Blue 42 (Hail Mary Duet Book 1)

by C. A. Rene

  My cock is pulsing and rock hard as I grab him and flip him over onto his stomach. He’s still gripping his nose, blood dripping onto his blanket, and I fall over his back, pressing my cock into his ass. He stills for all of two seconds and then he’s trying to buck me off, but that isn’t fucking happening. I hold the back of his head down into his bed, much the same as I did with Dani earlier, and I grab the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down.

  “Seb, don’t even think about doing this shit again,” he growls and squirms underneath me. Seb.

  I pull my shorts down in the next instant and press my cock into him, “tell me no.”

  “No,” he gasps as my cock slips between his ass cheeks.

  “Now, say it like you mean it,” I pull his ass apart and let my spit drip from my mouth, down to his crack.

  I watch as it glistens around his puckered hole and he moans as it continues down to his ball sack. He doesn’t say no again and even if he did, I wouldn’t have listened. So, I line myself up and begin to push into him. He resists me, clenching his ass, and I crack my hand down onto the cheek, making him startle. While he’s preoccupied with the slap, I slip in a few more inches, and push past the tight ring of muscle. We both moan and he tips his ass up, giving me easier access.

  “Now you want to fuck me sweetly,” he snaps when I bottom out inside of him and he squeezes around my dick. “You forced me here, so fuck me.”

  I still inside of him, my cock pulsing, and his ass squeezing me. Forced him there? He really thinks that way? Fuck him, he says? I grab both of his ass cheeks in my hands and haul him up, pulling out slowly. He pants, dropping his head, and blood still drips from his nose. Doesn’t look like I’m forcing a single thing. I thrust back into him hard and he grunts with the force. I grind into him and pull back out, spitting down onto my cock. I don’t have lube and I doubt he does, not that we need it. This will be the last time I fuck Dixon into submission.

  “Stroke your cock,” I demand, “Come with me.”

  His hand snakes between him and the bed, grabbing his cock. He lets loose a guttural sound and my balls tighten, my orgasm threatening me early. I start a punishing rhythm, knowing I’m not going to last long, and being inside of him, where I’ve wanted to be for months, is just too damn much. I hear him moan and strangled mumbles slip from his lips, shocking me when I realize he’s coming.

  It’s like I’ve been given permission to have this over with quickly and I pump into his ass, chasing my release. Once I feel it, the sensation moving up my spine, the explosion happens, and I’m screaming his name as I shoot my cum into his ass. I continue to pump in and out of him a few times, savoring the feel of him, and committing it all to memory. When I pull out completely, I spread him open, and watch as my cum begins to leak out of his ass, dripping down to his balls.

  “Fuck,” I moan, “this is so fucking hot.”

  “Let me up.” He’s back to his grumpy ass self, so I move back, hauling back up my shorts. He gets up and rushes to his bathroom and I stand rooted to the spot, staring at the blood on his bed. It hits me all at once that I just fucked a man and he’s not just any man, he’s one I’ve been pursuing.

  I wait for it, the feeling of contentment at accomplishing what I wanted, and knowing I can move onto the next, but it never comes. Instead, my heart is beating wildly with panic and my stomach rolls with fear, why do I still want him?

  I hear his toilet flush and I turn for the door, throwing it open. I rush down his steps and out through the front door, jumping into my Hummer. I back out of the driveway and come to the closed gate, my heart threatening to bust through my ribcage. Then it slowly opens and I look up to see Dixon standing on his front porch, watching me as I speed away from his house.

  Dixon

  I open the gate, watching him panic inside his Hummer, and feeling relieved that he’s leaving without us having to talk about things. I don’t want to talk about how tender I feel in places I shouldn’t and that it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I don’t want to talk about how satisfied I feel and that I can’t imagine ever sleeping with anyone else.

  I go back inside and close the door, my emotions running on high. I’m gay, right? I let him fuck me and I let him do it even though he was my rapist first. I lean my back against the door and exhale, feeling the pulse in my backside. It’s reminding me of what happened and instead of feeling ashamed, I feel my cock swell. How did I get to this point? I shove off the door and wince as pain shoots from my knee up to my thigh, reminding me to hit up Jameson in the morning.

  I struggle up the stairs and when I get to my room, the blood on my sheets triggers something inside me. Something dark and sinister works its way throughout my body and my ass hits the floor, sobs wrenching from my chest. There’s something terribly wrong with me and fucking my rapist proves that. How did we both go from fighting to fucking out our frustrations? Why did I let Sebastian Avando fuck me? Why did I enjoy it so much that I came in record time?

  As the tears fall and I struggle to breath through the sobs, I stare at the red drops on my bed. I touch my tender nose and when I pull my fingers away, they are still coated in a little blood. How did that happen? Then it hits me, Sebastian admitted to breaking into my house. My blood runs cold and the sobs die down, my mind running with all the reasons he would’ve done that. I need to hear the reasons from him and that means I have to come face to face with Avando to demand the answers. My stomach flips and it’s not with apprehension, it’s anticipation. I have a reason to talk to him and avoiding each other will be impossible.

  We’re playing the Steelers and I have to watch from the bench. The Steelers are one of those iconic teams and I’ve missed my chance to play them tonight. We have a game against the Patriots next week and I refuse to miss it. I will do what I must because I can’t spend anymore time on the bench nursing this knee, it just needs a bit of help in accelerating its healing. I sent Sebastian a text message, telling him I need to talk to him, and not to even think about running out after, I know where he lives. I can certainly show up at his house and threaten the same shit he did at mine to be permitted inside.

  It’s been a weird twenty-four hours. I’ve been somersaulting between feeling angry and then guilt for having sex with a married man. They looked happily married too and then I think of his daughter, my stomach once again threatening to discharge my dinner. I’m not liking this person I’m becoming and my heart squeezes when I think of how much I’ve changed.

  I wish I could go back a year and take all my knowledge with me, I would’ve done almost everything differently. Now I must live with so many regrets and I know they'll stay with me for a lifetime. I no longer have a little brother to be an example for and that’s the silver lining of it all, because if he were here, I am not what I’d want him to be looking up to.

  Jameson runs off the field and I shake my head to bring me back to this moment, watching as my team gets destroyed by the Steelers. I wish I were out there running that ball into the end zone like my ass was on fire, but this fucking knee is just not healing fast enough.

  “North,” Jameson puffs as he tries to catch his breath, “tell me you’re coming back next week, we’re getting pounded.”

  “I’ll need your help,” I say to him quietly and he stares at me. “What we talked about before.” I look around us.

  “Alright,” he mumbles and gulps down the Gatorade.

  It’s a miserable loss and the atmosphere around the team feels heavy and depressive. Sebastian looks especially down and I know it has a lot to with the fact that he was running laps around people out there, trying his hardest to get to the end zone. He doesn’t look at me as he strips down and heads to the showers. He can’t avoid me forever, I need to know what the fuck he was doing in my house. The guys come one by one out of the shower but no Sebastian and when the last one says goodnight, he still hasn’t come out.

  Worry slices through me as I jump up from the bench and rush into the shower, finding him
leaning against the wall, the water no longer steaming.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap at him and he looks at me from the side of his eye.

  “Are you stalking me now?”

  “Funny you should ask that,” I narrow my eyes at him, “I told you I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I’m tired.” He shakes his head.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I retort.

  His hand comes out and fists my sweater, dragging me into the shower with him. The cold-water sprays over my face and I feel it begin to soak into my tracksuit. I open my mouth to scream at him but he hauls me into his wet body, his mouth instantly on mine. I moan, opening for him like his breath is the last I want in my lungs. I breathe him in and when his tongue tangles with mine, I know there’s no turning back. His cold, wet hand snakes down into my pants and he finds me hard, fucking throbbing. He begins to stroke me and his tongue matches his movements in my mouth.

  I try to clear the fog from my brain, the cold water helping, and pull back from his mouth, my hand going around his throat.

  “Are you insane?” I yell at him and shove him harder into the tiled wall.

  “Remember the last time we were in a shower stall together?”

  His words send my mind into a spiral and I remember the last time vividly. I remember being held against that wall by his friends while he forced himself inside of me and I know I should be disgusted, but my cock is like steel. Sebastian chuckles as he squeezes it, knowing what I’m thinking about, and finding it humorous that I’m reacting this way. But what he doesn’t know is along with the arousal, I have a pulsing rage just underneath, and I squeeze harder around his throat.

  He tries to draw in a breath but I don’t let him, instead I pump myself into his hand, and the sound of him struggling to breathe almost tosses me over the edge. I draw myself back out of his hand and when his brows crash together in confusion, I chuckle darkly. I grab his shoulder and force him to turn, holding his face to the tile with my hand. The water hits his face and he sputters while I pull down my pants, my cock jumping as I fist his ass cheek.

  “How does it feel?” I ask him, putting my mouth to his ear, and sliding my cock between his ass cheeks.

  “Divine.” He answers and spits the water out of his mouth. Not for long.

  I take my hand off his head and wait for him to fight me, but he doesn’t. So, with both hands, I spread him open, and line myself up.

  “What was it you said to me that day?” I taunt him in his ear, “looks like a nice, wet pussy to me.” Then I push inside of him, feeling the hard ring of muscle, and the moment it gives, I’m sinking into him.

  He grunts through it and I know it’s not pleasant at first, it burns. I lean back, the water hitting my chest, and watch as I pull out of him, groaning at the sight.

  “Are you fucking me?” he taunts over his shoulder with a sarcastic snort, “because I don’t feel a fucking thing, North.”

  I chuckle because he asked for it and I’m not going to hold back any longer. I tighten my hold on his ass and slam back inside, my chest warming when he cries out. Bet he damn well feels it now. All the pent-up aggression I’ve had since the day I arrived and Sebastian’s need to focus his hatred on me, is slamming into his tight asshole. I don’t care how much it hurts him, only that it feels amazing for me, and when I slam in for the final time, I grin as his face hits the tile. I come long and hard, my cock pulsing deep inside him. His breathing is rapid, just as mine is, and his eyes are wide open.

  I pull out and squeeze his ass, watching as my cum slowly drips out. “Fuck, that really is hot.”

  He shoves me back and turns off the water, wiping a hand down his face. “Get the fuck out.” He growls. When I don’t move, he steps closer and screams, “get the fuck out!”

  I forget the reason I was here in the first place and turn, rushing from the showers.

  Chapter thirty-one

  Sebastian

  His street is dark and the yellow hue of the streetlights make everything seem dull. I sit in the driver’s seat and watch his house, the windows all dark. I let that shit happen again and I curse myself for the lack of self control. The second he stepped into that locker room before the game, I was a goner, and I knew in the back of my mind, he and I were far from over. Why though? Why couldn’t I set Dixon North free?

  The gates start to swing open and I sit up straighter, watching to see who’s leaving his house. I swear to god if it’s Dani, I will shoot her through her windshield, and then go inside and shoot him too. It’s not Dani - luckily for them both - and it’s not Dixon either. I would assume it’s his mother since she looks the right age and I know there’s no one else in that house. She drives away down the street and I wait, watching the gates as they stay open. After ten minutes of watching, the gates don’t close, and I curse his mother for not being careful.

  I pull into his driveway and ride up to the house, everything still dark inside. I grab my gun out of the glove box and get out of the Hummer, tucking my piece in my waistband. I walk up to his door slowly and look to the blinking red light in the corner. I knock on the door and wait, it’s late so I don't ring the doorbell. These large homes have some ridiculous chiming doorbells and I don’t want to disturb anyone inside. I don’t know if that was his mother or not and she could still be here.

  When no one comes to the door, I try knocking again a bit louder, and look up to the camera, raising my brow. Is he watching me? I’m standing here at his damn door, hours after he fucked me in the same stall I first forced him to take my dick, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s laughing while I stand here. I refuse to be a needy bitch and wait for him. I reach for the door handle and I’m shocked that it’s open, the door swinging open wide.

  Did he not learn anything when I said I was inside of his house?

  I shut the door with a loud resounding thud and wait, but nothing happens. There’s no noise and the house is eerily still, too quiet. I jog up the steps and run to the room I know is his, kicking open the door loudly. Fuck whoever is disturbed, none of this feels right, and if his mental state is anything like mine, then I know he’s in trouble.

  “North!” I yell into his bedroom and I don’t hear any response.

  I see the curtains billowing around his sliding door and run for that, tripping over the ledge. I end up out on a balcony that faces the backyard and I suck in a lungful of fresh cold air. Just as I look to the sky, snowflakes begin to fall, and I hear a sarcastic snort from my right.

  “I should’ve known you would break in again.” I turn to see Dixon sitting in the corner with a whiskey bottle in his hand.

  “Are you fucking stupid?” I yell at him, “didn’t you hear me call your name?”

  “I did,” he takes a swig from the bottle, “I was just hoping you’d go away, but you never do, do you?”

  “Nah,” I stare down at him, “and I can’t break into a home that’s left completely open.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He takes another swig.

  “Was that your mom that left?” I ask him and swipe the bottle out of his hand, taking a gulp.

  “She left?” he chuckles and the sound sends chills down my spine, “she called me Danny.”

  His words hit me like a freight train and I feel his pain as if it were my own. The heavy feel of it is palpable in the air and I sit down next to him, gulping from the bottle before handing it back.

  “She’s sad,” I tell him, “seeing you probably reminds her constantly about him and it would be easy enough to do.”

  “I didn’t get mad at her,” he sounds so small and I watch as he takes another sip, “I broke down.”

  That crushes me a bit more and I feel for him. His only family left in the world just left him and he’s struggling with survivor’s guilt. I see it and I know it well, I live with it daily. Having the life I do was never easy and even though I have money now, it doesn’t change where I came from. I had friends murdered similarly to Little North an
d I still ask myself every day why I’m here and they’re not.

  “You can go now,” he sneers, “and you need to stop breaking into my shit.”

  “This time I rode right up,” I stand, anger pulsing in my chest and shooting straight to my cock. This is our own brand of foreplay.

  “Then you can ride right back out.” I know I should take it easier on him, that his heart is broken, and his soul is bruised, but I think he’s doing it on purpose. He wants me to help him forget for a while.

  I can do that.

  I grab him by his shirt and haul him up out of his chair, he puts up a struggle but it’s no use. He tries to swing the bottle at my head but I block his arm and the bottle crashes into the concrete, smashing into pieces. He bares his teeth and tries to headbutt me but I grab him around his throat, forcing him into his bedroom.

  “What else do you need, Dixon?” I whisper against his mouth and he tries to bite me, “do you need me to fuck you?”

  He growls and tries to twist out of my hold but I tighten my grip, his eyes widening at the lack of air. I can see the exact moment when the anger in his eyes burns bright with lust and I know he’s wanting more than just a fight. I let go of his throat but he surprises me with a quick left, connecting with my cheek. My blood boils with rage as I reach for my piece at my back and press it to his forehead.

  There’s no reaction and he stands there, staring me down, “do it.” His voice is low and defeated. “Kill me!” He screams and grabs the barrel, pressing it in harder, “fucking do it!”