Page 2 of Returning Your Love
Someone pushing a clanging medical cart strode past the curtain that blocked me off from the rest of the patients waiting to be sliced open.
“Coach Bernard has been talking about retiring for over decade.” Dad shifted on his hardback chair, rubbing a roughened hand over his gray-speckled beard. “Maybe your return will be the encouragement he needs to visit Arizona like he’s been dreaming of for half of forever.”
Go back home to coach high school football. Could my life be any more cliche?
I grimaced rather than snorting.
No fucking way my happily ever after would come about like a goddamn Hallmark movie. A marriage had taken place four years ago that ensured my lifelong heartache and loneliness.
“Yeah, we’ll see, Dad,” I said noncommittally. “Right now, I need to focus on healing. Probably gonna sell my condo down here and move back to Boston though. I at least have a few friends up there.”
Hell, not a single Houston teammate had reached out to me since last night’s win to see how I was doing. Coach and the head trainer had called for an update, but that was it. Guess no one cared their star running back was gone for good.
Life went on, right?
Dad squeezed my forearm again as my eyes slid closed against reality. “Hang in there, kid. This shit sucks, but you’ll come out stronger on the other side.”
I appreciated his words of encouragement, but they did fuck-all to make me feel any better.
“Jamie Forester?”
A dude in scrubs and cap over his brown hair rounded the curtain with a smile on his face.
It’s go time—I’ve got this.
My Boston apartment window was cracked open, the cool evening air like a kiss on my bare skin. I sprawled naked as usual on my couch, bored with my unemployment, missing football, and horny as fuck.
As expected, surgery hadn’t done jack toward getting me back on the field, but at least I could walk around with a barely noticeable limp and had finally been given the green light for heavier lifting. It’d been a long-as-fuck five months full of agonizing stretching, physical therapy, and sitting with a shrink to keep me from spiraling. Regardless of hours spent with my therapist, I still hadn’t figured out what to do with myself because nothing compared to rushing into the end zone.
I’d been celibate for a goddamned year too, and there was no one around I was comfortable enough with to help ease the restlessness brewing in my balls I toyed with.
Since my NFL career had been shot to shit, I at least didn’t have to keep my sexuality to myself. I wouldn’t call it a silver lining though. No matter how badly I needed to get laid, I couldn’t stomach a quickie with a random off Grindr. That shitjust wasn’t for me. I needed some sort of connection before sharing my body.
Back in college when I’d been in the closet and desperate to get laid, I’d gone to crazy lengths to be able to afford the action I needed. I opened a faceless OnlyFans account, and with my body unmarked by tattoos, no one had known the muscled jock’s real name. I’d never done a collaboration and had quadruple-checked to make sure my live backgrounds and pre-recorded videos were clean as a whistle as far as telltale giveaways of where I lived before uploading them for salivating fans.
Jerking off and playing with my hole online had afforded me the financial ability to book with Elite Escorts MM. Not only did they ensure confidentiality, but I was also a paying client, which meant I had time to connect with someone before getting dicked down.
The second I’d laid eyes on the escort Zack, I’d been driven to meet him and eventually have him on top of and beneath me. Even before checking out how he preferred to please customers, I’d set a financial goal so I could book a night to get to know him. OnlyFans had given me that opportunity, and I’d taken advantage of the discreet escort service to ease that deep itch inside me.
I’d gone through those great lengths for a few nights with Zack because he looked like the guy who had owned my heart since childhood. He had the same muscular build, dark hair, and hazel eyes as Chaz, my best friend who’d married the third member of our three musketeers from high school.
Last I’d heard, Chaz and Shelly were still together, happily married, and trying for a baby. Having to watch them first hold hands our sophomore year then start kissing over the summer had been as motivating for me to leave Pippen Creek as the drive to be drafted into the NFL.
My stomach turned over the memories assaulting me, so I shoved them from my mind and got back to my dick that had wilted somewhat. A few strokes over my length while thinking about sinking into a tight hole brought my hard-on back to full life, but jerking off again just wasn’t going to cut it this time. Having no other options, I picked my cell up off the cushion beside me with my free hand, the other still playing with my shaft and soft sac.
As an escort, Zack had known exactly how to please. Give and take, he’d been a pretty damn good fit for whenever my need had grown too great and using a dildo on myself for my subscribers hadn’t been enough to satisfy my craving to be stuffed full.
And tonight, I wanted Zack to wreck my hole. Hold me down and make me forget the shit of the last five months and my uncertain future since all my plans, my goals, had been torn apart and still bled.
I opened my bookmarks and frowned at finding his webpage on EEMM gone from existence. The dent between my eyebrows dipped deeper the more I searched Elite’s site. Zack was no longer listed as one of their escorts.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, scrolling through the remaining men on offer. I would have to start from scratch, but if someone caught my eye, I didn’t mind putting in the time to connect with them so I could get off without having to use my hand.
And since I’d gotten a portion of my original contract, I could definitely afford the cost of one of Elite’s escorts.
None of their Tall, Dark, and Handsome or Dominants reminded me of the man I really wanted. Desperate, I switched over to the Twinks & Twunks category. Maybe I would get lucky.
I snorted as an image of someone from back home filled my screen, same as the first time I’d been scrolling for an Elite. Jimmy Riley was blond, pretty as fuck with big blue eyes, and a strict bottom. Far from my type and definitely not someoneI was interested in building a connection with even if he was. Two years older than me, he’d been a mess in high school from what I could remember, always getting into trouble with the law. The guy hadn’t ever been able to keep his mouth shut, but Elite Escorts MM were known for their discretion and had NDAs for a reason. I’d taken a chance in hiring a co-worker of his while in college, but Zack could have been Chaz’s older brother, and I would give my left nut for one night with my best friend.
