Page 14 of Rowdy Boy

She lets out a little yelp but doesn’t pull away. My hand seeks out her other nipple and rolls it through the fabric. The way she melts into me as I work her over and play with her tits is mesmerizing.

“Jake,” she croons after another minute. I would suck on her nipples until she combusted if she’d let me. But I want to make her feel good sooner rather than later, just like I promised.

“Kiss me,” I grunt as I reluctantly release her nipple and move both hands under her skirt, gripping her along the curve of her hips, my thumbs resting on her bikini line.

We’re both getting sloppy now… kissing each other ferociously… giving in to the heat of the moment and getting lost in how good this feels. I grip her lower half tighter and shift her down a few inches until her bare pussy lines up perfectly with the erection covered by my shorts.

“You good?” I ask again, just to make sure this is still what she wants.

“So good. Please, Jake…”

My attention is fixed on where our bodies are joined, even though the visual is hidden under her skirt. Then I look her right in the eye.

“You ride. I’ll drive.”

I don’t give the words time to register before I’m moving her forward on my dick. Her face screws up in pleasure before her mouth drops open in a gasp. I use my hold on her to move her lithe frame back a few inches, then repeat the motion forward and establish a rhythm.

Courtney catches on quickly—she leans forward, her hands on my bare chest to give herself more leverage. Then she syncs up the swivels of her hips with the way I’m dragging her body back and forth on my cock.

Her pupils are completely blown out and her mouth is still gaping when she lifts her head to meet my gaze.

There ya go, baby girl.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I praise, because it’s the goddamn truth. I can feel the heat of her body through the fabric of my shorts. I love the way she pushes forward every time I pull on her hips, like she can’t get enough.

“You like that, Court? You like riding me? Take what you need, baby. Take it.”

She moans in response to my words before choking out a desperate “please.”

“I’ve got you,” I promise, finally moving one hand and finding her clit with two fingers. She’s warm and wet for me, and the way she sucks in a breath the second I graze that little nub makes my cock pulse with arousal. I pick up the same rhythm as before, rubbing her until her legs shake.

I glance down to find her lips parted and her eyes laser-focused. She’s gotta be right there…

“Let go for me,” I whisper as I pinch her clit and press up at the same time. She explodes on command, crying out as she climaxes, her arms giving out. She drapes her body over mine as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. Her slickness on my hand and through my athletic shorts is such a turn on. My balls are tingling from feeling her hot, damp release through the fabric. Once she stops trembling, I wrap her in a hug, adjusting her so she fits against me just right. I run my hands up and down her back, enjoying the way she’s letting me hold her.

When she finally peels herself off my body, she gives me a sheepish smile.

“You good?”

My question has her blushing even more, then burying her face in her hands.

“Hey, answer me,” I direct. “Are you good?”

She nods and pulls her hands away from her face but keeps her head bowed. I tilt her chin up with two fingers, bringing her focus to me because I don’t want her to feel any sort of embarrassment or regret about what we just did.

“I’m fine,” she insists. “I just feel guilty.”

Thatcatches my attention. There’s literally nothing for her to feel guilty about. We’re casual, and I have no expectations that I’m the only person she’s hanging out with on the regular. Unless she’s still hung up on the patriarchal bullshit that sex is about a guy getting off?

I decide in that moment that we’re done for the night. Physically done, anyway. I don’t think her hang-ups are about me—not when she’s talking about feeling guilty and still can’t accept that getting her off is a motherfucking privilege—but I want her leaving here feeling like a queen, not worried about keeping score or what my expectations were for tonight. I’ll need to jack it later to alleviate what I’m dealing with. The mental snapshot of Courtney in her cheerleading skirt and see-through bra will help me out in that department.

“You know what we need?” I ask her somberly.

Her eyes widen at the seriousness of my tone.

“What?”

“We need a heaping bowl of popcorn and a healthy serving of Leo.”