Page 33 of Playing to Win

“Does this make it okay?” Colin wrapped both arms around Andrew’s torso and lifted him off the bench. “You let me do this to you and we’re even now? It makes us equal?” Colin’s voice pulsed with pain. “We’ll never be equals, your sort and mine, not outside this room. You’ll see to it, won’t you?”

Helpless in Colin’s grasp, Andrew couldn’t answer. Pressure built inside as the silk of his jock brief shifted against his cock, as Colin filled him from behind, using him, abusing him, taking every tight, wet inch he needed.

“Answer me.” Colin pounded harder, jackhammering now. “Answer me!”

“I can’t, I’m coming!” Andrew felt the surge fill his underwear, coating him with warmth and wetness.

“Fuck. God, I can feel it. Fuck!” Colin’s arms went viper-tight around him, cutting off Andrew’s breath and sending his delirium higher and higher until it seemed his eyes would burst.This is what it’s like to die of pleasure. Oh yes, bring it on.

Groaning, Colin ground into him, hips rolling and pitching. In the mirror, Andrew watched their bodies jerk and spasm as one.

With shuddering breath, Colin finally loosened his grip enough to set Andrew down on the bench. Andrew gulped the air that had been denied him, his head swimming and limbs buzzing. He expected to be shoved away now, discarded with disgust.

But Colin stayed, holding him, forehead pressed to the back of his shoulder even as he slowly withdrew from Andrew’s body. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“No worries,” Andrew said, trying to convince himself as much as Colin. “All part of the game.”

“It wasn’t.” Colin’s voice quaked. “It was more than that.”

“Even so.” Andrew wiped his eyes, then shifted away, turning to sit on the foot of the bed. “Considering our history and our—well, our differences—you and I were destined for a hate fuck sooner or later.” He drew his toes up the outside of Colin’s thigh. “At least now it’s out of the way.”

Colin stared at him, face mottled with exertion and emotion. “You don’t want me to leave?”

Leave?What was wrong with this lad that he expected rejection at every turn?

Andrew steeled his face to keep the wave of sympathy from reaching his eyes. “The night’s young yet.” He jerked his chin the way he did when he expected to be obeyed. “Now take off your clothes and come to bed.”

CHAPTERTEN

ANDREWLAYALONEunder the cool white sheet, his head on one of the lush down pillows. It was impossible to chase his racing thoughts, distorted as they were with the lingering haze of pleasure.

He’d never felt so raw. Not so much physically—though his knees would surely have scrapes and bruises (that bench wasn’t as soft as it appeared). It wasn’t the brutal way Colin had touched him that stripped him bare. It was the truth of his words.

From his earliest days at Fettes Prep, Andrew had watched older gay lads get bullied into misery and isolation, or forced to the margins of school life. So he’d started young, seizing power, making others afraid of him. A preemptive strike against the bullies by becoming one himself. It was eat or be eaten, and he refused to be prey.

How many of his boarding-school mates had cowered in their rooms, slicing their arms like Colin, after Andrew had crushed them with a catty insult or a strategic snub? How many secret scars bore Andrew’s name?

“Fancy a wee swally?” Colin asked as he strode from the bathroom to the desk.

“Wine would be grand.” Andrew rolled onto his side so he could admire Colin’s figure, naked now but for the black supportive brace on his left knee. Being blindfolded had been a massive turn-on for Andrew—as was discovering Colin had been so eager to fuck him, he’d done it fully clothed—but there was much to be said for sight and skin.

Like most footballers, Colin had a lean, sinuous body, built for speed and strength rather than show. Unlike most footballers, his upper body was remarkably strapping. Perhaps the rehab on his knee had given him time and energy to lift weights.

As Colin gripped the Riesling bottle to remove the cork, every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and chest flexed at once. Andrew sighed, fingertips tingling.

“I’ll just have half a glass, as I’ve got training session tomorrow and I’ve already drunk a lot today.” Colin returned to the bed with the bottle and a pair of glasses. “Does it need to breathe first?”

“No, that’s only red wine, which I didn’t dare request, what with these pristine white sheets.” He pulled back the covers for Colin.

“Because I’m a clumsy oaf?”

“BecauseI’ma clumsy oaf when I get excited.” He ran his palm over the sheet. “And you excite me.”

Colin rolled his eyes—a fair response to Andrew’s trite remark—then poured the wine. “Does anyone know we’re here?”

“Why, you planning to murder me?” Andrew regretted the joke at the sight of Colin’s chagrin. “Sorry. I don’t actually think you’d hurt me.”You’re one of a handful of people who wouldn’t, given the chance.“Only my bodyguard knows where I am and whom I’m with.”

“Won’t he tell your dad?”

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