Page 76 of Rule 3: Never Fake Marry the Coach's Son

He blinks, and I gesture downward.

His cheeks pinken in that adorable, innocent manner. “My, um...” He swallows, then his gaze narrows. “You are familiar with male anatomy.”

“I see hockey players naked every day.”

“Men generally have these.” He presses his lips together. “But if it’s too strange—”

I clutch him closer to me before he can decide to scramble from my arms or something.

“Has anyone told you that you have a rather large piece of equipment there?”

He swallows hard, and I laugh.

“Oskar, you are very endowed.”

“Um, I guess?”

“You’re sort of tiny otherwise. I assumed you would be a bit compact there. But you’re not.”

His skin reddens. Maybe he’s not used to whole conversations about his cock.

“Let me see it,” I whisper.

“Um...”

“Please?” I whine. I move my hands over it again. His bulge is large. I didn’t imagine it.

“I guess I can show you.”

I clap my hands, and he rolls off me, startled.

“I’ll do the honors.” I unbuckle his pants, then decide to unbutton his shirt. I want a naked Oskar in my bed.

“You better get naked too,” he says.

“Fine.” I pull off my clothes quickly and toss them in the general direction of the hamper. I don’t think I reach it, because Oskar giggles.

“Hey, I’m not a football player.”

“Good thing.” He moves his gaze to me, and his eyes flare. His tongue wets his lower lip, and he’s just as adorable as ever.

God, I’m the first naked man he’s seen.

I like it.

I really like it.

My eyes fall to his cock. It sticks straight up against his belly. It’s large and long and indecent in every manner.

I chuckle. “That is humongous.”

“It’s not humongous.”

I fling myself back onto the bed and rearrange him so that I have an excellent view of his cock. His hard, leaking, throbbing cock.

“How many inches is that?”

“A reasonable amount?”