Hard Hitter (Curves For the Boys Book 4) Read online

  Hard Hitter

  Curves For the Boys Series

  Jenna Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the book

  I thought it would just be a joke – posing in my birthday suit.

  I never expected a stupid dare to lead me to the one.

  With those curves, she should be the model.

  I’ll do whatever it takes to claim her.

  Even if she hates my guts.

  More Jenna Rose

  Jenna Rose on Amazon

  Jenna Rose on Facebook

  Sign up for my Newsletter

  If you liked the book, please leave a review on Amazon. It really helps us authors!

 
  Contents

  1. Jay

  2. Emma

  3. Jay

  4. Emma

  5. Jay

  6. Emma

  7. Jay

  8. Emma

  9. Jay

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  Going Deep Sample

  Foreword

  1. Red

  2. Red

  1

  Jay

  “You’re nuts, you know that? Seriously nuts.”

  The boys on the team all laugh. We’re in the locker room post-practice and most of us have just gotten out of the shower and Eric, the team’s catcher (both literally and figuratively) has just gotten another glimpse of my baseball bat and is giving me a hard time.

  “I’m just sayin’.” He grins. “Why deprive the rest of the world of that physique?”

  Eric is “a little light in the loafers” as my dad would put it. None of us care of course; he’s actually one of the most loved guys on the team and is so funny he could give Chappelle a run for his money. But he does love making comments whenever we’re all in our birthday suits.

  “So I should just go pose naked for one of the figure drawing classes?” I laugh as I dry my hair off with my towel. “So I’m not depriving the world or whatever?”

  “Not scared, are ya?” Rob, our starting pitcher, asks. “The big bad Sultan of Swing afraid of a class full of art students?”

  “Bitch, please.” I grin as I slide into my briefs. “I just don’t see the point. That’s all. They don’t pay, right?”

  “A college art class pay you to take your clothes off?” Chuck laughs. “You wish, buddy!”

  “No, they pay,” Rob says. “Not much, but they pay.”

  “Like he needs the money.” Eric rolls his eyes. “Guy’s gonna have a Lamborghini and a mansion next year. He doesn’t need fifty bucks.”

  He’s right. I’m the all-star hitter for UNC Chapel Hill, and it’s pretty much a done deal that I’ll be in the major leagues come graduation. A couple of the other guys have a chance, but I’m basically a sure thing.

  “Maybe you’ll meet your future wife there?” Rob suggests with a shrug. “Some cute girl who thinks she’s the next Picasso or whatever.”

  “Cute art girls?” Paul scoffs. “Gimmie a sorority girl any day.”

  “Yeah, I doubt that’ll happen,” I laugh. Even if I thought that an art studio was the kind of place to find a girl who was my style, the last thing I’m looking for right now is a wife. I’m young, single, and ready to take on the world. Once I’m signed, I’ll have models, actresses, cheerleaders all lined up to spend a night with me. Why would I want to lock myself down when I’m about to have what every man in the world dreams of?

  “Tell you what, Eric,” I say. “I will do it.”

  “You will?” he asks, perking up.

  “Yup,” I nod. “But only if you eat this.”

  Still smiling, I hold up my Tupperware container of tuna salad with mayo. Eric hates both tuna and mayo. Quickly, he shakes his head.

  “Noooooooo fucking way,” he replies immediately as I walk toward him with the container.

  “Come on, buddy!” I laugh as the boys start to cackle. “It’s just a little tuna!”

  “Do it!” everyone starts to chant. “Do it! Do it!”

  Eric backs right up against the lockers and I lean up against him, shaking the Tupperware in my hand.

  “Fine. Five bites,” I tell him. “And I’ll pose nude.”

  “I’ll puke,” he says, causing everyone to laugh even harder.

  “You might,” I agree. “But won’t it be worth it?”

  Eric frowns, smashes his lips together, glances at me and then at the Tupperware, then snatches it out of my hand and yanks the lid off. The locker room goes ballistic as everyone gathers around to watch.

  Like a soldier going into battle, Eric snatches a big bite of the tuna salad and stuffs it into his mouth. He gags, but gets it down as we all cheer. He gets the next one, the next one, but almost hurls on the fourth.

  “You got it!” I laugh as he grabs the last bite. “Just one more, man! Just one more!”

  So two days later and I’m walking into the art building with a dumb grin on my face. You got me, Eric. You got me. I’ve never been in the art building before – why would I? Hell, I’ve barely been to my classes. I’ve got a tutor who helps me prepare for exams when they come up, but it’s my job to do two things: hit the ball, win the game.

  That’s it. And that’s what I’ve been doing consistently since I was a freshman. No one at this school is under the illusion that I’m the next Albert Einstein, but I might just be the next Derek Jeter, so I get a bit of a pass. But as I pass the kids in the halls, I wish Rob was here. Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to be meeting my future wife today.

  I’m wearing a white bath robe – something Hugh Hefner might wear, when I see the sign:

  Nude Figure Drawing Class today

  “Wow,” I chuckle. “Not very discreet.”

  When I walk in, I see the woman I must have talked to on the phone and walk right up to her.

  “Mrs. Potter?” I ask, extending my hand. “I’m Jay Moore. I’m your subject for today.”

  By the way she looks at me, I can tell that she’s surprised; she must have thought I was kidding and wouldn’t actually show up. She’s not bad looking actually, as far as art teachers go, and I catch her giving me a quick once-over with her eyes before taking my hand.

  “Welcome, Mr. Moore! Nice to have you with us!” she stammers. “If you want to take a seat there, you can remain robed until the rest of the class arrives.”

  “Thanks.” I grin as I walk over to a white platform at the center of an arc of chairs. It actually looks fitting – like something you might put a Greek statue on top of. I take a seat and keep my robe on. One of the girls, with bright pink hair and a Sex Pistols shirt on, frowns at me. She knows who I am, and she doesn’t like me. That’s okay. I get that from girls like her. That’s part of what’s going to make this funny.

  I sit there while the rest of the class filters in – about ten more of them, mostly girls but a couple of guys. I grin as I reach for the straps of my robe. Yup, no future-wives here today.

  But as Mrs. Potter starts to close the door, something happens that catches me completely off guard. A girl walks in – no, a goddess walks in – with curves that start some pretty drastic changes going on with me that are seriously going to change the outcome of today’s drawings.

  Her blond hair spills down across her shoulders like waterfalls. There are acres of it, draping all the way down to her busty chest that has me practically drooling.
She’s wearing short shorts that show off her curvy thighs, and her lips are plump and glossy, just begging for my dick.

  As she walks in, her breeding-hips swaying seductively from side to side, our eyes meet, and something like a bolt of electricity shoots through me. It’s the same feeling I got when I stepped out onto the field for my first college game, and a thought blazes instantly in my mind.

  Maybe Rob was right after all…Maybe my future wife is here after all.

  2

  Emma

  “Figure drawing? Seriously? Naked bodies? No thanks!”

  Martha just laughs at me as she gets her things together for class.

  “Emma, I know you’re the world’s biggest virgin, and I know that even the thought of a naked body scares the shit out of you.” She smirks. “But you are coming! If you want to be a real artist, you need to learn how to do this.”

  “I’m not even sure I want to be a real artist,” I mutter.

  Which is true. I’m not sure what I want to do at this point. I’m a college freshman – a virgin college freshman, as Martha loves to point out – who likes art but isn’t sure she actually wants to show that art to anyone. I’m sure someone must be able to relate to that!

  I like to draw. I like to paint (abstracts mostly), but I’m taking one studio art class this semester, and Martha, who is a year ahead of me and completely submerged in her art major, is trying to convince me to go to a nude figure drawing class with her today. It starts in ten minutes.

  “You do want to be a real artist, Emma,” Martha tells me as she grabs my hand and pulls me out the door. “You are just too afraid to admit it. Just like you are too afraid to admit that you need some dick!”

  Martha’s voice echoes down the hall, causing me to hide my face in my hands until we’re outside.

  “Are you crazy!?”

  “You do, girl,” she replies. “I’ve met some ‘nice girls’ in my day, but you take the cake. I mean – how has a girl alive today never watched porn?”

  “I mean…I’ve seen porn—”

  “But you’ve never watched it,” she replies. “There’s a difference.”

  “Is there?” I ask.

  “There is.” She nods.

  “Well, we’re about to go and produce some porn right now, so…”

  “Please,” she scoffs. “Figure drawing is not porn, okay? It’s art. And it’s a very important skill for every artist to learn.”

  “But it’s naked people,” I counter.

  “Oh, shut up,” she laughs. “You’re not going to be drawing some girl getting blasted in the ass by a big black dick, okay!? It’ll probably be some guy who eats too much McDonald’s so we can practice our shading.”

  I burst out laughing, blushing simultaneously as I follow her across the Chapel Hill campus to the art building. I still feel nervous as we walk inside; it’s almost like I feel like I don’t belong here. Art has always been a personal thing to me – something I would do alone as a way of getting away from the world and dealing with my emotions. I guess studying it and putting it on display for others is something that I’m going to have to get used to.

  “I’m gonna pee real fast,” I tell Martha. “You go in and I’ll be right there.”

  “You’re not bailing on me, are you?”

  “Of course not.” I smile as I enter the ladies’ room. I don’t actually have to pee; I’m just nervous. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m the naked person being drawn today. I wet a paper towel and pad my forehead with it, take a few deep breaths as I get my shit together, then head to the classroom. And when I step inside, I see a sight that takes my breath away.

  Guy who eats too much McDonald’s my ass!

  Sitting on a rectangular white box is the most amazingly good-looking man I’ve ever seen in my life. In fact, he’s more than just good-looking; it’s like he’s been designed to check every one of my boxes in what I’d want if I was to describe my ideal man.

  He’s tall, with a chiseled jaw and features that somehow manage to be boyishly handsome and unbearably sexy at the same time. It’s like he could fuck your brains out and then smile and cuddle with you after…

  He’s wearing a robe, but I can tell by his posture and his outline that he’s in amazing shape, probably an athlete. He looks up as I enter, and when our eyes meet, it’s like the earth shifts under my feet.

  “Class, this is Mr. Jay Moore,” the teacher says. “You may recognize him from one of the games. He is the star hitter on the baseball team and has agreed to be the subject of our figure drawing class today!”

  I don’t recognize him, but that’s no surprise. What I don’t know about sports could just about fit inside the Grand Canyon. But what I do know is that Jay Moore is looking at me like he wants to eat me up, and it’s making me feel all fuzzy inside in ways I’ve never felt before.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, dear,” the teacher whispers to me, gently guiding me to an open desk. I stumble over myself, causing Jay to grin and me to blush, then slide into my chair, a hot feeling between my legs.

  Martha is right: I’m inexperienced and that’s putting it mildly. I’ve always been pretty much afraid of boys and all that stuff. Being by myself with a sketch pad or some paints is where I’m most comfortable. But now I’m flustered – I’m horny as hell and don’t know what to do with Jay’s eyes on me. And when he stands up and slides out of his robe, I really don’t know what to do.

  His body is perfect; it’s only right that he’s here posing nude for a figure-drawing class. If I was a sculptor I’d be looking for a piece of marble right now to start carving him out of. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a broad chest and chiseled abs that I want to lick caramel off of. He has those two lines on either side that point right down to…

  …it.

  It’s the first penis I’ve ever seen in person, so I don’t know what I’m talking about, but if I had to put money on it, I’d bet that it’s in the top one percent of penises. It’s not fully hard, but it’s getting there. It’s thick and veiny and hangs between his sculpted legs like a hammer.

  Maybe I’m just being silly. Maybe I’m letting my inexperience and the way that he’s looking at me take over my rational mind, but all I can think when I look at Jay’s cock is that the reason he’s half-hard is because of me.

  Am I crazy?

  3

  Jay

  Have I lost my mind?

  That’s the only reason I can think of for how I’m feeling right now. When the goddess first walked into the room, all I could think about was sliding my dick inside her and fucking her until she came over and over again. I still want to do that (and more), but now I know that there’s no way I’d be able to kick her out of my room or just say goodbye in the morning, never to be seen again.

  Now I know that I have to have her. I have to claim her. I have to make her mine and I have to show the rest of the world that she belongs to me. That’s a feeling I’ve never felt before.

  I guess you could say I’ve been enjoying my status here at school. Girls line up to have a shot with me, and until now, who have I been to deny them that? You may think I’m cocky, and you may be right, but I work hard and deserve to have a little fun. But when I look at this girl, whoever she is, all those future potential hookups seem meaningless to me.

  All I want is her.

  “My, my, my,” Mrs. Potter says, clearing her throat as she sweeps up my body with her eyes. “I see you’re not nervous, Mr. Moore.”

  I grin. She noticed my cock. She tried to hide it but failed.

  “I don’t get nervous.” I shrug. “That’s why I’m a winner.”

  A girl on my right blows annoyed air out her nose, and one of the boys just shakes his head. But I’ve got my eyes on her. But instead of smiling or giving me eyes back, she sort of frowns and looks away as she gets her pencils out of her bag.

  Okay. So she’s going to be a tough nut to crack. I like that.

  “If you could get into yo
ur pose, Mr. Moore, then we will begin.”

  Mrs. Potter e-mailed me the pose before class. She pulls a low stool up and I slide one foot on it, brace myself with my other arm on the box I’m sitting on, and turn my head directly to her.

  The class starts drawing, and she looks up at me every few seconds, but she never catches my eye. Forty-five minutes go by and we don’t make eye contact once. But as I’m watching her, I see her take a deep breath and watch as her cheeks go red. I know what she’s drawing now…

  Casually, I flex the muscles in my cock, causing it to jerk slightly between my legs. I’m still half-hard and will be for as long as she’s here. She can’t hide her reaction; she takes another breath and brushes her hair back with one hand. As she draws, she starts preening, twisting her blond locks around a finger. As much as she might be trying to hide it from me, I can tell that she wants me.

  And I want her. If it could, my dick would be screaming at me to get the fuck up off of this box, put her in my place, bend her over, yank those short-shorts down over that thick booty and slide my dick into her tight little pussy. I feel a pulse of blood to my dick as I wonder whether or not she has any panties on.

  She probably does. She’s a good girl; I can tell that by looking. But that just means I get to take them off with my teeth when I bury my face between those heavenly thighs. Fuck, I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t even remember the last time a girl was able to have this kind of control over me.