Eastshore Tigers 01 - Strong Side (22 page)

I could almost laugh because it’s so ridiculous.

Derek was freaking out about the team knowing. Then he just up and told everyone I was his boyfriend. Now he’s a gay superstar to the crowd packed into that stadium, and he’s gone and one upped himself yet again.

When all of that sinks in, I can feel a slow smile spread across my lips. It takes its time, eventually tugging into a grin that starts to make my cheeks hurt.

Holy shit. Derek loves me. And I love him. I have to tell him. I have to do
something
.

I reach for my phone before common sense catches up with me. Even if he’s in the locker room now and has it on, there’s no way he’ll be able to hear me during the celebration.

And really, I don’t want to do this over the phone.

But I’m not going to see Derek until Monday, at the earliest. And that’s being generous, because he and the rest of the guys will be swarmed by the whole town. I can’t imagine getting alone time with him until sometime later in the week.

I’m not really sure I can wait that long.

“Dad… do you need me for the weekend?” I ask even before the plan fully forms in my mind.

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and when I look at him, I can see the worry in his eyes. Not disapproval, which is what I expected. Just worry.

“Are you going to leave anyway if I say yes?”

“Probably.”

A small smile touches his lips. “Okay then. But you’re not leaving until after dawn tomorrow, and you’re going to take it easy once you get down there. If I hear you re-injured yourself, you, me, and Derek are gonna spend all spring at the gym. Got it?”

I love you too, Dad,
I think, but instead I just say: “Got it.”

I wasn’t able to fall asleep until late into the night. Too much nervous energy and excitement. Exhaustion finally took hold around three, and I got up just after seven, setting my alarm for the crack of dawn.

After a quick shower and breakfast I was on the road and headed for Tampa, a four hour drive.

From about nine onward, my phone rings and buzzes every half hour or so. I glance over the first time and see Derek’s picture, and it’s so hard not to answer him and tell him what’s up.

But I want it to be a surprise, so I drive my old Accord with the radio cranked up, and I try to plan out what I’m going to do and say, but I never really come up with anything concrete.

Of course, once I get into town and punch the hotel’s address into the GPS, I realize there’s a really good chance Derek and the team won’t even be there. They’ve probably got press conferences and other shit to go to today before they head back home.

But fuck it. If that’s the case, I’ll wait. Turns out it was a good attitude to have, because I end up having to do just that when the concierge tells me the team is out for the day.

Thankfully he recognizes me from my picture on TV, so he helps me get upstairs. He even winks at me as he hands over a keycard to Derek’s room, and I feel my face heat up like I’m sixteen again and being caught sneaking in through the window.

I guess I’m doing the same thing here. When I slide the keycard into the door, my heart’s already racing, even though I know he won’t be there.

His room’s pretty neat, all things considered. It looks like some of the guys came over last night and had a mini-celebration. There are beer bottles sitting out on the table, and some pizza boxes in the trash.

Derek’s bed is unmade, so he probably slept in until they were all called out to go do whatever it is they’re doing right now. The concierge said something about a big lunch with the owner of the Bucs.

As much as I wish I could be by his side, I have no interest in crashing that party. For one, it probably requires a suit and tie, and all I brought was one change of clothes and a fuckload of condoms.

For another, as soon as the guys see me they’ll be all over me. And as happy as I am for my team, it’s really Derek I want to see.

As I sit down on his bed and wait, I realize that I have no idea whether or not he’s rooming with anybody. Fortunately, when I check the closet I only see his luggage, and I count my blessings. It’s not often we get our own rooms, but I guess fate’s on my side today.

The cleaning lady drops in around noon, and I scoop the bottles into the trash while she chastises me for helping. But frankly, it gives me something to do.

I’m about to go crazy just sitting here.

It’s about two in the afternoon when I finally hear familiar voices in the hall. My heart pounds hard against my ribcage, and my breath catches in my throat as I wait to hear the beep of Derek’s keycard.

When he finally turns the heavy handle, I’m standing in the middle of the room, trying not to feel more nervous than I already am.

Derek pulls the door closed behind him, not seeing me yet. He has his phone in his hand, and he’s texting someone. When my phone buzzes in my pocket I can’t help but smile.

Derek’s head snaps up, and he almost drops his phone. “Holy shit.”

Because I can’t help it, I lift up my own phone and text him back a ‘hey.’

“Holy shit!” He repeats, walking toward me cautiously, like I’m a mirage or something. “I’ve been texting you all day. I thought you were fucking pissed at me, man.”

“I didn’t want to answer you on the phone,” I say, and I wonder if his heart is beating as wildly as mine is when he walks toward me.

He stops in front of me, and we take each other in for a moment. I can see the happiness in Derek’s eyes, but I know he’s waiting for me to acknowledge that I heard him during that MVP speech.

“First of all,” I say, “you’d better keep that fucking trophy.”

He laughs nervously, reaching out to touch me. It’s tentative at first, again like he’s checking to make sure I’m really here. He just runs his hand up and down my arm.

“And second…”

I draw in a deep breath. I haven’t had a lot of practice at this. Any practice, really. I hope I can manage to say the right shit.

“You’re my best friend, D. For a while you were the only one who saw me as anything but a football player. I love you for that.”

His smile is bright and infectious. I can see his dimples, and even just the slightest hint of moisture in his brown eyes. He laughs again, and the happiness in that sound squeezes around my heart.

Before I know it, his hands are on either side of my face and he’s pulling me in for a kiss.

It’s slow and sensual and a confirmation of everything that’s happened between us over the past season. When it breaks naturally, he’s wearing a little smirk, and there’s mischief in his half-lidded eyes.

“Just for that?”

“No, not just for that.” One of my hands rests against his neck, and I stroke the pad of my thumb over his stubbled jawline. “I love the way you always end up kneeing me in the back while I’m trying to sleep.”

He groans. “We really need to get a bigger bed.”

“I also love the way you bite your lip a little when you smile at me.”

“I do not.”

He does. He’s doing it right now, and I can’t resist moving in to kiss him, my own teeth nipping lightly at his bottom lip.

“I also love the sounds you make when you fuck me,” I say, my voice lowering.

I feel him shudder against me, and he holds back a completely different groan. Desire lights in his eyes, but he bites his lip again.

“What if I don’t fuck you?”

“You better. I drove all the way from Tampa.”

He grins, moving his hands down to my ass and bringing me fully against him so I can feel him through his pants. He’s already getting hard for me.

“Good point. But… I’d let you fuck me first, if you want.”

A twinge of desire hits me at the offer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. As long as you take it easy,” he says, capturing my lips again. “And since you did drive all the way from Tampa…”

He slowly slinks down my body, his knees hitting the carpeted floor. He unzips my fly, looking up at me the whole time. His eyes are still half-lidded with desire, but there’s something else in his expression that I didn’t really allow myself to notice before: Real affection. Love.

My heart clenches in my chest again, but I’m not given much time to enjoy the more subtle feelings as he tugs down my pants and underwear. My cock is already almost fully hard, and when it bobs free, he wraps his hand around the base, giving me a few good tugs.

He doesn’t waste any time, and I watch as his lips slide over the tip. My head falls back and I let out a moan, not caring who hears me. He works me slowly, not just exploring like we did the first few times, but expertly knowing exactly what to do to get me rock hard and ready for him.

When I start to feel my balls tighten, I let out a shuddering gasp and curl my fingers into his hair, pulling him up. I kiss him, hard, and start moving him back toward the edge of the bed, pushing down on his shoulders firmly so he sits on it.

I start to drop to my knees to return the favor, but Derek stops me. Right. My knee. I’ve got full range of motion now, but it’s probably not a good idea to push it. I don’t need to end up in my doctor’s office trying to explain how I re-injured myself.

Derek scoots back on the bed and motions for me to join him, tugging down his pants and boxers. I lean over him, my hand gripping around his cock. I savor the taste and the feeling of him in my mouth, the groans and moans and grunts that I draw from him with every flick of my tongue. The more noise he makes, the more my body starts to ache, until all I want is to bury myself inside of him and give him the same kind of pleasure he’s given me.

After paying a lot of extra attention to the head of his cock and bringing him to the point where he’s almost whimpering for more, I pull my mouth from him and look up at his face. His whole expression is changed by desire. His cheeks and neck are flushed, his long lashes flutter over his closed eyes, and his lips are parted in pleasure, just begging to be kissed again.

I can’t resist. My tongue presses past his lips and I explore his mouth, teasing and tasting him.

“Lay back,” he says, breathless when I finally break the kiss.

I scoot back on the bed, kicking off my shoes and tugging off my shirt. He does the same, giving me the chance to admire his body. I still want to trace every line, every dip, every swell of muscle with my tongue, but right now I need to feel connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

He climbs overtop of me, his knees on either side of my thighs, and he pins my hands to the bed by the wrists. I claim his lips again, and slowly roll my hips to grind against him, skin to skin. His moans practically vibrate through my whole body, and they’re soon joined by mine, until I can’t tell which sound belongs to him, and which belongs to me.

“Jesus, D, you’re killing me,” I say, my voice rough and strained.

“Tell me what you want.”

He rolls his hips against me, his dick rubbing over mine. I squirm beneath him, trying to break free of his grasp. I know I could probably do it if I really wanted to. He’s not holding on that hard. But I think he likes this little game, and it’s definitely turning me on.

“Want you to fuck me. Please.”

Even if either of us had any interest in drawing this out right now, I can tell there’s no way he’d be able to resist a plea like that. Letting go of me just long enough to grab my bag, he fishes out a bottle of lube and a packet of condoms, getting us both ready.

He straddles my hips, and my heart’s pounding wildly. I don’t want to hurt him, or do something he won’t enjoy, but seeing the trust in his eyes makes me feel like it’ll all work out.

He lowers himself slowly, tensing at first before he slowly relaxes. I can’t help but hold my breath, trying to keep myself from moving too much inside of him.

He doesn’t stop until his thighs are flush against mine. I feel him clench around me, and I can’t hold in the moan anymore. It tears from my throat as I let myself experience what it’s like to be inside of him; to be connected to him completely.

I’ve never felt anything more amazing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

- Derek -

Jason Hawkins is going to be the death of me.

I told him when we first started this that I’ve bottomed before, but it hasn’t been often, and it’s usually a lot harder for me to get off that way. The tops I was with never seemed to have a clue what they were doing, and they always just pushed and shoved until they got what they wanted, maybe remembering to reach around and jack me off if they were feeling especially generous.

But it’s different with Jason.

I know he’s never done this before—not with a guy, anyway—but he’s taking so much care with me that I have plenty of time to adjust to his size. He’s bigger than I thought, nice and thick, and when I get him a few inches deep, he presses right against that spot that makes my whole body suddenly freeze, a slave to the intense hit of pleasure.

I grip the edges of the bed, and lift my ass up to give him a better angle to penetrate me. When he lifts his hips and his big cock sinks into me fully, I let out a loud, low moan.