already knows.”

Yeah, probably. But still.

“Did she send you anything else besides that red thing?”

Teddy demurs, tracing my right pec with the tip of her finger. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”





Acknowledgments


Confession: I love beards.

I don’t know what took me so long to write a character who sported one—and I don’t know why it took so many calendar days to actually write and complete this book. I started early summer; normally, it takes me about four months to write a full-length novel, but this summer was rough going, and this one took me a good six months.

Slow. Going.

Not my norm, but nothing about this summer was normal. Not for me, anyway.

So I have to thank everyone who was patient with me; the people who were there for me when things weren’t great. When life wasn’t easy. When the words wouldn’t come, no matter how hard I tried.

You can’t force it.