Chapter 15 Beck
BECK
I walk out of that shower like I’ve been hit by a bus. A sexy, terrifying, orgasm-withholding bus, but a bus, nonetheless.
My legs feel heavy and unsteady. My head feels hollow. And my heart is yet to resume a normal beat. But the worst part…
I’m still hard.
Painfully, humiliatingly hard. Even after an orgasm so intense I swear I felt my soul leave me.
My spine could have detached from the rest of my body, and I wouldn’t have been surprised.
It took me apart so entirely, I feel like every joint and muscle has been stitched together with yarn, like a rag doll.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I grab a towel from the shelf and wipe myself off in frantic, sloppy motions. All I want to do is get dressed and pretend my life isn’t spiraling completely off the rails. I need food, probably some electrolytes, and to sleep for a week.
Brody is thankfully missing when I shove into the locker room with a towel wrapped around my waist, and another held in front of me like a shield. As if I can get anything past the evil soul sucker himself.
I glance around in case he’s hiding behind a row of lockers and waiting to pounce, but he’s really gone.
I’m alone in the locker room. Even knowing that, I can’t seem to relax.
Especially when I see my bag out of my locker.
It’s sitting on the bench, wide open and messy, like it’s been rummaged through.
My body tenses, and I have to remind myself that I’ve been breaking into his locker for weeks.
If anything, this is confirmation that he knows it was me, but he’s only just now confirming it was yet another win he let me have.
A blinking light gets my attention. My phone, sitting on top of my rifled-through bag, has a notification.
One new message.
I tap the icon to open the message and find a text chain started by me, or rather my phone. Brody must have used my phone to send himself a text, then updated the contacts.
Captain: You don’t have to pretend you don’t like it, you know. I’ll give you everything you need.
Captain? He put his name in my phone as CAPTAIN? And of course he changed my name to Becky. I want to throw the phone across the room, but also my chest feels all fluttery and my cock twitches and I want to throw myself into moving traffic.
I type before giving it much thought.
Becky: Stalk much?
Three dots appear instantly.
Captain: I think you like it.
I groan aloud. Even alone in the locker room, my face goes up in flames.
Becky: Captain? Really?
Captain: That’s what I am to you.
Becky: I’m not calling you that.
Captain: Mmm. I hope not.
Becky: Fuck off.
Captain: If you want to come again, all you have to do is ask me nicely.
My body jolts so hard I almost drop the phone. I can’t do that again. I just can’t.
Is it the waiting for as long as I did that I can’t fathom? Or the giving in to his demands?
It doesn’t matter. This is absolutely not happening. No chance.
Becky: I’m blocking your number.
Captain: Sure you are.
I snap the phone shut just so I don’t have to look at it.
I make it until Wednesday.
Barely.
By morning conditioning, I’m a wound-up disaster pretending to be a functional human being. My dick hurts. My brain hurts. My pride hurts most of all. If anything, I should be able to hold out longer than I did last time, at the very least. Shouldn’t I?
Brody saunters into the gym wearing shorts that should be illegal on someone with thighs that thick and muscular. With no compression shorts under them. And then the bastard starts squatting.
Fucking squats.
Deep, slow squats that make his thighs flex obscenely, his ass tightening with each press.
I swear to God I might actually combust. It’s so hot in here. Why is it so hot? You’d think with the cost of tuition in this place, we’d have decent air conditioning.
My head swings around the room, looking anywhere but at Brody’s indecent shorts.
“Yo, Beck,” Fish calls. “You alright?.”
“Huh? What? Oh. Yeah. Just, um, looking for my water bottle.”
“It’s in your hand,” he says blankly, pointing at my silver and red Huntston Howler’s water bottle.
Shit. “Ha! Duh. I knew that,” I say, putting all of my attention on sucking down as much water as I possibly can.
“You coming tonight, Captain?.”
I choke on my water so hard some of it sprays out of my nose.
“What? I’m not—”
“The dorm Halloween party,” Fish clarifies, eyebrows raised so high on his forehead they nearly disappear into his hairline. “You seem tense, Beck. Maybe you should visit the massage therapist before you leave. Or actually relax and have a drink tonight.”
I nod weakly, still sputtering.
Across the gym, Brody grins back at me through his reflection and chuckles lightly. I flip him the middle finger, and he winks.
Obviously, I have no choice other than to push harder through my workout. Because I hate myself, and I need the distraction.
This, of course, becomes a challenge. A competition breaks out, which turns into me and Brody shoving each other to fight to get to the next piece of equipment first, which turns into a playful bout of sparring like we’re flirting teenagers.
It takes too long to realize that it’s only me and Brody acting this way. No one else is competing or playing like we are. In fact, everyone else is watching us curiously. Jay Norman is staring like we’re a puzzle to solve. Fish has an amused, but equally confused, expression frozen on his face.
What the fuck am I doing?
I break apart from Brody so fast I nearly trip over my own feet.
“I, uh—I’m going to go ask about that massage. Or maybe an ice bath,” I tack on, because the bite of plunging myself into freezing water might help shock me back to my senses. At the very least, it should help with the boner that seems to get worse the more I embarrass myself.
I sink into the ice bath after practice, shivering violently as the cold seeps into my bones. It barely dulls the ache, and my head is still exactly where it’s been since the semester began. Worse.
Apparently determined to make sure he’s the only thing I can think about, Brody slips into the room like a shadow and perches on the edge of the tub. He’s still wearing those stupid shorts.
“Is it helping?”
It’s obvious what he’s asking about.
I sigh. “Not really.”
“I’m curious…”
I’m worried.
“…do you enjoy denying yourself? Get off on the withholding?”
“No,” I say incredulously. Why the fuck would anyone like feeling like this?
“Then why do you torture yourself?” he asks quietly, dipping one finger into the frigid water and swirling it around. “You know exactly what you need. And it would only take a few words.”
His eyes raise to mine, the blue of his irises practically glowing in the dimly lit room. I look away, stomach tightening.
He sighs, softer. “I’m not trying to upset you. I’m trying to figure you out.”
You know enough, thank you very much.
I blink hard, staring at my legs under the water. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” he says, his voice low, warm.
I swallow. “It’s easier when you just tell me what to do.”
He nods like he knew that already. “Because you want to pretend you don’t want it.”
Immediately, I open my mouth to argue, but I stop. My throat works as I give an almost imperceptible hint of a nod.
His voice drops lower. “So if I told you that you could come, but only with my cock in your throat, that would be easier than saying please?”
My breath stutters. I stare at him for probably too long before I nod again. He frowns thoughtfully.
A long, heavy silence settles between us. I feel exposed, cornered, and too damn cold, minus any of the benefits I thought this dip would give me. So I stand from the ice bath and climb out. Brody hands me my towel, still studying me intently.
He’s just going to say something like that without actually offering? Was it another taunt? A tease meant to break me down and make me beg again?
Wordlessly, Brody opens the door for me, following me into the hallway on the way back to the locker room.
It’s quiet now, which means most if not everyone has headed out already.
There’s a distant sound of voices getting farther away, the echo of a locker slamming, then a thump as the main doors swing shut.
Water drips in the shower room. Faint music can be heard coming from the main gym, but it’s an older, calmer sound than what most of the team listens to.
It could be maintenance getting started on the facility.
The night crews typically take care of the bathrooms and locker rooms, but it’s good to be aware someone could come in.
When we step into the locker room, Brody close on my heels, I stop short. Brody runs into my back but doesn’t pull away. He leans in slightly instead.
“You alright?”
My mouth is dry, pulse throbbing loudly in my ears.
“Can I?” I whisper.
“Can you what?” His voice is barely a rumble, something I can feel more clearly than I can hear.
I swallow. My whole body is buzzing, terrified and wanting, confused and somehow safe. It takes some mental coaxing to force the words out.
“Can I suck you?”
Saying it feels like shoving myself off a cliff. My heart leaps into my throat. My blood runs hot enough to warm my chilled skin.
Brody inhales slowly, sharply, like the words hit him somewhere deep. A hand touches my waist, and he shifts closer. I can feel his breath and his warmth and the hard proof that he wants me pressing into my ass.
“I’m so fucking proud of you using your words like that,” he murmurs.
Warmth floods through me so fast I almost sway on my feet.
His hand brushes over the skin just above my towel, low on my hips, feather-light. “You’re going to be rewarded for this. Good girls get to come, remember?”
He presses his lips to my shoulder, not so much kissing as rubbing his lips back and forth. “Not here,” he says. The words make my skin react before I can process them.
Then he’s backing away from me. I hear the rustle of a bag, and the door opening and swinging shut.