Page 37 of Reluctantly You

I frown and shove at him, our sneakers skidding loudly on the floor.

He chuckles, and I do it again, trying to best him with my strength. But he outmaneuvers me, putting me in a headlock, the basketball casually slung under his other arm.

“You give up?” he asks, and I sock him in the stomach. It’s rock hard, the abdominal muscles flexing where my fist lands. Fuck, I can’t even get him there. He’s impenetrable.

I do it again, and again.

Suddenly, the ball drops and he kicks my feet out from underneath me. I fall onto my ass, my back hitting the hard floor, and then he’s on top of me, his hand around my neck, his knees pressing into my thighs. He’s put me in this position before, and I find myself blushing, my chest heaving. My fingers wrap around his wrist, but I don’t remove it. I don’twantto remove it.

“When will you learn?” he asks, his fingers flexing against my pulse point. I can feel the embarrassment bleed through my skin.

And then I feel it. The hardness of my cock, pushing against my athletic shorts.

Fuck.Fuck!

I try and move away, but he’s still on me, restraining me. He has to feel the pounding of my heart in my throat, has to know what this is doing to me. He has to see it, too. It’s so obvious.

Something deep and feral slips up my spine, and I find my lips parted in a low groan.

His lips twitch at the sound, but he doesn’t say a word. He just pulls off me, hopping onto his feet and running a hand through his hair. Then he grabs the basketball while I stand up, adjusting my cock and cursing him for being such an asshole.

“Alright, another game? Or do you forfeit?”

I want to quit, want to walk out with my shoulders slumped and my dignity vaguely intact. But I can’t take that smug smirk, knowing he’s bested me.

He aggressively tosses the ball at me, and I catch it in my trembling hands. We get back to the game, our bodies brushing as we move, the ball bouncing off the floor and swooshing through the net. When we’re done an hour later, both of us are sweating and panting. He still kicked my ass, but I gave it to him good. He had to work for those points.

“Good game.”

“Fuck off.”

We shower in the locker rooms, my cock very aware that he’s right next to me. Not that I look. I can hear the scrape of the shampoo on his scalp, the squelch of the soap on his skin. I imagine the suds sliding down his body and swirling down the drain.

I turn slightly to keep my erection away from his eyes while he flaunts his body for everyone to see. He’s hung, long and thick, half hard, the length pressed out from his body. And his chest is sculpted, as are his arms and legs. A work of art. I don’t blame him for showing off.

“Care to take a picture?” he asks when he catches me peeking while we get dressed.

“Fuck off. Just wondering how long it’s going to take you to get ready. That’s all.”

He scoffs and pulls on a pair of boxer briefs.

“You know,” he says as he sprays some deodorant on his pits. I can smell it, a tangy, masculine scent. It makes my cock positively throb. “If you were anyone else, I’d think you want to suck my dick.”

My cheeks flame, and I glance away. “Fuck off. I do not.”

He chuckles and pulls on a clean shirt.

“Yeah, I know, who am I kidding? It’s you. You’re not gay.” He smirks at me and then pulls on his pants. “And anyway, even if you were, you’re not my type.”

I grab on to the handle of my gym bag tightly. “Thank fuck for that. I’ll see you outside. Smells like shit in here.”

He grins at me as I turn my back and stomp out. Suck his dick? Not on his fucking life.

I don’t do that. I don’t suck cock, and I sure as fuck won’t be sucking his.

Chapter Seven

Mitch

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