But not today. I knew exactly what I was here for.
I concentrated on the splay of my hands over his skin, keeping him spread wide as I started to move. Where a litany of filth would’ve once poured from my lips and been met in kind, I kept it locked down, teeth clenched, because we weren’t that anymore. Just former lovers using each other for a quick dopamine hit. I reminded myself of that over and over as pressure built inside me, as he started meeting my thrusts, the rush of his rapid breaths matching mine.
“Shit, McRae,” he grated out, and the sound of my name on his lips after so long almost undid me. His release reverberated through my body, contracting around my shaft, and I pressed hard into him, burying my teeth into the strained tendon near the base of his neck and tasting the salt on his skin mixed with the chemical tang of his cologne.
When he reached beneath, slick fingers rubbing over the base of my shaft, wrapping my balls, and tugging, I lost it. An electric shock of desire jolted my body into submission, and I barely managed to stifle a shout as my orgasm roared through me, spotting my vision with pinpricks of light and dark. Gripping my shaft, Cullen pumped me dry until I sank against him, wrung out and weightless, the heady scent of his release triggering one last pulse from my cock.
For a long minute, we drifted in a postorgasmic lull, the tide of his breath washing through me like it was my own. I let myself have that minute of respite, but the second Cullen’s breathing evened out, I pushed away. I wasn’t about to stick around and risk more awkward moments.
“I need to get to my gate,” I said, straightening and putting myself back together. I snapped the condom off and tossed it before tucking myself away.
Without missing a beat, Cullen nodded and did the same. “Where are you heading? I didn’t even ask.”
“Job interview in New York.” I flexed and contracted my leg a couple of times to shake off the stiffness.
“Shit, your knee. I…is it okay?” Cullen’s brows furrowed with concern, and for some reason, out of all the strangeness of the last half hour, it was that expression that got to me.
“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t. I’d be paying for that orgasm for the rest of the day, physically speaking. And mentally? Probably much longer. I grabbed the strap of my backpack and opened the door. “Travel safe.” I decided to forgo telling him to say hello to his sister for me. God knew what she thought of me after Cullen and I went our separate ways. She was still the only one who knew about us, as far as I knew.
“Good luck with the interview, I guess,” he called out from behind.
“Thanks.”
As the bathroom door swung shut behind me, I told myself that was the closure I needed. Convincing myself it was actually true? That’d be a little tougher.
1
CULLEN
Seeing Houston—McRae—always fucked me up. It didn’t matter if it was in person or not; it always put me on edge and made me do dumb shit. I wasn’t blaming him. It was my fault. I’d spent my life doing stupid stuff, testing the limits and fucking up, but when it came to McRae, I somehow got even dumber.
Our first year in the league, when I’d heard he was dating a model, I’d had a huge party that got so wild the cops had been called, and people got arrested. To say my new team wasn’t impressed was an understatement. When he’d blown out his knee, I’d nearly lost my shit. It had taken everything in me not to jump on a plane and fly to Denver. He’d been hurt and might lose football, and I knew how much that would fucking kill him. The last thing he would have needed was me, the guy he used to hook up with who never knew when to be satisfied and not push for more. The guy who had ended up ruining everything by doing what I always did and ignoring boundaries, always wanting more, more, more.
So, I’d done what any jackass like myself would do in a situation like that. I’d set up anonymous deliveries of flowers to his house every day for a week, then called this woman I used to hook up with sometimes. The one I knew who got off on being in control and tying guys up, even though that wasn’t typically my thing. She’d strapped me to the bed and edged me nearly all damn night. She’d kept me handcuffed but with enough leeway that I could fuck her into orgasm, coming our brains out before collapsing into sleep.
Little had I known that another guy she often slept with had a key to her place. He showed up and decided to take advantage of the situation by taking photos of me handcuffed to said woman’s bed and selling them to the highest bidder. That had gotten me traded—one of the most consistent parts of my career. I fucked up, then got traded. Story of my life.
Now, after making the big-ass mistake of letting him fuck me in the SkyAir Members’ Club bathroom, which would have been a disaster if we’d gotten caught, I made up an excuse to my twin, Charity, about why I’d be late seeing her, and now I was nursing a Jack and Coke in the middle of a gay bar when I wasn’t out.
Bad decisions and I went hand in hand.
I should really work on that.
Clearly, it wasn’t happening tonight.
“Goddamn. I love your hair. You’re really fucking hot.” A twink in a crop top wrapped a lock around his finger.
“So I’ve heard.” I winked, grabbing his thin waist, my large hands nearly able to fully wrap around him.
This was stupid. I knew that. There was a voice in the back of my head that told me how easily I could get caught, get outed, but I was so fucking tired of—well, shit—of everything. But really exhausted with hiding this—with purposefully hooking up with mostly women and not men, the guys few and far between, with only those who could be discreet. I’d already lost my family, except for Charity, when I’d blurted out to them one night at dinner that I was bi. I’d lost McRae all those years ago. I already had a reputation for being trouble in the league. What more did I have to lose?
“Cocky, aren’t you?” Crop-Top Twink quirked a brow.
I nodded toward my crotch, then grinned. “So I’ve heard,” I said again, even though I really wasn’t into this the way I should be. I didn’t want to fuck some rando in a club, but the truth was, I didn’t know what I did want. Not really. At first, it had always been football, taking care of my family, and making my dad proud. Then it had been McRae. Now it was…who the fuck knew? Not me. Hence my decision-making skills and the fact that they could use some work.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Lie…tell him something different. “Cullen,” I replied, sliding my hands up and down his torso. He was small, smaller than I was used to, and felt awkward under my touch.
“Cullen, I like that. It’s sexy.”
“Sexy name for a sexy guy, I guess,” I teased, making Crop-Top Twink chuckle.
“Oh, you’re good. Why is confidence so hot? I hope you don’t let me down. Tell me you’re not all talk but no game? If you’re not as good as you’re making me think you are, I’ll be disappointed.”
This time, it was me who laughed, though it felt like going through the motions, like it wasn’t real. “I’m even better than you think I am.”
Crop-Top Twink whimpered, then pulled me to my feet. I should probably have asked his name, too, but I was pretty sure neither of us cared about that. I let him lead me through the Dallas-area bar. There was a line to get into the bathroom, so I pushed him up against the back wall of the bar and slammed my mouth down on his. At least he’ll let me kiss him.