Page 37 of Necessary Roughness

Sloane

Weirdly enough, seeing Roman nude helped with my awkwardness. Sure, he wasn’t totally nude, but he might as well have been considering I saw the flawless outline of his penis pressing against his underwear.

It now felt like we were on an even level. The next time he walked into the living room—fully clothed this time—my cheeks maintained their normal white-girl shade.

I thought about his body as he sank into the couch and typed on his laptop. I couldn’t help it. He was so much bigger than the other two men in this house, bulky with muscle rather than lean. He was sexy in his own way, even if he didn’t have a visible six-pack.

Logan’s and Knox’s muscles were sexy.

Roman’s were powerful .

We went to a campus party that night and lost ourselves in a blur of beer, shots, and drinking games.

My presence with the two of them had not gone unnoticed, and when someone asked who I was to be hanging out with them every single Saturday, Knox smoothly replied, “She’s our study coach.

She makes sure we pass all our classes.”

The others at the party seemed to accept this, although some of the cattier women still gave me a healthy amount of side-eye like they distrusted me.

The four of us—Roman included—walked home after the party, laughing and having a good time. “There’s the angry linebacker I love!” Logan said, wrapping an arm around Roman. “I know you’re in a slump. It sucks. Wish I could say something that would help.”

“Appreciate it,” was all Roman said.

When we got home, Roman quietly disappeared into his room.

The rest of us closed the door in Logan’s bedroom and began what had become a Saturday ritual.

Knox and Logan weren’t afraid of being rougher with me now, demanding what they wanted like two sexual alphas.

Knox pushed me down to my knees without a word and shoved his cock into my mouth, holding my head with both hands and fucking my face like I was his sex toy.

Then Logan shouldered him aside and took over, pushing his dick so far down my throat my eyes watered.

“Good girl,” he growled, before bending me over the bed and fucking me from behind.

As the two of them took turns with me in every position they wanted, I couldn’t help but think about Roman across the hall.

I could feel him listening to our celebratory threeway, hanging on every gasp and moan.

It was probably just my imagination, but I found myself moaning louder, more exaggerated than before.

I was buzzed from the drinking games, and feeling sexy while these two titans of athletic power fucked me from both ends, alternating between my mouth and pussy.

And when I came, my screams muffled only slightly by Logan’s hard length in my throat, I hoped that Roman was listening.

Sundays were always relaxed at the house as we all recovered from Saturday’s fun. Logan was at study hall, while Knox had a meeting with his agent. That fact still thrilled me: I was sleeping with someone who was famous enough to have an agent representing him!

But most of my attention today was on my grades. There were only a few weeks left in the semester, and I was acing all my classes.

Except Physics.

It was the lone science requirement for my degree.

I should have gotten it out of the way long before now, but it had never really fit into my schedule.

Now I was the only senior in a class full of freshmen.

And despite being the eldest student in the class, it was taking all of my effort just to scrape by with a D.

I entered a formula into the online practice form, then let out a curse when flashing red letters told me the answer was incorrect.

Roman happened to be walking by my bedroom at that exact moment. His footsteps slowed, then stopped, and I heard his deep baritone voice ask, “You all right?”

“Physics is bullshit.”

He grunted something that might have been a laugh. “It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, right,” I replied, swiveling my chair around to face him. “I’m a straight-A student going all the way back to fifth grade. I’ve never had this much trouble in a class. It’s like my brain refuses to understand what I’m reading. It’s bullshit .”

He hesitated, then passed the doorway threshold to step into my room and approach my desk. “Let me see.”

I turned back around to face the computer, and he leaned over my shoulder to read the screen, his body a physical presence that was impossible to ignore.

“Here,” he said, pointing at some symbols. “You’re using the formula for vectors, not arrays.”

The confidence with which he answered shocked me. “You took physics?”

“Three years ago.”

I snorted. “And you still remember it?”

“It’s kind of part of my degree.”

“What degree is that?” I asked skeptically.

“Theoretical physics. Five-year master’s program.”

I stared at him. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Come here.”

He took my hand with a possessiveness that brokered no discussion, leading me down the hall and into his bedroom.

I had never been in here before. He usually kept the door closed, giving me only occasional glimpses inside whenever he came and went.

It was strangely clean, more so than his two roommates, with few personal possessions and only a single Cosmos poster on the wall with Carl Sagan’s picture smiling down.

“Here,” he said, pointing at the bookshelf next to his desk. “Classical Mechanics. Quantum Mechanics: Concepts and Applications. General Relativity. Quantum Field Theory. Topology and Geometry for Physicists.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have thought…” I struggled to find the words that wouldn’t make me sound like an asshole.

“Football players aren’t usually theoretical physicists,” he answered for me.

“Yes! Logan told me most football players choose easy majors, like Communications.”

Roman shrugged those massive, boulder-like shoulders. “I’m not most football players.” He selected a book off the bottom shelf, Introduction to Physics. “Bring your laptop in here. I have some free time to help you study.”

It was an order, not a request. So I demurely retrieved my laptop and returned to his room. He sat at the desk, and patted the bed for me to sit.

“You make your bed,” I observed.

“I like things orderly,” he said. “Routine gives me structure. Let’s start with arrays. I’m pretty sure I know where you’re getting hung up, and I have a practical example that should help you differentiate between them and vectors.”

For the next hour, I forgot that Roman was a big, burly linebacker.

He was as knowledgeable as a professor, and more helpful than any tutor as he explained the basics to me.

When I got something wrong, he calmly pointed out why and redirected the logical part of my brain toward the right answer.

It was an absurd analogy, but I was struck with the image of an enormous sheepdog gently guiding the flock away from a cliff.

When I finally got a perfect score on one of the online practice tests, I let out a squeal of joy. “Yes! I feel like I actually understand it, rather than plugging in answers and praying it accepts them.”

“Physics is extremely logical… if you understand the core foundation,” he said with the closest thing to a smile I had ever seen. “Thanks for being a good student.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you for the help. I only wish I could repay the favor with one of your classes. I don’t suppose you’re taking any Education classes this year?”

“No, but I’d gladly take any advice on how to tackle a fucking quarterback,” he said dryly.

I grimaced at him. “I didn’t want to say anything, but since you brought it up… you’ve been having a tough year?”

He took a deep breath then sighed heavily, the chair squeaking from his weight. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It feels like I’ve lost a step this year. I think I’m doing everything right, but I’m struggling to make tackles. I’m always a millisecond away from making a great play. It’s infuriating.”

I smiled sadly. “Wish I could help. My only athletic experience is three years of high school field hockey.”

“Oh well.” He sighed again. “I’ll figure it out. Maybe. I still have another year of eligibility, so it’s not like this is my last season to make a splash for the NFL scouts.”

“At least you’ll have a master’s degree when you graduate!” I said cheerfully. “That’s something, right?”

“It’s something,” he agreed. “But I have the rest of my life to study the wonders of the universe. I was hoping to end my football career on a positive note.”

He looked so sad, so vulnerable , like a grizzly bear that had lost its cubs. Before I knew what I was doing, I was rising from the bed and throwing my arms around his neck in a hug.

“Sorry,” I said. “I can’t help you do better on the field, but I’m a good listener if you ever want to bitch about it.”

“Might take you up on that.”

I picked up my laptop and started to leave.

“At least you’re making progress,” he said.

“Yeah!” I gestured with the laptop. “I might even end the semester with a C.”

“I meant the other thing.” His eyes were dark pools. “You haven’t blushed once since we started studying.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, feeling strangely pleased with myself. “How about that?”