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Do I like dudes? Or is it the adrenaline of the game? Yeah, that’s it. It’s the adrenaline.
He doesn’t realize that pressing his lips to mine gave me every right to figure out where he lived, every right to track him down. Every right to do whatever I wanted. It wasn’t my fault if the fucker signed a check he wasn’t ready to cash.
I want to make Zander Braithe beg for me, get on his knees for me. I want him needy and whining and an absolute slut for me. The problem is, once I want something, I can’t let it go until I have it. People might call me obsessed—I would say determined. People might say I’m a sociopath—I just say I’m a man who knows what he wants and what he likes. And what I want is Zander Braithe crying for me.
“You know what I think? I think you were in here with your hand down your pants, thinking about what it felt like to have my tongue in your mouth.” I lean in, dropping my voice to a husky whisper as I press my lips against his ear. “I think you were in here wishing I’d show up and put you on your knees, feed you my cock till you were choking on it. I think, Dimples, that you kissed the big bad quarterback you hate so much and realized you wanted more.”
Is it considered kidnapping if they’re over six feet and could probably beat the shit out of most people who tried to take them? Abduction? Hm. I think I prefer calling it persuasion. It makes me sound a little less psycho than I know I’m acting.
He’s just standing there and staring at me like he’s waiting for instructions. I stand up and yank my shirt over my head, then crook my finger at him. “Come here, you fucking puppy. Get on the bed.”
“I told you, Dimples. You’re going to beg for it… and when you’re a good boy, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be ruined. I’m going to fuck you until you’re wrecked for anybody but me.”
“I’m going to breed your ass, Braithe. Going to come inside you. Fuck, I can’t wait to paint the walls of your pretty hole.”
Why do I feel so free and… happy with him? Am I… Is this how girls feel when they get dickmatized? I’ve had more than my fair share of women thinking they were in love with me because I dicked them good.
Kerian: I’ll be watching your game tonight, Dimples. Don’t fuck up. Me: If we win do I get a reward Kerian: What are you, a fucking puppy? I barked a laugh at that message. Russ shot me a weird look from across the aisle of the bus we were on. Me: No but I need some incentive Me: Please?
Zander looks at me like I’m salvation, like he’s caught in the waves of the ocean and I’m reaching out my hand—safety, a lighthouse. I’ve never been anyone’s light.
“No, Zander, I mean it. You’re mine. It’s just me.” I flash a look over my shoulder and realize that’s the first time I’ve ever called him by his name. I think he realizes it too, because his eyes are wide and a little shocked. “Only me. Do you get it? If I catch you with anyone else, I’ll fucking kill them.” Shit. I mean it. The thought of anyone else getting to see the look he just gave me drives me wild. The knowledge that other people might have already makes me want to blind the world out of spite.
Kerian, this is my brother, Colson. Colson, Kerian.” The anger bleeds out of Kerian, though his expression doesn’t change. And he doesn’t apologize, just shakes Colson’s hand. “Good to meet you.” “I’m sure,” Colson says with a smirk. “You free for breakfast or you gotta take your pitbull for a walk?”
Kerian grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me against the wall, his blue eyes burning with anger and… something else. “God damn it, Zander. I never said I was done. I’m not trying to treat you like shit. I was trying to figure out how to tell you I fucking love you.”
I’ve never wanted to belong to someone before. I’ve never wanted to feel tethered. I’ve always been adrift in some weird atmosphere, aware that the earth was below me but not understanding why people would want to touch the ground. But there’s Zander, and he makes me realize why. I wasn’t meant for the dirt. I was meant for the sun. For his light. For his smile. “Yeah, Zander. I’m yours.”
I guess if I’m going to be friends with anyone, the man who can blush at a compliment one second and threaten to kill a woman the next is probably the right pick.
This is what we both wanted. This is our dream—to play in the pros. But over time, my dream changed to include Kerian. I don’t know where my life would have been without him, and I’m glad I don’t have to find out. Kerian is mine, forever and for always. I’m never letting him go. Just as I know he’ll never let me go. Seriously, the man is a psycho. He won’t let me go for all the money and fame in the world.
