Page 24 of Freckles

He moves to stand right in front of me, toe to toe.

“You need to find your purpose. You need to gather your people.”

“That’s what rugby does. The team—”

“If it did, you wouldn’t have the haunted look in your eyes.” He cups my neck, drawing me forward into ahongi, his forehead and nose resting against mine. “You wouldn’t know what I’m talking about… but you do, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The business is my purpose. The men I pick to join—you included—are my people. Mywhanau.”

He stays in place a moment longer, then slowly releases his hold, retreating a half step.

“You like a girl?” I nod. “Good. It’ll help you to start building a life with someone.”

An odd sentiment to hear from my uncle, who has a series of contracted ‘pets’ rather than a spouse or partner.

I give a soft laugh. “She doesn’t like me much.”

“That’s not unusual in our line of work. But there are ways and means of binding people close to you. Respect and fear can work just as well as love.” His razor-sharp gaze scans me, then he nods. “I’m happy to invest in your education, but I won’t pay for you to spend three or four years partying with nothing to show for it. Come back to me when you’ve thought it through.”

“I will. Thank you.”

After he’s gone, I get into the shower, thinking over his words before my mind moves to the far more pleasant memory of Francesca tonight, dressed in my shirt. Seeing my name against her skin again turns me to an animal, savage with need.

I had intended to stay away tonight, not wanting an accidental glance or movement to reveal my connection to Onyx. But when he texted me a picture of her wearing the rugby jersey, I couldn’t stay away.

After a cursory wash, I soap my cock until it’s covered in lather, stroking myself as I revisit the memory of Francesca on her knees. Turning it over in my head like it’s a film, choosing the best angles, cutting out filler.

My mind fills with her tiny, squirming body, her full lips, the vibrancy of her tousled hair, a hundred shades from strawberry blonde through to darkest chestnut. Nothing as simple asred.

As I pump my fist along my length, the movements grow faster. I imagine her tonight, and picture myself returning to the bar, surprising her before she reaches her car. In my head, I push her against the outside wall of the cheap tavern and her breath is hot against my chest, those large eyes staring up at me the way they did in the locker room.

The difference between the eager faces of the girls who willingly line up to fuck me and Francesca’s frown of reluctance, of dismay, of unmitigatedhorroris chasmic.

I play out a vision where I grow sick of her hesitant efforts and grab hold of her cheeks to face-fuck her. Imagining my cock thrusting deep into her throat, not caring if she can swallow.

Saliva spills down her chin and along my length, as clear in my mind’s eye as if she were in front of me on her knees. I relive the vibrations as she gagged on me, choking, likeliterally chokingon my cock, and it’s…fuck.

My balls tighten a second before my release splatters across the tile wall. I lean forward, supporting myself on one hand, panting as the visual of Francesca fades from my imagination and reality comes back into focus.

I wipe away the mess with a swipe of my forearm, rinsing it under the spray.

It’s odd to service myself in the bathroom when, since I sported my first teenage boner, I’ve had a steady stream of volunteers willing to help.

To be fair, there are still plenty of willing participants, it’s just that none of them appeal to me any longer. Even before Wednesday, I’d grown tired of the revolving door routine.

With every other girl, the moment they’re out of sight, I forget them.

Francesca doesn’t appear any different on the surface yet, here I am, days later, my imagination an art gallery dedicated to her likeness, my chest aching withneed-need-need.

I can’t wait to hand her the phone, to track her every movement, both physically and online. To learn everything I can, study her like a final exam, and pounce when the moment is right. Bend her to my will, have those changeable eyes turn large with tears, waiting to do my bidding…

And I’m hard again.

Grabbing hold, with the glut of sensations flooding my mind, it’s over quickly. My release sprays the walls when all I crave is for it to coat the inside of her mouth, her pussy, her arse.

I want to carve a new hole in her and claim that with pearly droplets of my cum.

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