Shameless Game (Shameless Sport #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I’d rather fuck a fire ant hill.

COLTON

The night before the Super Bowl

Ibang on Beau’s hotel door. I know he’ll open it. I know he’ll help me.

It doesn’t matter how much we’ve hurt each other or what we hide or deny; this is best friends watching out for one another, and the wooden door swings open.

“Can I crash here?” I grumble.

Beau doesn’t even ask. He knows. He steps aside and holds the door open.

Do I miss that all he’s wearing are tight gray boxers over his big, raging hard-on? Nope. It only adds to my frustration.

I sit on the edge of his king-sized bed and bury my head in my hands. “I told her I needed lights out by ten. I need sleep, but she’s going live, and sharing her Super Bowl looks like people give a shit. I asked her to stop, but she wouldn’t, so I had to get out of there.”

I glance up to see Beau rummaging through a gift basket on the table by the window. He tosses me a bottle of water from it before he cracks one open for himself.

“She doesn’t give a shit about you,” he mutters. “Sorry, man, it’s true, and I don’t know why you put up with her.”

“Better than being alone like you. Besides, she understands the biz.”

“Does she? Or does she understand the media but not the sport? But hey,” he shrugs, “she’s got a massive rack, and you’re a sucker for tits and tan blondes.”

“I don’t have a type,” I grumble. “I just need some goddamn peace.”

“You won’t find it with her.”

I lift the bottle and guzzle it down, knowing he’s right. I’m thirsty, but around Beau, it gets confusing what for. Especially when he’s in the best shape of his life and in his goddamn briefs, his cock now hanging half-hard, and that’s still damn big.

So I grin. “Did I interrupt your date with Kleenex?”

He grins back before downing his water, wiping drops off his chin with his forearm. “Nah, I’ve leveled up to a Pocket Pussy with lube.”

I glance at the nightstand and suddenly clock it, shocked. “You can have any pussy you want. Why the hell did you buy a fake one to fuck?”

“I didn’t. It was a gag gift from a pussy I’ve been dying to fuck.”

“Oh?” I rest back on my elbows. I stormed down here in my grey joggers and black t-shirt, so I’m cozy and curious. “Who? Michelle, our Director of College Scouting? She’s obviously so fucking hot for you. And one look at her and any senior will sign.”

“Never,” he scoffs. “I don’t dip my pen in the company ink. The Pocket Pussy was from a girl in college. I kinda loved her but wouldn’t cheat on Reese, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“So now what? You only dip your lonely pen in KY and a male masturbator?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “because you make real pussy seem very appealing right now. You’re the number one receiver in the NFL, the night before playing in the Super Bowl, and yet you’re the one kicked out of his hotel room by a hypebeast of lipliner.”

Asshole.

I laugh, throwing a pillow at him. “At least I got real lips locked on my cock, daily.”

He catches it, of course, and throws it back at my face, laughing. “Is that the price of peace? A little liplock from the most annoying mouth ever? I’d rather fuck a fire ant hill.”

“At least it shuts her up,” I confess. “I don’t have to hear about Kylie versus Rihanna.” Beau looks confused. “They have their own makeup lines.”

He throws his stubbled chin up, laughing. “Never tell anyone you know that.”

“My secret is safe with you.”

It’s sudden. The tender look in his eyes. The heavy stillness that takes the room.

Beau nods, muttering, “We need sleep. Rumor is we have the game of our lives tomorrow.”

He starts shutting off the lights while I refresh in his bathroom. I finger-brush my teeth with his toothpaste, see his bottle of liquid soap on the counter, and smell it.

Memories and desire rush through my veins.

It does something to me.

Beau does something to me.

It doesn’t matter the years we fought in college, the secret tattoos on my sleeves about him, the epic Iron Bowl battles, or even the drunken senior night I regret playing beer pong with him and his frisky girlfriend. I have so many memories, and a couple were horrible.

But me and Beau?

I regret our fights, but I’ll never regret our love.

We’re not a mistake.

Our love just isn’t allowed in our world.

I crawl in beside him, into the crisp white hotel sheets on the made side of his bed. Beau’s closed the window sheers but left the heavy drapes open. He hates sleeping in pitch dark. He says it makes him oversleep, so the muted lights of Vegas filter through, and I can see his eyes are open. He’s staring at the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep without giving your Pocket Pussy a creamy kiss goodnight?”

I make him smile, pausing before he asks, “Why do you date a woman like Amber when you can find so much better?”

I have nothing left to lose. I can’t have Beau, so why lie about this? I’ve always been honest with him, except for the one thing I have to hide.

“Because I can’t have you,” I answer, “so I punish myself with ones who’ll never compare.”

I don’t get this anywhere else in my life. Only with Beau am I really me, am I really alive.

He turns his head, his brow furrowed. “Why do you punish yourself over us? We’re not a sin. We’re a secret.”

“Don’t you?” I ask. “Don’t you punish yourself with shallow one-night stands? I see you. How no one gets close, no one’s a distraction. You have a big heart, but you won’t share it.”

“That’s not true.”

“You found someone?”

Why does that hurt? And why do I care?

Why? Because I know Beau. He doesn’t date. He’s a forever man. He’ll commit if he ever finds a woman he trusts, one who makes him laugh and love. He’s just waiting. He won’t be distracted now, but later?

He’ll be hers. Always.

I just hope he never finds another man, one he can be open with. I won’t survive it. I won’t know how to breathe.

“No, I haven’t found anyone,” he answers. “I find my fun. I got my kinks. When we win, I reward myself with a night with a French maid, a dirty schoolgirl, or both. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Fuck, he stirs my cock. “A maid and a dirty schoolgirl? Damn, I never knew. Do you get the schoolgirl all dirty for the maid to clean, or are they just into you? Gimme all the nasty details. Do you spank them for being bad?”

He laughs in the dark. “Yes, and fuck no. This is what I mean. You’re my distraction, Hawke. We need to sleep.”

And this is what knowing someone half of your life and loving them, too, gets you. When we’re alone, we’re a hundred percent real.

“I can’t.” I grind into the mattress like it’s his bunk bed. “Your kink made me hard.”

“There’s Kleenex in the bathroom.”

“I don’t want Kleenex.”

“I’m out of Puffs.”

“I don’t want Puffs or pussy either.”

I let the silence hang, heavy and wanting like my leaking cock.

“What do you want?” he finally asks, his deepening, gruff voice arousing me more.

“Something a dirty maid or a naughty schoolgirl can never give me.” I growl low, “Something real fucking hard and manly and thick like me.”

Again, we let the silence torment us. I can hear his breath changing. Then, I hear him rustle before tossing the sheets aside.

There’s plenty of light through the window. I can see his hungry eyes aimed at me. He’s taken his boxers off. His naked and proud erection angles hard, hovering long and thick over his carved abs for my touch.

“Then be a man and come and get it,” Beau orders as he does on the field, and I move just as fast.

I’m on him. I’m taking my chance. I don’t even tease.

I’m too hungry, too crazed to finally taste his cock in my mouth, and when I do, our loud groans could crack the walls, erupting from years of holding this lust back.

“Oh fuck yes, Colt!” Beau cries out, bowing his back, then thrusting his hips. “Fuck yes.” He palms my skull like a ball, controlling my mouth. “Yes, fucking suck me. Yes, baby. That’s it. Be my man. My dirty man. In your throat. All the way. Fuck yes, suck my hard cock.”

And fuck yes, I do.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just hunched over him, plunging my lips down his wide shaft and sucking him like I love to be sucked. Hard. Gagging. Drooling and shameless.

I can’t fit all of Beau in my throat; no one can, so I grab his thick base, squeezing and twisting while I lose my mind, bobbing my head, too. Gliding his swollen slick salty tip over my tongue, I want him so fucking much.

I want his pleasure because it’s mine, too.

“Fuck, Colt,” Beau growls. “Fuck, baby, yes. Let me suck your cock, too. I want to taste you.”

We’re too aroused, too familiar and foreign. We’ve never done this, but it feels right. I shove my joggers down, kicking them off before I yank my T-shirt off, too, and turn my naked body.

We’re lying on our sides. Our cocks are hard and so desperate for each other, but it’s intimate, too. The way Beau sinks his hand into my hair, watching and guiding my mouth to take him again while he thrusts his hips, not hard, just hungry enough to make me drip for him, to make me know how much he needs me.

And then he does it.

While his cock is deep in my mouth and stretching my lips, I feel his, his whiskers sinking down my shaft as he swallows my length, and my feral groan is like no other. I don’t know the sounds coming from us. I’ve never known overwhelming pleasure like this.

I can tell he’s never done this before. Neither have I, and that’s what makes it too much and perfect.

My hips thrust, my cock fucking his mouth, too, and tears leak from my eyes. It’s not just from his size. His cock chokes me, and I love it. I’m moaning and choking him back. I know I’m long. I know most can’t take all of me, either.

But I shed tears because Beau can. He can take my body and heart because he’s always had them.

My soul, too.

I don’t know how long we do this. It’s like we don’t want it to end, but once his finger finds my virgin ass and starts teasing me, I’m gone.

“Oh shit.” I drool over his tip. “Beau, please. I want you fucking my ass. Please.”

“Just gimme your cum tonight,” he orders. “Shoot it down my throat, Colt. Fuck, I love you. Make me fucking choke on you. Let me finally taste you.”

I give him what he wants. I palm his head between my thighs and pump my hips, watching while I fuck his sexy face. His bearded lips drool over my shaft until his gag fills the air, his fingertip sinking deep into my ass, and I’m gone.

“Fuccck!!” I roar. “Fuck yes. Fuck, Beau. Beau, fucking take me. Swallow.” I keep pumping. I keep grunting and gasping, spilling my cum down his throat until it’s drooling over his lips, too. “Fuck yes, you’re my man. Take my cum. Take it.”

Now it’s my turn because Beau won’t relent. He has to win. My cum drips from his lips while he yanks my mouth down his shaft, and I give him everything. I take him. I receive him. I open to him until I’m tasting him, too.

“Yes, Colt. Yes, baby. Take this cock in your sweet, dirty virgin mouth.” He thrusts hard. “Take it. Fucking take it. I love tasting your cum on my tongue while you taste mine, too.”

With five more groaning thrusts that make me gag, that make me see blissful stars, Beau’s thick cock jumps in my mouth, and he can’t even shout. His body just locks, his deep grunts so erotic while he holds my head still so we can’t move. We’re latched together while he shakes, his warm, salty love filling my mouth, and I moan, finally tasting him, swallowing him, licking every drip off my lips for him to watch.

For silent minutes, we lie together. He kisses my cock as I go soft. I do the same to him. Then I turn my body and kiss my way up his trail, one I’ve mapped for years, before I find his lips, and our deep kiss is new.

It tastes like us reborn, and it’s terrifying.

We’ve crossed over again. With each rare time we’re together, it grows more intense. The deep friendship we need. The ache to be together. The love we can’t deny.

But the stakes are too high now.

We can’t even talk about it or fight about it anymore. We’re grown men, and we know the truth.

For the first night ever, maybe the only night, I fall asleep, wrapped in Beau’s arms, and I swear I feel his tears on my back. Silently, I shed them, too.

The next day, we awake, and I have to leave without another kiss. We can’t speak because it’ll destroy us. We don’t know our world anymore. We’ll always love football, but now, we hate the sport.

In our world, as teammates, we have to win today.

But the real question is, as men in love, why must we keep losing, too?