32. Subs and Salads #2
“And you want to do this as a career?” I ask, my voice full of skepticism after hearing how unfair choosing who gets to play and who doesn’t sounds.
Marcus lets out one of his trademark smiles and meets my eyes with enthusiasm.
“Absolutely, because I love the game; it’s so deep in my blood I don’t think I’m O positive anymore. I think I’m like O positive raised to the love of the footballth degree,” he says, and I can’t help the snort that comes out of me at that.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the problems that exist within it, but playing ball as a living is my dream. There are bad things when you get into the underbelly of it, but that can be said of almost any career; the trick is staying in your lane and staying true to yourself and your dream.”
I nod slowly, taking it in a little at a time.
It still seems unfair, but I can also understand what he’s saying about most careers having an immoral underbelly somewhere, and about learning to stay true to yourself and not travel to those places.
Honestly, I can easily see Marcus as the type to stay out of trouble in that regard simply because of how thoughtful and respectful he is of himself and his wants.
“And that foot in the door that starts you towards your future dreams hinges on whether you win the game on Saturday, since it’s your first as a college starter?” I clarify.
Marcus shakes his head. “Not necessarily, but it definitely makes a statement as to whether I deserve the position. I mean, yeah, I earned the shot at it, but I’ve got to prove I deserve to keep it.”
“And Assbag Kingston isn’t gonna weigh your game down?” I ask, hoping Marcus can tune Kingston out for the rest of the week and not let it get to him before the game.
Marcus looks at me and furrows his brow. He muses over the question, probably trying to figure out if he can rise above, or at least find the confidence to tell me he can.
“No chance in hell,” he finally says, confidently and conclusively.
I smile at that and decide to give him an extra incentive to focus on whenever Kingston starts running his mouth.
“Then I guess I’ll have to figure out a reward for when you win.”
Marcus’s head cocks slightly to the side, his eager eyes taking me in and a smile crooking at his lips.
“Reward?”
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. “Mhmm.”
That deceptively shy smile spreads wider across his face. “Have you got anything specific in mind?”
I huff out a laugh. “Not just yet, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“If it’s coming from you, then there’s no way it wouldn’t be. But just food for thought, are you taking requests?” he asks, and now it’s my turn to raise a curious eyebrow.
“I can take requests into consideration,” I hedge, curious to know what he’s got in mind.
He takes a deep breath before looking me in the eye.
“I want you to fuck me,” he says resolutely.
“You’re serious? That’s what you want?”
I know he’s said as much already, but I didn’t realize it was an immediate desire. I kind of felt like that was something that would be worked up to.
“Yeah, I’ve had months to think about it, and as much as I love fucking you, and trust me, I really, really love fucking you, like kind of hoping to bury myself in your sweet ass again tonight if you’re on board.
But all that aside, there’s this achy need in my gut that exists solely for the purpose of getting fucked by you,” he rambles out, and it floors me how his naked honesty can just dig deep and do things to me.
“I feel like there was a guilt trip in there,” I tease him just a bit, knowing I’m going to give him what he wants.
Not just because he wants it, but because I want it too, so fucking desperately. I have, for a long time, even before we got together, fantasized about how his perfect ass would feel on my dick.
Marcus’s smile widens, probably able to see the yes in my eyes. It’s ridiculous how easily this fucker can read me.
“Not really, I wouldn’t have thrown it in if you hadn’t already said you were on board with all the ways you could play with my ass.”
I bite my lip for a moment to stop the besotted smile that I know is fighting its way to my mouth and nod a bit like I’m agreeing to a negotiation instead of fighting the urge to drop to my knees and beg for admittance right here and now in the middle of this pastel-laden deli.
“Alright, you’re on. Win Saturday’s game and I’ll fuck you as a reward.”
Marcus raises an eyebrow. “And if I lose?”
“Then I’ll fuck you as punishment,” I answer, absolutely refusing to lose out on the possibility of him bending over for me.
“Fuck, you’re a dream come true,” he says so appreciatively that I can’t help the inner preening that fans both my vanity and has my dick perking up with interest.
“And Marcus, just so you’re aware, there will be additional elements to your reward that you don’t get to know until after you win your game,” I tell him, letting my lips curl up in a seductive smile.
“Elements?” He raises an eyebrow.
“No hints, other than it’s a very sexy surprise, and I promise, it’ll be so worth the wait.”
I drop the incentive like a weight, a promise to give him what he wants with a surprise bonus for him to ponder.
His eyes darken as he takes me in slowly, and a shudder works through him.
“No way in hell I’m losing that game,” he breathes out, before rolling his bottom lip between his teeth and ogling me so brazenly that it makes me feel naked, and very impatient to get back to his bedroom and the very inviting bed with him in it.