Twenty-eight
There’s a small voice inside my head telling me how dumb I am. That just dropping everything and rushing to him at the click of his fingers is pathetic as fuck. That I’m probably walking straight into some kind of trap.
But, I block that voice out.
Whether I’m being stupid or not, all that matters is getting to Asher. If he needs me, I’ll be there, no matter how much he’s hurt me.
My chest is heaving by the time I reach the locker room, my cardio quota for the year well and truly met. I reach out a hand to open the door, then hesitate. What if my paranoia isn’t totally misplaced? What if this is a trap? Chewing on my bottom lip, I pace the hall a couple of times, trying to decide what to do.
In the end, I go with my gut.
Fuck it.
Asher’s alone when I enter, and my body floods with relief. He’s sitting on a bench in the middle of the room, bent over with his head in his hands. His football gear’s on, minus the helmet perched beside him. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, he jumps to his feet and spins around.
“You came,” he breathes, voice thick.
I don’t respond for a beat, just take a second to look him over. He hasn’t looked at me properly since that night at dinner, hasn’t spared me a glance. But now, he’s staring right at me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. Eyes that are bloodshot and wet like he’s just been crying. He looks paler than normal, almost green, and his body’s hunched in on itself, a vast difference from his usual confident stance.
“I did.”
“I didn’t think you would. Fuck, I thought you’d tell me to go to hell.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “And you came to the game, too. I can’t believe—”
I shrug. “I made a promise. I don’t take those lightly.”
“Right.” He nods once, eyes falling to his feet. “Of course.”
“What’s going on, Asher? Why aren’t you out there with the rest of the team?”
His breath rushes out of him and when he looks back up, his eyes are brimming with tears. “I-I just… I can’t—” He stops, tries to compose himself. “I’m so scared I’m gonna fuck this all up. I don’t know what to do.”
“So… you texted me.”
I don’t know what to think or how to feel. Does he want me here because he still cares and needs my comfort? Or is he still just using me for something?
“I’m so fucking sorry, Oakley.” He shakes his head, throat bobbing. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“Then, tell me. What the fuck happened? Why did you do that to me?”
“I never wanted to hurt you. You have to believe me. I didn’t—”
“Why, Asher?” I demand, voice rising. He just shakes his head again, scrubs his hands over his face. My patience is wearing thin, all my anger and need for answers from the last few days rising to the surface. “Tell me!”
“He made me, okay?” he yells, a sob breaking free. “My fucking dad told me that if I didn’t break things off with you and agree to the deal with Peyton, he’d stop paying for my mom’s therapy. He’d throw her out on her ass with no money and no place to go. I couldn’t— I couldn’t let him do that to her.”
For a minute, I’m completely speechless. I don’t know why I’m even surprised by Mr Brooks anymore. I always knew he was a vile bastard, but to threaten to do that to his own wife, to the mother of his child… that’s just pure evil. Unforgivable.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I whisper. “I would have understood.”
“I didn’t have a choice. He took my phone, wouldn’t let me out of the house for the whole day. He didn’t spring it on me until an hour before the dinner. There was no way I could warn you.”
“So, you and Peyton, you’re…” I swallow down the bile threatening to rise in my throat. “Getting married?”
He moves closer, hands raising like he wants to touch me but is too afraid. “No. I won’t let it go that far. I’ve got a plan to get out of it, to keep my mom safe. But, I have to wait until I graduate to access my trust fund. As soon as I have it, I’ll be able to take over paying for her care. To find her a place to live.”
A bitter-sounding laugh escapes. The irony of this entire situation is not lost on me. Not one bit. “I have to wait until graduation to access mine, too. That’s the reason I’m staying in this fucking town.”
“The only reason?” he asks tentatively.
Immediately, I want to tell him no. That he’s a big reason why I’m still here, not just the money. But, everything still feels too messed up, too raw, to admit that right now. So, I change the subject. “And my uncle? He was in on it too?”
He ducks his head, trying to hide the flash of disappointment that slides across his face. “I have no idea. My dad just said that he was already coming for dinner, and it was the perfect time to—”
“Break my heart?”
Every part of him deflates, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. “Oakley…” He edges closer again, this time not stopping when he reaches out to touch me. His hand comes up, thumb tracing gently down the side of my face. My eyes flutter closed at the contact. “I can’t begin to explain to you how sorry I am. Seeing you hurt, it fucking destroys me. It’s the last thing in the world I ever wanted to do.”
“I want to believe you, but…” A sob catches in my throat, my own tears falling thick and fast. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”
Both of his hands cup my cheeks now, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Did it feel real? When we were together?”
I’ve spent the last week trying to convince myself that it didn’t, that it was all a big lie. But, I could never fully do it. Something deep inside of me wouldn’t let me. And I guess that alone is enough to give me my answer.
“Yes.”
“Then, believe that. Because it was real. Every single fucking second of it, Oakley. It was all real.”
His forehead drops onto mine and I whimper, our noses crushed together. For the first time in days, it feels like I can finally breathe again. He’s here. Asher’s here, with me, in my arms, and everything feels right again. The way it should be. I hold him to me, squeezing him so tight I’m surprised he’s not gasping for air. I take a minute to let the sheer relief settle into my bones, and when my mind clears again, I remember where we are and what’s happening right outside those doors.
“Why are you hiding in here, anyway?”
He turns his head, sighing into the crook of my neck. “This game… it’s the biggest one of my entire life. It could shape my whole future. I’m fucking terrified that I’m gonna screw it all up and be forced to follow my dad’s plan.”
“Since when did you start doubting yourself? You’re the best one out there and you know it. The Golden Bears would be crazy not to have you.”
“I wish I could believe that. I’m just too in my head and I can’t— Fuck. I can’t get out of it.”
An idea forms, a way to give both of us what we need. It’s probably not my smartest one, given where we are and the fact that we haven’t properly talked everything through yet - and trust me, we have a lot to talk about - but I never make the wisest decisions when it comes to Asher.
I tilt his head to the side, snatching up his lips and parting them with my tongue. He kisses me back greedily, moaning into my mouth, then he pulls away quickly.
“W-what are you doing?” he gasps.
“Getting you out of your head,” I murmur, dropping kisses along the underside of his jaw. “I need you focused, playing the best game of your life. Because when you get that scholarship, and leave for California… I’m coming with you.”
His eyes meet mine. “You are?”
“Would you want that?”
He grins, so big and bright that it lights up his whole face, has that adorable dimple popping out full-force. My heart explodes inside my chest. “Fuck yeah, I would.”
Our mouths come together again, fast and hard and messy. His hands are everywhere; sliding down my back, squeezing my ass, scraping through my hair. My skin burns from his touch, every bit of contact making me more and more lost. My cock’s aching, begging to be released from the confines of my pants. I grind my hips into Asher’s and he whimpers, jerking away.
“Fuck, I’m so hard but my cup’s strangling me.”
“Pull your pants down,” I order, mouth watering as he rushes to comply. “Do you have any supplies?”
His eyes fall shut, disappointment etched into his features. “No. I didn’t think—”
“Are you clean?”
“It’s only been you, Oakley,” he croaks.
“You and Peyton never—”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
Sheer relief rushes through me and I have to physically stop myself from fist-pumping the air. My mouth still ticks up in a smile, though. “Good. I’m clean, too. So… bare?”
I swear to God, he actually shudders. “Hell yeah.”
I tear open my own pants, shoving them down my legs before pushing him to his knees with my free hand. Jesus, just the sight of him there… it threatens to undo me. The star quarterback is kneeling at my feet, in his fucking uniform, with his lips parted, ready to suck my cock. Now I’m the one shuddering.
“Open up, Ash,” I rasp, head tipping back as the heat of his mouth wraps around my length. “That’s it. Make it nice and wet.”
He groans around me, swirling his tongue all over my shaft, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. I peel his hand off of my hip, sucking two fingers into my mouth, swallowing around them like he’s doing to me. His eyes roll back, the vibrations of his moans sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my balls.
“Fuck your fingers, baby. Get yourself ready for me.”
His hand trembles as it disappears between his legs, and the guttural cry he lets out lets me know the second he’s breached himself. He follows my directions, adding a second and third finger when I tell him to, stretching himself open perfectly.
The sounds he’s making, the lust burning in his eyes… those things alone would be enough to have me teetering dangerously close to the edge, but add in the way he’s choking on my cock? I’m done for.
I haul him to his feet and back him up against the closest bank of lockers, before spinning him around until his face hits the metal. “I need to be inside you. Now.”
He moans. “Yes, fuck. Please.”
I position myself at his hole, pausing a beat before pushing inside. “This might hurt.”
“I can take it.”
With that, I grip his hips and slide home in one solid thrust. He cries out, his curse echoing off of the walls as one hand comes up to slap at the locker door beside his head. I go to check if he’s good, but he beats me to the punch, shocking the shit out of me as he takes the reins.
He rocks back against me, forcing me in and out. “Fuck me hard, Oakley. Make me feel it for a month.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I fist his hair, arching his back as I drive inside his ass over and over, pounding into him so hard that he slams into the locker with every thrust.
“You want it hard, huh?” I growl, sinking my teeth into the side of his throat. “You want me to fuck you so good that you won’t be able to walk? So that everyone will take one look at you and know your ass belongs to me? You’re mine, Ash, and I’m never letting you go again.”
He groans, his arms bent behind him as his fingernails claw at my ass cheeks.
“Say it. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Oakley. I’ll always be yours.”
My pace increases until I’m slamming inside him almost brutally fast. His shoulder pads knock into me, probably gonna leave bruises on my chest, and that only makes it so much hotter. He’s desperate now, mewling and whimpering frantically, completely undone. And the feel of being wrapped in his tight heat, bare, makes my head spin. I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m so close. Jerk that fucking cock, Ash.”
He wraps his hand around himself, his garbled moan ringing in my ears. “Oh, please,” he pants. “Please, baby. Please come inside me.”
Fuuuuck. He’s trying to kill me, I swear.
“Wanna feel you when I win the game,” he continues. “Wanna feel how much you own me.”
A month ago, Asher stood in front of me, watching me bleed, telling me that he owned me and it seemed like the worst thing in the world. And now, here he is, begging for me to own him. It’s mind-bending. But he was right, though. He does own me, in every sense of the word. I’m a hundred percent Asher’s.
His ass clamps around me like a vice and he tips his head back, screaming out his pleasure as his cum sprays over the locker in front of him. My own orgasm hits me like a freight train and I thrust once, twice before burying myself to the hilt, filling him with my release.
Before the last spurt is even out, there’s a loud bang on the door.
“Hey, Brooks! Are you coming, man? Coach is getting pissed.”
Asher sighs shakily, his voice rough and gravelly when he shouts back. “Be there in a minute.”
I pull out, grabbing a clean towel from the bin in the corner to clean us both up. As soon as our clothes are righted, we stare at each other for a beat, then burst into laughter. Jesus, that was a close one. His teammates could have come bursting in, or his Coach or… fuck, his dad. We sure love playing with fire.
“There’s a party tonight at my place,” he says, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Kind of a celebrate if we win and drown our sorrows if we lose type of thing. Will you come?”
I clear my throat. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if your dad sees?”
“He won’t be there. He’s leaving right after the game to go to some business conference halfway across the country. And… I don’t care anymore. I want to be with you. Fuck the consequences.”
“But, your mom—”
“I’ll figure it out.”
I think it over for a minute, really loving the sound of those words. Fuck the consequences. “I’ll be there.”
He grins and picks up his helmet. I don’t know how he’s gonna play tonight after what we just did. He’s still trembling, his cheeks flushed and breathing uneven. Still, there isn’t a single doubt in my mind that he’s gonna fucking smash it. I take the helmet out of his hand and lift it onto his head.
“Kick ass out there,” I tell him. “I’ll see you after you win.”
And there’s that damn dimple again.