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"I guess she found you, then?" Alex says, nudging Jack's shoulder.
He shrugs, like he isn't the type to kiss and tell. Which, if I hadn't seen video proof otherwise, I might even believe him. I look up, because it's not as if I could ignore that much noise, but they're not paying me any mind. A satisfied grin crosses over his face and the guys around him cheer.
Alex goads him more. "How was it?"
"Best fucking blow job I've ever gotten," he says, and I can feel his eyes on me when the other guys start to talk amongst themselves.
My lips quirk and I surreptitiously lick my lips.
My phone buzzes.
JP: Don't do that.
BN: Don't do what?
JP: You fucking know.
BN: Clear your messages. And pictures.
I put my phone away and try not to stare at Jack the entire way home.
CHAPTER 25
JACK
"Can I come over tonight?" I ask quietly, wiping my mouth.
We're eating lunch in Bryant's office, with the door open, and we're supposed to be going over footage from the last two games. I kicked ass in those games, though, so I'm less interested in watching the players run around, and more interested in getting in the coach's pants.
"We have a job to do," he admonishes. "We're getting too distracted."
Next, he's going to tell me we need to pull back. Or that I need to start making the rounds at parties again, even though I think he hates the idea of me even pretending to be with someone else as much as I do. I've never been in a relationship serious enough to consider monogamy, and while I know this isn't a relationship, I legitimately don't want to be with anyone else.
No one else gets my dick up the way he does. No one else hurts and heals me at the same time. No one else can bring me to the fucking brink every time he touches me.
He won't deny me. I wait for the nod, and the look that says, you know the drill. On the days he lets me come over, I make sure to wait until late enough that the neighbors aren't likely to be outside. Considering they're all teachers or staff members that live on campus during the school year, the last thing we need is someone noticing how often I come and go. Once or twice can be brushed off as a friendly meeting, but lately I've been over there more often than not.
I just don't want to be in my cramped, empty dorm. I’d prefer to be sleeping with his warm, hard body pressed against mine, but as much as I like waking up in the morning with my dick in his mouth, or his fingers in my ass in the middle of the night, the last thing we need is the school counselor next door noticing how frequently his favorite player comes to visit him. So I dress in dark clothes and quietly slip in through the back door that he leaves unlocked for me.
"Can we focus now?" He asks, and I grin, because annoying him is high up on my list of favorite pastimes.
"Jackson needs to bend his knees," I say, pointing to the paused footage. "He needs to be ready before he needs to be ready, if you know what I mean. The rest of it is just being tired. Defensive line doesn't have enough stamina."
"Tuck!" Bryant calls out to the defensive coach as he’s walking by.
Coach Sanders sticks his head in the office. "What's up?"
"We're going over game footage. Perry says you need to beef up their workout routine."
I narrow my eyes at him for throwing me under the bus, but we're all here for the same thing. To get better. To win. Hopefully, Coach Sanders doesn't mind hearing a constructive criticism about his defensive line from a student.
"Specifically running, sprints, that sort of thing. And agility drills. They lift enough. Jackson's a fucking tank, but if he could run and move with any flexibility, he'd be unstoppable."
To his credit, Sanders doesn't balk at the recommendation at all. "I agree," he says. "I've been letting them focus on lifting when it comes to workouts, but we could definitely mix it up. I'll push it. Thanks," he says jovially, shooting a grin at Bryant before making his way back to his office.
"What was that look about?" I ask.
"He likes being right."
