Chocolate Covered Billionaire Navy SEAL (8 page)

Victoria exhaled slowly and said languidly, "
Yeah, and it’s... amazing!"

"And you’re talking to me?"

"I can multitask," Victoria replied casually.

Jillian’s mouth flew open as she thought about how to proceed.

"So, what else is up?" Victoria asked.

"Should you really be talking to me with some guy doing that to you?"

"Well, I figured I’d be returning the favor soon, and..." Victoria paused to exhale deeply again and continued, "I certainly won’t be able to talk to you then."

After Jillian nodded, her face registered mild agreement. "Oh, that makes sense... Wait, no it doesn’t... I’m going to go."

"Oh... yeah, Austin. Jillian? Jillian, what I meant was when my mouth is full, it'll be really hard to hold a conver–"

"No, no. That part I got," Jillian interrupted. "I think I’m going to go and let you..."

Victoria ran her fingers through Austin’s hair as his tongue continued licking away.

"You should... totally try this. It would clear up that writer’s block issue immediately. When’s the last time someone went down on you?"

Jillian made a sour face. "I’m just going to—"

"I mean, like, really got in there and did a good job with it?"

"Okay, I’m going to hang up now."

As Jillian hung up the phone, her sick expression morphed into a smile, which eventually transformed to something akin to confused longing. She actually could go for some good oral sex right about now. Jillian stared blankly ahead as she tried to recall the last time anyone did that to her, much less if he did a good job while doing it. She couldn’t remember exactly, but she knew it’d been a long, long, long time.

Rob Grayson was throwing a Super Bowl party in the on-campus suite at Georgia State University that he shared with five other guys. The suite was ordinary, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a common living area. It featured one extraordinary thing, though. Rob owned the biggest television on campus.

His mother, a bestselling author, had purchased it for him. He never told anyone about the types of books she wrote, because he was totally embarrassed by them. He told people his mother wrote legal thrillers under a pen name. He didn’t want to admit that she wrote about perfect-bodied men and gorgeous women with huge, full, bouncing breasts having mind-blowing sex.

Rob and his best friend, Brian Nash, both college seniors, had lived together with most of the same guys in the same suite since sophomore year. Virtual opposites, the two had been best friends almost from the start. They never shared a room, since they were on different sleep schedules. A morning person, Rob preferred early classes, while Brian enjoyed sleeping in and attending afternoon classes. They spent most of their time together at bars and hanging out.

Another probable factor in their close friendship was that neither had been preoccupied with an on-campus girlfriend during the entire time they had known each other. Rob had a longtime girlfriend back in Florida, and Brian... Well, Brian was shy with women. He’d had a few girlfriends over the years, but none were ever serious or lasted more than a few weeks.

At the height of the Super Bowl party, about thirty people crowded into the living area, watching the game on the seventy-inch high-definition screen. Most were Steelers fans, but a few, including Rob and Brian, cheered on the Packers. After the game, the majority left to hit the local bars, but four of the guys and two girls—a junior named Natalie and her roommate, Cindy—stayed behind.

Brian was a little drunk. He sat on the sofa and watched Natalie and Cindy talking to Rob and another guy from the suite. Natalie was wearing a bulky white sweater and tight gray stretch pants. Her ass looked amazing in those pants. He’d noticed the curve of her backside much earlier, and whenever given the opportunity throughout the night, he stole a quick glance.

Brian had seen Natalie around campus before, but he had never met her. She had been invited by some of the other guys in the suite, but he didn’t know much more about her. He’d heard that she didn’t currently have a boyfriend, but he wasn’t all that interested, since she was a little tall for him and always seemed so full of herself. But now he was beginning to rethink his initial impressions, since she did look spectacular in those pants.

He sipped his beer as he alternated between watching the postgame coverage and the other people in the room, who were trying to coax Natalie into doing something. He wasn't paying close enough attention to know what they were talking about. Natalie rolled her eyes, evidently persuaded, and removed her sweater to reveal a tight camisole underneath. Brian perked up in his seat, since this was now much more exciting than the postgame coverage. Was she going to take off more?

No more clothing came off, but what she did next would change Brian’s life forever. Standing perfectly still, Natalie took a deep breath and slowly and gracefully lifted one of her legs until it was pointed straight at the ceiling. The other remained firmly planted
on the floor as she rose up onto the ball of her foot. She held her raised leg with one hand, almost effortlessly, as Brian looked her up and down.

He zoomed in on her ass, trying to see any hint of the underwear she wore under those tight pants, but he could see none. She was either wearing nothing or some kind of tiny thong. While staring at her open-mouthed, his beer began to spill on his pants. When he realized it, he simply corrected the bottle without bothering to wipe off then quickly looked back at Natalie as she maintained that amazing pose. He studied her legs and tilted his head slightly to get a better angle. Looking closer, he was convinced he could see just a hint of the outline of her parts in the crease between the leg pointed south and the other, pointing due north.

Like the rest of the group, he was amazed by Natalie’s athletic ability, but unlike them, he was more impressed with the incredible firmness of her ass. He supposed that made him shallow. The beer could be partially to blame. But he had such a limited sexual history that he often found himself more preoccupied with sex than other guys his age. He knew that was saying something, too, since most of his peers thought with their penises far more often than with their brains. He seemed to think with his penis
all
the time.

Seconds later, as Natalie slowly brought her leg
down, Brian’s eyes followed it the whole way, his mouth still wide open. While her audience clapped, he approached her. He was hooked. He spent the rest of the night talking to her, getting her drinks, and hanging on her every word. Later, he walked both Natalie and her roommate to their dorm.

As he lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, Brian pictured Natalie with her leg in the air in the same amazing position, but this time she was completely naked. It was only the two of them in the living room now, but he again sat on the sofa, holding a beer and just watching her. While she continued to hold her right leg skyward with a hand near her ankle, she used one finger of that occupied hand to motion for him to come to her. Dropping the beer, he leapt up and went to her. When he reached her, she was somehow able to remove her hand from the leg without it moving at all. He knew it was impossible, but it was his fantasy. He stood next to her with her ankle inches from his head. Natalie looked him in the eye while she used both hands to unzip his pants, extract his equipment, and guide him inside of her. Sighing, Brian rolled over in an attempt to go to sleep, hoping he could coax that thought into his subconscious as a full-length sex dream.

For the next few weeks, Brian dated Natalie somewhat unofficially. They did homework together, they ate together in the dining hall, and they even made out a few times, but that was all. There was no removal of clothes or touching of parts or even dry humping. Brian would leave her dorm room, usually bent over at a strange angle and very frustrated. He wanted to see her naked, and he wanted to see her strike that ballet pose while she was naked. He was infatuated with her, and the more she held back physically, the more head-over-heels in love he became.

Their relationship took a very minor step forward three weeks after they started dating, when Rob, Brian, Natalie, and three other friends went to a college party at a university about two hours away. At three in the morning, they left the party and returned in an old station wagon with Brian and Natalie lying next to each other in the cargo area. She reached out to touch his hand, and he took her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. They held hands for the remainder of the ride home, with the back of Natalie’s hand resting over Brian’s groin. He didn’t know if she realized it at first, but as his penis began to expand in his pants, he started to feel her pressing against it a little more firmly, which only made it harder. For the rest of the ride home, he hoped she would unzip and pull him out to relieve the pressure, but she never did. Instead she was either asleep or was pretending to be, as she lay next to him. When they arrived at daybreak, Brian offered to walk her to her room. Natalie declined and told him to come over later that day. Brian went home, jerked off, and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Jason, one of the guys who went on the trip, interrogated Brian about the goings on in the back of the wagon as Rob stood near them.

Jason asked, "So did Natalie give you a little tug back there?"

"A tug?"

"A hand job, you idiot!"

"Not exactly," Brian said.

"I heard something going on back there," Jason said.

Rob laughed. "Well, what do you call it when a girl presses the back of her hand into it?"

Brian glared at Rob.

Jason looked wide-eyed at Brian, then his face took on a serious expression, and he asked, "So she never actually touched it?"

"No," Rob answered for his friend.

"Has she never touched it?"

"Outside of clothes?"
Brian asked.

"Of course—it’s got to be out to count," Jason said.

"Well, then no."

"But last night she put the back of her hand on it?" Jason asked.

"And she pressed on it a little," Brian said before realizing how lame it sounded.

Jason smiled at him. "Well in that case it’s called...
nothing
!" He jumped up and announced loudly as he headed into the bedroom area, "Guys, wait till you hear this!"

After catching up with Jason, Brian grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don’t be a dick. She said she has a surprise for me tonight."

Jason chuckled. "Yeah, maybe you can put your big toe next to her pussy through her clothes."

He proceeded to tell the rest of the guys the station wagon story. Brian never should have let it slip, since his suite mates would never let him live it down. From then on, that particular sex act—or unsex act—was called the BHJ (for "backhand job"), but some preferred to call it "
the
un
tug."

Jillian agreed to a blind date with a purportedly great guy who worked with the husband of one of her close friends. Mike had a good job and was a competent tennis player. Years ago, Jillian had put in a tennis court right next to the pool, and she loved to play. She played number-one singles on her high school team, and although she wasn’t good enough to earn a spot on her college team, she continued to play at least a few times a month for the past twenty years.

Mike arrived, and Jillian gave him a quick tour of the house and pool area before leading him to the court. He was taken aback by the size of the house and the beautiful landscaping. He started their date on the wrong foot, though, by asking, "What did your ex-husband do for a living to afford all this?"

After glaring at him a moment, Jillian replied, "He didn’t pay for any of this. I did."

"You're a writer, correct?"

"Romance novels mainly."

"Huh," Mike said as he returned a look that screamed he couldn’t believe writing books could support this type of lifestyle.

"Marci told me you played on your college team," she said.

"I was number one, but don’t worry—I’ll take it easy on you."

They started hitting the ball around as a warm-up, and Jillian was easily able to keep up with him. She thought he was a good player, but she figured he must have played at a pretty small school, if he'd been number one on its team.

From the first point, it became clear to Jillian that Mike would do whatever was necessary to not lose to a woman. He served first and won his game easily. On her serve, she reached game point against him only to have him call two of her serves, which were clearly in, as out. She didn’t take issue with his calls and lost that game on another questionable double fault call. He held his serve again next, to go up three games to love.

She decided to play more aggressively by coming to the net after each serve in the fourth game. This strategy worked, and she won her next two service games and broke his serve to bring the set even at three, despite more questionable calls from her immature opponent. Both players held serve to six games all, and Mike’s frustration was growing. During the tiebreak, Jillian served first, and when she called one of his obviously long shots out, Mike questioned the call. She reversed the call simply to end the match as soon as possible.

When they reached six points to five in the tiebreak, Jillian came to the net, hoping to even the score, but ended up badly out of position. Ignoring his opportunity to go down the line for an easy passing shot, he instead chose to fire a shot into her body. When the ball hit her, Jillian stared at him in disbelief. It didn’t hurt all that much, but it did knock the wind out of her momentarily, and she couldn’t believe a grown man would do such a thing.

Grinning widely, he told her she played a good set as she limped to the bench, still glaring at him. She opened a bottle of water and took a sip as he joined her on the bench.

"Best two out of three?" Mike asked, as he opened his hand for her to hand over the bottle from which she was drinking. After exhaling deeply, she handed him the bottle. He drank from it and attempted to return it.

She waved him off. "I think I’m done."

"Tired?" he asked.

Jillian shot a look at him like she wanted to kill him and said sarcastically, "Yeah, I’m too tired."

Moments later, they returned to the pool area carrying their racquets, and he asked, "How about one drink before I go?"

She nodded reluctantly, and he asked, "Do you have a beer?"

Jillian went into the house, and when she returned with the beer, she found him swimming in the pool. Standing at the edge, she glared at him. "What are you doing?"

"I was hot," he answered as he stood in the pool, looking at her. "This feels great. Why don’t you join me?"

He appeared to be naked, except for a huge black patch around his groin. Squinting, she thought he was either wearing a black bathing suit or he had the most unkempt pubic hair ever on a human being. When she looked closer, she realized it was the latter but asked anyway with a sick expression, "Did you bring a bathing suit?"

"No," he replied and then repeated, "Why don’t you join me?"

"Who gets into someone’s pool naked on a first date?"

"I was picking up these signals from you on the court. You had this angry, sexy look on your face."

"Because I was in pain after you hit me with the ball."

"You’re not mad about that are you?"

"No, but you acted like a complete ass on the court and then somehow think that’s an invitation for you to dunk your naked, sweaty ass in my clean pool? Get out."

He looked at her with a grin, and when she didn’t smile back he asked, "Seriously?"

"Yes. Please, get out and go."

"All right," he said as he unabashedly climbed from the pool with his huge thicket of wet black pubic hair matted down around his unattractive groin. His sizeable gut was protruding enough to add to the overall look, and he stood, dripping, his hands on his hips as he asked curtly, "A towel?"

After grunting, she took a sip of his beer and glanced once more at his train wreck of a body before grabbing a towel and tossing it to him. He proceeded to dry his groin first while she stood ten feet from him. She continued to drink the beer, alternating a sip with a grimace as he lifted his hairy parts while drying off, in some misguided attempt to impress her.

He said, "Maybe that beer will loosen you up a little."

"No, it’s merely keeping me from calling the police."

Jillian nearly vomited in her mouth when she noticed that after he dried his pubic area, it appeared even hairier than before. She looked away for a moment but then back, to confirm that some of the strands of hair were about six inches long. Then he used the towel to really dry his ass, appearing to actually shove it in there a whole lot more than was actually necessary.

"You really don’t want me to stay?" he asked, standing naked and holding the towel.

After momentarily staring at him in disbelief, she placed the beer on the table, pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and pointed it at him with her finger on the side button.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a smile.

"If you don’t get out of here right now, your Don King super-bush is going viral."

"Okay. Okay. Relax! You successful women can be so bitchy."

As he dried the hair on his head while standing in full view of her, she pushed the button on the cell phone to snap a picture. He didn’t notice. She needed proof of this to show her friends. He extended the towel to her, and she shook her head and made a face as if he were offering her a biohazard.

"Keep it," Jillian said. She walked over, picked up his racquet and all his clothes, calmly walked to the back of the yard, and threw them over the fence.

He looked at her like she was crazy as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Oh,
now
you cover up," she said sarcastically. Then she pointed to the gate, and he headed for it with her following close behind. She said, "Believe me when I say that I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you are in desperate need of a trim."

After shooting her an evil look, he went through the gate. Jillian locked it and headed back to the house while thinking that would be the last blind date she ever allowed her friends to arrange. It would also be several days before the image of his giant bush would leave her brain, although she would save the picture for a long time.