by Saxon James
He’s big and blond, familiar-looking for sure, and it doesn’t take much detective work to pick up that he’s a football player too. Defense, probably. I scroll through the Shark’s roster in my mind and realize it’s Cooper Zane.
“Hey, little dude.” He holds up his hands. “Toss it here.”
And okay, Cooper Zane might be taller than Taryn, but damn these football players. I’m not little. Still, I’m not about to correct him. I scoop the fucking ball off the ground and throw it to him, trying to remember how Taryn showed me to throw so I don’t embarrass myself.
Cooper Zane passes it to Taryn and we’re this weird triangle of football throws for a couple of minutes. I’m not quite sure what’s going on—did they arrange to meet here? Neither of them seem to think it’s strange that Cooper has joined us.
“Still coming Friday night?” Cooper asks Taryn.
Taryn nods before passing the ball to me. “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”
“Not likely. You know how coach gets about these charity things.”
“What charity is it for?” I ask, not wanting to be the weird onlooker.
Cooper Zane gets this odd look as he catches my pass. “Brain cancer. It’s a fucking bitch.”
I’m about to respond with isn’t all cancer but something about the look he shares with Taryn makes me stop. “So what’s the event?”
“A swanky fundraiser,” Taryn says. “Boring as shit, but we’re obligated to go and make donations and spend time with the board members and fans who’ve bought tickets. The good thing is we usually raise a decent chunk of money.”
Taryn can complain all he wants, but I know for a fact he’ll make a big donation, simply because it’s who he is. Sometimes I swear it’s like Taryn doesn’t want his money.
“So will Liam be coming to this one?” Cooper asks casually, and at Liam’s name, I fumble the ball and barely manage to hold onto it. Taryn gives me a look.
“Nope. He’s going through some stuff and doesn’t have as much time to tag along.”
Cooper frowns a little, and because Taryn isn’t watching him, he misses the way Cooper glances at me and away again. It’s almost like I can see him thinking, and when he shoots a look in my direction again, more curious this time, my stomach sinks. Holy fuck, he knows.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly so sure, but there’s zero doubt in my mind. Cooper’s lips curl into a smile as he looks over at me. “You should come instead,” he says.
My mouth goes dry. Fuck, is he testing us? What the hell am I supposed to say? I’m way too slow to come up with an excuse, and when I look over at Taryn, he’s already nodding. “Yeah, you should.”
What the hell is he doing? He said no one knows about him, yet he’s here just casually confirming what I’m sure Cooper Zane has put together about us.
“Ah, maybe. I’ll just have to check in with work.”
“Oh, man.” Cooper hangs his head. “This is for charity. Surely no one wants you working on a Friday night? Get out of it. Save Taryn from all the couples. Last time he came solo, since he refused to bring a date, and it was just sad.”
Taryn laughs. “I had plenty of fun by myself, thanks.”
“You got wasted, and coach sent you home early.”
“Exactly. My plan worked.”
Cooper rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” He points the football in my direction. “And you’re coming.”
My mouth drops open, but I’m not sure what I’m planning to say. Catching Taryn’s gaze calms me, though. He doesn’t look worried at all, instead he gives me an encouraging nod, and his hopeful expression is too much to say no to. “Guess I better get a tux, then.”
***
The fundraiser is being held at an old warehouse, restored to have a modern, industrial look. The cement floors are polished, all the metal fixtures are brushed gold, and the lighting is low and orange. My hands shake as Taryn makes the first round of introductions, sure he’s about to out himself, because who brings a friend to something like this?
Turns out, a few of them. Some of Taryn’s teammates who don’t have partners have either brought dates or friends with them, and knowing Taryn isn’t the only one helps me to relax a little. Only a little, though, because I can’t shake the feeling we both have gay as fuck and on a date stamped across our foreheads. Taryn isn’t helping the matter either. As we make our way around the crowd, he leans in occasionally to point people out and whisper who they are in my ear or lightly places his hand on my lower back as he steps in close.
He’s being obvious, not in a slightly paranoid way but in an actually obvious way. Pretending I want another drink, I drag him over to the side of the room to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
“Do you want everyone to know?” I ask him on a laugh.
“Know what?”
“That we’re together. You’re not exactly being subtle.”
His eyes light up as color tinges his dark cheeks. “I can’t help it. Fuck, Elliot, I can barely keep my hands off you.”
If this is how he behaves around his boyfriends, I have no idea how he’s managed to keep his secret for so long. “You better calm down or you’re going to be caught out.”
“Would that be the worst thing?” He holds my stare as he reaches out and runs his fingers over the side of my thigh.
I slap his hand away and glance around. “Yeah, I’m not letting you blow it all because you’re getting horny.”
He pumps his eyebrows once, but keeps his hands to himself this time. And as much as I want him to be serious when he says he’s thinking about coming out, I’m definitely going to make sure he takes time to think it through first.
Taryn glances around. “Follow me.”
He walks purposefully toward a door before I get to answer, and I can’t help thinking he’s about to make a stupid decision, but I follow him anyway. Of course I follow him. I’m a fucking dumbass when it comes to him. Taryn leads me down a long corridor into another large room like the one we just came from. There are no lights on in here and the only thing that keeps it from being completely black are the slivers of moonlight stretching through the windows.
As soon as I cross the threshold, Taryn grabs my shoulder and shoves me back into the wall. I let out a dull oomph before he covers my body with his and grinds his half-hard dick into my hip. With one strong hand, he cups my jaw and pushes my head up so I’m forced to meet his eyes, and I’m loving the contrast between how rough he is now and how gentle and sweet he was being earlier. My cock twitches to life as he leans down and nips my ear, one big hand reaching down to cup my groin.
“Oh fuck, Taryn.”
“Shh… I’m going to make you come and you’re not allowed to make a single sound, got it?”
My nod is jerky and overeager, but as soon as I make the move, Taryn sinks to his knees. His fingers deftly undo my fly, and I quickly glance toward the door. If anyone walks in now, there’s no way for us to deny what’s going on—Taryn can’t exactly play the straight card with my cock buried in his throat.
He grips my erection with one hand and rubs his stubbled jaw over the soft skin. “Hey,” he whispers, “switch that brain off. I’ve got you, gorgeous.” Then all it takes is a soft kiss to my hipbone, and I do what he says. I switch it all off and relax into his touch. As his mouth starts to work me over, my nerves are still alive with the thought of being busted, but this time it’s excitement rather than fear making my heart beat faster.
Taryn’s worshipping me, his big brown eyes watching me as I attempt to keep quiet. Since his hair is too short to run my fingers through, I rest one hand on his shoulder and the other lightly on the back of his head as I start to thrust. He takes me right to the base, drawing my orgasm up way quicker than I expect and when he pulls back to suck the tip and swipe his tongue over the slit, I grip his shoulder harder, warning him.
Taryn doesn’t pull off, and my toes curl as rippl
es pass through my balls, making them draw up tight until with one final thrust, I push my hips forward and unload down Taryn’s throat. I have to clamp my jaw closed to keep a groan from leaving my chest.
The cocky bastard stands, licking his full bottom lip as he tucks me away again. “I’ll meet you back out there,” he says, before patting my groin and turning to walk out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I think I have issues. It’s very possible a shrink would love to take a look into my brain to try to determine why still being able to taste Elliot, while I talk to people who think I’m straight, is such a turn on. But fuck me, it’s hot.
I’ve never had semi-public sex before in my life. I’ve always been safe, careful almost to a fault, about the image I’ve cultivated. Liam stayed over less than Elliot has been for Christ’s sake. Yet now, I’m sneaking away to blow my boyfriend in the room next door to a lavish party. I can’t stop the weird laugh that jumps from my mouth as I hurry to stifle it behind my water.
“Enjoying yourself, huh?” Zane asks, sliding up beside me. “Where’s your friend?”
Probably trying to look like he didn’t just get the cum sucked out of him. “Bathroom, I think.” It’s a vague enough answer.
“Ah, yeah, cool.” Zane toys with the label on his beer bottle. “Seems like a decent guy.”
“Mmhmm.” I’m afraid to say anything else. Zane’s been acting weird for a little while now, and while I want to know what the hell it could be, I’m also too chicken shit to ask.
“Not many decent guys around. You know how in old movies the hero always has a kind of do or die crew who has their back? You just don’t see that loyalty anymore.”
“Yep,” I say in agreement. “Everyone seems to have their own agenda.” And apparently mine is of the homosexual variety. I laugh to myself, wondering what Elliot would think about me spreading my gay agenda here of all places. Imagine if I just said it. Just came out to Zane and told him I actually always bring dates to these things and those dates happen to be my boyfriends. I wonder how long it would take before he gave me a black eye?
And okay, I can admit that’s being a bit melodramatic. I have Zane pegged as an ally, which is maybe why I gravitated toward him in the first place. He never shies away from casual physical contact or throws around homophobic slurs. He’s a good guy, if a little vague. Out of the whole team if there’s someone safe I could come out to, I bet it would be him.
Bet…
I sigh. That’s another reason why I can’t. Because just as I start to legitimately wonder whether it could be an option for me, I’m reminded of the other reason I can’t go around introducing Elliot as my boyfriend. The second I come out, there’s going to be a fuck ton of attention on me and any guy I’m seen with, which means it’ll only be so long before Elliot’s career is dragged into the bullshit. Not only does that outing risk me getting fucked over with the NFL, it risks prison time for Elliot given that his job is actually illegal.
“How’s that ankle holding up?” I ask him instead.
“Eh, fine. Just a twinge now and then. Your shoulder?”
I give it an experimental roll. “Fine too. Nothing at the moment. I just needed to give it a rest.”
Zane laughs. “We’re a good pair, right? Might have to retire soon and let the newbies take over.”
“Fuck off, idiot. We’ve still got a few good years left.” He’s right though, a few years isn’t a given, and the last thing I want is to have to figure out a plan at the last minute.
“Good evening, Adderson. Zane.” Doctor Fallins nods in our direction as he steps around us to reach the bar. He’s wearing a suit that looks ridiculously expensive and out of his usual team gear, he’s not bad looking for an older guy.
“Doctor Fallins,” Zane greets him. “We were just comparing the injuries on our ancient bodies.”
Fallins takes two glasses the barman hands over and shakes his head. “Old? If you two are old, I should be in the grave by now.”
He and Zane keep ribbing each other, and I notice Elliot walk in. His dark blond hair is smoothed back again, but his suit still manages to look rumpled, though I don’t know if that’s my memory or if others would pick up on it too.
I quickly hold my hand up for another champagne and have it ready by the time Elliot joins us. He smiles politely as Zane introduces him to Fallins, and I don’t miss the way the doctor eyes Elliot from head to toe. I tighten my hands around my glass of water, willing myself to resist pulling Elliot flush against my side and staking my claim. This inner caveman side of me needs to calm the fuck down.
The talk inevitably turns to football and Zane yo-yos in and out of the conversation as his scattered brain picks up what’s interesting to him and what reminds him of something else. Watching him confuse the fuck outta Doctor Fallins would be fun, if Fallins didn’t keep looking at Elliot like he wanted to drag him away and do exactly what I just did. As the conversation drifts, I notice that somehow Fallins has positioned himself to cut Zane and me out of the conversation slightly, and I don’t know if he even realizes what he’s done, but a flare of anger shoots through me.
And not at Fallins.
Or Elliot.
At myself.
Because what kind of man can’t even acknowledge his own boyfriend while they’re out together? It crushes me.
Then Elliot catches my stare and gives me this cheeky little smile, all for me. He brings the anger down a little, reminding me that while we’re not here together, it doesn’t matter, not right now at least.
Because Elliot’s mine. And for the first time ever, I actually want people to know.
***
By the time we stumble through the door after one in the morning, my dick is rock hard and if the way Elliot is struggling to remove his shoes is any indication, he’s had one champagne too many. After I got over my initial mood, we managed to have a good night. Some of the guys on the team decided to drink, and it was funny as fuck watching them start a pretend game in the street. Thanks to being in an industrial zone there was no one around, but that didn’t stop Coach from putting a premature end to the game. Apparently, he doesn’t think his players getting injured is as funny as the rest of us.
Elliot finally kicks off his shoes, and his socks follow quickly after. His jacket hits the floor at the bottom of the stairs, and as I follow behind him, making sure he doesn’t fall, I hear him unzip the fly of his pants. They drop around his thighs, exposing his round ass, and it takes all of my self-control not to lean forward and sink my teeth into one of his muscled cheeks. And when Elliot leans forward to scramble up the stairs on all fours as he attempts to kick out of his pants, I have to palm my dick to keep focused on getting him up the stairs safely.
“So, on a scale of sober to don’t-you-dare-touch-me, where are you sitting right now?”
Elliot finally reaches the first floor, and I rest my hand on his lower back to steer him away from the staircase. He gives me a sly smile. “I’m definitely a one.”
I arch my eyebrow at the blatant lie.
“Okay, a two, then.”
“Keep going.”
Elliot laughs and steps forward to wrap his arms around my waist. “Fine, definitely at three. But just so you know, three on this scale means if you don’t touch me, I’m still going to be pissed about it in the morning.”
That’s a rating I can get on board with. I lean down and brush my lips against his, drunk on how good this feels. Even if all we did tonight was kiss, I’d be set, but with the way Elliot is rutting against my leg, I’m pretty confident it’s going to be a whole lot more than that.
My hands find his ass, and he moans against my mouth as I give it a rough squeeze. “Bedroom?”
Elliot doesn’t bother to respond as he takes off down the hall to my room, shedding his shirt on the way. By the time I join him, he’s spread out on the bed, stark naked.
My lips twist into a smile at all that ba
re skin. I take my time getting undressed, and it’s clear he likes my eyes on him if his solid erection is anything to go by. I keep my movements slow, until I’m ready to climb onto the bed. Elliot automatically draws his knees up to his chest, and I chuckle a little at how desperate he is.
I shake my head. “Actually, I was thinking we could try something a little different.”
His legs drop and he props up on one elbow to see my face properly. “Anything. What are we trying?” His champagne-drenched voice is deep and slow, and I can’t stop myself from reaching over and giving his cock a solid stroke.
“So. Umm.” Suddenly this is really fucking hard to say. “Remember that thing you asked me?”
His eyes glaze over as he tries to think through his alcohol fog. “Yeah, you’re going to need to be more specific.”
“About…” I take a large breath. “Fucking me. You asked to fuck me.”
His lips twitch. “Relax, Taryn. You look like you’re about to throw up.”
A laugh bubbles from my chest. Am I really being that dramatic? Oh no, my boyfriend wants to make me feel good, what a horrible idea. “I’ve been practicing.”
Elliot’s eyebrows shoot up and his perfect, full lips drop open. I trace my thumb from his cupid’s bow up to the beauty spot.
“Butt stuff?” he asks with all the finesse of someone a few drinks in.
“Yes?” I’m not sure why it comes out like a question. “Yes. In the shower… and it’s not exactly going great.” Understatement. I haven’t been able to relax enough to get farther than one finger.
“Did you use both hands?” he asks, something sparking up behind his eyes. Elliot sits up, placing a hand on my chest as he pushes me back onto the bed and starts undoing my fly. I’m still fully dressed, but he doesn’t seem worried about anything but my pants.
“W-what are you doing?” My heart is racing madly at the thought of Elliot trying to fuck me now because that definitely isn’t where I was going with this.