Page 40

CHAPTER 40

ASHTON

"With the third pick in this year's NBA draft, the Charlotte Hornets select Marcus Vell from Cumberland Valley University."

The arena explodes with applause and cheers. Marcus immediately looks at me, eyes wide, and I bite my lip to keep from tackling him to the ground and covering his entire body with kisses, and maybe humping his leg for good measure.

We stand, and I pull him in for a tight hug. "You fucking did it, baby."

Eventually, I have to let go and let his mom slip in, but I keep an arm on his shoulder. She's bawling, tears streaming down her face, shoulders shaking. She pulls back, holding his arms. "Your dad would have been so proud."

Marcus' cousin Sean is next, squeezing him so hard his eyes bulge a little. Sean is even beefier than Marcus is, but a little shorter and with reddish hair. His boyfriend Carl is with him. Marcus' aunt couldn't make it since she's recovering from some kind of brain surgery.

Greg pats Marc on the shoulder, and Coach Burke shakes his hand so enthusiastically I think he might yank it off. He already told Marcus that if he ever wants to consider coaching, there'll be a job for him at CVU, but he's proud as punch to have a top draft pick to brag about.

Marcus gets shuffled off to the stage to shake hands with the commissioner. He's handed a teal and purple cap, which he puts on. It makes his ears stick out adorably. I think I'm grinning bigger than he is as he poses for a photo with the commissioner, then presented with a teal jersey with a purple number twenty. He’s led away backstage, and an usher comes to escort us to the press room.

"This wasn't something you wanted to do?" Carl, the cousin's boyfriend, asks as we're led down a hallway. I've noticed Carl is a lot chattier than Marcus or Sean, and we got along great when we all met for dinner and drinks last night.

"Nah, I've got some different things on the horizon. Plus, this way I can follow Marcus all around the country and annoy the shit out of him for the rest of my life."

Carl snorts. "I think I like you."

"Don't tell Sean, he might break up with you." I laugh, but I'm a little bit serious. Sean is not my biggest fan. I had the pleasure of meeting him one of the many times I've tagged along when Marcus visited his mom's house, and he was immediately the opposite of impressed. He mostly glares at me.

"Meh. He's alright," Marcus' mom says, putting her arm around my waist and hugging me. She's barely five foot eight in her heels, so I have to bend pretty far down to kiss the top of her head. Sean might not like me, but Julie has come around to team Ashton. We've done a few shifts at a soup kitchen together, and she lets me help cook even though I'm terrible. I've never met someone as warm and open as she is, and she's become a bit of a stand-in therapist because she's so easy to talk to.

Sean grunts.

We're led into the back of a room filled with reporters and cameras. This is Marc's moment, and we're meant to be quietly supportive from the back, but apparently the press was waiting to see if I'd be here to support Marcus like I said I would. I smile and wave, opening my jacket to reveal the Charlotte Hornet's t-shirt I wore. It was an optimistic wardrobe choice, but I had high hopes.

"What if he got picked by Washington?" Sean asks under his breath.

"It was a possibility, but I encouraged Marc to talk with an agent, and they helped facilitate some pre-draft meetings where he was able to express his interest in playing for the Hornets. Charlotte wanted him just as much, and there were rumors that Washington was going to choose Brandon Sera. Atlanta would have been the other possibility." Checking to make sure no one else is looking, I pull my collar down to reveal a white t-shirt with red and yellow letters. "I was hopeful, but I was prepared."

Sean gives me the closest thing to an appreciative nod that I'm ever likely to get from him, then moves farther down to take some pictures on his phone for his mother.

The door opens, and Marcus steps in, wearing his new jersey. Camera's flash and there's some applause, but everyone gets to business quickly.

"Marcus, how does it feel to hear your name called and officially become part of the Hornets’ family?"

Marcus leans forward to speak into the skinny microphone on the desk in front of him. "It feels surreal," he says, and gets some chuckles.

"What was going through your mind when you heard your name called?"

"Everything and nothing at the same time." That gets some more laughs. "I froze for a moment, thinking all of this couldn't possibly be real. I never imagined I'd be up here."

"Who or what motivated you along the way to keep pushing you to get to this point?"

Marcus raises his eyebrows, eliciting more chuckles from the crowd. "Smooth," he says, and laughs. "A lot of people were integral to my journey. My mom and my cousin have been my biggest supporters always, through all the ups and downs. My dad—” He stops, swallowing deeply as his eyes grow glassy, and places his hand over his heart, on top of the tattoo he got for his dad after he passed. "He's always with me." There isn't a sound in the room, nor a dry eye that I can see. Marcus sniffs, smiles, and tilts his head to look back at me. "And of course, my boyfriend. I wouldn't be sitting here today without his influence."

"Are you disappointed that he didn't enter the draft with you?"

"No, of course not. I fully support Ashton's decision to follow his own path, and I'm proud of the big things he's going to do in the world."

"Marcus, since Gene brought it up, I have to ask—You've been very open about your sexuality and are one of the very few openly gay athletes in the NBA. What does this moment mean to you as you begin your professional career?"

Marcus looks at the smooth reporter who opened this line of questioning. "Thanks, Gene," he snarks, earning him another burst of laughter from the pressroom. They fucking love him.

"My mama taught me to be gracious and thankful for every opportunity I have in this life, because they can so easily slip through our fingers. I am thankful that the Hornets' staff and coaches are being so welcoming and supportive, because we live in a world where something as petty as my sexuality could mean I'm passed over. I wish I didn't have to feel that way. I wish it wasn't a topic of discussion at all. Who I love, how I identify, my orientation, none of it has any bearing on who I am as a person or a player. I'm not any more or less open about being gay than a straight player is with their relationships, I'm just living my life as fully and authentically as possible. I shouldn't have to hide, and it shouldn't matter."

There are a few low murmurs, and I notice some appreciative nods. I have a feeling there were a lot more questions regarding his sexuality, but Marcus has managed to gain their respect enough that they move on to more relevant questions about his plans for moving to Charlotte and how he hopes to integrate his versatile skills to contribute to the team's dynamic.

Next to me, Carl snickers. "She said versatile ."

I snort out a laugh. "She has no idea."

Carl high fives me. Julia elbows me in the ribs, and I snort, accidentally getting the attention of the back row of reporters.

"Sorry. Uh… Pollen," I rasp, holding back tears of laughter.

Greg hands me a tissue. Coach Burke reaches from the row behind me and smacks the back of my head. I probably deserved that.

" Jeeee-sus what a day," Marcus says, flopping down on the hotel bed. It's not as fancy as the last hotel we got put up in, but it's still pretty nice. I wanted to pay for an upgrade to a suite, but Marcus stopped me. He said I needed to watch my privilege. Whatever that means. I'm about to watch my privileged dick sink into his ass.

"How does it feel to get everything you didn't know you wanted? A fifty-million dollar NBA contract with your top choice team, to be named the press favorite NBA draft pick, and a super sexy, rich boyfriend."

His eyes are closed, but he grins. "You think being rich has anything to do with it?"

I let out an exaggerated sigh. " Fiiine. Your super sexy boyfriend that has no gag reflex?"

"That's better," he says, groaning as I lift his legs, one by one, and remove his shoes.

"Well?"

"Surreal and overwhelming, mostly. I don't think it's quite sunk in yet."

"It hasn't, has it?"

"The ink isn't even dry."

"Well… let me show you this, then." Plopping on the bed next to him, I pull out my phone and open my email.

Marcus lifts up on his elbows, taking the phone when I pass it to him. His nose scrunches. "What is this?"

"AJames Enterprises’ new operations office," I say.

"Wait, did your dad?—”

"Signed everything without protest," I confirm. "Not only that, but he held a special meeting and fired the entire board of directors."

"Holy shit, can he do that?"

"One major benefit to Mimi being a power-hungry control freak is that executive powers are heavily written into the bylaws, plus the family has never held less than a sixty percent stake in the company."

"That is lucky, I guess."

"There was some pushback, and some are threatening legal action, but they won't follow through on it. There's not one person on that board that isn't involved in some kind of scandal, insider trading, or other corrupt, illegal activity. Of course, they could call my dad's bluff, but seeing as he just had our family's closest friend, attorney, and largest shareholder arrested for fraud, insider trading, and tax evasion, I think they know he means business."

"No, he did not."

"Yep," I take the phone back and pull up the news article that shows a picture of Kenneth Richards in cuffs while his sprawling estate was being raided.

"Isn’t he worried about being investigated himself? And can you please send that to my mom?"

"Already done. I showed her earlier today while we were waiting around for our big shot NBA player to be done with is media briefing and meeting with the head coach."

"Is that why she was crying when we came out so he could meet you?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. That was super cool of him to come out and introduce himself to me."

"I figured it was best to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. I imagine he's going to have to get used to seeing your face."

"You're goddamn right he does. I'm not missing one game, one media outing, or one opportunity to embarrass the ever-loving shit out of you."

I roll on top of him, peppering his face and neck with kisses as I name all the ways I'm going to drive him crazy every day for the rest of our lives.

"And right now, I'm going to get started by letting you know that I bought you a present."

"How is a present going to drive me nuts?"

Smirking, I stand up at the end of the bed, stripping down to the tiny, purple silk thong. Marcus scoots down to the end of the bed eagerly, grabbing my hips and pulling me to stand between his knees.

"This is pretty," he says, trailing his hot breath over my belly before his tongue licks up the bikini line, tickling the crease of my thigh. My eyes roll back as he mouths my silk-covered erection and then turns me around. His fingers run along the underside of the string nestled between my cheeks, coming to a quick stop when he feels it. "What is this?" he asks playfully.

Abruptly, he stands and whips me around to face the bed, bending me in half and kicking my legs wide in one fluid motion.

He trails the tips of his fingers down the length of my back, raising goosebumps across my skin, before hooking his fingers under the string of the thong again. He pulls it to the side and lets out a breath.

"Is that pretty, too?" I ask him as he stares open-mouthed at the large silver butt plug with a shiny purple gemstone at the base.

"So. Fucking. Pretty. And so big."

"Not as big as you," I say truthfully.

"You love having your ass stretched open wide for me, don't you, Princess?"

His fingers play with the base of the plug, moving and twisting it around. " Mmmph … Yes."

He pulls away from me, and I hear the rustle of clothes falling to the ground. While he undresses, I retrieve a bottle of lube from my bag, then climb into the middle of the bed, reaching inside my underwear to stroke myself.

"Take it off," he orders. "I'd hate to accidentally rip your pretty things trying to get to your cock."

I comply and get to my knees on the bed, stroking myself for him. "Where do you want me first, big shot?"

He thinks about it for a full minute, the anticipation making my dick leak.

"I want to bend you over and fuck you hard and fast, fill you to the brim with my cum, then plug you back up so it stays inside you while you fuck me. Then I'm going to keep fucking you through the night and into tomorrow, filling you with my cum and plugging you back up, over and over again. We're going to go to brunch with my new team with you full of my cum and that fat plug decorating your pretty ass."

Well, fuck.

"How does that sound, Princess?"

I don't even have words to respond. I simply turn myself around and present myself like a cat in heat.

Marcus doesn't play with me much, other than thrusting the bulbous plug in and out a few times so he can watch my ass swallow it like a magic trick. But once it's out, he replaces it with his cock, slamming into me in one hard thrust. I'm face down on the bed, knees spread and ass up, submitting myself completely to the ravaging happening to my body. I love it when he's rough with me. Then again, I love it when he's soft and sweet, or playful, or slow and lazy. I love having him inside me, part of me, and I love being inside him just as much.

Will we always be this way? I don't know. Maybe one day when we're older, we'll slow down. Maybe a day will come where Marcus Vell walks past me and my dick doesn't immediately perk up.

Maybe.

But when that big cock is pegging my prostate, turning me inside out, I don't believe a time could exist when I don't want to have Marcus Vell's cock inside me, or vice versa, twenty-four-seven-three-sixty-five.

" Ffffuuuuu —Marc, baby. You fuck me so good. I don't know how much longer I can hold off."

"Ready for me to fill you up, Princess?"

"Yes, God, please?—”

Marcus groans as his orgasm hits, his fingers digging into my hips as he slams his load deeper and deeper inside me, rocking against my ass in such a way that I call out a warning. Marcus reaches between us and pinches my balls. I yelp at the sudden, sharp pain, but it does the trick to redirect my pleasure. I'm able to breathe and hold back my orgasm while Marcus pulls out of me and replaces his cock with the plug. It feels strange compared to his cock, lifeless and heavy, but it jostles inside me deliciously while we move to reposition. I take Marcus laying on his side, with me on my knees and our legs entwined. With every thrust inside him, the plug pushes down on that spot, and I imagine his hot load sloshing around inside me.

I come hard and collapse behind Marcus, still gently moving in and out of his perfect ass.

"I want you to stay full of me, too," I say, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling him hard against me. I kiss up and down his neck, shoulders, and back until he succumbs to his exhaustion. I follow him into dreamland with my cock still safely nestled inside him.

My cock, hard and ready for round two, wakes us up a few hours later. I'm still inside him, so I fuck him first this time, then let him fill me up again. He makes his deposits three more times over the course of the night and the next morning, I can barely walk from being so sore and full.

It's perfect.

He's perfect.

We're perfect.