Page 16 of Dirty Heirs

He was into me, and I was a hunter. I went after what I wanted until it was mine.

And Aiden was mine.

After football practice, I showered and walked to my locker with a towel wrapped around my waist. Running a hand through my wet, blond hair, I tried to block Aiden from my mind. Getting a boner in front of a bunch of straight dudes would not go well for me.

“Are you coming with us this weekend?” I asked Marcello, who had his back to me, dressed in black Gucci boxer briefs. He was so muscular I could see the dimple in his ass through his underwear.

His dark head of wet, messy black hair popped out of the locker. “I don’t know. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” I opened my locker and dropped my towel. “If your asshole brothers will let you? You’re a big boy, Marcello. You don’t need Luca’s permission.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Get off my back about him, Son. You know what I go through at home. I’m not getting involved in Luca’s feud with Alex and her family.”

“You should take a page from Aiden’s book and try standing up to Luca. He’d respect you more if you did.”

“I do,” he fired back. “I talked to Alex the night we met when Luca warned us to avoid her. It pissed him off to no end.” He laughed, shoving his arms through the sleeves of an Astor Prep Football T-shirt with his last name printed on the back. “We got into a fistfight over it after she left our estate.”

“Obviously, you won.” I stepped into a pair of Dolce & Gabbana boxer briefs that made my ass look good and my dick even bigger. “You don’t have a scratch on you.”

“Leave Aiden alone,” Marcello warned, rifling through his locker for a pair of track pants.

“No can do, Cello. He’s mine.”

Marcello Salvatore had been my best friend my entire life. Back then, we were little shits running around in our diapers. I pushed him to the ground, and then he punched me in the face. That was the start of our life-long friendship. I had two younger brothers, and Marcello had three older ones.

But we always had each other.

“My brothers are already fucking with Aiden’s twin sister. They’re making Alex’s life hell, and since I’m not in the same classes as them, there ain’t shit I can do about it.” Marcello turned his hardened gaze on me, pinning me down with those big, blue eyes. “Aiden doesn’t need you trying to groom him into one of your fuck boys.”

Other players busied themselves around us. Most of them knew about my sexual preferences and didn’t care. But the few who said shit to my face had gotten well acquainted with my fist right before it crashed into their jaw. Marcello had even roughed up some of the assholes at school after overhearing them talk about me.

I was the oldest son of a billionaire and the heir to a massive shipping empire. Mac Corp would be mine someday. It was my legacy to take over for my dad. But my penchant for taunting the media with my sexploits drove my father crazy. He accepted his bisexual son, though he hated how I chose to flaunt it.

I laughed at Marcello’s comment. “I don’t have fuck boys, Cello. Just boys that I fuck. There’s a distinction.”

Aiden Wellington was now part of our inner circle through his family’s legacy. He just hadn’t accepted it yet. And when he did, I would guide him every step of the way.

“You know what I mean, Son.” Marcello removed the gym bag from his locker and dropped it onto the bench. “Stop trying to get every guy to play for the other team.”

I snorted at his words. “You’d be surprised how many men are attracted to me.”

Turning his back to me, he pulled a pair of sneakers from his bag. “Not me.”

“You’re hot, I’ll give you that, Cello. I’d fuck that tight ass from now until next Sunday if you weren’t my best friend.” I yanked the shirt over my head and down my stomach. “But it’s not like that with us.” My eyes shifted to Marcello for a moment. “I got over my crush a long time ago.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” he shot back, sliding his foot into the sneaker, eyes on the floor as he tugged on the laces. “I only like pussy. And I’d kick your ass for even trying.”

Marcello was popular and good-looking, like his brothers. With tanned skin and black hair that was too long and hanging in his face, he commanded every room he entered. He had the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen but always looked sad.

And his body was perfect.

Like a Greek statue.

If I liked him that way, I would have climbed the wall of muscle standing beside me and mounted him like a savage. His arms were corded with muscle, so thick I could barely get my hands around them. He trained constantly and had zero body fat. Marcello was the starting quarterback, in game-ready shape, and smoked everyone on our team.

After we dressed, we left the locker room, slinging bags over our shoulders. We took the back way toward the parking lot. To my surprise, we found Aiden tagging on the brick wall of the athletic building.

His sister hung out beside him, arms folded over her chest and leaning against the wall. They didn’t hear us approach, consumed by their conversation.

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