I always topped Dirks. Always. He needed it. Craved it. Loved when I tugged his hair back and said things like,“You don’t come until I say so. Be good for me.”
He’d eat me out like it was worship, take orders with that hungry, desperate look in his eyes that made my whole body tighten.
Jeremy didn’t beg.
He told me what to do. Bent me over, shoved my face down, held my throat while he fucked me roughly.
I circled tighter, breathing hard, letting the images in my head take over.
Dirks on his knees, lips wet, eyes wide, waiting for permission to touch himself while I sat on his face.
Jeremy behind me, rough palm against the small of my back, voice low and sharp—“Keep her still, Dirks. I want to hear her choke on you while I fuck her.”
My hips lifted off the mattress. My body clenched around nothing, the pressure unbearable.
“Please,” I whispered, not even sure who I was begging.
I came, and my legs shook, back arched. I cried out as the orgasm ripped through me. My fingers didn’t stop. I chased every last pulse of it.
The video was still playing.
Dirks threw one last punch. Jeremy stood guard beside him, breathing hard, eyes black with fury.
I hit pause.
The screen froze on both of them—Dirks grinning with blood on his lip, Jeremy glaring, mouth set in a line like he’d kill for the people he loved.
I stared at it, still panting, my skin flushed, my sheets soaked. I felt more alive than I had in weeks.
And somehow . . . more alone than ever.
2
dirks
Saturday mornings at the North Shore Farmers Market had started to feel like a pregame ritual.
Luckily for me, one of my best friends, Ledger, came along with his wife, Auburn, and their daughter, Evie.
“Farmers market season’s almost over,” Ledger said as he pushed the stroller. “Then you’ll be gearing up for your last run. We were lucky, you know—most guys don’t get to finish out on the same team. Hell, I thought for sure they’d trade me before I ever got that last game with you.”
“I still can’t believe this’ll be the last one,” I said. “After this, all of us will be out of the league.”
It was surreal. Ledger, Alex, and I had all started with the Chicago Ravens around the same time. Alex had already retired, settled down with his wife and two kids. Ledger was working for a nonprofit, teaching kids how to play hockey. I was the last one standing. The last old bastard still playing.
Auburn’s bouncy, blonde curls flashed past as she tossed another bag of veggies into the stroller basket.
“Did you hear Austin’s coming home?”
Austin was her son, and he’d played in the league for the Ravens for a bit before heading to rehab.
I closed my eyes and wiped the sweat from my temple with the back of my hand.
Every time rehab came up, the conversation was always about Austin. Always about how well he was doing. How proud everyone was, but no one ever mentioned Jeremy.
Hell,Ididn’t talk about Jeremy. Not out loud, anyway, but not a single day passed that I didn’t think about him and wonder how he was doing.
All I knew was that he left the league a few months after Austin, went to rehab, too... and nothing. I’d tried texting him. He never responded.
