Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hutch
I walk straight into the cottage, bypassing the pool area where I can hear my drunk friends hooting and hollering on about “getting some.” Does everyone know what I’m about to do?
I shake my head as I slide the back door open and walk inside to find Jocelyn sitting on the sofa.
Her legs are tucked under her. Her hair is pulled up, but a few loose curls hang down, framing her face.
The dim lamp provides a golden hue to the room.
Her sun-kissed cheeks are pink, and I can just see the start of some freckles.
She’s still wearing the sundress from earlier, and my gaze drops to her cleavage. Fuck. She’s so perfect.
She looks up at me, and everything else in the world disappears as we lock gazes.
“Hey,” she finally says, breaking my trance.
“Hey,” I reply as I take a few steps toward the sofa. I sink down on the cushion and turn to face her. “Can we talk?”
Her lips start to turn down, and I quickly take her hands in mine. Her brows rise.
“I need to tell you something,” I say as butterflies dance in my belly.
Now her lips are twitching at the corners as if she’s fighting a smile. “Same,” she replies.
“You go first,” I insist. What I want to talk about is heavy shit, and we need time to talk about it.
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “No, you go first.”
Well, fuck.
“OK,” I say slowly as I rub the back of her hand with my thumb as if she’s some sort of emotional support person. Well, I mean, she kind of is.
“You’re one of my best friends,” I start, and I see her smile falter a little, and I begin to question how I’m going to do this.
“What if…I…” I pause as I choose my words more carefully.
“Have you ever thought about us being more than friends?” I ask, searching her eyes for answers before she opens her mouth to speak.
“Have you?” she asks.
I watch her gaze drop to my Adam’s apple, knowing even under my beard she must see it bob as I swallow hard. Here goes nothing.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Her eyes widen. “Same,” she replies.
I lick my lips as my gaze roams from hers to her breasts that heave beneath the fabric of her dress. A dress that I very much want to peel off her right now. It’s been months since I was with someone because this gorgeous creature in front of me has been all I can think about.
Neither of us speaks for a minute as we both process what we’ve just said.
“But,” she starts, and my heart sinks a little.
Here it comes. With my ex, it was, but you won’t be able to give us the life we dreamed of.
With other women I dated, it was, but you don’t party with your former teammates anymore?
Or I expected you to be more alpha, not some cinnamon roll.
Which I honestly didn’t understand until Roxy invited the guys to make a men’s book club at her romance bookstore.
“But what?” I ask, sounding more defensive than I want to admit. Her eyes widen again. Perhaps she’s surprised by my hurt.
She reaches up and strokes my cheek. I lean into her touch, needing it, needing her.
“But what if it doesn’t work? What if we…you know, and then it’s all awkward and then we can’t be friends,” she says in a rush that sounds panicked.
I give her a sad smile. “Then, maybe we don’t give this a shot.”
She frowns and purses her lips as she thinks. I love watching her when she’s working through an issue. Her face says it all, and it makes me laugh. I press my lips together to keep from laughing because now is not the time to find humor. No matter how adorable she is being.
“We kissed and we’re still friends,” she points out.
I nod. That’s true.
“What if we just make out? Like, we go one level further. Clothes on, no oral stuff, just a good old-fashioned make-out session,” she suggests.
I lick my lips, wanting so badly to pull up that dress and taste her.
“OK,” I say slowly. “What does an old-fashioned make-out session consist of, exactly?” I ask.
She cocks her head to one side. “Kissing and we can touch each other, but clothes stay on,” she states like she’s declaring the rules for a board game.
“But I can touch you anywhere?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
Her cheeks pinken, and she nods. “I think we can still be friends if it’s just for one night and we aren’t seeing everything. Then if we go back to just friends, it’s not like we’re envisioning stuff every time we’re together,” she says. “And plus, we’ve had a few drinks, so…”
I pause. “You aren’t drunk, are you?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I sort of wish I were,” she whispers.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I’m nervous,” she admits.
I grab the remote for the lights and turn them off. Darkness surrounds us. I can just make out the laughter of our friends who are still out by the pool.
“Come here,” I demand, and then add, “Please.”
She slowly moves over, and I grab her hips, pulling her onto my lap, her knees on either side of my thighs. Sitting like this, she’s nearly eye to eye with me.
“Where do we start?” I ask.
She leans forward and presses her forehead to mine. She smells so good. Her vanilla-scented perfume is mixed with the salty ocean air. I cup her face, and she presses her hands to my chest.
“Let’s pick up where we left off in the car,” she suggests. Her breath washes over my lips as she speaks. I can practically taste the mojito she drank, and I want to devour those luscious lips.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I say with a grin as I press my lips to hers.
Our kiss turns frantic within seconds. Our lips touching, our tongues tasting. I move my tongue in and out of her mouth, trying like hell to show her exactly what I want to do to her.
I trace my hands along her legs to her hips and push her down against my growing erection, pressing it up against her center.
“Holy fuck, Viking, is any part of you not enormous?” she whispers against my lips.
I grin. “Not that I’m aware.”
“I’m glad we’re only making out because I’d need a new vagina tomorrow if we did anything else,” she says.
I laugh. “I’d make sure you were ready for it. Don’t worry.”
“Such a gentleman,” she teases before rubbing herself against my linen trousers.
And fuck, she feels good. I can feel her heat against my dick, and he’s trying hard to come out and play. Thank God I have on underwear or he’d have poked right out of my pants.
She groans again as she continues to kiss me and rub against me.
My hands travel up her dress and massage her breasts through the thin material. She’s not wearing a bra, and holy fuck are her breasts perfect. Her nipples pebble under my thumbs, and I pinch them. She moans again.
“I want to touch you,” I voice my desire.
“The clothes stay on,” she says.
“Can I move them out of my way?” I ask.
“Which part?” she questions.
I reach around her thigh and press a finger against her folds that are covered by a thin strip of wet fabric.
We both moan as I slide my finger back and forth, feeling the fabric get wetter. Then I move my finger to the crease where her underwear meets her thigh.
“Here, can I move this to the side?” I ask.
“Only if I can reciprocate,” she counters as her fingers fall to the waistband of my linen pants and the small string of a tie that keeps them on my hips.
“Permission granted,” I reply as I go back to kissing her.
My finger slowly moves the soaking fabric to the side, and I graze her folds.
Fuck, she shaved for the beach. My finger glides against wet, smooth, hot skin, and my dick jumps as she unties the waistband of my pants and slowly reaches inside them and my underwear.
Just as she wraps a hand around me, I slowly sink a finger into her, and we both gasp.
“Jesus, Hutch, did you ever consider being a porn star when the whole football career didn’t work out?” she asks with a groan.
“Not my style. I’m a one-woman man,” I reply as I slide a second finger inside her and move them in and out, my thumb clumsily finding her clit and circling it.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads. “You’d have been really good at it.”
“Don’t know about that,” I reply, sucking in a breath as her fingers find my balls. She cups each one and then goes back to stroking me, bringing her thumb over the slit on my head and rubbing the liquid coming from it up and down my length. Damn, this woman is a fucking pro at that.
“Maybe you should have been a porn star,” I state.
“Nah, that seems too complicated,” she says. I scissor my fingers, pushing them slightly deeper, and I get a satisfied groan from her.
“So close,” she whimpers, her hand gripping me harder with each stroke.
God, why’d I agree to only making out? It takes all my willpower not to go caveman on her and rip off this dress and bury myself to the hilt.
“Don’t even think about it,” she whispers as if reading my mind.
“I promise, I’ll get you there, just like this,” she adds as she reaches her other hand down my pants and palms my balls while gripping my cock. Oh fuck, she found the holy grail.
“Keep doing that and it won’t take long,” I urge.
We both double our efforts as if we’re in a race. The first one to get the other one off wins.
I slide a third finger inside her. Curling my fingers, I find that spot deep inside her. My thumb continues to stroke her clit in circles.
Her breath hitches, and I feel her inner muscles start to spasm. She’s close.
“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” I urge as I double my efforts to coax an orgasm from her. She starts grinding hard against my fingers, rubbing herself while I work them harder.
“Yes! Yes! Right there!” she whisper-cries as I feel her muscles shudder and clench tightly around my fingers as liquid drips down them.
Holy shit! That’s hot.
She’s moving her hand so fast against me that when she throws back her head and quietly says my name as her eyes squeeze shut, I feel my own release building. My balls tighten as I watch her come and feel her release gush against my hand.
My dick jerks and I groan as I release six months of pent-up need all over my belly, pants, and her hands.
She grinds one last time as I thrust up once, twice more, and then we both sag into the sofa.
Her head falls against my chest, and I pull my fingers free and suck them clean.
“Shit, baby, you taste even better than I imagined you would,” I say as I lick them one last time, not wanting to miss a single drop.
She giggles. “Why is that so hot?”
“Because I’m a Viking?” I tease.
“A Viking with a monster dick,” she scoffs.
I press up against her, and she releases a shaky breath.
“I think we should end our experiment,” she says.
I freeze, looking at her as she sits up on my lap.
She smiles. “Just kidding, let’s have one more make-out session tonight. Just…to make sure,” she says.
I laugh. “I mean, if it’s for scientific purposes, then I think we have to.”
“Oh, it’s for science, alright,” she agrees as she leans up and kisses me.