Page 48 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

His eyes flashed to me with worry, so I tried reassuring him. “Babe. He’s not really going to send me to Buffalo. It was just his way of telling me he wasn’t happy.”

He moved away from me to the other end of the sofa and hugged his knees. “You don’t know my dad. He’ll do just about anything to keep me from being happy.”

I wanted to touch him, to hold him and reassure him everything would be okay.

But I couldn’t deny he knew Coach V. better than I ever would.

“Why?” I asked. “Because you’re gay?” I was still unsure about where Coach stood on it.

He’d been very accepting of me these past five years, but I couldn’t deny some of the times he’d seemed to gently discourage me from being public about my sexuality.

It was almost done with kindness, like not wanting me to be bullied by naysayers or hounded by the media. Like he was looking out for me.

But maybe I’d been wrong about that all along.

“He doesn’t come right out and say it,” Mikey explained, waving his hands around as he got more heated about the subject.

“He says all the right things and is supportive on paper. But whenever Mom talks about me finding someone or mentions wanting to plan another wedding for one of her kids—since I’m the one most likely to involve her in the planning—my dad says things like, ‘There’s no need for a big wedding.

Mikey doesn’t need all that.’ Or he’ll say, ‘Can you imagine the media firestorm? Coach’s gay son gets married in lavish wedding?

I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’ll only bring Mikey under attack by those hooligan reporters. ’”

That was similar to my own experience with him. “So it’s the publicity factor he’s most worried about.”

He sighed. “Which is why he can’t stomach the idea of me dating a player. What will the media say?”

“He’s not wrong, you know. Not only would the media be all over a gay player with an actual, real-life boyfriend, but they’d also lose their shit over a Riggers player dating the coach’s son.”

I watched him for his reaction, and it was pretty much what I expected. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said with a pitiful note of pleading in his voice, as if he couldn’t bear to stop and was hoping I’d have the strength to stop it for him.

He was going to be wildly disappointed. I didn’t have the strength to stop it, and moreover, I didn’t have the desire to.

“I strongly disagree,” I said as calmly as possible. “We’re two consenting adults.”

He lifted an eyebrow at me. “We’re boss and employee.”

“You’re fired,” I said between tight teeth.

Mikey barked out a surprised laugh. “You can’t fire me. I quit. And anyway, I’m going to be a famous cookbook author now, so I don’t need no stinkin’ personal assistant job.”

This wasn’t a total surprise. I’d been dreading and hoping for it since he’d talked about his dreams back in Aster Valley.

It was odd that he hadn’t mentioned the job opportunity in Aster Valley, but maybe he didn’t want to jinx it.

Hearing him talk about flying out there to talk to the Civettis had both crushed me and made me proud.

I wanted him to be happy, and I knew turning that lodge into a B&B was his dream come true.

But I didn’t want to lose him. If he was going to pursue his dream that far away, I wanted us to figure out a way to do it together, to make the distance work until I could retire and join him full-time.

I couldn’t wait any longer to touch him again. I crawled across the leather sofa and forced myself between his bent legs until I was propped on top of him. “Please don’t leave me,” I said softly.

He studied me as if processing my request and carefully parsing his words. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I chose to ignore the clanging warning bells going off somewhere deep inside my brain as he inserted the word want in there.

As if he’d do it anyway. Instead, I leaned in and kissed him, telling him with my slow perusal of his lips that he was more important to me than any nosy reporter could ever be.

Mikey’s hand came up to cup the side of my neck. “You could always come with me.”

These words hadn’t been tested. They were raw and real, but they were also impossible. “I can’t.” They were the hardest words I’ve ever said.

“I’m sorry,” I added in a near whisper.

He shot me a smile as fake as a dollar-store Santa. “Nope. Of course you can’t. I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t really mean it. You have football. I know how important it is to you. Giving it up for… this… would be ridiculous.”

Every cell in my body begged me to disagree with him, to tell him I didn’t want football if I couldn’t have him, too.

But it wasn’t that easy. Football was everything.

It had been everything for as long as I could remember.

Football was how my father and I communicated, how I proved my worth to the world, how I made my friends and family proud.

It was how I convinced myself that I was a hard worker, that I had dedication, drive, and commitment.

“Not ridiculous,” I finally said. “Just not… realistic. Not right now. But maybe we can figure out a way to make it work.”

“Maybe we can,” he said, leaning in to kiss me again.

By the time we finished our long stay at first base, I was itching to steal second.

“Take off your clothes,” I urged, moving onto my knees on the carpet in front of the sofa. “Want to suck you off.”

Mikey scrambled out of his shirt and jeans, revealing a tight little pair of navy-and-orange striped briefs. I chuckled. “I didn’t know you had Rigger undies. You’re full of surprises.”

“Santa brought them in my stocking last year. I’m not sure Santa knows any other colors besides navy and orange, to be honest.” He shucked the briefs down and dangled them by a finger before flinging them across the room with abandon.

I was fully on board with his “fuck it” attitude, and my dick was beginning to think there was entirely too much chitchatting going on.

I sucked on the tip of his dick and watched for his reaction. His eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned and reached his fingers into my hair. “Holy fuck, you’re good at that,” he said on an inhale.

I pressed my palm against his bare stomach and pressed him back into the sofa while I moved my mouth up and down on his hard shaft. He was a mix of clean and musky, and I wanted to lick and suck him all over.

I pushed his knees up until his feet rested against the edge of the sofa cushion.

My tongue continued teasing his dick while I reached blindly under the sofa for the bottle of lube we’d left there the night before after Sam had left.

He’d come over to watch a Fast and Furious movie which meant I’d sat there watching hard, sexy bodies on screen for two hours while Mikey squirmed against my side.

As soon as Sam had left, I’d pretty much gone feral all over Mikey’s person before fucking him loudly into the floor on his hands and knees.

I glanced down at his hole to see if it was still abused from the night before. As soon as I caught a glimpse of it behind his sac, I felt my dick scream against my blue jeans. Fucking pants .

The button was impossible to pop open while I was also trying to find the lube, so I gave up on my search, ripped opened my jeans, and then pushed Mikey’s knees to his chest to get a better look at his hole.

It squeezed tight when I yanked him forward until his ass was also at the edge of the cushion.

Mikey made a nervous, squeaky sound before covering his eyes with his hands.

Streaks of flushed pink peeked out from behind his arms, all down his neck and onto his chest.

I told him how sexy he was, how much he drove me out of my mind with need, and then I leaned in and ran my tongue along his rim.

The noise he made was carnal and raw, desperate.

But he didn’t beg. I could tell he wasn’t completely comfortable with this yet, so I took my time, interspersing licks and teasing nips between words of wonder and appreciation.

When I opened him up farther with my tongue, he finally broke.

“Please. Oh fucking god, that feels good. Don’t stop.

” His words became slurred the more I sucked him with my mouth and jacked him with my hand.

When I finally found the lube and pressed slick fingers inside him, he mumbled something about wanting to rim me, too, show me how good it felt.

Before he could finish his thought, I must have hit just the right spot because he cried out and came all over my hand and his front. Fuck, he was stunning. I could watch him take his pleasure all day, every day and still be happy.

I scrambled to stand and whipped out my dick, using my cum-slick hand to jack myself over him. It took a pitiful number of strokes before I was busting a nut all over his stomach and chest while he lay there panting.

The sight of him naked and flushed, covered in our combined fluids, made my orgasm last even longer.

My feelings for him were stronger than ever, and I felt incredible relief knowing he wouldn’t leave me because of his father’s media concerns. I’d come out a long time ago for a reason, and I wasn’t going back in the closet now for anyone.

“Let me grab a towel,” I said roughly before leaning down to run a finger through the mess. “Before this makes me hard again and I flip you over and take your ass.”

His eyes heated, and his dick tried to rally against his thigh. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re going to kill me.”

I stood up with a chuckle and made my way to the nearest bathroom where I wet the hand towel and brought it back. Once I had us both cleaned up, I lay down on the sofa and pulled him on top of me for a cuddle. I wanted to hold him for a little while.

SportsCenter continued playing softly in the background as I tried to muster up the energy to reach for the remote to change it. The orgasm, mixed with the relief that Mikey hadn’t stormed out or broken up with me, made me relaxed to the point of dozing.

Just as I drifted off, I heard his soft voice muffled against my chest. “I have feelings for you, too.”

I fell asleep with a giant smile on my face and Mikey V. exactly where I wanted him. In my arms.

Everything was going to be okay.