Page 9 of Personal Foul (The San Diego Storm #3)

Colin

C oach St. James ruined my Sunday afternoon by starting my first class in football. After lunch at a local cafe, he took me over to see the stadium. It was a magnificent structure with an open roof and seating for seventy-five thousand fans.

The lot was empty, so we opted to come back another day. I’d seen photos online and couldn’t wait to experience it up close.

His first mistake was in assuming I knew nothing about the game I would be paid ten million dollars to play.

It never occurred to him that I might have spent the last month watching every video I could find online.

I wasn’t ignorant of the game like he thought, but if all I had to do was sit on his big, oversized sofa and stare at him, I’d take one for the team.

Carson stood in front of his large-screen TV with his laptop connected to create the split screen.

A rugby game was displayed on one side, and a football game on the other.

He’d gone all out and bought a pointer stick and a big dry-erase board filled with x’s and o’s .

As he droned on and on about things I already knew.

I watched his lips move, imagining how they might feel on my cock.

Or better yet, mine on his as we sixty-nined on this big sofa.

“You might want to take notes,” he informed me.

I kicked back like a lazy bum and waved him off. “Nah, I got it up here. How hard could it be?”

That little comment set off his first mini-tirade as I enjoyed the scolding he was giving me. The only thing missing was the popcorn.

“There’s going to be a quiz,” he threatened, making me laugh.

“Okay. But I gotta tell you I’ve been playing Madden NFL for years. I think I got it, mate.”

Tirade number two kicked off with a passionate dissertation on why playing football in a video game is nothing like the real thing.

And just like last time, I sat back and watched him work himself into a frenzy, pacing back and forth in front of the TV, hands waving around, along with the occasional smack of the pointer stick to the dry-erase board.

Not expecting it, I jumped, but all that did was make my dick harder.

And I imagined jumping off the sofa and tackling him onto it, only to yank those athletic shorts down and suck his dick until he came down my throat.

And if that didn’t calm him down, I’d finger fuck him until he couldn’t breathe.

Dammit, I was hard again.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he screeched, snapping me out of my fantasy.

I blinked a couple of times to end my fantasy.

“Learning football,” I replied. But he was talking about my hand down the front of my shorts.

“No, you’re not. Stop that,” he spat, not taking his eyes off my shorts.

I laughed. “I can’t. It’s a biological response to a stimulus.

Your bitching and moaning is making my cock hard.

I can’t learn anything about yards and passing if my dick is throbbing because of you.

And don’t get me started on what it does to me when you smack that stick on the board. I almost came!”

Carson was breathing hard and gritting his teeth. I should probably tell him I had a photographic memory, but I’d wait. This was too much fun. Time to poke the bear again.

“If you were a really good teacher and teammate, you’d help me with this. But I don’t think you’re that devoted to my learning as much as you think you are.”

Carson was like a pressure cooker. The heat was rising with no release in sight. It was apparent that he was struggling. I could see it in his eyes, and in his boxers.

“I fucking hate you.”

A devious smile stretched across my face. “Ya don’t. Ya really don’t. You’d rather show me who’s the boss and take me to my knees. Make me beg.”

I had him right where I wanted him. Hot and bothered, but not quite there yet. One more incentive might be enough to push him over the edge.

Grabbing the waistband of my shorts, I fisted my cock with one hand while I tugged them down, hooking them under my swollen balls. Fully exposed, he could see the evidence of what he did to me.

His eyes remained on my straining cock as I swiped my thumb over the tip. Collecting the nectar of the rugby gods, I brought it to my mouth but stopped before tasting myself.

Carson’s eyes followed its path before parting his lips ever so slightly. His tongue snaked out to lick them, making a bead of pre-cum rise to the top.

I was dying for him to do something. Anything. If he told me to come, I just might do it. But he remained frozen in place, making me hurt for him. I knew he wanted this. Wanted me.

“Please,” I whispered.

The magic word moved him closer until he was leaning over me. One hand landed on the back of the sofa while the other fisted my hair. He jerked my head back before crushing his mouth to mine.

Delving his tongue between my lips, I hung on for dear life as he took me apart with a single kiss. Seeking and exploring, moaning and humming. And when he was through, he pulled back just enough to sear me with his eye. Heat and lust swirled there, but I knew he wouldn’t let himself have it.

Releasing my hair, he stood over me.

“Go take care of that,” he said, then walked away.

I didn’t see him again for another hour until he got in his car and left.

I had two hours to sit with my regret before Carson returned. After the best kiss of my life, both my ego and my cock deflated when he walked out. I realized I’d gone too far and needed to make things right before we shared a room for two weeks. That would be unbearable for both of us.

Allister and I were sitting on a lounger when he returned. The sound of his car door closing caught my attention, right before Bella came bounding onto the pool deck with a frisbee in her mouth.

My cat made a run for it, leaving me with hind claw marks across my thighs. He didn’t know what to do with her, just like I didn’t know what to do with her owner.

“Hello, beautiful girl,” I crooned as I petted her. “Did you enjoy your time out with your daddy?”

Bella barked, then dropped the slobber-soaked toy onto my lap. She looked at me expectantly as I picked it up with two fingers.

“Don’t feel obligated to throw that for her,” Carson said as he took a seat across from me. “She has no off-switch. It’s part of her breed.”

I smiled. It sounded like he was describing me.

“I don’t mind,” I replied, tossing it in the air. “Seems like the animals are the only ones I don’t fuck things up with.”

He didn’t respond but simply watched as Bella retrieved her toy, then went into the small patch of grass to relax in the shade. I couldn’t keep her attention, either. But he wasn’t snapping at me and seemed more relaxed than when he left. But I couldn’t be sure.

I didn’t know where to begin, but I knew if I didn’t say something soon, he might walk away and never speak to me again unless he had to on the field.

Turning my attention away from Bella, I expected to find Carson scowling at me. But his attention was fixed on the water. He sat back in the chair, unblinking, with his hands steepled under his chin.

Nervously, I cleared my throat and shifted back in my sun lounger. When I was as comfortable as I was going to get, I apologized.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. It won’t happen again.”

Leaning forward, Carson propped his elbows on his knees, then averted his gaze from the water to the concrete.

My anxiety ramped up with every second that passed, waiting for him to respond.

My impulsivity had already gotten me into trouble, so I resorted to keeping a running count of how many times he inhaled and exhaled as he stared at the ground.

Turning those hazel eyes on me, he held my stare and crushed my dreams of him fucking me into the mattress.

“I’m sorry I lost control and kissed you like that. I didn’t know what to do. And you were…”

He glanced down at my lap, but I didn’t need to relive that moment.

I raised my hand, suddenly very embarrassed by my actions. “I know. I’m not used to being turned down by a hookup, so I got a little carried away. I guess I thought if I showed you how much I liked you, you might say what I wanted to hear.”

I stared at the ground, then rubbed my fingers over my mouth.

“Which was what, Colin?” he asked, catching my attention.

No longer able to look away, I fixed my eyes on him. The agony on his face matched the ache in his words. No one had ever seen me the way Carson did. His eyes pleaded with me for something, but I wasn’t sure what.

An answer, maybe?

To pretend it didn’t happen?

“I thought I saw—something. But I’m not good at reading people, so what the fuck do I know?”

Carson dropped his gaze again, then wiped his fingers across his lips. I followed the movement, wanting his eyes back on mine.

“I hate to break it to you, Kearney, but you’re wrong about a lot of things.”

My heart sank to my feet. I don’t know why it affected me so much, because I was used to that.

“Yeah? Care to share?”

He picked up his head and began to count off all my misconceptions.

“First, you’re an idiot if you think I’m not attracted to you, because I am. It’s taking everything in me to stay in this chair right now, and it took more strength than I knew I had to walk away from you three hours ago.”

I sucked in a breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. The second thing you were wrong about was my sexuality. I’m bi, not gay.”

I held up a finger, unable to stop myself. “Technically,” I said, moving to the end of the lounger to be closer to him, “I said bi and pan. Even included fluid. So I wasn’t completely wrong.”

Carson closed his eyes and shook his head. “Whatever.”

I grinned and bit my lip. His eyes opened, and went to my mouth as I licked my lips.

“I want to bite that,” he whispered, still staring at my mouth, “then lick away the pain.”

A violent shiver rippled up my spine as I slid closer. I watched him warily, afraid that if we broke eye contact, he’d disappear before my eyes.

“I want that too.”