Page 13 of Illicit Obsession

I fist-bumped Anderson before Kane, Hunter, Quinn, and Sterling joined us. Without a doubt, these guys were the best offense I’d ever played with. I was honored to be brothers with them on and off the field.

Minutes later, we jogged from the locker room, through the tunnel, and onto the field. The referee tossed a coin. We had the ball.

Kane led us into position, the cheers of the fans almost deafening. Everyone was pumped.

“As we prepare for another game at Whitmore, the crowd mirroring the excitement of the players is really electrified,” the announcer said.

I blocked out the chatter and noise as Kane threw the first play. The football spiraled into the air and down the field, right into my waiting hands. The second I caught it, a huge motherfucker ran into me. I landed on my back, the wind whooshing out of my lungs, but I kept the ball tucked under my arm.

“Get off me, asshole.” I pushed him off enough to suck in a lungful of air.

The guy smirked at me then said, “Psycho says to tell you he’s watching.”

The blood drained from my face, and my world tilted on its side before it turned hazy. Rattled, I shook my head, wondering if I’d been hit it too hard and was imagining things. There was no way in hell Psycho would be at my game, or was there? Unease mixed with dread reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart.

“You alright? Way to get tackled on the first play,” Anderson said, interrupting my thoughts and holding his hand out to help me off the ground.

“Yeah. I’m good.” I tried to appear nonchalant as I searched the stands for Psycho, a sick feeling knotting in the pit of my stomach. If he was there, I wouldn’t be able to find him. The stadium was packed.

To the best of my ability, I focused on playing and winning the game. Football was the only thing in my life that hadn’t failed me. When I needed it most, it saved me more than once. I had an eerie feeling it was about to happen again.

After scoring two touchdowns, I was pumped and ready for more. The Hornets were a tight match for us, and as hard our team was playing, they were holding their own. We needed to catch the sons of bitches off guard.

The half-time buzzer sounded, and we jogged off the field and filed into the locker room.

“How’s your knee, son?” Coach said from beside me.

“Sore but good.”

“Let’s ice you up. I need you healthy and on that field.” He slapped me on the back before walking over to Kane and addressing the team.

As hard as I tried to pay attention to Coach, I felt like Charlie Brown, only hearing a muffled voice in the background. I wasn’t sure what the hell had happened out there. I must have been hit harder than I thought because I didn’t have a fucking clue who told me about Psycho. Just because he delivered the message didn’t mean he knew Psycho. Hell, Psycho could have given him a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill and told him what to say before the other team traveled here from Washington state.

Even though I was hot and sweaty, a chill slithered down my back. Rage intermingled with guilt fueled my fucked-up soul as I vividly recalled the night that changed my life. To this day, I had no proof of who started the fire, but I had my suspicions. At this point, I was waiting for the right moment to exact revenge. When I did, it would feel damn good, even if I would serve eternity in hell for what I planned to do.

* * *

“Hell of a game, Jag,” Kane said as I climbed into his silver Jaguar. My ass sank into the plush leather seat and I grinned. At one time, I’d been a rich bastard, but I walked away from every fucking penny. The money had cost me my goddamn soul, and I was determined to find my own path. I wasn’t sure redemption was possible, but I toyed with the idea anyway. Some actions and choices weren’t redeemable, and I was pretty sure I’d crossed that line.

“You too, dude. You were super tight in your throws out there. I wasn’t sure we would walk away with another win, but we did.” Our cheers echoed through the car as Kane pulled out of the university’s parking lot and headed to the society. We were ready to blow off steam, and each of us had received a text that girls would be waiting at the society by eight that evening. I could definitely go for getting my cock sucked.

I leaned back in the seat and stretched my legs out, every part of my body battered and bruised from the Hornet’s defensive line. The message the football player had delivered continued to fuck with me. As soon as the game had ended, I searched for him by the visitors’ locker room, but I never found him.

I glanced at my friend. “Any idea who is behind the society?”

“Nope.” Kane ran his hand over his short hair and drove onto the main road. “I’m thinking it’s gotta be Coach, right?”

I shrugged. “I wondered the same thing, but I don’t think it is. The last girl I fucked, I don’t even know what she looked like. She wore a blindfold that covered her face. One thing I do know is she looked hella good naked.” I rubbed the back of my neck; the thought of being inside her again had my dick begging to be set free.

“Did you get her name?” Kane asked.

“Nope. At the time, it didn’t even cross my mind. Now I’m wondering how to fuck her again.” I frowned before I looked at Kane. “What about you? Did you like the chick you were with?”

A flicker of something I couldn’t detect flashed across his stoic expression. “Yeah. She was fine. Not sure she’s my type, though. It was probably the room I was in. Whoever designed it should have named it vanilla—a few toys but nothing big. Guess it’s for those that want a tame time. That shit’s not for me.”

I barked out a laugh. “Same, man. In mine, the chick was blindfolded and had a chain around her neck. She was stark naked with her hands bound in front of her.”

Bewildered, Kane shook his head. “Damn. I needed to swap with you, dude.”

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