I kiss him instead, claiming his lips with mine. He melts into my touch, opening for me and letting me taste him; I try and memorize everything I’m feeling but it’s all too overwhelming. He grips my shirt, and I pull it over my head, needing to feel his skin against mine, needing to feel all of him.
We collapse onto the bed, frantically pulling at our clothes, as though we both know this is a bad idea, and if we pause to think about it, logic will take over.
“I need to be inside you, baby, please,” I moan, kissing my way along his throat.
“Yes,” he pants.
Usually I’d take it slow, get him ready, but I can’t wait; the knowledge that I’m losing him, that this might be the last time I feel him, it’s making me desperate. I grab the lubeand messily slather some on myself, before lining up with his entrance and filling him in one thrust.
“Fuck!” he cries, digging his nails into my back. Knowing he’ll leave a mark there only makes me want it more; he’s marking me as his, and I want to be his for as long as I can.
I thrust into him again, reveling in how tightly he holds me as his hips move to meet mine. I’m consumed with the sensation of his skin brushing against me, how perfectly he fits under my body, his taste when I lick his throat.
“You’re fucking mine,” I growl into his neck, feeling my orgasm getting closer. “I told you that you’re mine, your tight little hole is mine. You’re fucking mine.”
He whimpers and cries out, but doesn’t agree like he usually does.
“Fucking say it, Donovan.” I thrust into him again, moving my hand to grip his chin, making him look at me. “Even if we can’t be together right now, even if it’s not the right time for us, you’re fucking mine.”
“Yes,” he moans, “fuck yes, I’m yours.”
His words send me over the edge, and my orgasm takes over, filling him with everything I have. My body wants to rest and collapse, but this isn’t enough, I need to make this last as long as possible. I pull out and kiss my way down his body, loving the way his hands feel when he grips my hair. His cock is so hard it’s practically throbbing, he’s desperate to come.
“Oh, fuck!” he whimpers, as I take him in my mouth.
I grip his ass and notice my cum leaking out of him, he whimpers and clenches around me as I use my finger to push it back in. I don’t let up, using my thumb on his taint and my finger inside to make him see stars. I’m determined to give him an orgasm he’ll never forget, if this is our last time together, I’m sure as fuck going to make sure he doesn’t forget it.
“Stephen!” he cries out, thrusting and filling my mouth with cum. I swallow every drop and keep working him with my hand until he can’t take it anymore, physically pushing me away from oversensitivity.
“Fucking mine,” I murmur, kissing my way up his body, before claiming his mouth again.
Donovan usually passes out after intense orgasms and tonight is no exception. I clean him up as best I can, before crawling in beside him and pulling him into my arms. I force myself to stay awake, watching him, taking in every little detail. The way his dark lashes look against his light brown skin, the way his hair softly curls at the ends, how soft and perfect his lips look.
I hate that this is ending, that it has to be this way, that the world won’t let me love him. He wouldn’t let me say it, but I do, I love him. And giving him up for football is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
I must have drifted off to sleep, because when I wake up, Donovan’s gone. A note sits next to my bed telling me he’s gone to stay with Jamie, that he packed a few things, and if he needs anything else he’ll come back when I’m in class. I check my phone in case he left another message there, but there’s nothing from him.
News has gotten out about me starting though and I’ve got a stream of notifications telling me congratulations, how happy people are for me, how this is the best thing that’s ever happened. I turn off my phone and roll away, letting myself cry some more, before I have to put on a brave face and step into my new role as a Warrior.
Chapter 19
Donovan
It’ssafetosaythat this week has sucked. Staying with Jamie and Max has been fine; they’ve been amazing and didn’t even ask why I needed to sleep on their couch, it was an automatic yes. I’ve kept my head down, attended class, gone back to the dorm for clean clothes when I knew Stephen wouldn’t be there, and basically tried not to cry myself to sleep every night.
Up until now I’ve avoided him completely, sticking to the campus buildings where I know he doesn’t have classes, and going to coffee shops he doesn’t frequent. It might seem extreme, going cold turkey like this, but I know if I have the opportunity to talk to him, I’ll tell him I was wrong, beg him to take me back, tell him I’ll be his secret for as long as he wants.
Short term that would be great, but it’s not what I want or need long term. I’ve hidden in secrets for too long, I need to be myself. And he also needs to be able to focus on football, without worrying about the wrong people finding out about us, or it turning into a scandal as he called it.
He’s been given the opportunity of a lifetime. I remember him telling me that less than two percent of college players get drafted, he’s in that two percent, and not only drafted, but now a starting player. He’s worked his whole life for this, and he’s earned it.
Going cold turkey was the best idea, but I couldn’t not see Stephen before he left. I knew he’d have one final practice with the Winbrook team, so here I am watching. Not like a normal person though… no, I’m underneath the bleachers, like a fucking stalker. I don’t feel like things could get any worse, it’s a low point for sure, and I know the only person who can talk some sense into me is Beth.
I dial her number, hoping that she’s free so I don’t have to be completely alone while I watch Stephen laughing and joking with his teammates.
“Hey,” she answers, “how are you doing?”
“Not too bad, you?”
