I slide my hand down his chest slowly, feeling his muscles tense beneath my palm. My fingers trace the line of his abdomen, then dip lower until I reach the waistband of his shorts. Without breaking eye contact, I slip my hand inside and wrap my fingers around his hard cock.
Tate gasps and his head falls back against the locker with a soft thud as his hips buck into my hand.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve been hard for me,” I whisper, stroking him slowly. “I remember the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t paying attention.”
His breathing is ragged, and his hands finally move to grip my shoulders. His knees buckle slightly as I increase the pressure of my strokes.
“Lan—” he starts, but I cut him off by sucking his earlobe into my mouth, my tongue flicking against it. The sound he makes—a low, desperate moan—goes straight to my cock.
“You want this,” I murmur against his ear. “You want me. Stop lying to yourself.”
His hips thrust into my hand, his grip on my shoulders tightening, and his nails dig into my skin.
I can feel him trembling.
Pulling back slightly, but still stroking him, I take in his glazed eyes, and his pupils blown wide. His chest heaves with every breath.
“Say it,” I demand softly. “Say you want me.”
His jaw clenches as his eyes squeeze shut. “I can’t...”
“You can,” I insist as my thumb circles the head of his cock, pulling a strangled sound from deep in his throat. “You can, and you will.” I increase my pace, my movements becoming more intense.
Tate’s entire body goes rigid, his breaths becoming shallow and fast. His hands grip my shoulders so hard I’m sure there will be marks, and I find I don’t care. I want the marks as proof that it happened. That he let me do this.
“That’s it,” I whisper against his ear, my other hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, holding him in place. “Let go for me, Tate. I want to feel it.”
His hips thrust upward one more time, and then he comes, his body shaking as he spills into my hand. Tate’s mouth fallsopen in a silent cry, and he buries his face against my shoulder, his entire body trembling with the force of his release.
“Fuck,” he gasps against my skin.
I continue stroking him, feeling every pulse and shudder of his body. When he finally goes still, I slowly withdraw my hand, stepping back just enough to give him space to breathe. He’s leaning heavily against the locker, his legs unable to support his full weight, eyes still closed.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, and the vulnerability in his gaze nearly undoes me.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he says, his voice shaky. “Between us or with the team. This can’t happen again.”
“We’ll see,” I say, licking his cum from my hand as he watches on wide-eyed. I smirk at him, then turn my back to get dressed before Levi comes to find out what is taking me so long.
Behind me, I can hear the thud as Tate slides down to sit on the bench, and I can’t help the small, satisfied smile that crosses my face.
Tate might think this is over, but it’s only just beginning.
Chapter Six
Abby
Aspen sent me some of her old View4U footage, and though I hate to admit it, she is right. I need to get some man meat involved. Yet how the hell do I get Landon to agree? It can’t be Levi; he would be too willing, and that would blur some serious lines. At least Landon hates me as much as I hate him.
As much as it pains me, I have to put the past behind me. We were young, and maybe it all worked out for the best. I snort at my thoughts. Nah, fuck those assholes, they broke my heart instead of being man enough to end things between us before moving on with that whore.
The worst thing is that I would have been fine if we’d broken up. Relationships end. I know that.But Landon’s betrayal hurt more since he was the one who talked about a future with me. He told me things he’d never told anyone else before, and I stupidly thought we were endgame. Levi is different; he is impulsive and thinks with his dick. If either was going to break my heart, I forsure thought it would be him. How naïve was I? They both tore my heart out of my chest, and I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.
I pull up the View4U app and upload some pictures and the brief clip Aspen and Arlo helped me put together, then I scroll to the notification that someone subscribed to my content. I click on the username #Notaserialkiller where the app prompts me to send them a welcome message.
I snort at the username. Only a serial killer would call themselves #Notaserialkiller. That’s like saying “definitely not suspicious” while wearing a ski mask and carrying a duffle bag full of rope and plastic.
