Down by Contact

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Down by Contact Page 18

by Santino Hassell


  And what do you fucking know? Our kids won.

  “So, I guess we’re never gonna see you guys again,” Delilah said bluntly.

  They’d celebrated hard for thirty minutes as the photographers captured everything, and we were now huddled together in a circle. Most of them were still grinning their excitement, and their celebrity status, since their win would be all over the news and YouTube in a while since it was our last day of coaching, but Delilah and Brayden were visibly bummed.

  “Nope,” Simeon said. “This has been a real trip, us coaching y’all, and this won’t be the last time we’re face-to-face.”

  “You’re probably just saying that,” Delilah said. “So we won’t act dumb.”

  Simeon wagged a finger at her. “Look here, young lady, you’re blowing our temporary farewell.”

  “And he’s not lying,” I piped up. “We already talked about coming back and planning an event for the Center after the season.”

  The kids began asking simultaneous questions, but Simeon held up his hands. “Relax, get yourselves a cool drink, and you’ll hear all about it in time. Right now, just focus on all that teamwork that helped you win.”

  We all said the last of our temporary good-byes before Simeon and me played our usual game of dodge-the-photogs and dove into separate cars before meeting back at my place a while later. It was barely an hour, but it was long enough for my desire for him to turn into a live thing—churning and churning inside of me restlessly until I was jittery and pacing.

  When he finally knocked on the door, I sprinted to it and dragged him inside to draw him into a kiss. He laughed against my mouth, probably wanting to drop a joke about how needy I was being after weeks of backing away from his sweet lips. He was right, and I deserved every joke, but right then I just needed to feel him against me and bask in the fact that he was here.

  “Mmm,” he said after pulling away. “Could get used to a greeting like that.”

  Grinning, I dragged him backwards and towards the stairs. “I’m not done yet.”

  “Oh yeah?” Simeon let me tug him along, smiling broadly. “Is that serious conversation you wanted to have part of it?”

  “Nah, not yet. I want to do something else for you first.”

  The way Simeon’s eyes darkened, and the way he dragged his teeth over his lower lip, made me wonder if he knew what I had in mind. He was breathing fast by the time I pushed him onto the edge of my bed. I knelt in front of him, grinning my cocky-as-fuck grin while tugging his joggers and underwear down.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing with the goods, Bravo?” Simeon asked, voice low and husky as I wrestled his pants over his sneakers. “Don’t tell me you been practicing.”

  I snorted and braced my hands on his thighs, digging my fingers into the tight muscle. “Been jerking off thinking about it, if you call that practice.”

  “I don’t, but I’m here to watch you make a mess.” Simeon slid his hand into my hair and jerked me closer to his erection. “Get it.”

  I don’t know what possessed me to try to take him down to the root, beyond pure desperation and horniness, but I did it and instantly gagged. My throat throbbed and my eyes teared, but the languid groan that came from Simeon made it worthwhile.

  “Go slow,” he uttered above me. “Nice and slow.”

  With both his hands lightly bracing the back of my head, I took him in deep once again. Slower this time. Just enough to enjoy the taste of his precum already filling my mouth, salty and tangy and better than I’d expected, as well as the smell of his musk and sweat.

  “Mmm. Yeah, love,” Simeon breathed. “Just like that.”

  Because I was a slut for praise, his hoarse words spurred me on. I may not have known what the hell I was doing, but I was damn sure gonna give him a good time. Mimicking what I’d watched him do to me time and time again, I worked him with my hand and mouth, stroking up each time I pulled off him with a wet slurp. He’d been right about me making a huge damn mess, but it had me so turned on that I found myself grinding my own erection against the air.

  Simeon inched farther onto the bed, coaxing me to follow, and lay back with his thighs spread and sneakered feet pressing into the mattress. On any other day, I would have had some words about him disrespecting my bed with street shoes, but there was something painfully sexy about Simeon Boudreaux in my bed bare-assed naked except for a pair of Jordans.

  I had serious issues.

  “Come up here,” he said. “Get back to work.”

  Not needing to be told twice, I lay on my stomach with my arms braced under his thighs for leverage and my ass in the air. I serviced his dick while grinding my own against the bed, and moaned around his length once he started bucking his hips.

  Simeon in the zone turned into Simeon void of encouraging comments as he vibrated beneath me while grunting and swearing in a thickening accent. He got rougher on me too. Fisting his hands in my hair and riding my face until I had to pull away to catch my breath.

  “You’re a natural,” he breathed. “Almost made me come.”

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and grinned. “Isn’t that the point?”

  “Not when I want you inside me.”

  Point taken.

  I flipped him onto his stomach, not missing his smirk, and watched as he assumed the position. Forearms folded before him, thighs spread and knees digging into the bed, and beautiful ass raised just for me. I ran my hand over one of his smooth ass cheeks, squeezing, and then slapping it hard.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  Simeon looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched and a dirty smile firmly in place. “You can do whatever you want right now.”

  I smacked his ass again, loving how his mouth fell open and his eyes slid shut at the sensation. “Even before all this shit started, I was obsessed with this ass of yours.” Running my hands up the firm rounded flesh, I fanned my fingers out and dragged my nails along his back. “I’d find myself staring you down and wondering how the hell it’s fair that someone could be so good-looking. Everything from those lips to your skin to that ass.”

  Simeon was biting his lower lip and giving me the heavy-lidded stare that made my dick pulse. “And you never thought that was . . . a little queer?”

  “I tried not to analyze what it meant.” I stopped caressing him just long enough to swipe the lube from my bedside table. “I just knew that I was fixated on you, and it pissed me off. But now? Now this ass is mine. You are mine.”

  He held my gaze a moment longer then exhaled slowly and dropped his head down to the bed. Pushing his ass back to rub against my swollen length, he said, “Let me feel it then.”

  Something about the throb in his voice got to me just enough for my hands to tremble as I lubed up. They kept shaking when I breached him and slid into the core, encasing myself in all that hot tight flesh. I planted my hands on his ass cheeks again, spreading them apart so I could watch myself pump in and out of him with slow shifts of my hips. He rocked back on me, a signal for me to go faster, and clenched around my dick when I kept going slow.

  “Shit,” I breathed, tilting my head back as he twisted his hips and fucked himself on me. “I could die right now and be real okay with it.”

  Simeon looked at me again, gaze scanning me with heat that scorched my skin. “Better not. I have long-term plans for you and getting a lot more of this.”

  “Me too, gorgeous.”

  I jerked him upright, enjoying the look of surprise that washed over his face every time I effortlessly manhandled him. Simeon may have been used to being with other men, but he’d never been with one like me—a linebacker who doubled as a wall of ruthless muscle. And he loved it. I could tell. Especially because I could hold him up against me while still moving in and out of his ass with nothing more than an arm crossed over his chest and a hand bracing against the head
board.

  “Adrián,” he panted. “Pretty sure you were born to be a bomb-ass top.”

  “Maybe just yours.”

  He gave me another one of those wild-eyed looks, and I responded with a kiss. Sliding our tongues together and then sucking on his while our lower bodies moved together. It was perfect. He was perfect. We were perfect together.

  An explosion of urgency went off inside me. I shoved him up against the headboard so he was holding on to the edge with my hands covering his, and moved faster. His ass bounced back on me, milking me with a rhythm that had my eyes sliding shut and my mouth hanging open. The bliss seeping into every pore of my body was humbling, and it blotted out everything else in my mind.

  The only thing I could think clearly, through the rough gasps for air and the frantic string of curses pouring out of my mouth the closer I came to my peak, was that I never wanted him to leave.

  I shouted his name when I came, and he gasped out mine over and over after I pushed him onto his back so I could take his dick in my mouth again. With everything raw and frayed from the orgasm that had ripped out of me, I bobbed my head with no care about my gag reflex or how deep he was going. When his semen coated my tongue, I kept sucking because I wanted more and didn’t stop until he shuddered and pushed me away.

  We lay on the bed breathing hard until he exhaled loudly and stretched.

  “You’re pretty good at sex,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Simeon smacked my thigh, but grinned broadly. “Is this the part where we talk? ’Cause I don’t know if I have the brain cells for it right now. You sucked ’em out.”

  I burst out laughing so hard the bed shook. He rolled onto his side with a grin and draped an arm over me. Us together in this bed, sweaty and reeking of sex, was natural and good, and something I didn’t want to have to miss. Ever.

  “I want to keep seeing you,” I said bluntly. “I don’t care if we have to sneak around.”

  Simeon rubbed his thumb against my clavicle, half of his face hidden by a pillow. “Like . . . be boyfriends?”

  There was a hint of a snicker in his voice. I didn’t care.

  “Whatever you want to call it. I definitely would prefer you didn’t fuck anyone else, or I’d be fighting dudes every weekend. My ass would stay on suspension.”

  Simeon bit his lip, but it did nothing to disguise the smile creeping over his face. “Adrián Bravo wants to be my boyfriend.”

  I poked his stomach. “Come on. Be serious.”

  “Okay.” He tried to school his face and failed, laughing again.

  “Simeon, please?”

  “Please, what?”

  “Please give me a chance. Let me keep seeing you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I know I fucked up in the past, and I know you’re not gonna just get over it—”

  “It’s not about that anymore,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to tell you before. All that shit I said to the reporters was how I used to feel about you. Back before I knew you were a confused queer boy lashing out because he wanted me.”

  I could tell by his teasing tone that he expected me to launch into banter, but I nodded. “I was. And I did. And I still want you. Do I have to beg?”

  Simeon looked at me sideways. “Hush, boy. You know I don’t need you to beg.”

  “Then what do you need from me?”

  He closed his eyes and pressed his face harder into the pillow. “I need you to tell me I won’t ruin your career by being in your life. Because no matter how hard I try to be discreet, I know somehow . . . I’ll screw it up. ’Cause that’s me, boo. I’m a mess. A lovable mess, but still a goddamn mess.”

  “And what the fuck am I? I didn’t even know I was bi.”

  Simeon laughed. “A lot of people don’t figure that shit out from jump. It’s not just you.”

  “Still. We’re both messy. Can’t we just throw caution to the wind and be messy together?” I drew him in for a brief kiss. “And it might be kinda hot. Secretly meeting up before a game, dicking you out hard and then blitzing you the next day on the field.”

  “And then taking out all that aggression and adrenaline on each other after? Mmm. Actually that does sound kinda hot.”

  “Because it is hot. As long as you don’t get all caught up in your feelings after we beat you guys when we play again in a couple of months.”

  “Keep dreaming, Bravo.”

  We kissed again, longer this time, before we backed off just enough to speak.

  “Gimme an answer, Boudreaux. Just tell me one way or the other. You gonna give me a shot?”

  His breath whooshed out in a shuddering gush against my face. I held him tighter, wanting to squeeze out his fears and replace them with the reassuring weight of my arms.

  “Okay,” he said after a while. “Let’s give each other a shot. But you gotta stop calling me Booty, and never try to joke with Gavin. Like ever, man. Trust me.”

  My laugh bordered on hysterical, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care how goofy I was acting when I rolled him so he was stretched atop me with our faces crushed together. This was as close to relationship goals as I’d ever gotten, and I was fucking happy.

  “We’re gonna be awesome, Simeon. For real.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because . . .” I squeezed him in a bear hug. “Something that feels this good can’t go wrong.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Simeon

  Fall started with a hurricane and the end rapidly approached like a damn tornado. Four out of six games leading up to the holidays were away, and after my mini break I felt ill-prepared and out of shape.

  Hits seemed to impact me harder, my ears rang a little bit longer, and sometimes I had to blink several times while on my back in the middle of the field before I could regain my bearings. Had I gotten that soft in the first two months of the season, or was I distracted by . . . other things? Things like spending every scrap of a moment that wasn’t at the training facility or in a shitty hotel room with Adrián Bravo.

  We’d been together, secretly, for over a month, and it was going strong. We met up on off days, usually him coming over or me sneaking into his building, and fucked each other senseless for hours before embarking on a Netflix-and-chill. And in a few hours, he was meeting my mother for a belated Thanksgiving on Long Island. The holiday had to be postponed since we’d both had away games on the day of.

  “Yo, what if she fucking hates me?”

  “Don’t curse around her, and she won’t.”

  “You think I’m suicidal, man? If I curse around my mom, she’d beat my fucking ass.”

  I smirked. “Man, I’d love to see that.”

  “I bet.”

  Adrián was sitting on the floor of my kitchen and staring in the glass door of the oven at the pork shoulder he’d been roasting for hours. He’d also taken to swatting me every time I opened the door to pull off the crispy bits that were already done.

  “Gotta say, you cooking is definitely good for sucking up.”

  “Well, I figured I had to do something besides looking cute and making coquito while your ass preps an entire turkey.”

  “I dunno, boo. That coquito was like magic in my mouth.”

  “That’s also what you said last night, so I dunno how valuable that statement is.”

  I smacked the back of his head, laughing. He grinned up at me, big brown eyes twinkling and dimples popping with that little-boy mischief. It was hard not to jump him right then and there, but I’d just forced him to change out of his basketball shorts and jersey into pants and a button-down. My mother wasn’t trying to have Thanksgiving dinner with some boy looking like he just came from the park.

  “You really think she won’t hate me?”

  “You’re fine, Bravo. Stop being insecure.”

  He push
ed himself up with a grunt. The shirt had managed to stay impeccably unwrinkled, but I noticed he was still barefoot.

  “Did you make the rest of this shit too?” he asked, sweeping a hand at the covered platters on the counter. “It just appeared suddenly.”

  “I ordered the cranberry sauce and dressing from a restaurant.”

  “Dressing?” he wrinkled his nose. “You fucking with some Ranch?”

  “No, dumbass. What you call stuffing, I call dressing.” He flipped me off, and I laughed before continuing. “My mom is gonna cook some other stuff when she gets here because that’s how she is.”

  “Okay, but who else is coming? There’s a million plates on that table.”

  “Dude, there are eight plates. Me, you, my mama, Yaritza, Marcus, his girlfriend, Gavin, and his boyfriend.”

  Adrián outright cringed. A mote of guilt caught into my excitement of having all my favorite people, minus my auntie Ashley who hadn’t been able to make the trip across the country, together. I hadn’t warned him about the others, but I hadn’t thought I needed to. Everyone coming knew about our relationship, but it was true that only Yaritza really knew him.

  “I’m gonna go call my parents,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be down by the time everyone is here.”

  “Why are you being nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  I snagged his hand before he could rush from the room and pushed him up against the doorway. It’d been established early on that Adrián was aggressive and dominant in bed, but there were times when I liked the reversal. Catching him off guard and dragging him into a sloppy kiss until he was vibrating with the need to be inside me.

  As tempting as it was to do that now, and wipe his mind of worries, we only had about ten minutes before the car arrived with my mother. I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his dimples, finishing off the worship with a nip at his lower lip. He smiled, unable to help it or the way his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the sides spelled out the extent of his adoration of me.

 

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