Chapter 19
AUSTIN
—Love in the Dark
by Adele
I lock eyes with Johnson across the rooftop and beckon him over. He doesn’t ask any questions as we head outside and straight to a waiting cab.
We pay and throw a hurried thanks to the driver when we reach the hotel, and Johnson nods for me to go inside first. My heart is beating faster than usual, and it isn’t until I’m in the elevator that I try to remember the room number.
I press the button for the fifth floor, which is the same floor as my assigned room.
When I reach my destination, I slot the card into the lock and open it. And then I freeze.
Red and white roses are everywhere, scattered across the floor and along the edges of the bed. On the mattress, they form a perfect heart shape, petals looking soft against the sheet. My chest hammers in my ribcage as I stand there, drinking it all in.
There is no way I’m letting this man go, not ever.
Before I can fully process it, he sneaks up behind me and gives me a light shove, just enough to get me past the threshold and fully into the room. Once the door closes, he drops his suit jacket on the floor and turns to me.
“Do you not like it? Is it too much?”
The panic threading through his voice is enough to take me out of my trance. I lunge at him, and he catches me in his strong arms. “Why wouldn’t I like it?” I whisper, pressing into him. “This is so perfect. I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”
He chuckles and guides us to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just wanted to do something nice for you before we leave,” he says, running his hands down my back.
The sinking feeling that started in the locker room, the one that I forced to lie dormant throughout dinner, flares again. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“You know there’s no reason we can’t see each other in London, yeah?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrays me.
He stiffens beneath me. “I don’t see how that’s possible,” he says, and I hear the pain beneath his words.
He clearly hasn’t thought this through like I have. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. If I come up with a plan, I know he’ll come around. “We can always find a way,” I tell him, pressing my head against his chest. “If you’re down, I can figure something out.”
He shakes his head. “I thought there was an understanding about what this is.”
That sinking feeling reaches my gut, but I fight against it, clawing for hope. “I want it to continue.” I know I sound desperate as my hands tighten around his shirt.
He sighs deeply, and his hand comes up to brush my cheek, the other arm holding me tight against him.
“I can’t be in a relationship that I have to hide,” he says quietly.
“And you deserve so much more than that. Sure, while we’re here, we can hang out without any scrutiny.
But we play for opposing teams in the league, and if the media so much as sniff that we’re visiting each other’s house, they will dig.
You’re too young for your career to blow up over this, and I don’t think my heart could take it if you were out of the league after one season because of me. ”
He says it like he’s trying to cushion the blow, like he isn’t rejecting me, but I feel like I’ve been slapped, regardless.
“Are you worried about Sandra finding out?” I blurt out, and when he doesn’t answer, I sigh. “I guess I have my answer” I move to stand.
His arm tightens around me, making sure I can’t escape.
“Yes, I’m worried about Sandra, but that isn’t what this is about.
You have to know that football is not just a game, it’s a religion on its own.
Even Nigeria still criminalises homosexuality.
And surely, you don’t want to be cast out of your team for this? ”
My mind whirls. I love Sandra and I think I can get her to come around eventually.
My team, on the other hand is a different ball game.
Amex FC used to sit comfortably at the bottom of the league until they gave a chance to a scrawny Nigerian kid who couldn’t build muscle for shit but had legs that refused to quit.
We held our own this season, finishing second only to Johnson’s team, Kingsford FC.
I am not egotistical, but let’s be honest, our success this season was no accident.
A lot of it was me, even Coach had said it, and that man would rather choke on his whistle than praise someone unnecessarily.
So, would they really cut me out because I’m sleeping with another man?
Even if they did, do I care? I’m young, I can find another team, or a different opportunity.
I’m not sure I can find another Roland Johnson.
I take a breath and let it out slowly as I open my mouth to tell Johnson that what we have is worth protecting and fighting for.
But when I look at him, there is a certainty in his eyes, and I realise nothing I say will change his mind tonight.
I make it out of his lap this time and mutter, “Never mind.”
His hand clamps over mine, holding me in place. “Austin, I don’t want to ruin your life.”
Austin. Not Coker. It’s the first time he’s addressing me by my first name, and God, the way it rolls off his tongue makes my chest thump. It’s sexy and somehow intimate, like he’s letting me into a part of himself he usually keeps locked.
“Ruin my life?” I half shout. “Don’t I have a say in this? Who says I won’t leave it all in the blink of an eye?”
He pauses, probably registering the fire in my tone. “I thought you knew this was going to end after the World Cup?”
“No shit, genius,” I snap, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. “Sue me for wanting more.”
I try to pry my hand away from his, but he doesn’t let me. The bastard is strong, and he uses that to his advantage by pulling me back to him. In the next second, his mouth is on mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips, and somehow it carries both regret and desire.
The fight drains out of me, leaving only burning desire that makes my vision blur in its wake.
I know this changes nothing, that this is our last hurrah.
A final fuck before we go our separate ways.
His lips claim mine, and I swear I can feel my heart splintering into a thousand tiny pieces.
I follow his lead, moving weakly with him, my lips pliant under his.
He kisses me and kisses me like he’s trying to burn how I taste into his memory.
He manoeuvres us towards the bed, keeping his arms outstretched, bracing himself so I don’t get crushed beneath him.
His hands roam freely through my hair, across my chest, down to my waist, dipping into my trousers to palm my rock-hard dick.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to strip our trousers, then he’s back on top of me, his mouth reclaiming mine, pressing me into the mattress.
His hand fumbles between us as he lines up our cock, and the first glide of his cock against mine blows the memory of that night in Copenhagen into my brain.
I remember thinking that might be the only time I get to touch him, I had no idea I was setting myself up for a future heartbreak.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasps, picking up speed.
Each thrust weaves that memory and the present together, and I sink further into the storm of pleasure he’s dragging me into.
“I want to be inside you,” I blurt out because if this is going to be the last time, I need it to be perfect.
He stops mid-rut, and for a moment the room is filled only with our ragged breaths.
Then he reaches his hand to the bedside drawer, rifling through it for lube and a condom, tossing both on the bed.
He looks dishevelled with his shirt still on, naked only from the waist down.
I roll onto the bed to face him, taking in the shape of his face, the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the colour of his eyes—everything about him that I love.
My fingers brush his tie first, then I undo his shirt buttons, shoving the fabric off his shoulders.
I follow with my own shirt, peeling it over my head until we’re both completely naked.
I grab the bottle of lube and move to squirt some onto my finger, just as he tries to roll onto his stomach. I stop him with my hand on his chest. “On your back. I want to see you.”
His eyes flicker over me, a flash of surprise there, and then a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.
He settles onto his back, legs slightly apart.
I take in the sight of him. His cock is hard and straining towards the ceiling, every line of muscle taut.
I crawl between his legs, stroking his cock once before lowering my mouth to suck him in.
He gives me his sexy moans, the sound rattling all the way to my groin as I suck his cock, taking him as deep as I can.
I then blindly squirt lube on two fingers at once and circle his rim before entering him.
He isn’t as open as when we had the fuck marathon, but his hole still takes my fingers easily.
I work him open, adding a third finger and stretching him until he’s gasping, pleading and practically begging me to fuck him already.
I reach for the condom, but he takes it from me. “I want to feel all of you,” he says shyly. “Please.”
He knows I can’t refuse him, not when he’s looking at me like that.
I line up my cock at his hole and enter him slowly.
I plan on taking my time and only giving him an inch at a time even as his pleas grow louder.
My whole body sings with pure pleasure when I bottom out and start thrusting.
We keep our eyes locked on each other as I set my tempo, claiming his body one last time.
His hand threads through my hair as he gently tilts my face down to his.
He kisses me silly, soft and fierce all at once.
Fuck! He feels so good stretched around me, every groan, every moan of my name stealing the last remnants of rational thought from my brain.
My eyes sting with tears. I don’t even realise they’ve fallen until he wipes them away with a thumb, his own eyes are not dry either.
I keep up my slow, gentle strokes, our tongues swirling in deep, sultry kisses until he tenses beneath me and comes, moaning my name.
That final sound sends me right over the edge.
My body convulses as my orgasm rips through me and I fill him with my cum.
I collapse on top of him as we catch our breath until we can move again.
We clean up just enough to be comfortable, then curl up on the second bed, my head resting on his chest.
I wake up first the next morning. I leave the room quietly, careful not to disturb him.
I enter my actual room, grateful that Bayero and Akintola aren’t around because I don’t want to have to explain a thing.
I gather my shit, shove them in my bag, and I leave the hotel with the memory of last night still burning bright in my mind.