by Liz Crowe
Nicco stood, shaking and speechless, then ducked into the bathroom to wash his hands and roll a condom down his shaft. When he emerged, Parker had turned over. “No.” He said, his voice hoarse. “As tempting and perfect as that is, I… I want to look at you. I need to watch your face while we make love.”
The man’s beautiful blue eyes bored into him. His handsome face held tension, but Nicco sensed real relaxation roll through the room for the first time since they’d met. He ran a hand down Parker’s cheek, his throat constricted with emotion. He positioned himself between the man’s legs, put a hand over the long shaft between them and paused. “Might hurt at first. I’m sorry. But you’re ready, mi amor. I know you are.”
“Kiss me,” Parker sighed, angling his hips up, giving himself completely in a way so perfectly, quintessentially Parker it made Nicco’s eyes burn with unshed tears. “Please,” he said, his hand on Nicco’s face.
Nicco covered the other man’s lips, using all of his control to not shove his way into Parker’s willing body. He moved slowly, easy, loving the sweet sensuality of the moment more than anything he had ever done. He blew out a breath as he breached the tight muscles, letting the lube he’d smeared on the condom slicken the passage. Parker groaned low and throaty as Nicco finally slid in deep.
“Oh, my God….” Parker cried out, arching beneath him, offering his whole self. Opening his eyes, he met Nicco’s. Then, that moment, Nicco knew—he’d found his true love.
Parker’s body clenched as Nicco’s cock reached high, then he smelled the deep, spicy scent of release as Parker cried out and clutched his ass.
Nicco let it take him. He clutched at the strong legs bent up against him. The climax made tears spring to his eyes. He sighed, content and happy possibly for the first time in his entire, useless life.
Parker stared at the ceiling as his body calmed, cradling Nicco’s dark head to his shoulder, his body languid with satisfaction. After a few minutes, Parker tilted Nicco’s face up and pressed lips to his.
“Don’t ever leave,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” the man sighed as he stood, threw away the condom, and hit the bathroom. He emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. “You okay?” Parker sat, wincing, and limped to the bathroom. His ass stung but his heart was full and his brain calm for the first time in years.
“I’ve never been more okay in my entire life.” His leaned in the doorway, watching Nicco stretch out on the bed. “How is that? You are bad. I should avoid you.”
Nicco’s face softened. “I’ve been bad, yes. But now, I’m completely good. With you. Badness over.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “Well, other than the badness I’m about to get into with you.” Parker sighed and flopped down beside him, tugging the satin duvet up to cover their naked flesh. “Roll over, lover. I need some sleep,” the man whispered. He kissed Parker’s shoulder, making his skin quiver. “We have a whole week. Never fear. I’ll teach you a lot. But you have to promise to teach me something.”
“What?” He muttered, easing into sleep, held tight in Nicco’s arms. “If it’s the one move where I take the ball away….”
“How in the hell I can ever stop loving you.”
Parker smiled, pulled Nicco’s hand to his lips. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
Chapter Fifteen
Parker flopped down on his leather couch, exhausted in body and mind. And lonely beyond belief. He’d spent six weeks of the off-season time traveling with Nicco, seeing places he never thought he would—Paris, Rome, Madrid. During their time away to themselves, he’d learned more about his lover than he thought possible.
Including the fact that Nicco seemed stuck in constant “go fast” mode. It wore Parker out on a certain level, irritated him when he wanted to laze around on a Sunday, watch TV, read, fuck a few more times before taking a nap as the hustle and bustle of an Italian street below floated up to their open hotel window.
“Lazing around” simply didn’t enter into Nicco’s daily plan. He would take time to screw around, happy to teach Parker all the fun ways they could get off together. But after the first time when Nicco had asked how he could help but love him, he seemed to be on a mission to make Parker come as many ways as possible. Not that Parker complained about it. But they never revisited the emotional connection of their first time, not once. Which pissed Parker off.
He required that, along with the physical. One of the things he found out about himself during the admittedly fun, sexy trip was how well he slept in Nicco’s arms. Of course, in the morning, after a vigorous and fully satisfying lovemaking session Nicco would literally leap out of the bed as if his skin were on fire and force Parker into a long day of sightseeing, drinking, eating, and then a full night of clubbing.
At times, Parker wondered if the man remembered he had uttered the “L” word. By the time they got home, he wondered what had made him think Nicco capable of love at all. Lust, yes. Fucking constantly, without a doubt. Capable of nonstop fun days and nights. But Parker wanted something more—a return to their first night. The slow, erotic, easy love they’d shared but had not experienced since.
So when they’d landed back on Michigan soil from their long vacation, sun burned, sore in intimate places, and irritable, he’d turned to Nicco in the taxi and told him he needed a break. Just a short one, so he could sort out how he felt.
Nicco had stared at him, unblinking, for over a minute, dismay in his eyes morphing into something resembling anger. Then, finally a scary neutrality masked his face, as if Parker’s behavior were to be expected. As if nothing had happened between them but a whole lot of sex.
Now he sat, having spent five days ignoring the man and feeling as if he’d had something vital ripped out of his chest. He stared at the sports network, not seeing or hearing it. Picking up his phone, Parker willed Nicco to call or text, or something. Two could play at the ignoring game he guessed. He cursed and tossed the device to the floor, falling almost immediately into a deep sleep.
After the La Luna vacation, they’d decided to keep their relationship quiet as long as they could, not out of embarrassment but jealousy. They craved privacy to explore each other’s bodies while being able to still function in public without photographers, admirers, and haters dogging their every step. It had worked, but entailed an annoying routine of “who stays over” and “hide the incriminating car somewhere” at both of their homes, which had led Nicco to suggest the vacation.
Tension reigned supreme around the Black Jacks headquarters, even during the off-season. After the initial supportive groundswell for Nicco’s coming out, three team members had requested transfers. Nicco had had to hire a security guard for his suburban condo complex, thanks to a couple of scary brushes with vehement hate groups.
It had been a trip, a buzz, a crazy, surreal set of weeks strung together where Parker was alternately ecstatic and orgasmic, or furious with Nicco’s seemingly blasé attitude about their relationship. Parker didn’t get it. He simply could not imagine a way they could be together and still play pro sports, and half the time he thought Nicco didn’t even care one way or another. Maddening, but dear God he missed him.
When the buzzer sounded, signaling someone on the ground floor of his building wanting in, he jerked awake, disoriented. He groaned and got up, every single bone, muscle, and sinew on fire with pain from a hard workout. Figuring it was Nicco, half glad and still half mad at him for proving such a stubborn asshole, Parker hit the entry button, then poured a huge glass of water while he waited.
Smiling when the doorbell sounded, he opened the door, something appropriately sexy and inviting on his lips. The sight of the tall, dark and angry looking Terrance made the smile fade. “Can I help you?” he asked, tugging a shirt down over his bare torso when he realized it was not Nicco on the other side of the door.
“No, but I’m going to help you,” the suave-looking man said, keeping his distance outside the door.
Parker glared at him, crossed his arms, and said nothing. Ter
rance smiled, his teeth shining in stark contrast to the deep mocha hue of his face. “Oh…you are cute. I can see why Nicco would be smitten by you.” He leaned on the doorjamb, loose-limbed, comfortable in a way Parker envied.
“I don’t need your help,” he said, his hand on the door, ready to slam it shut.
“Well, we’ll call this an information session then. I’ll tell you what I think you should know about your new boyfriend. And then you can decide what you do with it. How about it?”
Parker scoffed. “Beat it, Terry. I’m good. Nicco’s good. We’re together. That’s all you need to know.” Although, of course, they were not together, and had not even exchanged a text message for days. He set his face in calm lines, trying to exude a “take your jealous shit out of my house” vibe.
“Hmm….” The other man smirked. Parker tried hard not to slam the door in his face. The deafening silence from Nicco in the last few days had never sounded so loud. “Not sure you realize this but,” he looked down at his hands as if ashamed of what he was about to say, “Nicolas Garza is a sex addict.”
Parker blinked. It sounded like something you might toss out as a joke, a half-compliment…or something painfully obvious.
His own recently neglected skin, so eager for Nicco’s, burned with memory. “Yeah. And?”
“I mean, adorable little former virgin, he has a problem, a sickness. He has to get off nearly constantly and typically doesn’t care how, or with whom, as long as he can come—over and over again. Surely you’ve noticed his…insatiability…you know, on your little vacations.”
Parker shifted, nervous and angry at this asshole standing at his door, making him feel dirty, like a used condom. Defensiveness obvious in his voice, he replied, “Yeah. I did. I liked it. You can go now.” But, unbidden, a fleeting memory shot across his brain. They’d gone to plenty of nightclubs, some hetero, several not. And a trip to one in Paris had resulted in their first legit argument.
Parker hadn’t liked the way Nicco’s eyes raked the room, scanning it constantly. Then how they’d narrow, darken as he found an attractive woman—and the place had no shortage of them. The woman would almost always be staring back at him with clear invitation shining in her eyes. Ironically, however, the argument had ensued because Parker got dragged into a scrum of ladies on the dance floor while Nicco sipped and watched, his gaze intent.
“So,” Nicco had asked as they walked to their hotel in the wee hours, sweat drying on their skin, “you want to give it a try?”
Parker had stopped, put a hand on Nicco’s arm, not sure what the guy meant but too tired and drunk to give a smart answer regardless. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I mean, sexy American boyfriend,” Nicco had grinned and pulled Parker into an embrace. “I can arrange a little group fun, with some members of the fairer sex for company. If you like.” Parker recalled grinning at the sensation of his lover’s erection pressing against him, making his own body respond in kind. His lips had been soft, whispering near Parker’s ear. The Paris night had been warm and full of promise. He’d bitten Parker’s earlobe then released him, stepping back with a confusing, angry look on his face.
Parker shook his head, remembering the whole bizarre scene. He’d said no, no thanks. Not interested in sharing you. Nicco had remained sullen the rest of the walk back. By the time they hit the hotel door, Parker’s alcohol fueled fury had bubbled over.
“I mean, I guess you want it though, right? I’m not enough for you? You couldn’t take your eyes off all the pussy in the room. Think I didn’t notice?”
Nicco had made a growling sound, grabbed Parker and shoved him up against the wall of the hotel room, his huge hand on Parker’s pulsing throat. His palm had moved lower as he spoke. “You are all I want. Ever.” Then he’d pressed a mind-blowing kiss to Parker’s lips. Parker had yanked away, holding Nicco’s still cloudy-looking face in his hands.
“Don’t lie to me, Nicolas. That is one thing I will not tolerate.”
Nicco had looked down, then let go of him and walked toward the bathroom. He turned back, pinning Parker with a gaze full of remorse and unhappiness. Parker still leaned against the wall, his body prepared for a nice hard fuck, thanks to Nicco’s flipping of his switches once again.
“I won’t lie to you, Parker,” he’d said. “But I warned you. I told you I would be no good for you. Maybe you should have listened.” He’d shut the bathroom door behind him leaving Parker to his thoughts.
So now, staring at Terrance, absorbing his words, he blinked. The other man’s smile widened. “Ah, yes, I see you understand me now. Beware, young Mr. Rollings. Nicolas Garza is never, ever satisfied with just one person for very long. He has no control over himself and never will. Just ask his wife, or me, or any number of people he’s fucked and dropped.”
Chapter Sixteen
Nicco sat staring at the therapist, heart pounding with desperation. The stubborn days since parting ways with Parker after the long vacation had stretched into infuriating weeks and now two lonely months had passed without any communication between them.
During which Nicco had experienced what anyone would consider a total relapse. The months he’d spent working on his inner demons, finding other things to distract him so he wouldn’t seek out random and meaningless sex faded as if they’d never happened. Both he and the psychologist agreed having the physical outlet of the grueling season did help. So he'd rewarded himself with the resort trip. The one where he’d finally met up with the man he loved.
Then, after the the amazing discovery at La Luna, they'd spent weeks fucking each other's brains out here, and on their European trip. A blur of non-stop sex bordering on marathon-level as Parker discovered what he liked and didn’t like, and Nicco processed just how much the kid meant to him.
Since it was the off-season they weren’t required to show up at the Black Jacks’ training center as often, but Nicco found himself there every day, pushing his body harder and harder as he came to terms with the fact that he had, indeed found love once more. And how much the admission terrified him beyond imagining.
Almost everything about Parker Rollings charmed, amused, impressed him—and the things that did not, turned him into a raging horndog, harkening back to his much younger days. He’d even had a tough time keeping his hands off his new lover in public. So he’d concocted the long vacation, filled with opportunities for sightseeing, long beach walks, and exotic candlelit dinners for Parker, who’d never before ventured off American soil.
He had somehow ruined it, leading to the blow-off in the taxi, and the weeks of silence that now had a life of their own. While part of him understood and in a way didn’t blame Parker, he still ached from loss. Although he had certainly brought it on, forcing himself to remain emotionally aloof in order to protect what remained of his heart.
Damn psychologist had made him own that as well. The past weeks working with Josh the shrink had convinced him one could possibly be too self-aware. Part of him longed for the good old days—the who-gives-a-shit, utterly non-introspective, completely selfish Nicco. The one who could barely spend more than thirty minutes alone.
“I think you need to acknowledge that you have no intention of ruining anyone, Nicolas,” the man was saying. “Give yourself some credit. You said you loved him. I believe you. You told me you’ve only ever loved one other person, and you know how it feels. Is it fair to Parker to just drop him now using excuses even you don’t believe?”
Nicco scowled. He hated these fucking sessions. Even though he had increased them to twice a week now and had even stayed in contact with the doc while on vacation because the intensity of his feelings for Parker frightened him so much.
He leaned forward, his need to shock Josh, to make even him give up on Nicco the bad, the naughty, the never-with-anyone-very-long, taking over. “Do you want to know what I’ve done these last few nights, Josh? Hmm?” Josh, who’d become a lifeline for him, whom he relied on and hated in equal measure, merely
raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, so after the first night after Parker more or less dumped me in the taxi home from the airport, I pouted and got stinking drunk by myself. Then I waited for him to get over himself and call me. Now, nearly two months after he told me he needed time “to think”, I give up. So for the last week or maybe even two, I don’t remember, I’ve gone out and picked up random women and fucked them, usually in public, in alleys, in back hallways, and once on the hood of my car. Oh,” he held up a finger as if remembering something good. “And then last night, I went to a gay club and spent the whole time in the back rooms. You know.” He raised his own eyebrow at the young man whose facial expression had not changed. “So I’m good. I’m over him. Nicco is back to normal. Parker is safe from my influence.”
“Do you get tested regularly, Nicolas?” The psychologist’s low, deadly serious voice made him flinch. “Because I’m guessing you don’t always remember protection. It’s a fairly classic symptom of personalities like yours.”
“I….” Nicco ran a hand down his face, suddenly weary beyond belief. Josh had never been so direct. “Yes, I go every six weeks. And I’m clean of all the usual stuff, including the big one. Thanks for asking. And for the record, I use condoms.”
“Okay then. Now let’s talk about Parker.”
“I don’t want to.” He felt like a pouty little boy not getting his way. He wanted Parker back in his arms so badly it made every inch of his skin burn. He couldn’t sleep, had no appetite, and had indeed been pulling some old-Nicco bullshit with random women and did get into an orgy in the back room of a gay bar. Getting off without gaining a single measure of satisfaction—Nicco’s mojo had returned.
“You need to. Because he is probably going to want an explanation about this.” Josh turned his laptop around so the screen faced him.