by Saxon James
“That’s not going anywhere.” My voice is heavy and deep, and I can barely explain why fucking him with it on is such a turn on to me, but something about seeing him wrapped in my number while he’s wrapped around my cock makes my balls draw up tight.
His eyebrows pull up a little, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches me closely. Needing to distract him, I grab his cock and give it a quick pump.
“I want to fuck you.”
Those words are enough. His gaze drops to my chest, my stomach, my dick and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip before he nods. “Please.”
I groan at the way he struggles to get the word out and decide I’m done with talking. As I move to kneel between his legs, I angle his cock up and swallow it in one go, taking him right to the back of my throat. His hips buck almost enough to make me gag. The taste of him has me leaking as I pull back and swirl my tongue around the tip. I’m not planning to get him off this way, but I wrap my lips tight, building up a quick rhythm as I bob up and down, getting him horny enough to start prepping.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, reaching down to grip my shoulder. Hearing the neediness in his voice almost encourages me to forget my own orgasm and keep going, to bring him pleasure as quickly as possible.
Instead, I pull back, and gripping his cock at the base, I give the tip one last, long suck. I pull off with a pop and kiss down the underside before sucking each of his balls into my mouth. Elliot shudders softly beneath me, and I smirk as I kiss the crease between his thigh and his groin. I don’t bother to warn him when I grab the backs of his thighs and shove his legs upward, but Elliot must have been anticipating it because he grabs the backs of his knees without me having to ask, exposing himself completely.
The site of his tight, pink hole makes me groan, and I have to grab my balls to calm down a little. He’s clearly not shy, but I refuse to stop and think about the reason why and instead focus on leaning down and licking from his taint right down to his hole. I work my tongue around the ring of muscle until he’s relaxed enough that I’m able to push inside. When Elliot starts making soft little moans and fucking himself back on my tongue, I pull back and suck on my fingers, ready to work him open.
And fuck, he’s tight. His ass grips my finger as it adjusts around the intrusion and I give short, shallow thrusts, gradually working up to my knuckle. Elliot’s moans have gone quiet, but his hips are still pushing back against me, and soon, he’s relaxed enough for me to add another finger.
As I work him open, I suck his cock back into my mouth, groaning at the taste of his precum.
“Taryn, now. Please, now.”
Lust completely clouds my vision as I reach for my side table and it takes two attempts to get the damn drawer open. I grab a condom and the lube, then reposition myself between his legs. As I tear open the condom and roll it on, my gaze travels up his body to the jersey, and my balls start to tingle. I lube up, and when I look at his face, our eyes meet. I’m pinned under his stare, the moment going from hot to intimate and my hand stills.
A slight frown starts to pull at Elliot’s face and he quickly breaks eye contact. “I prefer to be on my knees,” he says, quickly shifting back a little before flipping over.
The connection between us severs, and I’m left feeling a little off balance. Then he shifts onto his knees, face in a pillow, and I forget all about it.
I slide one hand over his firm ass as I get into position, running it over the jersey, all the way down his back until I grip his neck. Leaning forward, I press a kiss to his shoulder as I position the head of my cock against his entrance.
I’m careful as I push forward, easing myself in and giving him time to adjust. Elliot’s ribs expand as he takes a deep breath, and I feel the exact moment he bears down and relaxes. Each slow, shallow thrust takes me deeper, and in the last few months, it’s like I’ve forgotten exactly what sex feels like. His ass is so tight around me, I swear I’m going to come any second. I bite down on my lip and squeeze his neck tighter to try to ground myself.
When I bottom out, pushing my hips flush against his, Elliot lets out a long, quiet groan. Releasing his neck, I smooth my hands down his sides and grip his hips. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
He’s already nodding. “Yeah. I’m good. Fuck me.”
I’ve never heard sweeter words. I peel myself away from Elliot, arranging the jersey back into place as I pull out to the tip and push back in just as slowly, feeling every second his skin glides over the condom. I want to take my time and worship his body, but my hips have a mind of their own as I start to pick up speed. My fingers are biting into his hips as I pull him back against me, not able to get enough. The steady slap of my balls against his ass and our heavy breathing is all that fills the room, and as my gaze trails back down to that jersey, I let out a low groan. Fuck, it’s so hot. Like my number owns him. My hips snap faster as I picture him at the game, showing everyone exactly who he was there for—tying us together. And now, with that number on his back and my cock pounding his ass, it’s like I’m claiming him. Owning him.
“Damn, you look so sexy right now.”
“Fuck, Taryn. I’m not going to last much longer.”
“Good. I want you to come for me. I want to make you scream.”
I hook one arm around his waist and pull him up so his back is against my chest. It’s still not close enough. He turns his head, and I take the invitation, plunging my tongue into his mouth. My hand tangles in his hair as I force the kiss deeper, and my other hand releases his waist to drop down and run over his cock. Precum has slicked his tip up nicely, and I use it to lubricate my palm as I start to jerk him off.
“Taryn,” he pants, breaking the kiss and dropping his head back on my shoulder. My mouth finds his neck, dragging open-mouthed kisses over it as I free my hand from his hair and wrap my arm across his chest, holding him in place. My short, deep thrusts pick up in pace, and I’m almost at the point of no return.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I breathe against his skin before biting down on his shoulder.
Elliot cries out, and his hips snap forward into my fist and back onto my cock in erratic movements before his dick pulses and cum shoots out over my hand. I jerk him through his orgasm as tingles erupt at the base of my spine and start to pool in my balls.
Just when I think I could pass out, my whole body jolts, and I come, emptying into the condom with a long moan.
We breathe against each other for a few moments, while I struggle to catch my breath. Coming down from the high, I can’t think of anything to say. That was… intense.
I pull out and walk into my bathroom to grab a washcloth so I can clean us both up. My heart is still going crazy, and I’m not entirely sure which of my racing thoughts to latch onto. All I know is when I walk back into the bedroom and see Elliot sprawled across the bed, jersey hitched up around his waist, it makes my stomach clench.
I promised myself I wouldn’t catch feelings, but I’m struggling. It’s almost hard to breathe seeing him like this—in my space—as though he should have been here all along.
His eyes are closed as I gently wipe the stray cum and lube from his skin before dropping the washcloth onto my side table. I eye the jersey for a moment, torn on how right and wrong it feels, then I reach over and peel it off him, dropping it onto the floor and hoping my niggling feelings follow.
Chapter Eighteen
Taryn’s gone weird. I keep my eyes closed as he settles next to me, but he doesn’t immediately pull me closer like he did at my place. I’m not sure what has changed, but I’m feeling it too. That moment we made eye contact was the most intense, vulnerable moment I’ve ever shared with anyone, and sure, he distracted me with a mind-blowing fuck, but now that it’s over… my eyes burn as I try not to fucking cry.
I’ve been with guys who were hell bent on eye-fucking me as they swallowed my cock, but for some reason with Taryn, it was too much. We agreed on casual, but if my reaction wa
s anything to go by, that’s not going to work for us, and lying here naked isn’t a great time to be bringing it up. Because as much as I might want him, our problems haven’t miraculously gone away.
I jolt as Taryn’s fingers run down the side of my face, forcing those thoughts away.
He chuckles. “You okay there?”
I finally look at him, and at least some of the pressure behind my ribs has eased. “Yeah. Good.” I wriggle closer to him, and he wraps an arm around me. I lean into it, wanting the touch more than I’ll admit.
He hums and rolls onto his side, his tattooed arm closing around my waist until we’re pressed together. “I’m so fucking glad I have you for another two days.”
“Two days?” I ask. I only planned on spending the night.
“Yep. We agreed to Tuesday or Friday nights. You’re here a day early, so I’m taking it as a bonus.”
I frown as I run my nose over his collarbone. “I thought we agreed to one night. Not a specific one?”
“Oh no, it was definitely Tuesdays or Fridays.” His mouth makes its way to my ear. “By the time you leave here you’re going to be so sore, you’ll be lucky if your legs work.”
A million and one protests spring to mind because two nights is way more than I prepared for, but then… fuck it. It’s kind of nice to know he wants me here, even if it’s only for sex. Relaxing against his bicep, I bring a hand up to draw patterns over the compass tattoo on his pec. “Looking forward to it.” Because why the hell shouldn’t I enjoy this while it’s a thing? Having a regular fuck buddy isn’t something I’ve done since college, and even then, neither of us were interested in spending the night. This will be fun—really fun if that round was anything to go by—and then we’ll go our separate ways, and I’ll have an interesting story for the day he ever comes out.
“So, how did you get away?” Taryn asks. “I thought game days were really busy for you.”
“They are. I emailed my clients to let them know punting cut offs, but there will still be a few who are pissed I’m not at their beck and call. I figured I’d be watching your game on TV anyway, and it’s a while before you play at home again, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.”
“And you were horny, right?” Taryn asks.
“I mean, have you seen you in your football gear?”
He chuckles and lightly tickles his fingers over my ribs, making me squirm. “Seriously though, it was a great surprise. I’m glad you did it.”
“Yeah, me too. Though truthfully, I’m a bit anxious about not working. I haven’t had time off since I started there, and the last thing I want is to piss off one of my big names and have them go to someone else.”
Taryn doesn’t immediately answer me as he pulls back a little. “No time off is hard. You’re clearly overdue.”
I nod, but a harsh laugh tumbles out. “True. But I’m still making a name for myself and with what I do… you don’t exactly get full benefits.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
That’s always a hard one to answer. “I enjoy it on some levels, I guess. The numbers, the odds… I’m a spreadsheets and data kind of guy. But I don’t like the seediness of it. Some of the guys I work with are cool, but I wouldn’t trust any of them with a knife near my back. There’s this weird mutual level of respect when you’re in the game, but when it comes to the next dollar, all bets are off. Pun intended.”
“That doesn’t sound like a great place to work at all.”
“Okay, Taryn,” I tease. “We can’t all be big time jocks like you.” I squirm away from him, but Taryn pulls me back in tight, and I stop fighting. This is where I want to be, but I’d rather put a hold on that conversation. Because, duh, I know my job isn’t great. If it wasn’t for the money, I wouldn’t be doing it at all. But like hell am I going to tell the guy I’m sorta seeing that I grew up dirt poor and never want to experience that again.
“Calm down. I only mean that while I might not be able to trust how my team will react to my being gay, I can trust them on the field. At work. Completely. It would be exhausting to work with anything less.”
“It is.”
“So why do you do it?”
I pause, trying to pinpoint the judgment in his tone, but when I don’t find any, I decide to answer truthfully. “I already told you. I have a five-year plan. Make the money, then get out.”
“Is it worth it?”
“Yes. It’s a lot of money.”
“Lots of other jobs pay a lot of money.”
I shake my head. “Not on this level.”
“So is money your end game, or do you have something you want to do with it?”
“Is this Twenty Questions?”
Taryn grins and presses a kiss to my temple, stubble scraping my skin. I melt, just a little. “No. I like getting to know you better.”
I sigh. “Fine, yes. I have a plan. Once I have enough for a house and a nest egg, I’ll find work related to my degree. I have master’s degrees in finance and economics because I wanted good options for a career. But when one of the guys in my classes introduced me to Gary, it snowballed, and the next minute I was cold calling punters, trying to get them on my books.”
“If you only need five years to be able to buy a place, you must be doing pretty well for yourself.”
I tilt my head back so I can meet his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend you approve.”
“It’s not that.” His gaze traces the window as he thinks. “Do I wish you weren’t a bookie? Of course. It makes things difficult. But it’s your life, your choice. Of course I’m going to be supportive.”
He still looks like he has more to say.
“But…” I prompt.
“Well, are you ever worried the people on the other end have an addiction? That you’re feeding it? Maybe putting them in a bad place?”
“When I started out, yes. I had to take on whoever I could. But as I got better and built up my reputation, I became very picky about who I took on. Don’t get me wrong, I’d say everyone on my books is addicted on some level, but the guys I work with aren’t going bankrupt anytime soon. I’m not the loan shark, shady type of bookie people like to play in movies.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad then.”
I hum. “Yeah. Probably the worst part is when people bet on players getting hurt. That never sits quite right with me.”
Taryn cringes. “People actually bet on that?”
“Have you been living under a rock? People will bet on anything if the lines have good enough odds.”
“And… do you give them good odds on something like that?”
The judgement I expected earlier has finally started to creep in. “I’ll work the best line. It’s my job, and I’m there to make money. The aim for me is to have as close to even bets on both sides of the line as possible. That way I make the most money. One side pays for the other, and I take my ten percent right off the top.”
“You sound like you have it all figured out.”
“Because I do.”
Silence sits between us, and I try not to let it bother me. Taryn has every right to ask questions, and I don’t want him to think we can only talk about dumb things over text. But the reason I never tell anyone what I do is because I know I’m treading a fine moral line, and when something is illegal, people are always ready to jump on you.
I let out a breath and decide I might as well push past the awkwardness. I mean, we’re lying here naked together for fuck’s sake. “So tell me, why football?”
He looks relieved at the subject change. “I was really good at it. Got a college scholarship and was offered a reserve position right after graduation.”
“You weren’t a reserve for long though, right?”
“Maybe four games. Got regular field time during the first season, then I was added to the starting lineup the year after. I’ve worked hard for it my whole life. But the thing is, I was never pushing for that next level. I a
lways focused on giving each game everything I had.”
“And you’re still doing that. This season has been outstanding.”
“You think?”
I almost roll my eyes at his need for validation, but it’s so sincere it pulls a smile from me instead. “Taryn, I know all your stats. My job is literally to study you. When I say you’re incredible, I mean it.”
His whole face seems to shine at that, and it really blows my mind that he could think any differently. I’m so stuck on that thought that when he buries his face in my neck to hide his smile, I don’t think to question it. When he trails light kisses along my jaw, I lean into them, and when he gives me a soft, sweet kiss, I return it. Our tongues come together slowly, once, before he pulls back again.
“I think you’re pretty incredible too.”
Those are the words that do it. My carefully constructed detachment crumbles as I overanalyze his tone, the eye contact, everything about his expression. My chest feels uncomfortably full as a burst of something goes off in my stomach and makes my cheeks burn.
Instead of responding, I arch my neck and kiss him, slow and measured, trying to stop him from picking up on whatever feelings are playing across my face.
Chapter Nineteen
Seeing Elliot becomes the highlight of my week. He’s always fun and down for pretty much anything, so after a hard game and an incredible win, I enjoy getting to celebrate with him in my bed.
We always meet at my place, and while the next two visits were like the first—dinner, fuck, collapse in each other’s arms—during the last one we actually ventured out. I surprised him by taking him to a drive-in movie.
It’s risky, we both know it is, but we keep platonic distance while we’re out and try not to draw attention. No one has any cause to check into who Elliot is, and somehow, we’ve both fallen into the mindset that if we don’t talk about it, it isn’t a big deal.