I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 121: Jake

A/N: Mature content 🐻‍❄️🤪🐻‍❄️

"Really sorry about this," I mumbled at the burnt steak on Harper's plate, with a side of most likely rubbery, undercooked potatoes. The only food I hadn't ruined were simple green peas.

Hand job cooking definitely showed my multitasking skills had room for improvement, but after I thoroughly cleaned the stove, Harper took her plate and went straight upstairs.

"Your room or mine?" I asked and took the steps two at a time until I caught up with her in the hallway.

"Yours." She opened my door. "No way I'm eating in my bed."

With one head turn and smirk over her shoulder, the outlines of Harper's perfect body became visible under my T-shirt. The small tips of her nipples poked out like small peaks and her round, full breasts were pushed out by her arched lower back. The curve in her narrow waist was outlined by how my shirt bunched at her twisted waist. The way the hem brushed where her ass joined her long, lithe legs moved up the stairs twitched my cock back to life.

Fuck, again?

For once, I was thankful our next sexual act had nothing to do with me. After I came a third time at the stove from just a handjob like a fucking teenager, and twice yesterday before we skied, my still-completely-naked body needed a slight recovery.

Harper set her plate on the side of the bed, then patted the middle with her palm and flashed me a look that sank aches right into my balls. I sat down, swung my legs around, and situated myself mostly flat on my back but tucked a pillow under my shoulders so my neck and head were elevated a few inches.

"Fuck," I groaned at the sight of Harper climbed over me, her warm, bare thighs straddled around mine. With a slight reach over, she grabbed her plate and paused with her pink-nailed fingers clasped around the edges.

"I didn't think this through very much," she admitted with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile.

"Put it on my chest," I offered and flinched at the warm ceramic plate against my bare skin. "And spread your knees over my shoulders."

"Bossy." Her blonde eyebrows lifted but she obliged and shuffled closer.

"Fuck, Harper..." I groaned at the sight of her pink folds, parted slightly with a faint sheen of arousal over them, and the idea her hand job on me had also turned her on. "Is that from downstairs?"

"Maybe," she mumbled and extended her arms over my head until her hands clasped the headboard. "Why are you still talking?"

"Fair enough." I wet my lips with my tongue, then traveled a line of kisses and strokes with my tongue up the inside of her right thigh. My lips tingled over the paths they drew up her warm, smooth skin.

Once I got to her core area, the scent of Harper's arousal filled my nose. I inhaled deeply, then dragged my tongue once up her center seam. Right when I reached the top of her hood, I pulled back and started over on her left thigh. This time anticipation was on my side as she groaned and wiggled her hips the closer I got to where she wanted.

I clamped both my hands on her hips, stilled her movements, and gently tugged her pelvis closer. She lowered down until her folds, bare, smooth as silk like the rest of her, and aroused as fuck, enveloped around my nose and corners of my mouth like an oxygen mask. I breathed in again until my brain numbed from how much her natural scent filled me and drew my tongue around the inside perimeter of her folds.

"Hey asshole," Harper growled out in a raspy voice. "Less smelling, more licking."

Normally when I went down on a girl, which was almost never compared to the number of blow jobs I received, I impatiently fingered her insides more than used my mouth. But since none of those blow jobs compared to the number Harper did on my cock on the bus, where the memory recall alone was spank-bank material, she deserved some reciprocation.