Page 30 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)

Drew

“You were fucking stunning out there tonight, babe.” I murmur into his ear, my voice hoarse from cheering on the sideline.

Austin hauled in the game-winning touchdown with seconds to go, snatching it down from two cornerbacks.

He had to step it up after Charlie shanked the easiest points of his life.

My Lover Boy did what no else could. “Best rookie wide receiver I’ve ever seen. ”

“How many rookie wide receivers have you watched?” Austin snarks, his grin growing.

“Just one…” I growl.

“Yeah? And how am I going to be rewarded?” He chuckles, the laughter echoing through the humming of the air conditioner in the hotel room.

“However you want, baby. Upside down, in the hallway. On the balcony with a view of the city lights. Blokes from miles around could see us… You tell me what you desire, and I’ll make it happen.”

His eyes shift, those chestnuts going glossy, hunger glinting through the polish of victory. “King, that is so generous of you.” His fingers brush down my jaw, the other hand fumbling with my belt.

The chill of the AC fades, swallowed by the furnace festering between us.

My teeth land in the slope of his neck, leaving sharp tender marks.

My nips are met with a string of precious moans.

Sounds that send waves of aching lust through me, feeding my feral desires.

I’m desperate to make those moans louder.

Loud enough for his coach to hear down the hallway.

The taste of dried sweat isn’t enough. I want every inch of him branded with ink, my signature etched into every flawless crease of his paleness. His voice barking in my ear as the needle drives in, while I fuck him to distract his mind from the pain.

I land a spank to his beautiful arse, tearing off his scanty shorts, exposing him down to his jockstrap with his bulge begging to profuse, thighs dazzled with black hairs. A scrumptious fucking sight, his member is like a missile pending takeoff to outer space.

Our lips brace, tongues swarming in a wrestling match to which he hastily surrenders. His muscle melting into mine. “Lover Boy… you are a bloody wonder.” I groan as my tongue brushes his mouth, sweeping every corner until he's gasping for air.

“And you are my divine completion,” he moans into my skull, a sound reminiscent of permission and capitulation.

“I can’t wait another moment,” I rasp. “Bend over for your master.”

“Yes, sir,” he whimpers, as I hold his strap tight, twisting it nearly into a knot and pushing him onto the edge of the bed.

The sheets are pristinely white, not a blemish to speak of. Yet…

I bring my mouth to his delectable pink flesh, my tongue getting to work.

Finding its rhythm in a zip and opening this hole like my life depends on it.

The combination of his sweat and musk against the texture of his fuzz is overwhelming—promptly dispatching blood to my prick, my cock about to burst from the sudden expansion.

His whimpers alone nearly send me over the edge. Visceral sounds that send triumph to my heart. Sounds that guide me like prayers.

I meet his prayers with further jabs up and down his breathtaking crease, ensuring that he’s sloppy and well-suited for me to take him.

Austin claws at the sheets, attempting to get a grip while his legs judder from the rapture I’m delivering. Every muscle shaking with pleasure. He’s unraveling apart in front of my eyes, I’ve never seen anything more ravishing than this surrender.

“Good boy,” I growl into his pink tissue. “Let it break you. Let your God break you.”

His muscles go limp, submission flowing down through the fibers of muscles.

“That’s my Lover Boy,” I rumble, lapping at his arse for good measure, before sliding my prick up and down his velvet crease. “You ready to see the stars? The Galaxies?”

He nods his head in a rapid succession, slight whimpers fading out from his lips.

“Yeah, you are… Just close your eyes and allow me to deliver you salvation.” I rumble into the shell of his ear as my crown meets its rightful place. I pause for him to unclench, to receive my advance with his explicit consent.

I thrust in past his persistent rim, a joy that never fades.

Warmth and lusciousness welcome me, a paradise fit for a king surrounding my length.

I push forward, his entire body welcoming my presence.

Our lungs breathing in the same cadence, our bodies harmonizing into one as I bury myself completely in his depths.

I groan as I truly indulge in my Lover Boy.

Soaking in his bliss. A man fit for a King.

A stud that tears it up on the turf and then submits in the bedroom.

A man that I can never let go. It’ll be me and him for the rest of time.

Fucking and showing the world that we are a match made for the heavens.

Charlie can gawk on the sideline. He watch us through the window for all that I care. He can witness what he can’t have as long as my pulse is ticking.

“You are such a treat. A forbidden truffle enjoyed only by those who deserve it.”

“Yes, King,” he wails as I pound, increasing my furor and intensity.

He deserves every drop of my holy cream, everything that I could possibly give. He deserves his own bloody cathedral for the saint that he feels like.

I brush my hand over my signature seared into his skin, a powerful reminder to everyone that he’s mine.

Austin Schmidt.

My Lover Boy.

My hips thrust inside, my prick ready to baptize him. Ready to give him the nourishment that he deserves.

“Beg for your cream,” I snarl into his ear, spanking his arse cheek, over and over until he answers. The red flare of my hands overtaking the paleness.

“Please master, give me what I need,” he whimpers pathetically while his lips quiver.

My cock judders inside his paradise, a storm of milk flooding his insides. I groan out in barbaric pleasure, appreciating his gratifying warmth mixed with my seed.

He’s a fucking miracle. That what he is. And he’s all mine. Even stamped with my bloody signature.

I look down to see the pool of pearly cream below his groin, soaking into the mattress. “When did you cum?” I ask, mystified.

“At the beginning,” he chuckles. “Just felt too good to stop you.”

“You are fucking crazy,” I murmur, plopping a kiss on those charming lips.

“I know… crazy obsessed with you,” he jests, as he twiddles his thumbs on my breastbone, outlining the expanse of my chest hairs. “So, do you think it’d be a bad idea to invite Charlie to my dad’s and Jackson’s wedding?”

“Uh yes… that would be insane.” I mutter. “Charlie wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you and me there together… holding hands.”

Austin’s smile fades, eyes darting across the room. “I know. I just feel bad for him. He’s going through a lot right now.”

I stare at him for a long second, torn between the urge to smother his face in my chest and the pang of irritation knotting itself in my gut.

He shouldn’t care about Charlie. He didn’t save him for the wolves.

But that’s the problem with falling in love.

You have to care about other people's feelings.

Or at least act like you do.

Fuck. Lord have mercy on me right now, but I can’t fake this bullshit. “Let him go through it. He’s made his bed. My brother isn’t our problem.”

Austin jerks back like I’ve slapped him on his face. “Drew, how can you say that! He’s your only brother.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t mean I’m going to love and care for him all of a sudden now that he’s a little depressed. He's not some lost puppy that we need to rescue.”

His chestnut irises stare sharply into mine. “But what if—”

“What if nothing. Don’t start with the what-if’s. Charlie chose to skip along on the golden road, while I was choking in the dark. He left me to rot. And now I’m supposed to cradle him like a newborn? Absolutely not. He can piss off back to Manchester if he needs a holiday from real life.”

His mouth gapes open, as if he’s offended by the truth, pulling away from my reach like I’ve burned his skin.

“Austin—” I start, reaching my forearm out to him.

“No, don’t say anything else. I’m going to sleep in a different room tonight.” He throws on an outfit of sweats, hustling out the door, before slamming it to my face.

Fuuuuck.

I comb my fingers through my hair. I should’ve faked it. Acted like I cared about my baby brother. But those words slipped from my lips like venom oozing from a viper’s fangs.

When did Charlie ever care about me? Where was his brotherly love when I needed it the most? He was silent and complicit while our father did the unspeakable. He never lifted a finger from his room, just hid beneath his sheets while I was left to bleed in mine.

Sure it might have been ages ago, but I’ll never forget his selfishness. Some scars don’t ever fade. Moments that won’t ever leave my memory—gnawed them so deep in my psyche that they’ve become a part of my personality. An instrumental part of who Drew Evans is.

Austin is wasting his time, caring about a spineless bastard like him. He only cares about the skin on his own back. He can portray himself as a hero, but I know he’s playing the part. Trying to win back Austin with his poor boy facade.

That’s what curdles my stomach acid the most. He’s not sorry for anything. He’s scheming, playing the victim for trauma that he's never endured, fishing for sympathy with his fake tears. Austin doesn’t see it, too blinded by his compassion for other people.

I stare at the spinning ceiling fan, constantly turning in aimless circles.

Picturing what it would be like to be one of those mahogany blades.

To not have feelings or a toss in the world for another object.

You just spin and spin in the same three hundred sixty degrees until that becomes your blueprint. Around and around the merry-go-round.

How cathartic that would be. To be without a pulse. To have a singular purpose. To not have a bloody twin that is absolutely infuriating.

Is it still too late to murder him?