stretched out on the floor under me, dick hard and leaking against his stomach, his hole wet and sloppy. I want to fuck him again.
I settle between his thighs and bite my way up his chest. The need to mark every inch of his skin is overwhelming. I suck hickies into his skin, leave bite marks and bruises from my fingers all over his body. Everyone will see them in the locker room but I don’t care. I want them to. I need them to know he’s taken. Owned.
“Preston,” he growls when I avoid his dick.
“Shut up.” I pinch one of his nipples, hard, in one hand and suck softly on the other one. He arches against me, his leaking cock throbbing against my stomach. I want to be able to feel his skin against mine but I’m not ready for it. He has questions about what he saw, I know he does, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready to tell him what they are.
When I release his abused nipple, he moans for me, his hips shifting restlessly. Dragging just the tips of my fingers down his body, I once again ignore his cock, cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze, then slip two fingers in his slicked-up hole.
He groans, rolling his hips and trying to ride my fingers. Sitting back on my legs, I wrap my hand around his dick, pull the skin back from his head, and stroke him while I finger him.
“You’re fucking sloppy,” I growl, watching my fingers disappear into him only to slip out covered in my cum.
My dick is making a valiant effort to get hard again. It won’t be much longer before I’m ready to go again. Thank fuck for quick recoveries.
Jeremy’s skin heats with a flush, his muscles tightening as he gets close to the edge, but I don’t let him cross the line. No, he’s going to cum with my dick buried deep in his ass. He’ll squeeze me, ride me, while he loses it.
I crave it.
When I release his dick and pull my fingers from his body, he almost sobs.
“What the fuck?” he whines, fucking desperate to cum.
I need to feel him.
Lining myself up against his hole, I push inside in one thrust, my hips resting against his ass. He grabs his hair and pulls as his back arches off the carpet.
“Fuuuuck!”
His body sucks me in, greedy and hot and wet.
Quickly, I’m lost in him. Surrounded and consumed by this man and what he gives me.
Jeremy wraps a hand around his dick, jerking himself in fast strokes while I fuck him. His ass clenches around me in a rhythmic spasm as cum erupts from him, splattering on his stomach and chest.
Leaning a hand on his chest, I reach for his free hand and shove it under my shirt. My eyes close at the touch of his palm against my stomach, tears pouring down my face as I rut into him without mercy. Nothing matters but this, his touch on my skin. His body around mine. The pleasure and peace only he brings me. My chest tightens with the emotions threatening to choke me. I don’t know what to do with them or how to deal with it. I’m overwhelmed by them and him. My anchor in the shit storm that is my life.
Jeremy wraps his legs around me to keep me deep.
“Use me,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. Take what you need.”
I break, my arms no longer holding me up, sobs wrack my body as I crash into him, trapping his hand between us. My face is buried in his neck and he holds me against him with an arm around my shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” he says over and over again.
It takes a while for me to get my shit together and calm down again. No longer hard and not interested in sex anymore, we get cleaned up and climb back into bed. I’m emotionally raw and I don’t know how to handle it.
I lay down with my back against the wall, and when Jeremy lays down in front of me with his back to me, I pull on his arm until he rolls over to face me. I need him wrapped around me tonight. To be held.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his naked chest.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He runs his hands through my hair, his thigh thrown over my hip and mine between his legs.
I suck in an unsteady breath and close my eyes. “My father cuts me and stitches it back up.”
Jeremy’s hands stop moving.
“What?”
“Every scar on my torso is from him correcting my behavior.” There. I said it. My shameful secret. I’m such a fuck up that I’m covered in scars because I don’t learn. Part of me knows it’s wrong, knows he’s wrong, but the little boy who only wanted to make his father proud holds onto that truth.
“How old were you when it started?” His hands run through my hair again. “How is he keeping your drug tests clean? How are you functioning so well on pain meds?”
“I was a kid, like, ten years old? I don’t know. It was around the time my mom was killed.” I rub my face against his chest. “I don’t get pain meds. I’m stone cold sober when it happens.”
“Does Coach know about this?”
My chest tightens at the question. Doesn’t he get it? No one cares. No one but him.
“You’re the only one who knows.” My words are quiet but he hears them. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets me hold him and draw shapes on his back with my finger as I navigate the turbulent waters in my head.
“Is that what your nightmares are about?”
“Sometimes.” I press my cheek against him. “I used to fight him, hide so he would chase me. But I learned it’s easier to just let it happen. The dreams are sometimes being chased by him, sometimes it’s walking in to find my mom dead or finding my sister dead at his hand.”
“Jesus. You found your mom?”
“No, I came home from school to the coroner parked in my driveway. I was ten when she was killed and I must have heard the cops or my father talking about it because I have this mental picture of it that I have no other way of having.”
We fall quiet again while he processes my life. The shit I’ve kept hidden from everyone. I’ve never spoken about any of it before.
“It’s not your fault.” Jeremy cups my face and pulls it back to look me in the eye. “None of what happened to you is your fault.”
Tears well up in my eyes at the seriousness in his expression. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind about this.
“If I was better, he wouldn’t have to correct me all the time.”
Fury morphs his beautiful face into hard lines. “That’s bullshit. You did nothing to deserve any of that. That’s not normal. Normal punishments are having your cell phone taken, not being able to go out with your friends. Your dad is a monster and deserves to die in prison.”
I don’t have a response for him. I want to argue but I don’t want him to be angry at me, not right now. Tomorrow, I’ll be happy to fight with him, but tonight, I’m too exposed. Too raw.
Jeremy lowers his mouth to mine, taking a soft kiss before settling back against the pillow. There’s no more talking, just breathing. Eventually, we fall asleep, disappearing into the dark.
The next morning, we’re awoken with a pounding on the door.
“Albrooke! Carmichael! Get up!” Paul is yelling through the door, banging on the wood. Jeremy groans and rolls out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes and stumbling to the door. It’s not until he’s opened the door and it’s silent that I realize Jeremy is shirtless.
Shit.
I was not easy on him last night.
Popping my eyes open, I drag my gaze down his back and cringe. If his front looks anything like his back, it’s very clear what he was up to last night.
“No wonder you missed breakfast,” Paul comments, trying to hide his smirk.
I jerk upright in bed. “Missed breakfast? What time is it?” I demand.
“Yeah, it’s lunch time, dude.”
“Fuck!” I tear out of bed and dig through my dresser for clothes. I have to eat breakfast and lunch before the game. I have to or it fucks up everything and I’ll play like shit.
I’ve normally been up for hours by now, gotten breakfast, showered, made sure my suit is ironed, and everything I need is packed in my gym bag.
Today is a shit show and I’ve barely opened my eyes.
I need my god damn routine! Fuck!
“Assistant Coach Scott is looking for you,” Paul says to Jeremy.
“Oh, shit!” He races around to get dressed then disappears out the door at a sprint. I grab my phone, see about twelve missed messages and calls from Lily, and look up diners near me. Someone has to still be serving breakfast. Maybe if I eat half of breakfast and half of lunch I’ll be okay?
I find a diner down the street and put in an online order that I can have delivered while I shower quickly. When I check the time, I don’t have time to iron my shirt. Fuck!
I shower as fast as I can, don’t shave because I don’t have time, and get into my suit. My fucking shirt is wrinkled and it grates on every one of my damn nerves.
The delivery guy shows up as I’m buttoning my gray shirt. Ripping open the door, I toss some cash at him and nod, shutting the door in his face. I should probably feel sorry for that but I don’t have the brain space for it.
Opening my order, there’s no fork or spoon. How the fuck am I supposed to eat this with no utensils?
Fuck today. I’m done. I can’t play like this!
We’re going to lose and it’s going to be my god damn fault. Again.
I force myself to stop, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.
Okay. I can do this.
I dig into my food with my hands, burning my fingers in the process. It doesn’t matter. Once I’ve eaten, I’ll be better. I’ll be okay. The day will be more on track.
As I shove a bite of piping hot chicken into my mouth, Jeremy bursts into the room, ripping clothes off.
“Suit?” He looks around when he doesn’t see the hanger on his bed. I normally set it out for him, but in my rush to get my shit together, I didn’t get a chance.
“Closet,” I manage around a mouthful of food.
He doesn’t hesitate, just grabs it and starts pulling it on.
I put the food down and pull on my shoes. Jeremy is sliding his on too, his shirt unbuttoned still, and grabs a piece of chicken from my container, winking at me as Paul and Brendon appear at our door and look between the two of us.
I lift my lip and growl at them but they just smile back at me.
“What the hell is wrong with you two today?”
I turn on Brendon with a snarl. “I over fucking slept, didn’t eat on time, and my shirt isn’t ironed. We’re going to fucking lose today!”
“Fuck that. Get your shit together! We need to win today and tomorrow or we’re fucked!” he says to me in no uncertain terms, pointing directly at me.
We head down to the rink, Jeremy finishing his buttons in the elevator.
“Albrooke!” Coach calls as soon as we step into the locker room. “You’re cleared to play today!”
Jeremy fist pumps the air. “Fuck yeah!”
Paul and Brendon pat him on the back, with the other guys cheering as everyone gets dressed into their workout clothes.
