The Naked Jock Chapter 8 (Patreon)

All characters engaged in sexual activity are 18 or older.

Jake’s tongue has been in my mouth for the better part of five minutes, his hands running up and down my back, slipping under my t-shirt every so often to trace random patterns on my skin. We’re supposed to be working on his essay on landmark Supreme Court cases, but our study break turned into a make out session that’s getting a little risqué considering we’re sitting at a table in one of the many courtyards around campus. 

I pull away from his mouth even though I don’t want to and whisper against his lips, “We should stop.” He kisses me again. “I’m serious, Jake. Keep doing that, and I’m going to rip your clothes off right here in front of everyone.”

Jake smirks. “Kinky. I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.” 

I roll my eyes and then my hips against his, our hard cocks brushing against each other in a painfully delicious slide before I move off his lap. He whines and pulls me in for another kiss. “Not fair.”

“What’s not fair is going to be your grade if we don’t finish this essay of yours,” I say. 

Just as I turn back to my laptop, Jake’s phone goes off in a blaring alarm, causing him to groan. “Ugh. I gotta go. We have to start getting ready for the game.” He packs up his things and kisses me one last time before standing up. “You’re coming, right? We can go to the party afterwards.” 

I nod, genuinely feeling excited about going, which is strange considering I hate sports. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Jake beams at me. “Great! I’ll look for you guys in your seats. Oh, and there’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

I try to frown, but my lips quirk into a smile anyway. “You can’t keep buying me things, Jake.” 

He scoffs. “You can’t buy what I got you this time. I… It’s a surprise, but I hope you’ll like it.” He walks off, and I can’t help but stare at his ass as he does so. It’s such a distracting sight that I don’t even notice someone sliding onto the bench across from me. 

Unfortunately, that someone is Derek. 

He sneers, running a hand through his jet-black hair. “So you’re dating the star quarterback of the football team, huh? Guess you have a type.” He laughs, ugly. “Though, pretty boy should be glad I stopped playing. Otherwise, I’d take his spot.” 

I slam my textbook shut and quickly pack up my things, but he grabs my wrist hard. I glare at him and try to pull back, but his grip is painfully tight. “Let go, asshole.” 

He frowns but doesn’t let go. “Where are you going? I just wanted to catch up with you.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps. 

My eyes widen, not believing what’s going on here. “What’s my problem? My problem is that you’re a dick who hurt me. So I have no idea why we’re even having this conversation. It’s a big campus. Stay the fuck away from me!” 

He scoffs, still not letting go of my wrist, squeezing even harder. “God, that was back in high school. Get over it.” His mouth twists back into a cocky sneer. “In fact, why don’t you dump that pretty boy? I’m out now. I wouldn’t mind you sucking my cock in front of everyone.” 

My blood boils, and my vision turns red. I act on instinct and kick him under the table. He yelps, finally letting go of my wrist to rub his shin. I snatch up my bag and move away so that he can’t grab me again. “You’re a fucking loser, Derek. Leave. Me. Alone!” I stomp away, rubbing at my wrist, which is all red and sore. That’s going to bruise later.

###

“I can’t believe Jake gave you his practice jersey!” Liam says, practically bouncing as we wait in line to get into the stadium. That’s what the surprise was—his practice jersey. And he was right. You can’t buy it anywhere. It’s for players only. 

I smile and sniff the material. Even though he washed it, it smells like the cologne Jake likes to wear. “Yeah, it’s pretty special.” I smooth out a wrinkle, then wince, my wrist still sore and red from earlier. 

Liam frowns, looking at it. He saw it the moment I walked back into our room and threatened to throw hands with whoever did it. It took me a while, though, to finally tell him what happened. Suffice to say, he’s not happy I haven’t let him call the cops on Derek. “I wish you would let me do something about it.” 

I stare at him flatly. “What would you do, Liam? No offense, but you’re just as skinny as I am.” 

He gives me an indignant look. “So what? We could beat him up together. Or better yet, we can tell Jake and Ryan, and they can beat him up.” 

“No!” I say with more force than necessary. “Leave them out of it, Liam. I don’t want them getting into trouble because of that asshole. Besides, I told him to leave me alone. I’m sure he won’t bother me again…” 

Except, I’m not sure about that at all. I didn’t realize it at the time I was dating him, but Derek is your typical grade A asshole. When we were dating, he was still in the closet, but I wasn’t, so our relationship was a secret to everyone except Liam. At school, he would hang out with his jock friends and ignore me like I didn’t exist, but then when we were at my house or his when his parents weren’t home, he’d act all nice and loving. 

For the longest time, I was okay with it. He was my first and only boyfriend, and I convinced myself that I was lucky to even have a boyfriend, much less date a cute football player like him. 

It was great until it wasn’t. 

We finally make our way into the stadium and find our seats. This isn’t the first football game I’ve been to, but it’s been a while, and I have to admit that these are some really nice seats. It’s early enough that we catch the tail-end of the players warming up, and Jake notices us immediately, nudging Ryan to look where we are. They both wave, and we wave back—me making sure to wave using the hand that’s not bruised even though he’s too far away to see it. I don’t want him to worry. 

###

The game was absolutely amazing. I’ve been watching YouTube videos all week to brush up on my already thin football knowledge, and even I know that Jake played like a pro, basically winning them the game. I get a text from him saying to meet them at the Kappa house, so we don’t have to wait around for them in an empty stadium. 

Liam and I make our way over there, and by the time we get close to the house, the music is already booming. They must have told them about us coming because some of the Kappa guys greet us like they know exactly who we are, even calling us by our names. “This is so cool,” Liam whispers, clinging to my side as we make our way through the house, finding a relatively clean couch to sit on. 

I snort. “I thought you hated parties like this.” 

He shrugs. “I do, but… I’m enjoying this one.”  

I can help but chuckle. “You’re just excited because Ryan’s going to be here.”

Liam shoves me gently, sloshing whatever cheap beer is in my cup. “So what? You’re the only one that can have a football daddy?”

I laugh loudly. “No, no. You’re right. You’re just as worthy of having a football daddy as I am.” 

We enjoy the party, talking to each other and some others who recognize us, and then there’s a loud roar of applause and hooting and hollering. 

The football team is here. 

Jake spots me from across the room and pushes his way through the crowd until he’s pulling me into his arms, kissing me in front of everyone. We break apart, breathless. “You were amazing out there,” I say over the wolf-whistles and cheers. 

He smiles and hugs me tight. “I was thinking about you the entire time. I wanted to win for you.” 

I’m about to tell him that if he keeps talking like that, we going back to his room immediately. But my body stiffens automatically as my gaze falls on Derek standing in a corner, staring daggers at us.

Jake pulls away, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?” Then, he notices my wrist, gently taking it in his hands. He’s holding it with so much care and attention, but it’s in sharp contrast with the fury burning in his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

I don’t answer, but he scans the room anyway and spots Derek, who’s still in the same spot. Jake gently lets go of my wrist, and without saying another word, storms over to him.