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When I had the camera pointed at myself, there was more than enough of me in the frame for Hudson to see exactly what I’m wearing right now.
My stomach drops with embarrassment. Hudson’s going to see that on a random Wednesday night, I’m just hanging around my place—wearing his jersey.
21
HUDSON
She’s wearing my fucking jersey.
Wearing it to the game last Friday was one thing. I know that’s just part of the show we’re putting on. Fake as anything else we do when we’re in public.
It still sent a rush of possessiveness, of sheer lust, pulsing through every fucking cubic centimeter of my body to see her in it; but the rational part of my brain always knew why she was really wearing it.
But to see her still wearing my jersey when she’s just hanging out in her house on a weekday evening, with no one around to see …
It feels like flames are coursing through my bloodstream. The ab muscles low on my core have turned into solid rock. In no time flat, my cock is pulsing behind my athletic shorts, bobbing up and down underneath the thin and loose fabric, in perfect rhythm to my heartbeat.
Usually when Summer sends me a video or a picture of Salsa doing something adorable or silly, I’m fawning over it. And I’ve never freaking fawned in my life. For some reason that cat touches a part of my heart that’s rarely been touched. She has since that first time I saw her in the alleyway.
This time, though, I’m hardly playing attention to the frenzied feline running in a whirling circle after her own tail.
I’m just watching the part of the video that shows Summer in my jersey over and over again, and my cock is growing harder by the second.
My balls are so tight that they ache. There’s no way I can keep my right hand from dipping under my shorts and wrapping around the hard, pulsing length.
A curse rips from my mouth as my palm grips my dick. A sharp, pleasurable ache thrums up and down my shaft, making my breaths ragged.
With my left hand, I type out a quick response to Summer. Just haha, cute.
What I wish I could type is, you wearing my jersey is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I’m coming over right now, take off everything you’re wearing underneath it.
But that’s what I’d type to a real girlfriend, not a fake girlfriend.
All I can do is imagine that scenario playing out in my head. Even if I wanted to resist doing so, the lust pounding through my bloodstream wouldn’t let me focus on anything else. And damn it, right now, I don’t want to resist doing so.
I push my shorts down my hips. A sigh of relief whispers from my lips as my cock is allowed to straighten in the air.
My mushroom head is swollen. I slide my fist up my shaft. Just grazing the rim of the pink nerve endings makes my muscles tense with pleasure.
I close my eyes and let my dirty mind go where it wants to go.
Where it wants to go is me walking into Summer’s house, walking up to her room, and finding her sitting on her bed. She’s wearing my jersey, of course. Her exposed thighs look a mile long as she has them curled coyly beneath her. The hem of my jersey is low enough that I can’t quite tell whether she’s wearing anything underneath.
I kick her bedroom door closed behind me and march over to find out.
“Fuck,” I growl as my fist starts to work up and down my length. I try to keep my grip light. I don’t want to come too fast. I want to savor these images of Summer, these fantasies I don’t usually let myself indulge in, while pleasure snakes through me.
What would Summer’s cute face look like when she’s flushed with the kind of pleasure I’m feeling right now? How red would her cheeks get? Would her eyes roll back? Would her eyelids flutter closed, or would she want to hold eye contact?
What kind of sounds would she make? Low moans? Ragged breaths? Would she scream? Beg me to go faster?
My teeth are grinding together as I imagine every possibility. My jaw muscles pop, my neck muscles swell with tension, my face burns hot.
How would her velvety thighs feel wrapped around my waist? Would she dig her fingernails into the thick muscles of my back? Is she the kind of good girl who turns into a bad girl in the bedroom?
Flames lick at the base of my spine, and the tension in my balls tells me that I’m moments away from erupting.
I fist myself faster, the pleasure swelling deep in my core. Just as I imagine pressing my lips to Summer’s to drink in her moans of ecstasy, my orgasm grips me.
