Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  Yep, time to see that shrink again.

  Because something about his frighteningly real reaction to Parker Rollings made him want to take the kid off to a private cabin and just…hold him close. The young man oozed vulnerability, but it combined with a sort of innate strength just under the surface.

  It made every hair on Nicco’s body stand up straight. He took a deep breath, started to speak, to say something resembling polite. Something not sounding like “I want to make love to you until you scream with pleasure.”

  Parker spoke first. “Yeah, so see you Monday.” Parker put a hand on the back of his neck.

  Nicco spoke without thinking. “Some of us are going out tonight. There’s this club….”

  “Oh, um, I’m not really into….” Parker stopped, seemed to rally himself. “Okay. Great. What time?”

  Nicco smiled. Round one to the old guy. “Late, ten thirty. Meet in the lobby.” But he wanted to warn Parker at the same time. To tell him not to come, to avoid it, to avoid him, Nicco, like the plague he was.

  “All right, thanks.” A smile lit the young man’s impossibly handsome face, shooting another bright shaft of desire straight to Nicco’s gut. He stepped backward into the hall and lifted a hand at the closing doors then made his slow way to his room, his cock so hard under his loose-fitting shorts it made him limp.

  He dropped into a chair, staring out into the sunlight and pondering just what in the hell he would do with young Parker, should he get him alone. Closing his eyes against onrushing emotion, he got up and stumbled into the shower.

  *****

  Parker stared at the clothes he’d purchased, hoping they’d be okay for the club. Dark jeans, a white shirt with a brown pattern woven around the back and over a shoulder, black square toe shoes, new belt, even a new wallet holding more money than he’d ever had at one time. His ears buzzed and something zinged his nerve endings he couldn’t identify. He ran a hand over his jaw, decided against a shave, and climbed into the shower.

  He’d spent nearly three hours practicing trying to work off some nervous energy. About half of the team showed up, and they’d done a few self-directed drills, laughing and getting the measure of each other before the official pre-season team camp started on Monday.

  Parker had let his captain’s brain take over and observed the group, saw them interact, and allowed the first hint of optimism sneak into his subconscious. This Black Jack thing might work as long as they could pool their collective talents.

  Parker spent a solid thirty minutes under burning hot water, the huge lonely space he’d nurtured since getting off the plane from Louisville receding for the first time. The hard workout he’d more or less guided everyone through had helped. His natural leadership tendencies showed themselves in the way the older men deferred to him.

  He stood, hands on the cool tile forcing his brain to still, as his body kept revving, sending tingles from his scalp to his toes before settling firmly in his groin. He groaned and fisted himself, letting the water hit his face as Christie’s body flashed briefly across his memory.

  He gasped, went up on his tiptoes as the dark eyes and face of the man who would be his nemesis appeared bright and compelling. The broad span of his shoulders, trim waist, firm ass and thighs made his hand move faster as the memory of the man’s lilting Spanish accent filled his consciousness, firing his fevered brain.

  His body clenched. He moaned as the room darkened. Warmth coated his hand and stomach, as he held himself up against the wall, Nicco’s dark face finally fading. He washed off, anger replacing the knee-jerk horny.

  He was not that guy. He was not gay. He couldn’t be. Not and fulfill his dream. He stepped out and dried off, yanking the new clothes on before slapping on some cologne. All in a haze of confused frustration.

  A quick memory of Christie, the woman who’d been the first to convince him to wear scent, made him wince. She no longer played a part in his life. He’d left her behind, along with everything else he knew, loved or understood. A great well of loneliness yawned at his feet, making him gulp.

  His phone buzzed. He answered as he threaded the new belt through denim loops.

  “What’s up tonight, Parker?” Kago had been at the field today, and they’d had a great time with drills and chatter. He remembered now mentioning getting something to eat together later. He winced.

  “Oh, ah, I forgot I’m headed out with, um….” He sat, wondering what had possessed him, thinking he could just “go out to a club.”

  Kago laughed. “It’s cool, man. I was just calling to let you know I’m lying low. Drank too much last night, ya know. And you killed me with that workout.”

  He dropped into a chair suddenly relieved and unsure why. “Sorry. Want to run in the morning?”

  “Sure. Behave yourself tonight. Garza will only corrupt you.”

  “How did you…?”

  “I just do. Watch yourself, mate.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just some club.”

  The other man snorted into the phone, setting Parker’s already rattled nerve endings alight. He put the phone down on the table and took a deep breath commanding the vision of the dark-skinned, compelling man out of his head for a few more minutes.

  Nicco had already summoned a minivan taxi for them by the time Parker met up with the five other teammates and an attractive, dark-skinned man he’d never seen before. The steady stream of masculine laughter, commentary on the day’s games in Europe, and ribald jokes about the reputation of their interim coach filled the space, allowing Parker time to sit back and observe.

  The news that Metin Sevim had been coaxed out of retirement and had agreed to lead them still shocked them all. Parker knew the guy’s story—everyone who knew soccer did. It truly seemed small miracle he would be showing up within days to coach them.

  Nicco dominated the space. He seemed eager to share his vast, deep knowledge of the Euro leagues. Of the other men in the van, only one had played overseas. Everyone else was a raw rookie like Parker. The dark stranger monopolized Nicco’s attention and Parker’s eyes fixated on the slender hand he kept on Nicco’s thigh.

  The trip to the heart of Greektown in Detroit took forty minutes. During the trip, the men consumed shots of expensive Scotch, which went straight to Parker’s head making him wish he he’d eaten something since lunch.

  At one point, when the laughter and voices were loudest, Parker glanced over and locked gazes with Nicco. He frowned at the other man’s raised eyebrow. What in the hell did he need to prove? Who was that other guy, with his hand on Nicco’s leg? Jesus. It all felt contrived, a show for Parker’s benefit.

  He broke the moment and turned his gaze to the window confused, pissed. The little kid at the grown up party sensation burned a hole in his gut.

  “So, Rollings, you got a hot young lady friend joining us out here in the Motor City soon?” The other European older player, Lawrence Williams, a Brit, slapped his shoulder, making Parker flinch at the sudden attention the entire group directed his way. “Surely a strapping handsome lad such as yourself has plenty of opportunity for bird watching before she shows up?”

  “Ah, there is no one. At the moment.” He took a nervous gulp of his second Scotch. The group laughed louder at his cough as the alcohol burned his throat.

  “There’s a good lad. No one to disappoint, that’s my theory,” The guy slammed his drink and leered into Parker’s face. “Variety is the spice of life, eh, my fresh-faced American?”

  “Bloody virgin if you ask me.” The man with the possessive grip on Nicco’s thigh smiled into his glass.

  “Be nice, Terry.” Nicco patted the man’s arm then leaned over towards Parker placing a warm palm on his knee. “Don’t mind them, love.” His lips tickled Parker’s ear, lingering over the “love” a little too emphatically for Parker’s comfort.

  He smiled weakly and sat back, processing how much of a mistake he’d just made, agreeing to accompany this group downtown. Glancing around, he noted all e
yes on the awkward scene Nicco had just created.

  Nicco’s gaze never left his, and for a moment Parker wanted nothing more on the planet than to pull him close, cover his full lips with his own, fist his hands in Nicco’s thick, dark hair. He shook his head at himself. This could be a long night.

  Chapter Nine

  Within thirty minutes of arriving at Club Nubo, on the penthouse level of the D-town Casino, Parker knew he’d made a serious mistake. The huge space, lit only with flashing neon, boasted some of the most beautiful human beings Parker had ever seen in his life. He tried not to gape as he sipped a beer and took in the teeming dance floor.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when a barely dressed, model-gorgeous woman touched his arm and ran her hand up his biceps. “Hmmm, new to town, handsome?”

  “Uh-huh.” Parker’s body reacted, but his eyes found Nicco as if pulled by magnets. On the dance floor with what looked like two different women, his lithe, fit body moving in time with theirs, the brutally handsome Spaniard stared right at him.

  Parker choked on his beer. The woman stepped away.

  “Oh honey, I get you. Sorry.” She relaxed. “Have you met my friend, Hugh?” She nodded across the bar to an incredibly tall, thin blond man, who at that moment also stared at him, the bright blue of his eyes piercing and intense. Parker stiffened. Did he give such a gay vibe? Jesus.

  He made a valiant attempt to ignore the way his brain kept pulling him back, kept forcing him to watch Nicco as he moved through the crowd, dancing, groping, kissing. Parker’s mouth dried out at the show the man put on, as the music level ramped up ever higher, the loud thump-thump of the bass beating deep in his chest.

  He sipped more beer, shoving away his growing uneasy feeling at the whole scene. A couple of his teammates wandered by, both with beautiful women hanging off their arms. One of them winked at him and jerked his chin toward the chick next to him who’d somehow managed to figure out she wasn’t his type.

  Parker groaned inwardly. He didn’t even know his type anymore. His conscious brain rejected what this place represented, what might happen tonight. It simply could not. He would not allow it, no matter how badly he wanted it right now.

  His gaze wandered up and down the pleasant landscape of the woman next to him, but he kept glancing back over to Nicco—the man, the legend, his rival on the field, and the one man in the room Parker should avoid, but couldn’t. He watched as the guy’s hands roamed all over the woman in front of him. Saw the girl behind him moving around to clutch his neck, pull him in for a long kiss as their bodies swayed, bumped, ground.

  The other woman pulled her companion from Nicco’s lips then landed a kiss on her mouth. Parker sucked in a breath, uneasy, but kept watching as the women fondled each other on the dance floor moving all around them.

  Nicco looked up and caught Parker’s eye, then leaned back into the dark brown arms of Terry, who’d come up from behind and gripped his hips, seeming to grind his crotch against Nicco’s ass. Parker gulped, unable to tear his eyes away, acutely aware of the strange voyeuristic connection they shared.

  One of the women moved in front of Nicco again and ran her moist, pink tongue down his jaw as they moved to the music. The man gripped her long black hair and pulled her face to his as his hand disappeared up her dress. The crowd ebbed and flowed, giving Parker enough glimpses of them to be certain where Nicco’s fingers had gone.

  Terry ran his hands down Nicco’s arms, to his hips, miming thrusts as Nicco tended to the woman who had just shot off into the orgasmic stratosphere. As he raised his lips from hers, pulled his fingers from under her short skirt and put them in his mouth, he looked right at Parker, winked, then turned the full force of his erotic attention to Terry.

  He faced the other man, dancing in a frenzy of strong male bodies as the two women disappeared into the crowd.

  Parker wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead and forced himself to look away. Could a human explode from lust? If he kept watching he’d be certain to find out. Dropping into a chair in a dark corner, he gasped in surprise to find a different woman draped over his lap, slim bare arms around his neck, lips against his ear. “Hmmm…I like what you’ve got going on down there.” She wiggled, bringing a fresh shot of pleasure and agony to his rock-hard shaft.

  “Uh, yeah, why don’t you, mmfff—” The woman’s lips covered his and the hands he’d placed on her waist to lift her off him slid upward. She tasted of wine, perfume, and a salty, unfamiliar essence he couldn’t place. The pure male in him reacted, fisting a hand in her long hair, shoving his tongue between her lips, tasting her strange combinations and loving it. She ground down against his lap and ran her hands across his shoulders.

  He broke away, embarrassed at his animal reaction. “Jesus, sorry, I’m, oh shit.

  She shifted and straddled him, pressing her breasts into his chest. “It’s okay, sweetie.” Her breath tickled his ear.

  Parker leaned away when he realized the same silky black curtain of hair he wanted to latch onto Nicco had clutched earlier. The moist heat of her obviously panty-less sex settled an ache deep in his balls. The woman grinned at him. “You have the most amazing eyes,” she whispered. He gripped her hips, held her still. The urge to fuck something, hard, had never been so keenly intense in him. The simple, sweet, relationship he’d shared with Christie had certainly not prepared him for this. An incredible pulse of raw lust the likes of which he had never experienced made him want to shove the woman against a wall and plow into her like a rutting bull.

  She licked his lips, sharing the odd taste again—salty, and somehow rich with possibility. He gripped the back of her neck, needing something he couldn’t identify, but caused stars to dance around the edges of his vision.

  “I need to,” he groaned when she slipped a hand between them and lowered his zipper with little effort. “No, I’m… Holy hell.” The soft velvety skin of her palm, warm and pleasant, made him suppress a groan. He sat up and bit her earlobe. “I need to fuck you. Now.”

  She giggled and pushed him back. “No, you don’t, you adorable thing, you. Alas, I’m just the fluffer.” He stared at her, breathless, as she kept her hand busy right here in public in a clichéd dark corner of a huge nightclub in Detroit. He groaned, pushed her off him and zipped back up.

  When he stood, she wrapped herself around him, shoved her tongue into his mouth once more before breaking away and touching the tip of his nose with her finger. “You like how I taste, don’t you handsome?” He nodded, suddenly incapable of speech, his brain buzzing with lust, anger, and frustration. “I sucked Nicco’s cock earlier. He came all down my throat. That’s him you’re tasting.” She licked his lips then stepped away, pulling her tiny excuse for a skirt straight. “Let’s go, sweetie. I think I want to take you up on your offer. You are way too cute to sacrifice to him.” Stunned, struck dumb with horniness, he let her take his hand and pull him up a circular set of stairs, crowded with people in various stages of make-out.

  The thumping music and flashing lights made him dizzy as he followed the woman’s bare legs up and up, until they stopped in a room lit with a few lamps on tables, all shrouded with gauzy curtains. He could see arms, legs, and hear noises his brain refused to register. Cocktail waitresses moved about wearing little or nothing.

  His nerves rubbed raw from over stimulation, he saw his companion pull a curtain aside to reveal Nicco, Terry, and the other woman from the dance floor, sitting with a bottle of scotch and languid expressions.

  “There he is now.” The dark skinned man draped an arm around Nicco’s shoulders. Parker sensed the dead giveaway facial flush and ducked in next to the tall Spaniard, tugging the woman with him. She giggled and put a brazen hand over his still rigid zipper, making him flinch. Terry burst out laughing.

  Fury surged through him. He glared around the table and picked up a glass, downing it in one fiery, agonizing gulp.

  “Cut the crap, Terrance.” Nicco shoved the other man off him and over onto the oth
er woman who shrieked and let him grab her tits. Parker flushed even hotter as Nicco’s voice cut through the chest-thumping music. “Jesu, you are so….”

  “Amazing? Incredibly well hung? Talented with your cock?” Terry leaned into the woman, smiling, his dark eyes sharp and definitely angry, his voice low and rumbling.

  “Shut up. You ass,” Nicco hissed.

  Parker bit back the most compelling urge he’d ever felt. The blazing in his gut burned all the way up to the back of his eyeballs. He gripped his knees under the small table and used everything he had not to put a hand to Nicco’s face, to cup his rough cheek, soothe, caress, ease the tension that rolled off the older man like smoke. He sighed and sat back, let the female he’d been ready to fuck a few minutes ago nibble his neck and keep stroking his denim-trapped dick.

  “This is surreal.” He held out his glass. Might as well be drunk on top of it.

  Nicco poured him a healthy splash and shot him a grin that didn’t reach his huge dark eyes. “Sí. Well, you are in one of the most surreal cities on the planet, I’d say. Salud.” He held up his glass and clinked it to Parker’s, the irony taking his face again, replacing the moment of soft introspection.

  Parker put both arms on the back of the booth and closed his eyes. The woman’s lips traveled around his neck. Fingers unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his jeans and slipped them down. First one hand, then two, stroked him. He sighed and went into a familiar space in his head. The space where he fondled amazing soft curves, sucked nipples, fingered warm, velvety female bodies. But always had to imagine something else, something harder, more angular and rough every time to find his release. He shifted his hips, let the alcohol buzz and his own deep need motivate him beyond his usual reticence for public displays of affection much less public displays of utter eroticism.