Trick Play

by Eden Finley

  “If you can’t give me anything else, give me this.”

  I want to give him everything, but he’s right. I can’t give him more than physical connection.

  It’s not lost on me that I had nearly this exact conversation with Aron not too long ago. Only, with Matt respecting my wishes and honoring our deal, I want nothing more than to scream at him to fight for more.

  My resolve is on a thin ledge, begging to jump. I want to fall, and I want a life with Matt, but our situation is impossible.

  My lips trail soft kisses from the bottom of his ear and down his neck, as my hands move over his back and down to his ass.

  “Noah.” His voice is like a tortured moan, and it throws me off my game.

  This needs to be about sex, but the whole goodbye thing is getting in the way. There’s a difference between knowing it’s going to end and staring at the finish line.

  Each day, that line will get closer and closer, and I know I won’t be ready for it.

  Words like “stay” threaten to fall outta my mouth, but I won’t do that to him. I can’t do it to him. I can’t ask him to give up his dream for me.

  I never thought I’d let anyone crush me the way Nathaniel did ever again. Yet, here I am with another broken heart. I don’t know how it got this far. One minute we’re fucking, and the next I’m caring. I don’t do this. This isn’t me. I can’t have relationships, so I don’t get attached.

  What’s so good about Matt—not Matthew—Jackson anyway?

  His tongue teases my lips, and then I remember. Oh, right. His mouth, for one answer.

  But he’s so much more than that. I should’ve known to run away as soon as I started to care.

  So, about twenty-four hours after meeting him?

  Shit. If I really think about it, everything I did for him on that cruise, it wasn’t because I felt empathy toward him. It wasn’t because I felt sorry for him. It’s because the moment we met, I knew he was mine to protect.

  This has been screwed since the very beginning. And now I’m here, saying goodbye to another man who has no issues breaking me.

  “Noah,” Matt whispers again.

  “I’m here, baby.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Matt

  “Let me take care of you,” Noah whispers against my skin.

  Ask me to stay. Want me to stay. Don’t turn this into goodbye.

  When Noah’s mouth is on me, football seems like a waste. I’m ready to throw it all away for the man standing in front of me, but he refuses to even contemplate it.

  One reason. That’s all I need. One reason to stay. He can’t even give me that.

  So, instead of calling him on his shit because I promised I never would, I let him devour me, touch me, love on me instead of love all of me.

  His fingers slowly unbutton my pants, and I can’t catch my breath.

  “Hurry,” I say.

  “Gotta go slow. Make it good.”

  “Don’t. Don’t be nice.” I can’t handle it right now.

  Noah falters in his movements and pulls back. He eyes me warily before a mask of indifference takes over. “If that’s how you want to play it.” Something growly comes out when he talks, and it makes my dick jump.

  Without any finesse, Noah shoves my pants and boxer briefs down to my ankles, and I step out of them.

  “On the bed. Hands and knees.” But now his tone is distant and reminds me of hookups I’ve had in clubs. The lack of interest in their eyes … it was always about getting off. Noah’s never used that voice with me, and it guts me that he’s turned it on now, but at the same time, I need it.

  I need him to be the cold, oblivious rich guy who only cares about himself, because no matter how much I don’t want it to be, this is our goodbye. We may have weeks before I leave, but we’ve both mentally checked out to protect ourselves.

  I do as he says and shiver with nerves when I hear the soft thump of his clothes hitting the floor. The bed dips behind me, and strong hands grip my wrists and pin them above my head. It makes my ass stick up in the air even farther as my forehead lands on the mattress.

  There’s no physical way possible for me to be harder than I am right now. The anticipation, the heartache, and the need swirl around me, ending with me on the verge of begging.

  I’m so ready, but Noah doesn’t give me what I want.

  His mouth is tender as he kisses my shoulder, down my spine, across my back to my hip, and then my ass cheek.

  I’m stuck in a torturous world where I want more but can’t bring myself to ask.

  When his tongue finds the top of my crack, I freeze.

  “Umm, what are you doing?” My heart thuds in my chest.

  “Shh. No talking. I’m taking care of you.” His tongue lands on me, and my cock leaks. Electricity shoots up my spine and my gut tightens.

  “Fuck.” I’ve never been rimmed before. Never thought it was anything I was missing, but holy hell, as his mouth teases and prods me, my body turns into shaking, limbless jelly.

  When a finger replaces his tongue, I let out a whine.

  “Only about to get better, baby,” Noah whispers. “I promise.” His finger slips past my ring of muscle, and there’s nothing I want more than to reach for my cock right now, but the second my hand moves from above my head, he swats it away. “Don’t even think about touching yourself. I’m going to make you mine, you understand?”

  I nod.

  “I’m going to mark you and love you so hard that whenever any other man does this to you, you’ll only think of me.”

  I should be pissed that he wants to ruin me, but I know he’s already done that. I opened myself up to let Noah in, fully prepared to let him go when we were done, but he wormed himself in so far, there’s no way he can get back out. He’s in my heart, under my skin, and will always own a piece of me.

  Instead of saying these things aloud, I let him do what he promises.

  His mouth and fingers work in sync, teasing my hole, my balls, my cock—every inch of me.

  When I finally hear the crinkling of a condom wrapper, I let out a breath of relief. I don’t know how much longer I can endure his torture without giving into the molten lava inside me ready to explode.

  I’m gripping the pillow so hard my knuckles are white. “I’m ready.”

  “Not yet.” Noah’s lubed fingers stretch and tease, while he fumbles with the condom.

  I grumble but then when he hits my prostate, I let out a round of expletives.

  Noah chuckles. “Okay, now I think you’re ready.” With one last kiss in between my shoulder blades, Noah straightens up, and his cock pushes against my hole.

  Then nothing happens. The silence thickens the air, and his pause pisses me off.

  “Fucking hell, Noah, if you don’t fuck me this fucking second—”

  In a swift move, he thrusts inside.

  “Fuck, oh fuck—fuck.”

  Noah stiffens on top of me. “Shit, did I hurt you?” He tries to pull out, but I stop him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I grit out. “Feels good. Amazing. Need more.”

  His hips make the smallest of thrusts, testing it out.

  “Doesn’t hurt,” I assure him.

  This push and pull we have going on tears me in two. This is supposed to be about sex, and Noah being tender and caring ruins that.

  Yet, when he pulls out and flips me over onto my back, I get lost in those aqua eyes that are stupid. I can’t tear my gaze away. And when he leans in and kisses me softly—lovingly—I lose the ability to protest. When he moves in and out of me with the same type of worship, I can no longer hold it together.

  He cups my face, and it’s too much. This isn’t fucking. This … I don’t know what this is. I want it—crave it—but it feels like our end.

  I hope he’s wrong, because if I ever meet anyone who could compare to the man inside me, I don’t want to be thinking about Noah while I’m with him. Hell, I can’t even contemplate anyone else right no
w when it’s like my whole world is in this room.

  I adjust to his languid movements, but if he doesn’t start pounding me soon, there’s a real possibility I’m going to start crying, and no way am I doing that.

  “Noah,” I croak.

  “Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

  “I need you to stop being a pussy and fuck me.”

  Noah bursts out laughing, and I join him, although it sounds forced—even to my own ears which are pounding with my erratic heartbeat.

  He either senses I need this torture to end or I’m a better liar than I think I am, because he pushes himself up onto his knees and lifts my ass to meet his harder yet still slow thrusts.

  Without him on top of me, my dick stands at attention, begging to be touched, but with Noah hitting my prostate over and over again, I know if I reach for it, it’ll be all over.

  I block out Noah’s mumbled words of tight and hot and amazing, and every other term of need and affection because I know I won’t hear the one thing I want. I want words of forever and stay and a need that doesn’t include anything primal.

  He promised to bruise me and mark me, but I didn’t realize he meant the type of bruises that don’t heal. The pain in my ass will fade, the hickeys on my skin will disappear, but he’ll still leave his mark inside me.

  I thought it impossible to have a heart full of warmth yet have that same heart shatter at the same time.

  “I’m close,” Noah warns, and I snap out of my self-pity.

  “Touch me,” I whisper. “Take me with you.”

  Take me always. I swallow that shit down and come on a hoarse cry as soon as his fingers wrap around my cock.

  When I think I’m done, Noah pulls out, rips off the condom, and comes all over my stomach. I convulse again until Noah collapses on top of me.

  Sweaty and panting, we stay like this until the cum on our skin is cold and the air between us is suffocating.

  “Matt … I—”

  “We need to shower.” We need to not be tangled together. I try to push him off me, but he holds firm.

  “I need you to tell me we’re cool.”

  I nod.

  “Tell me this hasn’t changed anything. We’re still friends.”

  I swallow hard. “The best of.”

  He didn’t say I had to tell him the truth.

  When JJ—who’s suddenly fine with me calling him that and insists I do it—walks through the front door, he calls out, “Is it safe to come back yet?” He takes tentative steps, and when he turns the corner from the entrance that leads to the living room, he has one hand over his eyes and the other outstretched in front of him to prevent him from running into anything.

  “Fuck me harder, Matt,” Noah says and then starts making sex noises.

  JJ lets out a girl-like squeal and turns to run, but our laughs stop him. Slowly, he spins to face us with a tiny gap in between his fingers covering his eyes. When he takes in our fully clothed forms and the laptop open on my lap, he slumps. “Not cool.”

  “But funny,” Noah says.

  “What are you doing?” he asks me.

  “We’re looking for a place in Chicago for you and Matt to live.” Noah squeezes my leg, and the affection hurts. Ever since this afternoon, he’s been more attentive and touchy-feely. It’s as if he needs reassurance, but what I need is to start distancing myself. Walking away is already too hard, and he’s making it worse.

  Is he trying to kill me?

  “Oh,” JJ says. “Oh.” The disappointment is clear as day on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “I, umm … well, I totally just got a gig here, but no way will I be able to afford rent in New York on the salary.”

  “What’s the job?” Noah asks.

  “Playing in a band. They don’t get many gigs but they’re pretty good. Even played at Club Soho.”

  “Club Soho?” Noah jumps off the couch. “Are you serious? They’ve discovered a shit ton of famous bands there.”

  “I know. It’s the reason this band was looking for a lead singer. Their last one apparently ditched them for a record deal.”

  “That’s awesome.” Noah rounds the couch and hugs my brother, and it pisses me off. When I told him about Chicago, I got a grumbly “Congratulations, or whatever.” Hell, not even that.

  I shake all jealousy away and focus on JJ, because I already have a Noah headache from overanalyzing everything that went down today. “If this is what you want to do with your life, you need to give it a proper go. I know you said you don’t want a handout, but let me help—”

  “I’m not taking your money,” JJ says.

  “Even if you get a job to supplement your income from gigging, you won’t make rent. Let me—”

  “You can stay here,” Noah says. “Rent free. As long as you need to.”

  My gaze flies to his. “You’d … do that?”

  JJ’s entire face lights up at the possibility. “I’ll cook for you or clean or—”

  “I’m not gonna say no to your cooking,” Noah says. “But it’s not a big deal. New York is stupid expensive, and I’ve got the room.”

  JJ turns to me. “Are you okay with me staying?”

  If I’m honest, no, but the reasons I want him to move with me are more selfish than anything else. I’m sick of living alone and having no one. That doesn’t mean I can ask JJ to give up his dreams so I don’t come home to an empty apartment—especially when I’m going to be gone a lot when the season starts. “It’s your life.”

  “What if I don’t accept handouts, but if you ever want me in Chicago, I’ll let you pay for my first-class plane ticket?” JJ grins.

  “It’s a two-hour flight,” Noah says with a laugh. “You can handle being in coach.”

  “Says the guy with his very own Gulfstream,” I mutter.

  Noah playfully slaps the back of my head.

  “When do you have to report for training camp?” my brother asks.

  “Have to be at Milwaukee University in three weeks.”

  “Milwaukee?” Noah asks. “Training camp isn’t in Chicago?”

  “Only a handful of teams hold training camp at their own stadium,” JJ says.

  “It saves the turf and staying together in the one hotel supposedly creates bonds between teammates, and all that crap,” I add.

  “I guess when you’re in Milwaukee, you’ll have nothing to do but bond. Why Milwaukee?”

  “At least it’s not Hoboken.” I try to hide my smile.

  “If it was Hoboken, you’d be close to home,” Noah says.

  That wipes the smile off my face. Home. If he wants me to see this place as my home, then why the fuck isn’t he asking me to stay?

  He stares at me like he knows he fucked up, and the silence drags on for a beat too long.

  “So …” JJ says. “Uh … this is awkward.”

  Guess we aren’t doing a good job of hiding the fact Noah and I are in some weird limbo state. We’re over, but we’re not.

  “I have to go make some calls about Rainbow Beds.” Noah bounds up the stairs faster than John Ross’s forty-yard dash.

  “What was that about?” JJ asks.

  “We, uh, broke up.”

  “What? When?”

  “Today.” I massage my temple as I think about what the hell it all means, because I don’t actually know myself. “It’s weird. Basically, we’re together until I leave for training camp. So … we gave each other notice of intent to break up? Is that a thing?”

  “It’s a weird thing.” He throws himself on the couch next to me. “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying then? Won’t me living with your ex-boyfriend be weird?”

  “Nah. Noah and I are still friends. He’s also agreed to keep up appearances if he’s needed. ‘I have a boyfriend’ is apparently more believable to homophobes as to why I won’t hit on them in a locker room than ‘You’re not my type.’”

  JJ snorts. “So, three more wee
ks, huh?”

  “I was thinking I might head out to Chicago sooner than that. Get set up and move all my stuff.”

  “You can afford to pay someone to do that for you.” His tone and his gaze hold nothing but suspicion.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can stay when I know it’s over. The more I’m here … the more I don’t want to leave.”

  “So don’t leave.” JJ says this as if it’s that easy.

  “He doesn’t want a relationship—he’s not a forever guy. I need to accept that. We were both upfront from the beginning.”

  “But …” JJ chews on his lip.

  “But what?”

  “Nothing. I just thought you’d both fight for each other more. You’re like disgustingly in love, so it sucks that something insignificant like distance is going to break you up.”

  “Jet …”

  “Oooh, shit, he’s bringing out the big guns. Calling me Jet? Are you dying? Is that what’s going on here?”

  I can’t look at him as I say, “There’s something you don’t know about Noah and me. We were never really together. It was a favor. My agent said I needed to look like I was in a stable relationship and had to clean up my ‘party’ image. The media painted me to be some gay playboy with an alcohol problem and all that other crap. Noah’s been pretending to be my boyfriend this whole time. He’s a PR stunt.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. He’s nothing more than my ticket back into the NFL.”

  “I’m not calling bullshit on how you met. I’m calling bullshit that he was never your real boyfriend. You’re practically living together, and you’re always all over each other, and don’t think I haven’t heard you fucking, because I didn’t go out and buy noise-canceling headphones for nothing. I’m jealous of what you guys have, and if neither of you can see it, you’re both fuckin’ blind.” He stands in a sudden rush, startling me. “Oh my God, song idea.”

  I don’t have time to blink at him let alone stop him before he’s running upstairs to his bedroom. The door slams and then not even five seconds later, his guitar starts strumming a tune.

  My gaze goes back to the laptop in front of me, and my heart rips through my gut at the sight of Chicago apartment listings. What the hell am I doing?