Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ROYCE
My first week of work with the Bellport Blue Jays moves at a glacial pace.
Not because there’s anything boring to the team or how it’s managed.
It’s more that I feel like I’m living in some alternate reality where nothing makes sense anymore.
I spend more time during my day analyzing what the hell is happening around me than doing any actual work.
Kenneth is treating me with kindness and respect at every turn. He’s thorough in his explanations, while also including me in the decision making process. I feel like I’m truly a part of the team. Almost like a co-ownership.
The only problem with it all is that I find myself thinking of him when I’m not at work. I can be checking my emails while curled up in my bed and he’ll pop in my head. Or when I’m driving to get dinner, I’ll wonder if he’s eaten yet.
It’s not fair for him to take up so much space.
All I want is to get my revenge on him being an asshole when we were kids. That’s all he owes me. Well, that and making sure I know how to run the team how it’s supposed to be run.
But that last part is a given.
Kenneth has systems in place that would make the most type-A person squeal with joy. There are notes for everything, including who has allergies to what and a rolodex of information for every person on the team. He’s got favorite colors, birthdays, hobbies, and more in these files.
His attention to detail only makes me like him more.
And that is a problem.
I don’t want to like Kenneth Meyer. He’s supposed to be my mortal enemy. I’m set to hate him forever and ever. It’s been my only rule since the first day he teased me in middle school.
The only problem is that the Kenneth I know as a bully seems to be M.I.A., and in his place is a kind, caring, devoted man. He’s honest from what I’ve seen, and he gives more of himself to this team than anyone.
It’s jarring to observe.
How can someone change so much? How can these two versions of him be possible?
I’m contemplating the notion again while at dinner with Bellamy and Finn late Sunday evening. They asked me to come by for a rundown of things.
“How has it been? I know it probably wasn’t the best time,” Bell asks between bites of his teriyaki chicken.
I shrug as I pick at the fried rice in my bowl. Normally I’d have devoured this in a few bites, but I’m not feeling it tonight. There’s too much disconnect in my body and mind.
“It’s been really good actually. The team is amazing. A little weird at times, but in a good sort of way. They’ve built a family between them, and Kenneth seems to be at the center of it all.”
Bell freezes at my words. “How so?”
Finn looks up from the page he's coloring to stare at me and Bell. He’d greeted me at first, then lost himself in the image he’s working on. It’s funny that he chooses now to tune into things.
“Why does Royce have their guilty face on, Daddy? Is there a problem with the team?”
“No, little one. Nothing’s wrong. I think Royce has been keeping something from me this week though. Care to share?”
The question is directed in a way that I can’t think of a work-around. But the true answer, the one my brother wants, is that I’m wildly attracted to the man who used to bully me. Or rather, the passive observer to my childhood bully.
And that is another problem.
Let’s not add to it the other facts like how he’s leaving the team after the transition or how I’m not even sure of his sexuality. We’ve not ventured into anything that personal, nor should we.
“I haven’t kept anything from you, Bell. Don’t be so dramatic.” I roll my eyes at him to cover my nerves.
He hums. “I don’t know if I believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me. Now do you want to know more about the team or not? My bed is calling me.”
It’s a lie. I’m not tired at all. If anything, I’m wired. The deceit of my attraction to Kenneth mixes with my need to avoid admitting said attraction aloud. My skin buzzes with the need to leave, to move.
It’s another hour before my brother finishes interrogating me about how work is going. As soon as I leave his place, I head home at a fast clip. We don’t live far from one another, meaning my condo only takes twenty minutes to get to after factoring in traffic.
Once behind my closed and locked door, I make a beeline for the bedroom.
It’s not until I’m inside that I realize what I’m even planning on doing.
My clothes fall to the floor in a rainfall of fine fabrics and accessories.
I don’t even take the time to lay it all out neatly like I normally do.
All I know is that I have to get naked as fast as possible.
I lay across my bed, eyes closed as I try to calm my breathing. I think of rainbows and sunsets. Of jazz music and slow dances. All the normal techniques I use to keep my body in check are no good.
It’s impossible to ignore. The desire raging through me is obvious in the hard length protruding from my lower half.
I stare at my cock with disdain. How dare my own body betray me so viciously? Can’t it understand we shouldn’t be attracted to Kenneth? We shouldn’t want him to touch us. We shouldn’t ache to know how he’d feel wrapped around us. We shouldn’t crave him when he’s away.
A week.
It’s only been a fucking week, and he’s already blown through my defenses.
Not that he’s trying to. If he was, I’d be well and truly screwed.
I groan at the double entendre.
There’s no use in trying to stop what’s already started.
Besides, I really can’t go to sleep like this.
With that logic in mind, I wrap my fist around my unwelcome erection.
Stroking from tip to root, I allow myself a moment to drop my defenses completely.
I don’t think of my hate or my need to get back at Kenneth.
Instead, I focus on all the things I’ve found myself enjoying this week. Things like how he smells—all woodsy and fresh, or how he looks when he concentrates. I focus on the way his body fills out a suit, and the equally sexy way a pair of jeans and a tee accentuate his shape.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to dress him up. I bet he’d be a fun doll to play with.
An image of him naked and waiting for my instruction flits through my mind. It sends a wave of pleasure rushing through me. My strokes quicken as I chase the high.
Another minute passes of that vision before it shifts. Now he’s laid out on a bed—on my bed—and he’s weeping as I take my time drawing out his pleasure. His pleas for me to let him come echo around the room, useless in the face of the power I hold over him.
In the vision, I only let him come after I’ve covered him in bite marks and make him tell me I’m the only person to bring him to his knees.
Of course, this particular power play has the effect of not only making daydream Kenneth come, but also real-life me.
I explode in a powerful orgasm. It’s so potent I wind up tremoring with aftershocks long after my length is done spending itself over my hand.
I run my clean hand over my face. How the fuck did I think this would relieve anything?
I feel ten times worse now. Not because I came to an erotic image of the man I’d sworn to hate.
No, it’s worse now because I don’t know how I’ll ever look at him again and not see him laid out while begging me to come.
Fuck. My. Life.
The morning after my impromptu solo session starts with a missed alarm. Clearly I needed the sleep since I feel a million times better this morning, but sleeping in does not make a successful career. I can’t let my own out of whack desires throw off my plans.
Needing the extra fortification of a solid outfit, I go for a set less business driven than last week.
My favorite comfort outfit is a golden yellow sundress I found in a shop in Paris one year while traveling with my mom.
We’d gone to get away from the rest of the family and to celebrate my first acquisition.
She’d raved that the dress fit me too perfectly to leave behind. I’d always known she’d accepted my varied sense of style. It was in that moment though that I realized I had her full support. She would cheer me on no matter what I wore, who I was, or how I preferred my pronouns.
I pair the dress with a set of Doc Martens.
It’s less about matching and more about the eclectic vibe I’m going for.
Plus, if someone gives me shit, I can stomp on them with these heavy boots before kicking them out the door.
I add a necklace and some earrings to complement the cut of the dress, then I grab a purse for my phone and keys because sadly this dress has no pockets. It’s the only flaw to it.
The gods of traffic look down on me during my commute.
Even with waking up late and taking a little extra time to get ready, I manage to make it with five minutes to spare.
That five minutes turns to one after the stupidly slow elevator drags me along, which means I have to jog down the hall to Kenneth’s office.
I burst into the room a little out of breath and with my hair floating behind me.
It’s longer than I usually keep it, but I can’t seem to part with anything more than a split end trim these days.
I don’t know why. It’s not like I go anywhere that requires me to have myself all done up.
Most of the time, it’s hanging flat down my back or up in some type of style to combat the heat.
“Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I missed my alarm,” I say as I shut the door behind me and move over to my chair.
Kenneth doesn’t say a word to me. Instead, his eyes track my steps around the room until I’m beside him. When I’m close, he takes his time perusing me from head to toe.
Fuck.
There’s that heat I thought I’d imagined last week. I can’t deny it when it’s so obvious.
Knowing that I’m seconds away from showing my own excitement, I drop into the chair in a rush. A gentle tug at the bottom of the dress keeps it over my knees as I cross my legs like I usually do.
I clear my throat, then ask him, “What’s on the agenda for today?”
His gaze hasn’t moved on from my legs just yet. It’s as if the bare skin is a beacon to him, and he can’t look away until he’s answered the call. Or maybe that’s just hopeful thinking.
Hopeful thinking that I need to squash the hell down if I intend for the day to be any kinds of productive.
Before I can push him to actually speak, there’s a knock at the door. It’s enough to rouse Kenneth from his obsession. He hoarsely calls out for the person to come in.
One of the trainers comes in with a list. His frown is more pronounced than usual. I’m thankful when Kenneth greets him by name since I’d forgotten it. My plan to memorize everyone in the organization is taking longer than I’d like.
“Sandy! What brings you to my office this early?”
Sandy shakes his head. “It’s not for anything good, unfortunately.
Vasquez and Marcos are both going to need to stay on the injured list. I’ve got three other guys that could probably go on there too, though I’m monitoring them closely now to ensure nothing goes wrong.
Almost everyone else has a clean bill of health. ”
Intrigued by his word choice, I ask, “Almost everyone?”
He grimaces. “Yeah. Almost. Early this morning I got a call from Bellport General. Lansing Tollide was in a hit and run this morning.”
“Holy shit! Is he ok? Why didn’t anyone call me?” Kenneth’s voice is full of panic. I grab his arm without thinking. His gaze whips over to me.
“Wait a second,” I tell him. Then I turn to Sandy. “Is he ok? What happened?”
Sandy drops into the empty seat across from the desk.
“It’s not good at all. I won’t list all the broken bones he’s got, but the short of it is that this kid won’t ever play ball again.
He’s only been pro for two years. Barely any time on the field.
He had the potential though, you know. He could have been one of the great ones. ”
I feel the way Kenneth’s body loosens at the news.
I’m not sure if he thought Tollide was dead or if there is another reason he felt triggered.
I only know that I want to make it better—for some god-awful reason.
It makes not a lick of sense for me to want to soothe him, yet it’s all I can think of.
“Thanks for letting us know, Sandy. Do you have a room number?”
Both men turn to look at me. Sandy rattles off the number, then I’m standing and tugging Kenneth with me.
“Let’s go. We’ve got a player to check on. I’m sure whatever else you had planned today can wait.”
Sandy nods at us. “Tell him I’ll be by in a little bit. I’ve got a session with a few guys this morning, then I can check in with him if that’s ok.”
“Sounds good. Thanks again, Sandy.”
The trainer walks out, leaving me and Kenneth standing side by side.
Having only been with the team for a week, I feel like I’m completely underqualified for this shit storm that rolled in.
But also, I know there’s no way the man beside me is going to be able to hold it together while checking on someone he considers family.
I’ll have to step up this time. Lead him through whatever comes ahead. Then after he’s back to himself, the distance between us can return. Me being close to Kenneth Meyer isn’t a good idea.
Too bad for me, I can’t seem to stay away.