Jock Road (Jock Hard) - Sara Ney Page 0,75

and the fact that she’s doing it during sex—or, oral—is hot as hell.

It has me hard as a fucking rock, grinding my dick against the mattress at the same time I’m eating her out. Dry humping the bedding like a teenage horn dog, about to come myself and inevitably squirt jizz on my own damn comforter.

Fuck.

There’s no stopping the train once it’s in motion, and we both moan—me into her pussy, Charlie into the dim bedroom. Me, grinding my hips.

I might be inexperienced, but I know she’s about to come by the swivel of her pelvis on the bed—she’s damn near grinding her crotch into my face, fucking it. First, little pulses. Then, louder moaning. Then, she’s shoving at my shoulders, pushing me away but not really wanting me to pull away; she simply doesn’t know what to fucking do with herself as her body begins shaking with shocks of pleasure.

Now I can feel it on my tongue, the jolts. Her body humming. Convulsing, for lack of a better term.

I can feel the whole thing happening on the surface of my tongue. My lips. I grin into her pussy, knowing I’m going to smell like sex for days—the smell from her imprinted on my skin. Under my nose. My fingers.

Mmm.

I like the idea that I’m going to smell her after tonight, when I’m sitting in class or pulling on my helmet on the football field.

Charlotte Edmonds’ cum.

Fucking. Delicious.

Who knew?

I could get used to this, dining on her pussy. The insatiable part of me that has to do better and be better fuels me on; I want to be the best fucking oral she’s ever had, or will have.

Remember this moment—it might never happen again…

I shrug off the thought. Nope. It won’t be the last time, Jackson—you’re hooked on her and you damn well know it. Stop denying it.

She says my name over and over like a mantra, a psalm spoken to God, repeated and memorized; words to live by.

“Jackson, oh Jackson…yes…God Jackson, oh Jesus…”

It’s a rush.

The best rush.

Nothing will ever replace the sound of it, not the noise in the stadium during a game or fans shouting my name in unison when I make a play. Not the sound of the press calling to me for an interview. Not students saying my name as I walk past them on campus, heading to class. Not the little kids who want my autograph if they see me at the grocery store.

This.

This beats all of it.

My name. Her lips.

Wednesday 3.0

Charlie

So tired…

I crack an eyelid, blinking against the pitch-black bedroom, hearing only the sound of our breathing and the fan gently whirring above us.

I can’t see anything, not even the ceiling.

We’ve been lying here for hours—after Jackson went down on me, he rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Brushed his teeth, washed up, came back, and climbed across the mattress. Awkward, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me afterward. Reached for me then pulled back, unsure.

I made it easy on him. Wanting to cuddle, I rolled into his giant, warm body and little-spooned him—little-spooned the shit out of him, actually, until he relaxed and his arms went around me. One hand resting on my hip, the other under his head, he rested his chin on the crook of my shoulder and inhaled my shampoo, smelling me.

Mmm.

This beats all of it.

The mediocre dates that fizzled, resulting in and meaning nothing. The sex I had with my ex-boyfriend.

I must have rolled away from him in my sleep, and the space between us is cold, so I scoot back, inching toward him in the dark. Press my back against him where it belongs, my ass firmly planted against his front—his resting dick no longer at full mast and stiffly begging for attention.

I cuddle deeper, loving the warmth from his big body. He’s kicking off heat like an inferno—a hotbox, my mother would call him. His gentle snore reminds me of a slumbering bear.

A gentle, slumbering bear.

Jackson is more sensitive than I would have given him credit for; his passion for football runs deeper than his passion for anything else, and that’s what makes him fantastic.

But there’s more to him than that, and I believe he’s just starting to realize it. He is discovering things about himself he didn’t know before. Like there is life after football if you open yourself up to it.

There is life off the field. People can love you for more than what you