Page 55 of These Wicked Games
I can’t speak so I nod. He releases me, and then walks away. I take a breath and fight the urge to go after him. I want him so bad it’s terrifying. I’ve never felt need like this. It’s like Oli is ticking all my goddamn boxes. Fuck, he’s creating boxes I didn’t even know existed. “How long?”
“Give me time. I’ll come get you.”
I smile—I can’t help it—as he slams his door, and I take my first real breath of air alone in here. I get out and towel dry. I only have my clothes from earlier but I don’t really want to wear my jeans. I step out of the bathroom and into Oli’s room.
I like how big the space is. The huge window is covered with blackout curtains, and I turn on his bedside light and sit on his king bed. I pull one of his drawers out, smiling when I see a bottle of lube and . . . What do we have here? Oh shit! Oh Oli, you dirty boy. I look at the clear dildo with a smile. Imagining him using this is doing shit to me. Has he used it? Has he used it with women? Does he use it on himself? I keep thinking I’m the only guy, but why? I don’t know his history, maybe I’m not the first. Anger unfurls inside me at the thought. Why? I don’t know. I’m not possessive like this, or at least, I never have been. Then again, I’ve never felt even a fraction of what I did for him when we were friends for anyone else.
I have too many questions.
I almost get up to go find him, but this date was my stupid idea.
I put the dildo back to find clothes.
I go through his dresser, finding a pair of sweats and pulling them on. They fit, I knew they would, but there’s something about wearing his clothes that feels right. I look through his dresser, finding a tank top with wide arm holes before slipping it on too. I imagine him wearing it, filling it out, his abs on display and those gorgeous tattoos hugging his body. There’s so many of them it’s hard to single out one, save for the tiger he showed me. Maybe one day he’ll give me a tour of them while I trace them with my tongue.
I sit on his bed; I need to keep my mind off the toy in his drawer. It’s a big room, and this house is nice. Not as big as some of the players’, but it feels like a home to raise a family in. Does Oli want kids? I feel like that’s just expected of us in this buisness. Find a woman, start a family, show that family off at all the games. I’venever wanted kids; part of me doesn’t believe I’d be any good at it. How can you raise and understand a child when you were never one yourself? I’d fuck it up. I know I would.
Ignoring my thoughts before they can go down the Tripp trauma path, I look around the room.
Feeling restless, I get up, going to the desk he has in here. There are a couple of photos on it. One of him with Atlas and Grey on some fishing trip. One of Oli’s mother. I only saw her a couple of times. When Oli joined the Titans she was already sick. I remember her, though, or at least the way she looked at her son. I remember feeling so goddamn jealous of that. Oli was her world, and you could tell just by watching her look at him.
Another photo catches my attention, and I almost can’t believe it. It’s us. What the hell? It’s us on the Titans and yeah, there are other people from the team, but we’re the focus. It’s as if we were the ones taking the photo and everyone else joined in. We look so young, and Oli looks a lot less tired. I hate what we’ve become. I hate what he thinks of me. I have to convince him.
The door opens, and I flinch away. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I was playing with your clear dildo.” I grin, then I drink him in. Damn, maybe I should have put my jeans back on. I am severely underdressed. “Holy shit, you look hot.”
“I know. I’m gorgeous,” Oli says flatly. “You better have washed it when you were done.”
“I named it. I think we’re in love. Do you use it?”
“It was a gag gift from Atlas for my birthday one year. It’s an inside joke.”
“I love a dildo with lore.” How do I tell him I want to watch him use it? While his tongue is deep in my ass in a sixty-nine. Oh, shit yeah, that’s a vision. “Any chance we can forget about the date and give it a test run?” He blinks at me flatly. “Right. Never mind.”
Now he’s wearing a pair of black slacks, nice shoes, and a dark red sweater that damn near begs attention to those blue fucking eyes. Why did I want to do this instead of riding him?
Stupid. Focus. Romance.
“Are you finished, so we can we get some fucking food?” Maybe asking him to do this was stupid. We could be hot and sweaty right now and I chose this. Still, I follow him, curious what he came up with.
We walk down the stairs, and he’s eying me weirdly, but I ignore him, not so sure what his deal is. Ignoring him works for five seconds before I snap, “What!”
“Are those my clothes?” His voice is low as he surveys me.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t want to put my jeans back on.”
He turns in the hall, grabbing me and hauling me into his arms. I’m so fucking shocked, I moan with the contact. How the fuck—Jesus. His arms don’t even strain as he holds me. My legs are whores, wrapping around his waist. What were we doing? Something about romance. Dinner? “Can we just fuck or do we have to do this? You’re driving me crazy, Dre.”
A slow grin spreads along my lips. I can’t help it. While I want that worse than anything, I like the way weakness drips from his eyes when he looks at me. It feels amazing. It feels like I’m flying. “Romance this sweet ass, Oli.” I grip his jaw, kissing him hard. He ruts against me, pressing me against the wall. I’m not sure what switch has flipped between us, but I know it’s fucking incredible. I can see how much Oli hates how he wants me. His hatred still bleeds into me, but I soak it in. I drink every last drop. I need this just as much as he does.
After he romances me.
I struggle out of his arms, impressed he’s still holding me steady. Finally he lets me go. “Come on. I’m too curious about what you call romance.”
“Go fuck yourself.” He walks past me, storming down his stairs.
“So, no flowers or . . . ?” His frown deepens. “I don’t know, I expected more from you. I’m surprised you even get laid.”
