Chapter 11 #2
“Fine, yell at me all you want. Just talk to me.” His voice comes out soft and steady.
“Haven’t I let you treat me like complete and utter shit for months?
I’ve let you challenge me and curse me out in front of how many team members and staff?
So why would I give a shit if you are yelling at me in the middle of the field during a game. ”
I turn fast, my anger rising like a tide. “You deserve every insult, and the way I’ve treated you.”
His jaw flexes. That same jaw that I used to kiss when he was too proud to say he was sorry. That same mouth that used to whisper my name like a promise.
“How long are you going to punish me for leaving you? How long are you going to pretend that you still don’t want me? I was nineteen years old. My father threatened to cut me off. I didn’t know how to choose you and survive.”
“You didn’t even try,” I remind him.
Snatching my bra from the bench, I quickly fumble with the straps and manage to clasp it behind my back.
I place my shirt over my head, ignoring my wet sopping hair that is soaking my shirt.
Grabbing my bag, I turn so that I can leave.
I push past him, but he catches my wrist. Not hard.
Just enough to stop me. My breath hitches.
Don’t react. Don’t give him that, I think to myself.
“Tell me to let go,” he says.
I don’t.
His hand slides down my arm slowly, reverently. My skin feels like it’s being set on fire with his touch. God, I hate this. I hate how easily he can turn me on. I hate how much I want it.
“I still dream about you,” he admits. My eyes meet his. They are warm and soft as he looks at me. “About this.”
My heart thuds, traitorous and loud. “This is a mistake.”
“Then stop me.”
I don’t.
I can’t.
Our mouths meet like a crash—no finesse, no foreplay, just longing and rage coming together.
I kiss him like I mean to bruise him and hurt him.
He kisses me like he’s a man drowning and I am the only thing he has to hold onto.
His arms wrap around my waist, and I’m hauled up against him like he can’t get me close enough without entering me.
My fingers claw at this back and pull on his dress shirt, freeing it from the dress pants that it’s tucked into.
His hands move to my hips and grip them, hard, like he’s making sure I can’t run away again.
This doesn’t feel like we’re forgiving each other.
Or healing from the hurt we caused. This is punishment.
This is proof that he still wants me. That I still own the owner of the team.
Our lips break apart and we’re panting. His eyes boring into mine, they are full of question as he slowly begins to pull the shirt that I just placed on my body off.
I let him. Our eye contact only breaks when the shirt covers my face.
I lean into him, like I’m trying to get him inside of me right this instant.
A smile curls on his lips as his hand reaches behind and pops the clasp of my bra, freeing my breasts.
I see his eyes turn molten with desire at the sight of them.
I move my fingers to the front of his pants and begin working his belt. I want his pants off immediately. “I need you,” I grit out. I hate myself for saying it.
“I need you too,” he admits. He grabs my hands and pulls them from his pants. “I need to lock that door.” He gestures over his shoulder to the door that leads to the hallway. “No one can come in here right now.”
I nod, watching him quickly make his way over to the door. Slowly, he opens it and peeks out. Closing the door, he turns the lock and moves back over in front of me.
August unbuttons a button on his shirt and quickly pulls it over his head.
I’m left with the view of his abs and that delicious ‘v’ that always made me go stupid when we were in college.
It’s so much more defined now. Even though he no longer plays, he certainly makes sure to stay in shape.
I bite my lip at the sight of him. He grins and opens his pants.
“Turn around,” he orders.
My thighs clench together as I obey.
I hear the click of his shoes as he steps forward. I can feel the heat of his body against mine. If I lean back, I’ll feel him where I need him.
“Put your hands on the locker.” It’s a command, and normally I hate being ordered around by him. But right now, this is exactly what I need.
I place my hands on the blue lockers, pushing my hips back and out so that he can enter when he’s ready. And god, I hope he does it soon.
“So fucking beautiful, Hendrix, with your ass pushing out like this for me. I just need to remove those shorts. May I?” he husks in my ear.
My traitorous body whimpers at the thought of him removing my pants.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He nips at my ear before moving his hands to the waist of my shorts. Slowly, he pulls them down, taking my underwear with them, so that I’m bare for him. “Oh, Hen, you are so fucking amazing. I can’t wait to come inside of you again.”
His hand slides to my hip and grips at my pussy. He pinches my clit before pushing two fingers inside of me. I respond by whimpering again as I push my hips back into him.
“August,” I moan.
“Yes, baby,” he whispers in my ear, reminding me of just how close I’m letting him get to me right now. “What is it that you need?”
“Stop with all this foreplay. You’re ready,” I say, pushing back into him. I can feel his erection through his briefs against my ass. “I’m ready, so fucking take me already or I’m going to put my clothes back on and leave you here sporting wood.”
He chuckles. “You wouldn’t do that to me. Because right now, the only thing that you need is for me to take this sweet pussy and make your forget what it’s like to be without me. And I need to be inside of you again.”
The ripping of a condom wrapper tells me that even though he’s teasing me right now, he’s definitely planning on pushing into me soon. I grind my hips back against him, feeling his hands back there, as he slides the condom onto his length.
“Hold on, baby,” he grits out before grabbing ahold of my hips and pushing himself against me.
I cry out, feeling him deep inside of me.
His movements are swift. He’s taking me so quickly that I can feel his balls slapping against my skin.
The sound fills the room along with our grunts and moans.
August leans down, kisses my shoulder, and moves his hands to my breasts.
His aggressive pinching causes my orgasm to reach his breaking point.
He bites into my shoulder. I let out a moan at the sweet feeling of pain.
“Oh god, August, fuck yes,” I cry out as my orgasm rips through me. My legs start to shake as I can feel another one building. “Fuck, I can’t keep on standing like this.”
“Sure, you can, baby, you can do this for me,” he grits out as he kisses on my neck, while he slams in and out of me.
The light kisses on my shoulder are a paradox from how hard he’s thrusting.
But I don’t care, I love the pain of it.
I live for this pain because it reminds me that I’m alive and that he’s here with me.
I adjust my hips back and push into him harder. That is what makes him finally let go. August’s hands grip my hips tightly as he cries out in the quiet of the room. Another orgasm rips through me as I let out a string of curse words, while August does the same thing.
Then the room goes silent.
The only thing that can be heard is our harsh, ragged breathing. I can feel my legs shaking as I slowly work to catch my breath. August is still holding onto my hips; his head is now resting between my shoulder blades as he comes down from his high.
“Are you sure this is still such a bad thing?” he asks as he slowly pulls out of me. I hear shuffling behind me enough to realize that he’s righting his pants and disposing of the condom.
I lower my hands from the locker and begin to pull my shorts and underwear back up.
I find my discarded shirt and bra on the floor.
Pulling both on, I lower myself onto the bench.
My chest is still heaving as I catch my breath.
August’s chest is doing the same as he watches me from where he stands across from me.
I can see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Why the fuck does this keep happening?” I ask.
He smirks. “Because we are good together, Hendrix. I just need for you to accept that.” He says it so simply like we don’t have a whole sordid history that I can’t get over.
“Nope. You still left me,” I remind him.
“It’s always going to be about that, isn’t it?” he asks.
I nod. “I lost a big part of myself. There is so much you don’t know about what happened to me after that...” My voice trails off.
“So, tell me,” he says matter-of-factly. Like it’s just that fucking simple.
I shake my head. “No, I have to get to the bar. My brother is waiting for me.”
He nods, his eyes hollow. “I still regret it, you know.”
“Good.” I reply. Let it haunt you, I think. Let it rot in your chest, like it does in mine. “I gotta go.” I get up from the bench, gather my stuff and turn to leave. “See you at the bar.”
August doesn’t reply. He just watches me and I feel his eyes on me the whole time, while I unlock the door and flee the locker room.
There’s a deliciously sweet ache between my legs from where his strokes punished me.
I smile thinking about it. But then I pull myself together because my brother and friends are waiting for me.
As far as they know, I would never allow August Cromwell to fuck me like that, and it should stay that way.