Chapter 48
Nash
“Icleaned this pretty hole of mine up so well, didn’t I?” Zamir’s withering below me, cock painfully hard again, but I’m loving the power I hold in here. It really did shock me. Cello surprisingly let me take control, but I’m not complaining. Those little hints of threats he kept murmuring kept me going.
“Please, Djale I Bukur, I’m so sensitive—” I cut him off, shoving my tongue back into his already tightened hole.
I pull away and kiss his ass cheek, growling out, “Keep begging nice and pretty like that, and we’re never going to make it into that shower.” I’m talking a big game, but one thing I won’t do is skip after-care.
He has his eyes closed, his head thrown back into the mattress, and I’m admiring his gorgeous body. I run my hands up his sides, then down his arms, causing goosebumps to follow in my trail. I pull him up by his hands and pick him up, throwing him over my shoulder.
Marcello and Ellie are getting out of the shower now, and I yell to him, “Leave it on. We’re coming in.” Shoulder to shoulder with them coming out of the oversized shower, I lean down and pop a kiss on Ellie’s swollen lips, moaning into them, as she swipes her tongue against mine.
She pulls back, smirking. “You’ve got all three of us in that filthy mouth of yours now, Big Boy.” The heat in Marcello’s eyes that are focused on my mouth has my whole body tingling.
Biting my lip, I giver her a smack on the ass as she walks away with Marcello right behind her, but he’s looking over his shoulder, eyes still locked with mine.
I shake out of his stare and sit Zamir down on his feet, still holding onto him. “You good to stand, Bebé?”
“Yeah. I just like you caring about me… being all cute and shit.” He grabs the sides of my face, smashing his lips to mine.
We climb into the shower, and I pay special attention to washing his body gorgeous body, and even more attention to the area between his cheeks. He flinches, and I stop to ask, “Did I hurt you, Z?”
He grabs my arm turning to face me. “No, Nash. I wanted more pain, if I’m being honest.” He looks off to the side like he’s embarrassed to tell me that.
I pull his face back to mine and whisper right over his lips, “Thank you for trusting me with your body.” We’re both holding onto each other as if we are shipwrecked in the middle of the sea. “And for letting me explore with you.” His face morphs like he’s in pain, but he doesn’t say anything else, stepping out of the shower and leaving me to wash up on my own.
I’ve had my nose in my phone this whole morning trying to figure out logistics… and actively annoying the shit out of Marcello. We have practice today, and Zamir was gone on his bike by the time I got to the parking garage, so I’m sure he’s already at the facility. I think he was pissed about something I said in the shower, but I don’t know what I could’ve said to piss him off. I’m sure I’ll find out when he’s at my throat today while practicing.
??I added Marcello to mine and Zamir’s text thread, and I don’t think Marcello is the happiest camper about it. We needed a way to communicate and work out how the hell he’s going to get the birth control out of Ellie’s arm without her noticing. I’ll add him to the Brigade of Cocks group chat with Ellie after this fiasco is over.
*Nash Hayden added Scary Mafia Man to the group chat.
*Nash Hayden changed the group chat name to:
We Dem Boys
Nash
What are the plans, Cello?
Scary Mafia Man
What plans, Nash?
Nash
The plans with the… you know *smirking emoji *pregnant emoji
Scary Mafia Man
You’ve got two seconds to explain yourself, or I’m blocking your fucking number.
Actually, I might just break those fingers on the non-throwing hand. I’ll tell Coach you had an accident.
Fuck, his name in my phone is ringing true. You’d think him coming down Ellie’s throat last night would’ve helped chill out his asshole tendencies… guess not.
Nash
Okay, okay! How are we getting the birth control out of Ellie’s arm?
Scary Mafia Man
Now that I know how big of a goddamn breeding kink your ass has, she should be pregnant in no time. And I have it handled. You all head over when you get finished at practice.
#1 Wide Receiver
Yes, Boss.
Nash
See you at home, sweet cheeks! *kissing face emoji
I’m laughing to myself, still in the parking garage. That’ll piss both of them off equally.
We’re all warming up for practice. We have a home game this Sunday then a bye week next. Zamir’s avoiding me like the plague; he won’t even glance my way. I won’t stand for that! I decide right then to jog over to him—this still counts as warming up, right?
My chest is right against his arm, and I’m whispering, “I was balls deep in your ass last night, and you can’t even look at me now?” I lean in, taking a deep whiff of him. He’s already sweating from hitting weights before our practice; his smell is something I wish I could bottle up. Specifically, his muskier, sweaty practice scent. The citrus scent of his cologne still peeks through.
The muscles that line the square of his jaw are working overtime when he grits out, “Not right now, Nash. We’ll talk when we get back to Marcello’s.”
“Fine,” I pout and stomp back to where I was beside our quarterback coach. I can feel Coach’s gaze on me, but I’m too busy staring a hole into the side of Z’s head.
We run through footwork drills—shit I could do in my sleep. We run through some snaps; Barrett and I are in the zone, not needing too much work. Then it’s time to start running routes with the wide receivers… and Zamir looks like he would rather rip his own nails off than be doing this.
Coach yells out, “Zamir! Cut the shit!” Causing me to chuckle, which earns me a death glare from Coach. I throw my hands up in surrender, sure as hell not wanting to get on Maverick Whitlock’s bad side.
We line up on the ten-yard line. I’m calling out my cadence, causing Barrett to snap the ball, and I catch it perfectly, laces lining up flawlessly against my fingers. This is where I get to let loose with the dots of the leather against the pads of my fingers, the laces lining up, and the mental capacity it takes to remember offensive plays.
I scan to my left, center, and then to my right, where I know Z is sprinting up the sideline, already thirty yards down the field. I drop back into my fake pocket, wait a few seconds, then launch it to the opposing team’s thirty-yard line.
It lands like a swaddled baby into Zamir’s hands. Even when we’re arguing, we’re so goddamn connected on the field. Coach starts a slow clap from behind me. “Maybe y’all just need to keep arguing if that’s the plays you’re going to be connecting.”
He lets out a wolf whistle, grabbing everyone’s attention, and yells, “Dismissed!”