Page 61 of The Quarterback
“Then shove your tie in your mouth.” He squeezed Colton’s ass again, two handfuls of glorious, thick quarterback. “Bite down when you scream.”
Colton grabbed his tie and stuffed the teal silk between his teeth. Nick kissed the corner of his eye with trembling lips. “My turn,” he whispered, “to do something I’ve been dreaming of.” Colton was unlocking doors inside him, thoughts and feelings he’d buried in the deepest spaces of his mind. Desires. Hungers. He’d always been an ass man. He’d never hadthisfine of an ass in front of him.
Nick slithered back, settling between Colton’s widespread thighs. He heard a soft, muffled moan, felt Colton’s body start to shake as his forehead dropped. His ass cheeks clenched and released, the dimples on each appearing and then vanishing, playing peekaboo with Nick.
He sank his teeth into the curve of Colton’s ass, biting down as if it were a summer-ripened peach. He latched on to Colton’s smooth skin, sucking until Colton gasped and one of his hands flew sideways, knocking two pens to the carpet.
“Okay?” Nick whispered, kissing the hickey he’d placed on Colton’s left ass cheek.
Colton nodded. A soft groan drifted from where Colton had hidden his face against the glass tabletop. His eyes were squeezed tight, and the hand that had knocked over the pens grasped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white and blue.
Nick spread Colton’s ass cheeks slowly, watching Colton for any reaction. A flicker of fear, of hesitation. He waited.
Colton looked back at him over his shoulder. Lust burned in his eyes, slamming into Nick.
Nick buried his face between Colton’s cheeks and slicked his tongue over Colton’s hot, tight hole.
Colton whimpered into the tie as he jerked so hard the table slid forward three inches. Nick followed, face deep in Colton’s ass with his tongue fluttering over Colton’s hole and tracing his puckered skin. His tongue slipped in and out of Colton, tasting the innermost part of his lover.
Ecstasy flooded Nick along with the taste of Colton, his musky, heady maleness. He’d been fantasizing about Colton’s ass since their first weekend, when his eyes had opened to what they could become. Colton was gorgeous, physical perfection—at least, to Nick—and no small part of that was due to his thick ass. He hadn’t known whether what he wanted went too far, though. Would Colton want to let Nick put his mouth on him, on his most private part? Let Nick push his tongue inside Colton’s tight, aching heat?
God, he tasted perfect. Nick groaned and sucked on Colton’s hole.
Colton’s tie muffled his moans. His arms, his shoulders were shaking. His thighs spread wider, and he ground his ass into Nick’s face, humping Nick’s mouth. Nick dug his fingers into Colton’s cheeks and slithered his tongue as far inside Colton as he could reach.
Colton keened, shuddering and bucking backward as his ass cheeks flexed hard around Nick’s face and his hole squeezed down on Nick’s tongue. He tried to say something, but the sound was lost in his gag. A moment later, come shot out of Colton’s cock, spattering the underside of Nick’s glass table and the carpet.
Nick stroked him through the end of his orgasm, keeping Colton’s quivers and jerks and agonized moans going until he was truly spent, limp in Nick’s palm.
Only then did he pull his tongue away from Colton’s saliva-soaked hole.
He kissed Colton’s ass cheek again, on the hickey he’d left. He was tender this time, almost chaste, if he could even think that word after he’d just devoured Colton’s ass like a four-course meal. He could taste Colton’s musk on his lips and deep on his tongue. His hands were still holding Colton’s cheeks, still spreading him open, still kneading his firm flesh. And Colton was still lying over his coffee table, his spit-soaked tie half in his mouth. Heavy, hard pants from his nose fogged the glass in steady echoes of condensation.
“Colton…” Shame grew inside Nick. He wiped his face with both hands, then ran his shaking palms down his suit pants. His clothes were ruined. He smelled like sex. Looked like sex. “I’m sorry.” God, he sounded like he’d just had sex, too. Like he’d just had a massive orgasm and then tried his damnedest to give an equally massive one to his lover. Nick’s hand trailed up Colton’s spine as Colton slid off the coffee table. “Was that… too far?” Fear sluiced through Nick, freezing away the lust that had nearly burned him alive. His heart jackhammered as Colton shimmied back into his boxers and suit pants and collapsed beside him on the floor. He pulled his ruined tie from his neck and wrapped it around one of his hands.
“Don’t apologize.” Colton’s voice was still husky, still lost in the depths of lust and a cock ravaging his throat. “Don’t apologize for that. Fuck, Nick… I loved it.” Crimson stained Colton’s cheeks.
“I loved it, too.” He leaned into Colton’s shoulder. God, he could still taste Colton. He licked his lips, chasing the flavor of his lover.
Colton laughed softly. His cheeks were still a deep burgundy. He unwound his tie slowly. Ran his fingers over the bite barks in the silken fabric. “I mean, it was a huge surprise. I didn’t think you would want stuff like that.”
“Hey.” Nick took Colton’s chin in his hand. He waited, and finally, Colton’s gaze rose. Wide, uncertain eyes flickered to him and then away. “I want this,” Nick whispered. “I want to be with you. Yes, everything with you is new and different, but I’m not disgusted by any of it. Can’t you tell how much you turn me on?”
“Everyone likes blow jobs.”
“I likeyoumore than I like blow jobs.” He kissed Colton, and Colton melted into him, moaning as he kissed Nick back, dropping his tie, pushing his hands into Nick’s hair and caressing his scalp. Colton shivered, sweet, soft moans falling from his lips.
Careful. Danger. Surely this was all Colton wanted. Stolen moments, high heat and strangled gasps and so much pleasure it crawled through his veins, still buzzed under his skin.NFL players don’t have older men as lovers. College quarterbacks don’t date their friend’s father.
Could he stop himself from falling for Colton, though?
* * *
Their lives had settledinto a steady routine as the summer began to wane. Colton tacked a calendar to Nick’s refrigerator door with the date football camp began circled in red, and he marked each day that passed with a bigX. They ran together in the gym before work a few days a week, and every evening, they played catch in the park with Colton’s football. Sometimes they just sat on the lawn and watched the sun set and the stars come out, talking instead of throwing the football for another few hours. There was a workout schedule beneath the calendar on the fridge, and Nick had peeked at it once. It seemed like a lot of work for a healing athlete, and so much activity that Colton would need to be in the gym or on the field throwing the football all day, never mind his internship. What had Colton said about his previous summers? All football, all the time. He’d spent weeks with Wes learning new offensive systems one summer. Another summer perfecting his accuracy, hurling footballs from every yard line in the stadium to fixed targets in the end zone. Stadium stair climbs, miles and miles ground out beneath his running shoes, pounding the pavement all over Austin. So much weight lifting he started counting everything he did like he was counting reps. Steps in the grocery store, or scrubs with the soap in the shower.
He wasn’t doing any of that now. Instead, he was smiling at Nick over a glass of wine. Laughing as they ate on his balcony, sharing stories back and forth. Holding Nick’s hand or laying his head on Nick’s thigh as they played PlayStation or watched TV.
Was that a problem? Was Nick a distraction? How many coaches over the years, across sports teams from every league, had warned athletes of the dangers of lust? Distraction, a lack of focus. Thinking with the wrong head.
