Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Rope Burn
Ryan
I'm fucking bored. I've been laid up in Spence's condo for two weeks now. The only excitement I get is trips to physical therapy. Well, that, and Spence walking around in his tiny trunks in the morning. Fuck me, that man is beautiful. He has to have every gay man in the city barking up his thick tree. In fact, I’ve seen a few text notifications pop up on his phone when he has it on the coffee table. Some Tyler guy. I want to say something, but Spence is being so nice helping me out. Plus, we agreed not to fuck anyone else while we’re doing… this. I trust him.
My teammates Marquis and Nate have stopped by a couple times with food and beer.
Other than that, it's been a lot of Netflix and endless scrolling on social media.
Anthony said he's handling things with team management, but I think I've made a decision.
I'm just a little scared to tell him about it.
He just barely got his dream off the ground.
I don't want to do anything to jeopardize it.
On the other hand, I'm tired of living my life for everyone else. I am more than just a golden arm that makes people money.
The door to Spence's condo flies open, breaking me out of my pity party.
Spence barrels in, arms stacked with bags and boxes, Anthony right behind him in a similar state.
F-Bomb grumbles on my chest as I gently move him aside and shift from lying flat to sitting upright.
The weight of boredom lifts, replaced by confusion.
I look between them. “What’s all this?”
Spence drops his packages on the floor in front of the couch. He waves a hand over the pile. “This is what’s going to keep you occupied while you recover. A little passion project.”
I scoot to the edge of the couch, trying to see what all the stuff actually is. Anthony grins as he sets his pile down by my feet. “We’re going to help you start a cooking show on your social media channels.”
My face lights up like a stadium at playoffs. “What? Seriously? I would crush a cooking show!”
Anthony laughs. “We know. You’ve got the name, the following, and—let’s be real—you don’t just cook, you make fine dining cuisine. A world-famous athlete showing people how to refine their culinary skills at home? That’s gold.”
I’m nodding so hard my head might fall off. “Yes. Yes. This is genius.”
Spence jumps in, “And I’ve got the kitchen for it. Will be nice to see it finally get some use.”
I shoot him a crooked grin. “It is criminal you never use it. But won’t it be awkward with me hobbling around? I can’t exactly cook on crutches.”
He lifts one of the boxes. “Which is why we got you this knee scooter. It’s good for moving around small spaces.”
Joy actually bursts out of me. “Yessss. I’m gonna be a boot scootin’ son of a bitch!”
Spence laughs, shaking his head. “And if you do your dish planning and social media work during the day, then film nights and weekends, I can help you in the kitchen.”
I beam at him. “Like my little sous chef?”
He groans, but there’s a smile in his eyes. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Anthony chimes in, “I’ll have marketing work up a promotional plan. Everyone’s seen the video of you getting injured by now. For people to get a glimpse into your recovery, the series will be a hit immediately, especially if you do live sessions.”
I clap my hands together, energy fizzing up inside me. “I love that. This is going to be so much fun!”
Anthony nods. “We’ll also reach out to all your endorsement sponsors. We can insert mini commercials or brand placement into your videos. We’ll hit up new sponsors too—quality cookware, ingredients, kitchen gadgets. Lots of opportunity.”
I point at him. “That is why you’re the best agent in the game.”
He smiles, soft and proud. “Okay, I have to get back to Chance and the baby.”
“How is my little angel?”
Anthony’s features shift into something so tender I almost have to look away. “She’s amazing. She sleeps a lot. Guinness curls up under her crib whenever she’s in it. He refuses to come to bed with us anymore.”
I grin. “Well, he is the best dog ever.”
Anthony nods. “Okay, gotta run. I’ll have the team send over the promo plans. Start outlining dish ideas.”
I salute him. “Aye aye, boss.”
He heads out the door, leaving me staring at the mountain of boxes, a giddy feeling rising up in my chest.
I spot a special tripod for overhead shots and pick up the box, reading the packaging intently. Suddenly, I sense Spence's presence in front of me. I look up, and there he is, slacks undone, dick hard and thick, bobbing free.
I look up at him and he simply says, “Suck.”
“Oh, fuck yes.” I toss the box behind me and scoot to the edge of the couch.
“Spread your legs,” Spence commands.
I bat my eyelashes at him, spreading my legs wide, and Spence steps between them. I cup his balls with one hand. “What's got daddy so needy?”
Spence huffs. “Not needy. But seeing you get excited over our idea has me feeling some kind of way.” I beam at him, and he grabs my chin. “And I told you not to call me daddy.”
I shrug, defiant, then gently pull the shaft of his dick down so I can get it to my mouth. “That's it. Now be a good himbo and give it a lick,” he prompts.
Groaning, I lick a stripe from his full balls to the thick, broad tip of his cock. I look up, and Spence raises his brows at me. “You know what to do.”
I get to work, taking him deep into my mouth, gripping his ass with both hands. I swear, my dick gets harder every time I get his thick round, meaty globes in my hands.
“Fuck, you're good at this,” Spence murmurs, his hands resting on my shoulders.
I pull back briefly and squeeze his cheeks. “It's almost a shame you're a top. This ass is so fat and perfect.”
Spence laughs, a deep, throaty sound. “You think so?”
I look up at him shyly. “Would you ever bottom?”
Spence pauses, then admits, “I never have.”
I blink in surprise. “What? Really?”
He nods. “Never trusted anyone enough.”
I feel a surge of warmth that he trusts me as much as he does. Spence steps back, pulling me up from the couch. “Come on,” he says. Then he hands me my crutches, and leads me down the hall.
When we reach the bedroom, he helps me sit on the edge of the bed and takes my crutches. I watch as he strips his clothes off, my eyes greedily devouring the sight.
Spence walks back over, looking like he just walked onto a porn set, ready to fuck.
His dick is still rock hard, bouncing proudly between his thighs.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and says, “I haven’t been able to pound that jock ass in weeks because you had to go and get yourself injured. What should we do about that?”
I look up at him and lick my lips, knowing what’s coming.
“I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours and come down your throat, that’s what.” Spence says, practically growling.
“Fuuuuck,” is all I can manage to get out. I lay on my back on the bed, head resting just at the edge, and I wiggle with anticipation. I watch him walk into his closet and when he comes back, he has a thick corded rope.
Spence grabs both my wrists, crosses them and places them on my abs, completely ignoring my hard dick straining to greet him from within my sweats.
With a deftness and skill I should probably be concerned with, he intricately ties my hands together at the wrists.
I watch him, a mix of excitement and lust coursing through me.
When he’s satisfied with how my hands are bound, he walks around to the side of the bed and helps me scoot until my head hangs off. Then he places both of his hands on each side of my waist and says, “Open your mouth.”
I do as I’m told and Spence starts to fuck my mouth, his cock sliding deep into my throat. I take everything he gives me, gagging and gurgling, drool running down the side of my mouth, and I love every second of it.
“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Spence rumbles, his hips moving faster.
I try to mumble a response, but it comes out as a garbled mess. Spence laughs, a dominant, satisfied sound. “Just take it, slut. Take it all.”
Spence leans forward, sinking balls deep into my throat and stills, his balls resting on my forehead while I focus on breathing through my nose.
He dips his hands into the waist of my sweats and slides them far enough down my hips to let my cock spring free, and I groan around his thick shaft when he gives me a couple rough strokes.
In need of air, I raise my bound hands and he pulls back. I suck in air, spluttering and choking, tears running from my eyes into the river of saliva now falling to the floor. Fuck, I love the sensation of being used by him.
“Scoot back so your head is on the bed,” he tells me. I wriggle my ass forward, grateful for the more comfortable position. Spence kneels on the bed, those mighty thighs on either side of my head. Then he drops forward and engulfs my cock in wet heat, taking me to the base in one go.
“Jesus fuck!” I yelp. Spence laughs around my dick, the vibrations sending me into orbit.
He reaches between his legs and presses his dick down—a silent command to get it back in my mouth.
It’s a bit of a challenge with my hands still restrained, but I’m no quitter.
I’ll suckle on that thing like a hamster in a cage if I have to.
Luckily, Spence shift his hips, giving me easier access. And fuck, this is the hottest sixty-nine ever. It only takes two minutes and I’m blowing in his mouth. Spence takes it all, then cleans the head of my cock with his tongue before looking down at me and saying, “My turn.”
A dozen or so thrust later, Spence comes down my throat, a deep groan escaping him.
He rolls over, collapsing on the bed and we both take a moment to catch our breath.
After a couple minutes, Spence unties me, rubbing my wrists where the rope was.
He gets up and walks his naked, glorious ass into his bathroom, coming back with a warm, wet washcloth.
He spends a good amount of time wiping me down tenderly. From head to toe.
I look up at him, a soft smile on my face. “Thank you,” I whisper—for reasons beyond just a good throat dicking.
Spence nods, a gentle look in his eyes. “Anytime, my gorgeous little slut. Anytime.”
Spence helps me pull my shirt over my head and then hauls me up, guiding me back to the living room. He makes sure I’m settled before we start picking through the mountain of gear he and Anthony brought. I grab a box with some weird fold-out contraption and turn it over in my hands.
“That’s a stand and keyboard for your tablet,” Spence says, grabbing it and showing me how it unfolds. “I figured that would help you manage social media easier. You can also go live for micro content—like cooking tips and techniques, or just Q&A sessions.”
I shake my head in wonder. “This is so great, Spence. You guys really thought of everything.”
He just smiles, casual but a little shy, and I have to physically stop myself from launching at him and begging him to give in and fucking kiss me already.
The sex is insane—easily the best I’ve ever had—but I fucking need to kiss those perfect, full lips.
I just know the sex will be even more fire if he’d let himself ease up on his damn rules.
It hits me, then, that aside from the hospital, we haven’t really let each other see the private, intimate parts of our lives. An idea starts to bubble in my brain. I want him to see that part of me—and I’m going to need a little help with this little field trip anyway. Why not Spence?
I clear my throat. “Hey, would you...um—” Spence raises a brow, waiting. “Would you go somewhere with me?”
He looks at me, a little confused. “That depends. Where would you like me to take you?”
I fidget with the drawstring on my sweats. “There’s something I do in my free time. No one knows about it. But it’s kind of a commitment, and I haven’t been since… this.” I wave my hand at the cast on my leg.
Spence crosses his arms, clearly intrigued but skeptical. “Okayyy,” he says, sounding suspicious.
I laugh, nervous. “It’s nothing bad or weird. I just need help getting there and some assistance once we’re there.”
He narrows his eyes, considering, then just shrugs. “Yeah, sure. When do you want to go?”
A grin breaks across my face. “We should wait until Saturday, when you don’t have to be at the office. Does that work for you? It’s okay if you have other plans.”
Spence lets out a short laugh. “Saturday it is.”