He could smell that?
My face flushed, and my body warmed even more for some reason.
“I could get you off,” he remarked. “As friends. Since we have no choice but to be loyal to each other, we might as well help each other out with that.”
My face flushed further.
He wanted to do that?
I was not prepared for this.
At all.
I’d never even had a guy touch me like that, and…
Shit, it sounded hot.
“Just as friends?” I asked, my voice a bit uneven.
“Just as friends,” he agreed. “To relieve the pressure.”
Shit, he was right, there was so much damn pressure.
“Alright,” I breathed. “But just hands.”
“Just hands,” he agreed. His hips rocked a bit, and his erection slid between my ass cheeks, my thin panties doing almost nothing to keep us apart.
He groaned softly as his hand slid up my thigh, dragging my big shirt upward and finding the hem of my panties.
Shit.
Double shit.
He played with the hem for a minute before sliding his fingers down, brushing them over the front of me. I was so damned soaked, and his growl told me he liked that.
My breathing picked up as he moved his fingers lazily over my core, rocking his hips a bit now and then, rubbing himself against me through both of our clothing.
His hand finally found the hem of my panties again and slipped under the fabric, and I swore when his big, warm fingers found my clit.
I rocked against him as he explored me painfully-slowly, learning what made me crazy and what just felt good.
When he finally picked up the pace, working my clit, it only took me a minute to shatter. I cried out as I rocked against him, pleasure rolling through me, and earned a snarl and a curse as he moved with me, soaking my ass as promised.
We sagged into each other, breathing hard as we came down from the highs, Rocco’s hand curved around my core possessively, holding my whole damn crotch.
I don’t know why it was erotic, but it was.
“That was…” I trailed off, panting.
“Fucking incredible?” Rocco’s hand squeezed me, and I fought a groan.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But now we need to go to work.”
He sighed. “Alright. Don’t touch my dad, okay?”
I snorted. “When have I ever touched your dad?”
“You hug him sometimes. Just give me a few days to get used to the bond before doing that again.”
I guess he wasn’t wrong. I did hug his parents sometimes—they felt more like my parents than my own. But it was a parently-hug, not an intimate one.
“The thought of you touching anyone else makes me want to rip throats,” Rocco admitted. “Platonically.”
I choked on a laugh. “I’m sure platonic throat ripping is common here.”
“Mmhm.” He confirmed, though I felt his grin against the back of my neck.
“Alright, let’s go.” I rolled away from him, and he reluctantly released me.