Page 14 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)

Games. If only she knew they weren’t games at all—a hunt. A lone wolf chasing down a wounded buck. The night itself siding with him, the forest bending aside to let nature play out. Drew ravaging my thoughts, destroying what I know of myself, distorting the direction of north and south.

“I know,” I whisper out, the words as thin as paper.

“You’ve always had a tender heart,” Mom says. “And men like that—men who thrive on playing games—they’ll eat you alive if you let them. So promise me you won’t.”

I glance at the Rover, brights blinking once more, almost mocking me. My heart flutters in betrayal at her words: eat you alive. If she only knew how much I crave for that, be turned upside down and tied up from the canopy of the oldest oaks and cedars.

“Promise,” I say, though I don’t know who I’m lying to, her or myself.

There’s a long pause, the kind where I can hear her shifting in her chair, chewing on the silence.

“Good,” she finally says, though there’s doubt tucked into the way it leaks through my speaker.

“I just worry about you, honey. You’ve been through enough already.

I don’t want to see you hurt by someone who doesn’t deserve you. ”

My chest caves a little at that—because what if I do deserve it? The punishment, the hunger, the chase?

“Yeah,” I say, forcing it out in a causal manner. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”

“Fine isn’t the same as happy,” she replies quickly, as if she’s been holding the line back for years or it’s from her work in progress. “Don’t settle for fine.”

Her words sting because I’ve been telling myself fine is good enough. Fine is Charlie’s laugh in the morning, his biceps around me, his safe jokes when I’m spiraling. But happiness? Happiness is messier. It’s Drew’s teeth baring at my throat, chaos disguised as intimacy.

The headlights blink again. Once. Twice. Like he’s answering her for me.

“I should let you go,” Mom says, softer now. “But call me again soon, alright? Don’t disappear.”

“I won’t,” I murmur, though we both know I might.

The line clicks, her voice gone, and I’m left with the static of my own blood pounding in my ears. The Rover hasn’t moved, I know he's anticipating my next move.

I inhale a massive breath, this is it. I’m done letting Drew taunt me, haunt me from his shadowy corners.

I’m entirely sick of his bullshit. I trot my way to the gate, entering the code so I don’t have to hop the black fence.

My pulse ratchets the closer I get to his vehicle, I’m sure he can probably hear it pounding from a mile away.

Drops of water begin to patter the pavement, puddles starting their collection.

The breeze stirs, tugging at my linen shirt, pulling dense fog in from the lake.

Above me, the sky churns into slate grey, a spooky color that makes you brace for sirens.

One that appears before a tornado drops down and unleashes havoc across a small farming town.

Christ. Does this guy control the weather too? Wouldn’t surprise me. This man is a certified psychopath, a manipulative liar. Bending my thoughts like a storm front.

The Range Rover looms larger with each stride, a glossy black, impossible to penetrate with your vision. He could be inside grinning, or crouched in the trees with his ink, letting me walk right into his mobile den of vipers.

Each breath is more difficult than the last, as if I’m sucking in tear gas instead of oxygen. My knuckles rap on the black driver's-side door. No answer.

I knock again, then after a few seconds that last an eternity, the window rolls down.

He’s sporting black sunglasses, even though the day is as dark as his ink.

His mullet’s tousled, messy in his punk way.

Rocking a sleeveless black tee, completely on brand for him.

I swear that the snakes are swarming to his wrists, slithering in circles, their tongues hissing, waiting for me to show my face.

“Can I help you, Lover Boy?” he smirks, lips wet as his tongue drags across them.

“Yes,” I snap, pulse breaking. “Why the fuck are you stalking me?”

He tips his head, cheeky and arrogant like. “I’m literally parked on a street. How does that qualify as stalking?”

That infuriating smile spreads wider, as if he’s proud of how easily he can twist the truth. Like gaslighting me is just foreplay. My teeth clench, grinding my molars. He thinks he’s so clever, so untouchable.

God, I hate how much that smugness makes my cock stir.

He drums his fingers lazily against the steering wheel, the ink shifting with each tap.

“See, that’s the problem with you, Lover Boy.

You think the world revolves around you.

News flash—it doesn’t. I came here for the view.

Lake, trees, quiet neighborhood.” His smirk sharpens.

“And if you happen to live across the street… well, isn’t that a lovely coincidence? "

I clench my fists at my sides. “Cut the shit, Drew. You’ve been following me.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Following? No, no, no. Protecting. There’s a difference.”

I scoff, heat rising in my face. “You don’t protect anyone. You wreck things.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says smoothly, leaning forward, lowering the shades just enough for me to catch the glint of his eyes. “I protect what’s mine. And you, Lover Boy—you’ve been mine since the second you looked at me.”

My throat tightens. “I’m with Charlie.”

“Charlie.” He laughs, the sound sharp and cruel.

“Charlie’s safe. Predictable. Daylight and small talk.

But me?” His voice drops to a whisper, a wolf’s growl under chocolate velvet.

“I’m the night. I’m the rush you can’t get from him no matter how many times he calls you good lad or whatever he begs you to call him. ”

I shake my head, my heart thudding profoundly in my chest. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” he says, licking his lips, “you came out here. To me. Not to Charlie. Not to your papa inside. You walked to my window like a puppy looking for it’s owner. You can call me crazy all you want, Lover Boy, but deep down you know I’m right. Otherwise, why are you hard right now?”

My breath stutters. His grin tells me he can see it—even through the storm-dark air, he knows. He’s penetrated my core, this prick of a man.

I swallow harshly, attempting to keep my voice sharp. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do,” Drew purrs, tapping the edge of his sunglasses back into place.

“You think you can lie to me? Your body tells on you. The way you shifted when you knocked. The way you’re standing right now—like you’re torn between bolting and climbing into my lap.

Don’t insult us both by pretending otherwise. ”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, low and cheeky. “There’s that fire. I like it when you bite. Makes it all the sweeter for when you break. Like a lolly that dissolves with enough licks of my tongue.”

“I’m not breaking.” I stammer, clenching my fists.

“You already are,” he says smoothly. “You wouldn’t be out here if you weren’t. You wouldn’t be glaring at me like you want to strangle me… or kiss me. Either way, Lover Boy, it ends with you panting.”

I swallow hard, hating that he can hear it. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe. But you’re mine, delusion or not.” He leans closer to the window, voice dropping to a taunt. “Say it. Just once. Call me what you’ve been thinking.”

I shake my head furiously. “No.”

“Say it,” he insists, the smirk curling crueler. “One word, and you’ll finally admit what you want.”

The silence stretches, my chest heaving, my throat catching. The word slips out before I can stop it. “King.”

Drew’s grin forms gradually and wicked, like an evil jack-a-lantern, victory seeping off of each syllable when he whispers, “Good boy.”

My stomach lurches, I want to barf every drop of stomach acid in my abdomen. I want to scream in unrelenting frustration. But I also ache to hear him say it again.

“There it is, that sweet harmony to my ears.” he chuckles. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that darling, that word slip from your pouty mouth.”

I swallow, throat dry, pulse racing. “I—I didn’t mean it.”

His grin sharpens, cutting through the drizzle. “Oh, you meant it. Your lips don’t slip like that unless your heart’s been screaming it all along.”

“Shut up.”

“Say it again.”

“No.”

“Say it,” he groans with his Manchester accent, attempting to command me with the flicker of his tongue. “Don’t think. Just give me the truth you’re choking on. Call me King again and feel how right it tastes, how it’ll feel settling those butterflies in your tummy.”

My chest heaves, caught between fury and arousal. “You’re sick in every fucked up way.”

“And you’re addicted,” he counters. “That’s the fun part. You can tell yourself you’re devoted to Charlie, but your cock answers to me.” He tips his sunglasses down, eyes gleaming like a beast's. “I own that twitch between your legs now, Lover Boy. Not him. Me.”

I grit my teeth, but the shame runs through, throbbing low in my belly. “You don’t own shit.”

“Then why are you still here?” he shoots back. “Why haven’t you run inside, slammed the door, tattled to your father, and called your golden boy? Because deep down…” He licks his lips, slow and frustratingly sexy like, “…you want me to keep stalking. You want me to hunt you.”

My hair sticks to my forehead, rain soaking through my clothes until I’m shivering in my bones. My cock is as hard as a steel rod. I crave him to chase me, but he’s disgusting.

A narcissist of the first tier and a mouth that would make Hades cover his ears.

Why the fuck am I entertaining this douchebag?

Because he’s sinfully hot, a duplicate of Charlie in the most sinister manner.

“Leave me alone,” I seethe, breath steaming in the rain-soaked air.

“Not a chance in bloody hell.” His chuckle rings low, too amused by my desperation.

“I’m not letting you go, no matter where you run.

Your King needs you.” He tilts his head, sunglasses glinting under the storm-light.

“You could scamper off into the field like a tiny mouse, but I’ll be the black cat.

The one that catches you between my teeth before swallowing you whole. ”

My stomach gurgles, battery acid rubbing my throat, disgust churning with lust. Almost impossible to digest. His words of torment shouldn’t turn me on, they should make my cock shrivel like a tomato witnessing its first frost.

I grit my teeth, whispering, “You’re insane.”

“Insane for you,” he fires back without missing a beat. “You’ll see, Lover Boy. One day soon, you’ll stop pretending. You’ll kneel at my feet and call it home. Finally feel my choking hazard waiting beneath these pants.”

I hiss and storm back toward the house. Every inch of me is drenched.

Rain plastering my linen shirt to my skin, precum slicking my cock against the tight confines of my jeans.

My shoes squelch against the patio stones, each step a sloppy echo of my shivering body, caught between cold, lust, and fury.

A knot so twisted it’s inconceivable to dissect, hard as diamond, unbreakable no matter how much I try to pry it apart.

I can’t do this anymore.

Not stand in the rain. Or spar with Drew’s smug and toothy grin. Or wrestle with the sick way his voice wraps around my ears, hissing like a serpent, pulling me into a filthy trance.

He’s driving me nuts in the most awful way.

The door slams behind me, muffling the storm, and the silence inside feels deafening. The quiet after the storm. My dad looks up from the couch, brows furrowed, but he has no clue of the cyclone ripping me to pieces. “You alright, son?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, wiping rain from my face. “Just—needed some air.”

I collapse into the nearest chair, trying to steady my breath, but Drew loiters. His voice drips through my skull like water seeping through cracks in a ceiling, echoing like thunder. Your King needs you.

And no matter how tight I squeeze my eyes shut, I can’t shake the terrifying truth—I want him to come crashing through the door after me, screaming like a banshee. Lost in a primal lust.

So that there’s no more pretending that I don’t ache for the predator already feasting on my core, resembling the pain of a festering abscess.

His voice preaches in my eardrums.

Lover Boy, I’ve come to take what’s mine, every ounce of your flesh. Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it soon enough.