I should stop. I should move back down, but I can’t. I keep rubbing against it, harder, faster.
He groans and his eyes fall shut, and I feel liquid trickle from him, and that does it for me. I fall into the abyss as I lean back so the rest of his length presses back between my wet folds while my clit presses his flesh. It’s too good.
“Hutch!” I yell, vaguely thankful this cottage is soundproofed. My body spasms, as all my muscles seem to shake with the intensity of my release. A rush of fluid between my legs drenches his underwear.
“Fuck!” he shouts as I feel his dick jump against me, and then his warm release shoots against his abdomen and runs down onto my clit.
I feel a final spasm of my muscles as I slide down him and crumble into a boneless pile against his hard body.
His arms wrap around me, cradling me to him. His lips kiss the top of my head. And for the first time in any relationship, I feel cherished.
I sigh in contentment and snuggle against him. “I think we have a problem,” I whisper.
“Why’s that?” he asks, his voice gravelly, and damn if that isn’t sexy.
“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” I confess as I smile against him.
“Jocelyn, if I were being honest with myself, I’d say we were never going to be just friends,” he admits. We’ve only known each other for a few months, but he’s right. There’s been an attraction there the entire time. We just haven’t been in a position to take the next step until now.
“Well, it only took us what, like five, six months to figure out we should be together?” I tease. “That’s like the slowest get-to-know-you ever.”
He chuckles, and I grin again.
“When did you know?” I ask him, popping my head up to look at him.
“The first time I saw you,” he says as he brushes some hair away from my face.
“Seriously?” I ask, frowning as I try to remember when we first met.
“You were walking to get coffee at the café,” he explains. “I saw you from my window and I just knew I wanted you to be mine.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me out?” I question, feeling slightly offended that it took him so long to admit he liked me.
“Because I have trust issues and I’m a chickenshit,” he says.
“So that bitch ex of yours really fucked you up, huh?” I say as I practically snarl at the thought of this woman who could hurt Hutch like she did.
He laughs. “Calm down there, killer. It was more than that. Yes, she slept with my teammate. And honestly, considering all the crap that had happened, I might have been able to forgive her, but she made it clear she couldn’t be with me any longer. It hurt like hell at the time, but I’m glad she left. It’d have been worse if she stayed out of pity or loyalty and then kept cheating on me.” He pauses, his face getting serious. “What was worse was that my family got all weird after the accident, and some of my former teammates ghosted me. I really didn’t know who I could trust for years. And then I found everyone at one-eleven Hearts Lane, and slowly I began to trust them. But I still didn’t feel ready for a relationship until you.”
“It just took you like six months to figure that out,” I state.
He nods. “It took me this long to build up the courage to admit I wanted you. I think I couldn’t have dealt with the rejection before,” he confesses, and that makes my heart hurt for this man.
I run my fingers through his beard and cup his jaw. “I was a chickenshit too. Good old daddy issues.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair,” he teases.
“I suppose we are,” I reply as I move off him. “I’m going to change, OK.”
He nods, and I scamper upstairs and rinse off in record time, throwing on my pajamas and returning downstairs. Hutch has on his signature gray sweatpants and t-shirt. He lies down on the sofa, and instead of lying perpendicular with my head in his lap, I curl up next to him, or I try to.
“Come up here,” he demands as he pulls me on top of him. I lie down in between his legs and place my head on his chest. He pulls a blanket over us and turns on the television.
“What are we going to tell the others?” I ask.
“That we have decided to date,” he says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“Do the guys know?” I ask.
