CHAPTER 27
harrison
I f Casey still had that old whiteboard from his teenage bedroom, the one where he wrote out all his plans and dreams and messages of inspiration, I am certain there would be a new number one goal on that list. And that goal would read ‘have as much sex with Harrison as humanly possible’.
And now don’t get me wrong, not even for one second.
Because there is nothing on this great green planet like being inside Casey Calloway, a place where I have dreamed many a sexy dream about being.
It’s the place where wildest dreams come to life, where heaven meets humanity, a land of milk and honey where rivers of living water flow.
But. I am a mere human boy, and I cannot keep up with Casey Calloway.
He wants sex the minute we wake up again on Sunday morning, the dawn light grey and murky in the room we share.
I am convinced he will be too sore for another round so soon, but he is just as adamant that he is fine, and as we have all well and truly discovered by now, I am incapable of denying this boy a thing.
So we have sex again and it is as magical and brilliant as it was last night, and I would do it again and again with him if I could.
But I am exhausted. Yesterday was a rollercoaster of emotions, culminating in the best night of my entire existence in this very bedroom.
And oh look, I really have succumbed to Casey’s flair for the dramatics, but that is not a single word of exaggeration.
He is pure heaven— pure heaven —and I am in a world of trouble.
We fall back asleep after we draw out another round of perfect orgasms from each other and I relish the feel of his warm, sweet body in my arms.
But Casey wants more sex when we wake up later that morning after a lazy and extremely rare sleep-in, but I am afraid that disappointment is on the cards for us because there’s no physical way I can give him what he wants again.
He pouts but settles for a blowjob with me on my knees in the shower and I think we’re done for the day.
We’re not done for the day.
I distract him instead by coaxing him out with the promise of a late morning coffee followed by yoga and a massage at the club.
Well, a coffee for him, nice green smoothie for me.
I also admittedly want him back in the ice baths after yesterday’s heavy knock and I know Tim Masters will need to assess him for delayed concussion.
I also know Casey will never admit to any form of physical weakness in about the next billion years, but we do need to take it easy and prioritise healing and relaxation today.
I don’t miss his wince when he eases into the ice bath, tiny black Speedos on for my viewing pleasure, but I have a sneaking suspicion that reaction is less related to his adductor issues as to a new kind of soreness he is likely feeling today.
The sexy, slightly smug grin he shoots me suggests I am right on the money.
But there are lots of people around the club today, other players utilising the ice baths and the pool and gym facilities for recovery.
And that reminds me that I need to reset those boundaries I all but obliterated with Casey during yesterday’s game.
The way he’s looking at me right now suggests it will be a timely reminder.
But maybe I need more faith in him because he is all professional boundaries when I lay him out on the treatment bed afterwards—well, as professional as a guy with absolutely zero boundaries can be.
But it’s enough and I once again sigh a breath of relief that we can do this, we can be us , can carve out our own space and still exist in this professional environment together without it affecting our day jobs.
Maybe that’s me being na?ve because I have no idea what the future holds for us, but I know I can just sit back and enjoy the moment as a sense of relief and contentment filters through me.
***
Something softens between us after last night.
I can’t say exactly what it is other than the fairly obvious suspicion that it’s due to feelings .
Feelings for each other that have always been there, bubbling under the surface in all our interactions with each other.
They’re kind of less under the surface today and slightly more smack bang in the face .
I should be scared of what this means. But I can’t be. Nothing about Casey scares me away even though logically it should. He’s Casey Calloway and I’m me, here on an expiring work visa, and nothing about this should work. Other than the fact that it so clearly does.
We just click. Like two pieces of a puzzle.
Monday brings about some level of normalcy both between Casey and me and the entire East Coast Fever football club.
The eyes of the league are not as heavily focused on us this week but it’s not like we drop back into obscurity either.
Saturday’s win against the Dragons cannot be understated for this club.
It put the Fever on the map, made the league sit up and take notice of the fledgling club, ready to step out onto centre stage for the first time.
The energy in this place has not diminished either.
Even the walls are buzzing. The Fever are due to play our cross-town rivals, the Sydney Sails, this coming weekend which means a rare fortnight of no travel.
Coach capitalises on this and uses it to push the team to their limits with high intensity, focused tactical training and skills development.
Which also means that my dear, darling Casey is shattered at the end of each night and has voluntarily gone home to sleep on his own all week. I know that must mean he really is exhausted because nothing else has worked to diminish his enthusiasm for me so far.
And maybe it’s because Coach has pushed the team so hard during the week that Friday’s Captain’s run is lighter and more fun than usual. The boys are energetic and they’re laughing more out there too. It’s beautiful to see.
Casey has a pep in his step when he finds me in the treatment room after the run. I recognise the glint in his eye as he leans up against the doorframe, sex personified.
“Hello,” he says. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I know he does this to show off his impressive biceps for me. Sadly, I am far too weak to not look.
“Hello,” I return, gaze sliding down his body and back up to the smug grin on his face.
“You done for the day?”
“I am,” I tell him, leaning back against the bench. “Want to come back to my place? I’ll make you a nice, nutritious dinner for tomorrow’s game.”
He grins at me, pure sin on that gorgeous face. “Yeah, cos that’s what I really want from you, H. A free dinner.”
“Thought so,” I grin back. He smiles at me, blue-green eyes shining with life and energy and damn, he is beautiful. It hits me right in the stomach, just like it always does, but the accompanying butterflies and pounding heart are new.
We beeline for the carpark, and I slide into Casey’s Range Rover. He seems a little less patient with the traffic this afternoon, foot a little heavier on the gas. We arrive at my apartment and Casey parks in my allotted parking space that only he ever uses.
We’re kissing by the time the door closes on us, safely encased in the four walls of my apartment. I love this, kissing Casey, angling his head so I can plunge my tongue as deep as I can get in. Nothing feels better than kissing Casey.
I nudge him along in the direction of my sofa. He catches on and we shift that way, neither of us prepared to break the kiss even if it means bumping into the armchair or the coffee table on the way. He laughs as he pulls me down on top of him, spread out like a delicious treat on my sofa.
“I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” I murmur, hiking his top up to rain kisses down his body. “I saw you parading for me earlier today. Trying to make me horny for you.”
“That was because you were so blatantly checking me out,” Casey chuffs, moaning when I lick between his abs.
“I’m always checking you out, sweet,” I reply on a laugh. “Tell me what you want, Casey. Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“You can do whatever you want to me, H. Consider my body free use. Just choose a hole and slide on in.”
He drapes his arms above his head, arching his body like he’s presenting himself as an offer to me. My tortured groan sounds more like a whimper. Those words. Honestly, is he trying to kill me?
I’m still deciding which hole I want most when I reach his waistband and tug. His dick springs free and I smile up at him, watching me with heated eyes.
My phone rings in my back pocket. I curse it and throw it onto the coffee table. Whoever it is can wait. This is far more important as I dip my head lower. Of course, Casey being Casey just has to know who I’m ignoring so I shouldn’t be surprised when he leans across to pick up my phone.
“It’s your mum,” he tells me.
“I’ll phone her back later,” I grumble, right as I dip my tongue into his slit.
“You can’t ignore your mamma, H,” Casey says, voice shaky as his hips chase my tongue. “She gave birth to you. She deserves your call.”
I huff. “I really can’t talk to my mum right now, sweet.”
I convince myself that’s the end of discussion when the ringing stops and I continue my exploration of Casey’s dick. My life shatters into a million pieces when I hear the worst timed words of my entire existence.
“Harrison?” That’s my mum. Yeah, that’s my mum’s voice speaking to me while I’m licking my lover’s dick. I exhale and glare up at him, smiling sweetly back as he holds the phone between us on speaker.
“Hello, mother,” I say, sending daggers at Casey.
“Darling. How are you?” she exudes in her crisp Queen’s English. “You sound out of breath.”