Page 13 of Nothing to Fear
My fist slams against the wall between us, and a guttural moan releases from my lips. Holy fuck. This is wildly against the rules, not to mention an extreme gamble with fate here. But right now? I don’t give a fuck about chance, or what’s right or wrong, I’m taking what I’m being given.
Lips wrap around my head, and I nearly shoot my load right then and there. It feels so damn good. My mind reels with who could be behind the wall, an image of Silas on his knees, lapping up the precum I’m leaking for him.
But that’s impossible. He would have only volunteered to be a receiver.
I groan again as he picks up the pace, stroking me expertly from root to tip just as my balls are lifted into a warm hand. He rolls them together, fingers working me up and down. My balls draw up, my orgasm barreling forward.
Maybe it’s the environment, the situation. Maybe it’s the way he works me over like he’s done it a thousand times before, but when I come, I come hard. My hips stutter against the wall between us, my cock throbbing and jerking as I unloadropes of cum with no idea where it’s landing. Moans flow freely from my lips, my fist pounding once more against the wall.
When I’m spent, he releases my length with a swipe over my slit, clearly cleaning up the last bead of cum. I pull myself back through the hole and turn, nearly collapsing against the wall, my knees barely able to hold me up.
Holy fuck.
Did I just get off through a glory hole?
Chapter 5
Silas
Practice shouldn’t be as ruthless as it was today. Or the last few weeks. Our coach is missing the plot if he thinks this is how he’s going to create a winning team. We all walk off the field again on wobbly legs, my arms feeling like they were put through a wood chipper.
“I don’t know if I can take much more of this. I think Coach hates us. Which one of you pissed him off?” Eli asks. The group of us audibly groans out our discomfort.
“We’ve got this. See the trainer if you need it, get a massage, take an ice bath, do what you gotta do to recoup; tomorrow is coming whether we’re ready for it or not. We can bring home a win, and maybe he’ll lay off a bit.” My attempt at encouragement seems to work, as everyone nods their agreement or cheers.
Once the hot spray of the locker room shower is pelting down on my sore shoulder blades, I relax slightly. I haven’t seen Asher since Fright Night, and my body is vibrating with anticipation.
When I got his text message while standing with myteammates, I was so damn worried about someone seeing it or seeing the reaction that was humming inside me. Irrational. Ridiculous. It’s not like Asher said anything inappropriate. He was being friendly. But when Dean saw it, I played it off like a dickhead. When Asher looked so hurt, dejected, lost . . . my heart split in two, and before I realized my feet were moving, I was chasing him.
Talking to him outside of Grimsley Hall had me losing my mind. He was different, as if he were reading me like one of his books, trying to figure me out. I didn’t hate it. Electricity crackled between us, and when he stepped into my space, his scent engulfing me, all I wanted to do was take him back inside into the glory hole, anonymity be damned. And after that? Take him back to my single apartment and spend the rest of the night talking.
When I found myself walking blindfolded into the glory hole room, a large, thick, hard cock waiting for me through the hole, I knew I had stumbled into the wrong section. My heart nearly plummeted into the pit of my stomach as panic started to claw at my throat. But there was also excitement as arousal thrummed through me. There was a familiarity about the situation and the man waiting for my touch, even if I couldn’t see him, I felt it, and instead of freaking out, I dropped to my knees with images of Asher Ambrose behind my eyes.
Was I supposed to put my mouth on him? No. But my eyes couldn’t look away from the beads of precum I was pulling from his shaft as my hand stroked up and down. I knew it was a gamble, but when his fist pounded once against the wall in response to my wet mouth engulfing his swollen head, his loud groan flowing through the wall between us, I about came in my pants like an eager teenager and knew I had made the right decision. Jesus. And the way he came for me? His cock heavy in my hand, throbbing as pearly white ropes of cum spurted fromhis slit. And like the desperate man I am, I collected it in my hand and licked it clean after he pulled away.
Corvus College Fright Nights are turning out to be wilder than ever before, and everything I need. I didn’t think anything could replace the constant erotic montage playing in my mind of Fright Night with my masked stranger, but the glory hole at Grimsley Hall just might.
After my needed shower, I get dressed quickly, ready to get down to the archives. We decided to meet three times a week, and I’ve been looking forward to tonight since the Halloween party three days ago. I pull on actual clothes instead of my typical after-practice sweats—jeans that I feel good in, a dark navy sweater over a white T-shirt, and my brown boots. I even spray some cologne.
I thought havingAsher tutor me would be a death sentence, having to maintain the persona I’ve perfected here, but spending time with him, alone in our little piece of the school where no one bothers us, has me excited for something I desperately need: a place where I can be whoever I want to be. A place where maybe I can just be myself.
“Whoa, gotta date there, Blackwood? You smell pretty!” Eli taunts, stepping in front of me with a towel wrapped around his waist, dipping his head toward me, and taking a deep inhale.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I reply as I shrug him away.
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
Ugh. This question. I can’t hold it against him because it’s not like I’ve told them otherwise. But why does everyone have to make assumptions? This is how you make people uncomfortable and feel like they can’t be themselves. I know it’s my job to correct him, but he’s already got me pegged for straightin his head; hell, everyone has. Now we’ve got to have the awkward conversation that I’m not. The conversation I’ve avoided like the bubonic plague for the last three years. That feeling starts to rise, where my veins heat, my skin becoming too tight and itchy, making me want to climb right out of it.
“No one you know,” I snap, rougher than I mean to.
“Whoa, whoa! Touchy! Must be someone special! Haven’t seen you date in years, Blackwood! We were beginning to wonder if you were holding out for marriage!”
Fuck my life.
Asher is already sittingin the same spot at the very back of the archives when I arrive. My mood is still sour, no matter how hard I tried to thaw out on my walk over here. My teammates’ comments dug under my skin, and I can’t shake them. I went from excited anticipation to regret, annoyance, and anger in two seconds flat, all because I don’t have the balls to correct someone’s assumptions about me. But the longer it goes on, the harder it becomes to speak up.
Asher’s raven hair is tousled, like he’s carded his fingers through it repeatedly while he works. My own fingers itch to touch it, to feel the soft locks thread across my skin. I’ve always admired his hair. The dark strands and how they’d slip between my fingers like the finest silk.
