Chapter 11 - Karter #2
“Shut up.” He ducked his head and bit my earlobe hard enough to sting, then sucked on the spot to take the edge off. The mix of pain and relief made me arch into him, my hands finding his shoulders for balance.
His grinding picked up, like he was working off his own frustration from the party. I matched his rhythm without thinking, rocking back against him in the dark, my hips riding the length of his thigh.
The closet was too small for anything more, what with the coats brushing our sides. Still, his breath came out hot against my neck, and his dick was hard too—I could feel his erection pressing against my hip through our pants as his leg stayed locked between mine.
“Do you want this?” he said, more statement than question. His hand moved from my mouth to the back of my neck, holding me still while he rolled his hips again, slower this time, dragging it out. His thigh flexed under me, adding to the friction but keeping me pinned in place.
“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice hardly there. I was angry at the party, and at myself for hiding, but right then it all narrowed down to him and the frustrating friction he was making against the front of my pants.
He bit my neck lightly, then harder, marking the spot just above my shirt collar. I groaned, but he covered my mouth again, muffling the sound while he kept grinding.
I shifted my hips, pressing harder against him to chase my orgasm, my dick straining against my jeans. The ache sharpened with every roll, but the layers of fabric dulled it just enough and kept me right on the edge without tipping over.
I needed his bare hand on me, or I needed to touch myself. The friction of our pants wasn’t enough to make me cum. Still, I shifted my hips, trying to angle myself directly against his hard length.
But Aleksey didn’t let me.
Instead, his grip tightened on my waist, holding me in place. His thigh stayed wedged between my knees, and he just kept rocking his hips forward in a steady rhythm.
I arched up, chasing the contact, but I couldn’t find the leverage I needed to finish. “Don’t stop,” I mumbled, my lips moving against the palm of his hand.
He pushed harder, using his weight to pin me flat against the racks of coats. And I could hear Aleksey taking short, ragged breaths right next to my ear, his own control slipping.
Suddenly, loud voices echoed almost right outside the closet.
“Check the back!” Trenton yelled. “I know someone’s out there!”
Aleksey froze. Every muscle in his body locked up tight against mine. In one quick motion, he dropped his hand from my mouth and took a massive step back.
He then shoved the closet door open, letting a slice of dim yellow light from the mudroom spill over us. Without a single word or a backward glance, he stepped out, crossed the few feet to the exterior door, and slipped out into the freezing night.
The exit door clicked shut behind him.
Left alone in the closet with the door now standing half-open, I slumped back against the racks, my body still aching for release.
I stayed there in the dark, trying to catch my breath as the cold draft leaking under the exterior door drifted right into the closet and hit me, freezing the sweat on my neck.
I was incredibly frustrated and painfully hard. And Aleksey had, once again, used me to grind out his bad mood and then vanished.
Adjusting my jeans with shaking hands, I took a slow breath. I really didn’t want to go back out to the party, but hiding in here by myself was pathetic. So, I pushed the closet door the rest of the way open and stepped out, heading back into the loud hallway.
Navigating the crowded party felt like a massive chore.
But I shoved my way into the kitchen and leaned my weight against the island, ignoring the sticky puddle of spilled beer under my hand.
A few of the older legacy players were standing right next to me, laughing over the music rattling the floorboards.
I just kept my mouth shut, hoping I could blend into the background until I could leave.
A girl with perfectly styled blonde hair stopped next to me at the kitchen island to refill her cup. She looked me up and down, a bright, calculated smile spreading across her face.
“Wait. You’re Karter, right?” She asked, her tone polished and a bit too eager. “Elliot’s baby brother. My friends said your dad just bought you that ridiculous black SUV parked out front.”
I tried not to grimace.
The SUV had been waiting in the frat lot when I arrived for orientation, keys delivered to my dorm with a note in my father’s handwriting that read Don’t scratch it.
A matte-black tank, fully customized, still reeking of new leather.
I never drove it back to my own place; parking a hundred-thousand-dollar car outside the dilapidated Ice House was basically begging to find it sitting on cinder blocks by morning.
More importantly, keeping it far away from my housemates was the only way to avoid rubbing my family’s wealth in the scholarship guys’ faces and stirring up bad blood.
Instead, I kept it permanently stashed here in the frat’s secure lot just to maintain a low profile. But clearly, that hadn’t worked.
“Yeah. That’s me,” I said, putting a polite amount of space between us.
“You should take a few of us for a drive later,” she suggested, leaning against the counter and twirling a strand of hair. “I love guys with nice cars.”
“No thanks,” I said, keeping my voice politely neutral. “I’m taking it easy tonight.”
Her bright smile dropped instantly into a flat, unimpressed line. She rolled her eyes, muttered something to her friend about me being a stuck-up asshole, and walked away toward the living room to find someone more useful.
Trenton watched her leave before taking a quick sip from his red cup with a smirk. “Careful, Karter.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Keep turning down the easy girls,” Trenton called out over the music, “and people are gonna start wondering if you’re holding out for one of the guys.”
A few people around the kitchen island burst out laughing. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, my whole body going still. But years of habit kicked in before the anger had even fully registered. I just did what I always did to keep things smooth.
“Go to hell, man,” I said, forcing out a laugh to match theirs.
Trenton grinned, likely thinking we were having some great bonding moment. However, the fake laugh made me feel sick to my stomach.
I pictured Aleksey leveling Trenton on the ice, but standing here in the kitchen, I didn’t say a single word.
A loud crash came from the front hallway.
“Are you kidding me?” someone shouted from the front of the house. “Get the hell out!”
Trenton pushed off the counter, his smirk vanishing. “The fucking charity cases actually showed up.”
He shoved his way through the crowded kitchen, the rest of the guys following him toward the front hall to watch Trenton kick them out.
With everyone rushing toward the hall, I just turned around and slipped out the side door. The second the door shut behind me, the sudden quiet was a massive relief.
I stood alone on the dead grass, shivering as the freezing air cut right through my jacket. Pulling out my phone, I opened a new text thread with Aleksey.
I typed out: “Where did you go?” and hit send.
A minute passed before my screen lit up with a new message.
Aleks: Weight room. Had to burn this off.
Of course, he went straight to the athletic facility. It was the only place I’d ever known him to go to when he was pissed off.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed my reply and hit send.
Me: Recovery room. Now.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket and started walking. The bitter wind sucked during the dark trek across campus, but the adrenaline kicking in pushed my pace faster.
By the time the massive athletic building came into view, the anticipation had drowned out the cold.
I swiped my badge at the facility entrance and headed straight for the varsity recovery room. It was just past midnight when I pushed the large soundproof door shut behind me, the lock catching with a solid click.
I knew the security system logged every swipe, leaving a digital trail right to us, but I did not care anymore. I just needed to see Aleksey.
The recovery room was dead at this hour.
The glare from the ceiling panels bounced off the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, lighting up the seamless black rubber floor.
Aleksey was already standing right in the middle of it.
He had ditched his winter coat, and his chest was heaving as if he had sprinted from the weight room to beat me here.
He watched me walk in, his eyes immediately zeroing in on my tense posture.
“Bad night?” Aleksey smirked.
“Trenton made a joke about me being gay,” I blurted out, the incident still fresh in my mind. “And I just stood there and laughed with him.”
Aleksey’s whole body stilled. A moment passed, and the next thing I knew, he was closing the distance between us in long strides. “What the hell did you say to him? Did someone see us?”
“No, no one saw anything,” I said quickly. “He was just talking shit. And I just played along.”
Aleksey let out a sharp exhale, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. The panic faded, but his expression shifted into something much darker. He looked down at me with an intense stare that sent a hot spike of arousal straight to my groin.
“I just feel like garbage for not defending myself,” I muttered, genuinely wanting to talk this out. “We should probably figure out what we are actually doing.”
“Stop talking,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to hear it right now. I just want to shut you up.”
Common sense told me to push back, to make him have a real conversation with me for once. But the heat flooding my veins overpowered my brain. I swallowed hard.
“Okay, then,” I breathed out. “Shut me up.”
I walked straight over to the center of the mirrored wall. My breath caught in my throat as I dropped to my knees on the rubber floor.