Page 7 of Still Bruised
It wasn’t Jude’s imagination.
Oh shit… oh shit… this is really happening…
When Foster’s lips touched his, he shuddered. He was too scared to move at first, terrified to admit he wanted that kiss as much as he wanted air in his lungs. But the kiss was too tentative for Jude’s liking, but he was anxious to push for more.
Foster pulled away, eyes wide and his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Lust shone in his eyes, a lust that raced through Jude’s veins.
Jude leaned forward and captured Foster’s mouth again, needing a real fucking kiss. If he was going to have his moment, he was going to be kissed properly. Foster kissed him back just as ravenously, his hands releasing his wrists and moving down to squeeze Jude’s ass.
Oh god, oh god… what is happening?
Jude slipped a hand in under the waistband of Foster’s football uniform and past the cup and jockstrap. Much to Jude’s surprise, Foster was semi-hard underneath. The kiss ended, and they stared at one another, panting for air. Foster groaned everso lightly as Jude worked a hand down the shaft to the nest of curls and back up. He’d never held another guy’s cock in his hand. Thought about it a time or two, but it felt even better than he’d imagined it would.
Foster grew in his hand. He gasped when he realized just how big Foster was.
Too big.
Foster’s lids grew heavy, eyes narrowing. He pressed his forehead to Jude’s. Lost in the moment, Jude wanted to see Foster’s cock. See his hand sliding up and down. He tugged the pants down Foster’s hips an inch.
“Whatin the hellis this?”
Foster shoved him away. The air was knocked from his lungs when Jude’s back hit the row of lockers behind him. He turned to see who was there.
Of course it was Rick. He stood at the end of the row, staring at them, a hint of a smile on his lips.
The awkward silence stretched out too long, making Jude’s skin itch. His mind screamed “run,” but for some reason, he couldn’t move.
“I know you stole the pot,” Jude said to Rick, breaking the silence.
“And you thought you’d find it down Foster’s pants?” Rick asked, grinning as he sauntered closer. Rick looked at Foster. “I know you wanted that blow job. Sorry to cockblock you.”
“His hand wasn’t down my pants,” Foster said, guilt written all over his pretty face. “I-I caught him looking in the lockers. We… we were… fighting.”
Way to sell the lie, moron.
Rick looked between the two of them, smiling too much for Jude’s liking. After a couple of seconds, he snatched Jude by the shirt and shoved him against a locker. “I didn’t take your shit,Judith.”Rick leaned in closer, stinking of sweat and bad breath. “I think we need to show you what happens when thieves come into our locker room.”
“Just let him go,” Foster said to Rick.
“Stop taking up for your boyfriend,” Rick said to Foster, never taking his eyes off Jude.
“Fuck you,”Foster said to Rick. “I told you we were fighting.”
Rick ignored Foster, the light in his eyes terrifying as he stared at Jude. Foster’s worried gaze flicked to Jude’s, catching his notice.
“Rick, you’re over eighteen now. No more juvenile court for you,” Foster said, the words spilling rapidly from his lips. “If you hurt him, you could get arrested for assault and dropped from the team.”
Rick didn’t move.
“Just give him the pot back and let him go,” Foster added.
Rick released Jude’s shirt as he turned to glare at Foster. “Shutthe fuckup,Fozzie.”
Jude took the opportunity Rick’s redirected anger gave him. He raced for the door. He heard shouting behind him but didn’t look back. He ran like his life depended on it because it probably did.He was a hate crime waiting to happen. When he made it to his idling car, his lungs burned. He didn’t bother with a seatbelt, just locked the doors and shoved it into gear. Jude stomped on the gas, jumping the curb to get out of there.
“Fuck,”Anton groused as they came back down off the little median.
