Page 54 of The Love Playbook

If I let him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jackson

The ring of muscle contracts around me as Autumn comes and comes, her orgasm seeming to never end as I continue fucking her. Some part of my brain vaguely wonders if I should stop or slow down or something given that she’s no longer supporting her upper body, her muscles having given out from the strength of her orgasm.

But she hasn’t given any verbal indication that she needs a break, and I’m so close, so so so close, that I think stopping would actually damage me in some way. I know they say that’s not possible, but …

My hips jerk, my ability to control my rhythm slipping entirely as I’m overwhelmed by the entire experience.

Heat scalds my spine, my balls drawing up tight as I watch my dick, shiny with lube, moving in and out of her body. It’s so fucking hot. I can’t believe this is happening. That I’m here, doing this, withAutumnof all people, the hot friend of a player’s girlfriend who I never expected to look at me twice, much less with invitation or lust in her eyes.

And now I’m here, buried as deeply inside her as I can, my cock jerking as I empty myself into the condom she insisted I must use all the time, even with her.

It feels like another ploy to keep distance between us, even if she couched it as a lesson on safety. Not that I’m unfamiliar with safe sex practices. My high school health class had the nurse from the public health district come in and show us an STD slide show full of syphilis sores and genital warts that are burned into my brain even all these years later.

If that weren’t enough, my mother and sister have always told me that condoms are to be used one hundred percent of the time if I’m stupid enough to risk getting a girl pregnant.

Which is why I haven’t taken that risk. Not only do I not want to be tied to someone for the rest of my life—though some part of me thinks having that kind of tie to Autumn wouldn’t be the worst thing ever—I don’t think I could handle seeing the disappointment in my mother’s eyes if I came home and told her I got someone pregnant.

That, more than anything, has kept my dick in my pants.

Until now.

Until Autumn.

My muscles go lax, and I have to force myself not to collapse over the top of her. Instead, I slowly release my hold on her and give in to the urge to bend over her and place a gentle kiss on her spine between her shoulder blades.

She shivers beneath me, whether from the kiss or the aftereffects of her orgasm I’m not sure.

When she shifts, I feel myself beginning to slip out of her body. Regretfully, I reach between us to hang onto the condom and pull out completely.

She lets out a sound that’s half sigh, half moan, and I’m not sure if it’s disappointment, relief, or a little of both.

Grinning at her reaction, I place another kiss on her back. She turns her head and gives me a satisfied smile. I kiss her lips, and she lifts her head to follow me for another kiss as I pull back.

Smiling back, I glance down at my softening latex-covered dick. “Uh, what should I do with this?”

She chuckles and motions at the box of tissues on her nightstand. “Wrap it in tissues and put it in the trash, please. No condoms down our toilet. No one wants to unclog that, please and thank you.”

“Noted.” I do as she says, cleaning myself off and wadding the tissues up, wrapping them all in a clean tissue before dropping them in the small wicker wastebasket next to her bed.

When I look back at her, she rolls onto her side and holds out an arm for me. “Come here. I need my post-orgasm Jackson cuddles before you go.”

Climbing back on the bed with her, I settle against the pillows and urge her up high enough to join me. She clambers up and drapes herself across my torso, her head wedged under my chin. It’s a bit different than past cuddling opportunities where she uses my shoulder as a pillow, but it gives me a better opportunity to stroke her skin.

One of my favorite parts of this whole experience—apart from the orgasms, both giving and receiving—is the sensory experience of touching her naked body like this. Learning her textures and likes and the way she sighs against my chest like she can’t get enough of this either.

I know she’ll kick me out before I’m anywhere near ready to go, but for now I’m going to enjoy the amount of time she’ll give me. If I’m lucky—and persistent—I’m confident I can convince her to give me more.

* * *

It’s been three days since I’ve seen Autumn, and I’m chafing against ouronly see each other once a weekrestriction. She didn’t come to game night this week after our spectacular hookup in my room last week that ended with me storming out after she clarified her position about our relationship.

And yeah, I know that should be enough to make me give up my hope of convincing her to give us a chance at something more. And it did. For about a week.

But I know that she feels something for me. There’s no way what we have could be this amazing without a deeper connection. I’ve heard the way my teammates talk about their hookups and fuck buddies, and it’s clear that they don’t have the kind of connection Autumn and I have. It’s just as clear that they’re really just concerned about getting off.

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