Fair Catch

by Leigh Carman

  “Let me show you something. It will answer most of your questions about me.”

  He seems to give it quite a bit of thought before speaking. “Okay.”

  Toby follows me through a formal living room I never use, down another hallway, into a separate wing of the house, where I stop in front of a set of double doors.

  “This is my office, my living room, and my man cave all rolled into one,” I explain.

  Toby tilts his head, curious. “All right.”

  I open the doors and stand back so Toby can take it all in, and there’s a lot to take in. Hesitant, he walks into the room, turning his head left and right, absorbing everything in my life that means something to me. Footballs on stands line a set of shelves. Jerseys from college and my time with the Wild Cats are framed and hung over a massive television set. There’s a pool table on one end of the room, various sports articles and magazine covers framed and hung on the walls.

  “What is this?” Toby turns to face me, frowning. He steps over to a large framed color picture with an engraved plate beneath it. Me scoring the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl, the ball in my hands, my face twisted in determination.

  I walk up behind Toby, nearly moaning when I inhale and get a full hit of his addictive scent. “That’s why I’m doing the yoga. I tore my hamstring making that play.” Toby turns, crystal blue eyes meeting mine, his mouth shaped into an O. I smile. “We won.”

  “So you’re…?”

  “A football player?”

  Toby nods, wide-eyed.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  His eyes grow even bigger as the information sinks in. “Are you famous?”

  I chuckle and brush off his question like it’s no big deal. “I guess.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh? Toby’s expression is indecipherable. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  “Toby?”

  I move to touch his arm, and he takes a step back. His revulsion is so obvious, he might as well have punched me in the gut.

  “I’ll show you out, Toby.” When I turn to walk him to the front door, Toby grips my arm, his surprisingly strong fingers holding tight.

  “Wait.”

  I do as he says, giving him a chance to say something, anything.

  When he doesn’t speak, I finally lose my patience. “Toby, I don’t know what you want from me. I told you what I want. Yeah, we met as a random hookup, but I’d like to see you, get to know you better. You’re the one who blew me off and gave me no reason. I’m not stalking you. I’m not forcing you to stay. If you want to leave, you can.” I blow out a long breath. “I have to be honest—I have absolutely no clue what to do or how to act around you. You kind of freak me out.”

  Toby stares, silent. I’m about to say fuck it when he steps forward, surprising me by sliding his arms around my neck and pulling me down until our lips touch. Once I get a taste of his sweet mouth, my brain shuts down and my body takes over. I grab Toby’s hips and tug him forward, my hard length rubbing against his abs and his digging into my thigh.

  Once I rip my mouth away to drag in a breath, I watch, mesmerized, as Toby’s hooded eyes become unfocused with lust.

  “Fuck, Toby. What you do to me.” I grab his ass, one firm cheek fitting perfectly in each hand, and lift him off his feet, devouring his mouth the entire time. Toby wraps those sinfully flexible legs around my waist, and I walk us over to the pool table and set him on the edge.

  I lean over the table, guiding Toby to lie on his back on the soft black felt while we rut against each other, moaning and panting.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous.” I run a hand through his thick hair, letting the strands slip through my fingers.

  “I want you,” he rasps, shoving his hands up under my shirt, ghosting them over my chest. Toby flicks my nipples with his fingernails, and another rush of liquid heat floods my body. My dick becomes impossibly harder to the point my brain is shutting down to reroute the blood flow.

  I tear my shirt off and toss it to the floor, then work Toby’s off as well. “Wait here.” I run to the desk wedged into a corner of the room and pull a condom and bottle of lube out of a drawer. When I get back to Toby, his eyes are closed, swollen red lips parted, and his hand is rubbing slowly over his cock, the outline visible through his thin pants. He’s fucking stunning. “Jesus, look at you,” I groan, dropping the supplies on the table.

  I can’t get naked fast enough. Once I’ve shucked my own clothes, I reach for Toby’s pants and shove them to his ankles along with his briefs. He kicks them to the side, and before he can say a word, I bend over and swallow his cock down my throat.

  Toby

  “HOLY SHIT!” My back arches off the felt surface of Van’s pool table when, without warning, he wraps the slick, scorching cavern of his mouth around my dick. God, my memories from the office of that club three months ago don’t do this man justice. Van is so good, just watching his thick lips stretched wide as he hollows his cheeks and sucks brings me right to the edge.

  “Van,” I groan, resisting the urge to grab his head and thrust relentlessly up into his throat. Pressure builds at the base of my spine, pulling my balls up tight. I’m on the precipice of an amazing orgasm when Van releases my cock with a loud, filthy pop.

  I cry out in frustration as he massages my upper thighs, brushing his thumbs beneath my sac to press gently on the thin skin between my balls and my ass. My dick jumps, slapping against my taut abdomen.

  “I want to be inside you so bad, Toby.” Van blows his hot breath across my balls before gently sucking one into the heat of his mouth, then laving the delicate sac. He pulls off and repeats his actions on the other one, driving me insane with need. When a dry finger circles my hole and Van engulfs my red, angry cock in his mouth again, I nearly combust.

  “Please… Van, I need you.” I’ve never been this desperate before. I scrabble for something to hold on to, but the smooth surface of the table gives me no purchase. Van stands between my legs and rolls on the condom.

  “Here, baby.” He takes my hands and brings them above my head to grab on to the polished wooden rail surrounding the black cloth. Van wraps my fingers around the wood, keeping his hands over mine as he lowers his head for a deep and dirty kiss. Impatient, Van thrusts his hungry tongue inside my mouth, licking every surface. When his hips touch mine and our cocks rub together, I rip my mouth from his, throwing my head back on a long moan.

  “Hurry. Please.”

  Van pecks my lips one last time before standing up. He snags a pillow off the couch and tucks it under my hips to both raise my ass and protect it from the hard wood rail that was digging into my backside. I watch, my eyes unfocused, as the gorgeous man opens the lube and slicks his impressive dick. Our eyes meet, and I inhale sharply. I haven’t had many sexual partners. Two, actually, if you count Van. And as much as Austin professed to love me, Austin never looked at me the way Van is right now. Green eyes lock onto mine, pupils dilated, lids heavy. But when I look deeper, I can see behind the haze of lust to something else, something that has my pulse racing and my brain tangled with unfamiliar emotions.

  Van takes one of my ankles and lifts it until my heel is pressing against the rail in front of him. He does the same with my other foot, and I can feel the hot blush burn my cheeks at being so open and vulnerable, everything I have to offer spread out and in full view. Van’s gaze drops and I watch, mesmerized, as he licks his lips. The embarrassment subsides when I realize Van very much likes what he sees.

  “Fuck,” he groans, sliding his hands up and down my shins. “You are so goddamn hot, Toby.”

  Any words I might want to say get stuck in my throat. I’m overcome with desire, with raw lust, with these weird emotions swirling in my mind and in my heart. I focus on Van’s impressive physique, and God, the man is cut in the most delicious way. I didn’t see much of his body during our quickie at the bar, since we both stayed mostly clothed, so I take in everything. He has wide shoulders with delts so defined I can see eac
h striation in the fibrous muscles. His chest is equally spectacular, broad and tan with dark copper nipples. And his abs… if an eight-pack is possible, Van has one.

  “Ungh!” I grunt when Van’s cold, slick finger breaches my hole and begins gently pumping in and out.

  Van’s bright green eyes flick up to my face. “You okay, baby?”

  I swallow, overcome by his sweet endearment. Unable to speak, I simply nod. His concern disappears, replaced again by dark lust, and a second finger joins the first, spreading apart to widen my passage.

  “Oh God,” I moan, writhing on the table. When he adds a third and his fingertips brush across my prostate, I cry out and begin to force myself down on his hand, desperately fucking his fingers. My dick is leaking, sticky fluid pooling on my abdomen. “Now, Van! I’m ready.”

  “I’m going to make you mine, Toby.” Van’s chest rumbles when he speaks.

  “Hurry,” I beg shamelessly.

  Van’s fingers pull from my body and are quickly replaced by the wide head of his cock. The tip slides past the tight outer barrier, and we groan simultaneously.

  “Jesus, Toby. You’re so fucking tight.”

  Van’s jaw is pulsing, his hairline damp with sweat as he holds himself still until my body adjusts to the intrusion. The burn is painful but tolerable and slowly melts away.

  “More,” I whisper, pushing against the rail above my head to force myself down on more of his huge cock.

  “Holy shit.” Van is staring at the place where our bodies join as I take him in inch by inch until I feel the crisp hairs of his thighs touching the nearly hairless backs of my own. “Oh my God, Toby.” Darkened eyes land on mine, and my breath hitches at the punch of emotions brought on by the look of absolute wonder on his beautiful face.

  “Fuck me, Van.” My voice is husky, broken by desire and the strong feelings choking me.

  Van leans over the table, placing his elbows on either side of my head. He lowers his face to mine and brushes his nose down my cheek.

  Oh God. It’s too much. I can’t possibly feel this connected to him this soon.

  Van begins to thrust, pulling almost all the way out and sliding back in, a slow, rhythmic pace that lights up every nerve in my body, causing my skin to crackle with electricity and my body to buzz. He kisses me sweetly—small, chaste kisses that somehow feel more powerful than if he were to roughly capture my mouth. Beads of sweat trickle from Van’s temples, dripping down to land on my neck, my face, the pool table, but he keeps up the agonizingly slow pace, edging me until my body is wound so tight I can’t take the torture much longer.

  “Van, I can’t….” My breath is ragged, making it difficult to speak.

  He presses his forehead to mine, still fucking me in those long, torturously slow glides. “Can’t what, baby?”

  Panting and desperate, I wrap my legs around Van’s waist and push my own hips off the table, needing it harder, faster. My cock is trapped between us, and the friction on his hard abs has me ready to explode.

  Van pulls nearly all the way out of me and then snaps his hips forward. I shout, my eyes rolling back in my head. He’s so powerful I have to brace my hands back on the rail to keep from sliding across the table.

  “Like this?” he asks, pounding into me again.

  “Yes!”

  Van stands up straight and hooks my ankles on his shoulders. His fingers dig into my hips, holding me in place. Then… finally, finally, he fucks me.

  Chapter 4

  Van

  BEING INSIDE Toby is like heaven—hot and tight, his ass pulsing around my cock as I piston in and out of his beautiful body. Listening to him unravel, piece by piece, has my control slipping. When Toby begs me to go faster and harder, my final thread of control snaps.

  “You like it hard?” I ask, driving into Toby as he yelps and cries out in pleasure.

  “Yes, Van. Harder.” Toby grabs one ankle and effortlessly stretches the limb until it’s next to his ear. His other hand remains above his head, fingers tight on the rail. The adjustment splits Toby wide, and his biceps flex as he braces himself for the onslaught. My rhythm falters at the sight and when I sink forward, I go deeper inside his body than I ever thought possible.

  Yoga teacher.

  “Holy fuck, Toby.” I nearly swallow my tongue, and my greedy eyes can’t take it all in fast enough. Toby’s lithe, flexible body, his icy blue eyes filled to the brim with carnal need, his hole stretched around my cock, exposed for my viewing pleasure. “Jesus. You’re so goddamn sexy.” I want to brand him, mark him, claim him for myself. Pound my chest and let the world know he’s mine.

  Instead I hold on to his hips and piston back and forth as hard and fast as I can. Toby’s ass clenches tight, and I know he’s close. I grab his dick and tug on it as I fuck him until lights burst behind my eyes and the tingle in the base of my spine grows, exploding as almost unbearable pleasure rips out of me while I spurt jet after jet of my release into the condom.

  “Van!” Toby shouts my name as thick white cream pulses out of him, slick and hot, all over my hand and up across his chest and abs.

  Sweaty and sated, I collapse on top of his small frame, making sure to brace my arms next to his head so I don’t squash him with my considerable weight. Toby releases his ankle, and his legs flop over the edge of the table on either side of my hips.

  I go to move off him, my spent cock still buried inside Toby’s body, but he grabs my face, pulling me down for a long, sensual kiss. When Toby drops back down onto the table, limp, eyes closed, and a small smile on his flushed face, I stand up and gently pull out, holding the condom carefully. The shudder that racks Toby’s body and the sight of him so well fucked and splayed out on my pool table has my dick already perking back up.

  Calm down, Van.

  There’s a bathroom connected to the room, so I dispose of the condom and quickly wash up. I bring a damp cloth over to Toby and gently wipe his chest and abs and the mess between his legs. The latter brings color to his cheeks, making me chuckle to myself. I toss the cloth into the bathroom and pull Toby up off the table.

  “Whoa,” Toby says as he gets his feet on the ground. His legs are shaky and he nearly collapses, so I pick him up and carry him to the sofa in front of the big screen. Taking care of Toby makes me feel about ten feet tall. He gives me a sleepy glance before his eyelids flutter shut. I stand there, watching his breaths become soft and even as he falls asleep. I’m desperate to reach out and touch him, curl up behind him, bring him to my bed and hold him as he sleeps.

  Only I don’t sleep with men. Not only do they not spend the night, but I’ve never even had a man I’ve fucked in my house. Ever. Fear lances through me, my stomach knotting up.

  Toby knows who I am. Knows where I live. Could out me at any time. Is this really worth the risk?

  I glance back down at the sleeping man, dark hair sexed out, lashes splayed across pale cheeks, and my heart swells with unfamiliar affection. I cover Toby’s naked body with a plush Wild Cats blanket, and he immediately hums, snuggling down into the warmth.

  Yes. Yes, he is worth it.

  Damn.

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Toby makes his way into the kitchen, dressed and sleepy-eyed.

  “Did you have a good nap?” I ask, throwing him a wink as I finish chopping a tomato.

  “Ummmm, I guess.” Toby wraps his arms around his waist, gaze darting around the room uncomfortably.

  I put down the knife and wipe my hands on a towel before circling the island. “Toby….” He stays still when I reach out and caress his neck with the backs of my fingers, but the wary look remains in those icy eyes. I step back, not wanting to put distance between us but afraid of spooking him. “You hungry?” I point at the salad bowl on the countertop. “I’m making lunch.”

  “Lunch?” Toby repeats, blinking rapidly.

  I grin, trying to act nonchalant when all I want to do is pull Toby into my arms and rub my scent all over him. “Yes, lunch. The meal between breakfas
t and dinner.” I pick up the cutting board and slide the tomatoes into the bowl.

  “Oh. Ummmm, okay.”

  “Go ahead and sit.”

  Toby perches on the very edge of one of the barstools at the massive island. I divide the salad into two bowls, pull a plate of chopped grilled chicken out of the fridge, and add some to the top of each.

  “Do you want dressing? I’m afraid I only have basic oil and vinegar. I don’t eat processed food.”

  “Sure.” Toby seems to relax as I add a dash of dressing to the salads and a little pepper before placing a bowl in front of him and one at the seat next to his. I grab two bottled waters and sit.

  We eat in silence for a few minutes before Toby finally says more than the frustrating one-word answers he’s been giving me since he woke up.

  “So you never answered me earlier. Why do you hate this house?”

  I finish chewing and take a sip of water before explaining. “I was drafted to LA out of college, didn’t know the area, didn’t know much of anything about real estate. My agent suggested renting a place until I got to know the city better. At that point, I didn’t really give a shit about anything but making it into the NFL. If it wasn’t about football, I let someone else handle it. This”—I gesture to the space around us—“was one of those things I let someone else handle but should have been more involved with.”

  Toby stares at me, those crystalline eyes fixed on mine. “Why don’t you move?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s a pain in the ass, I guess. Where would I go? I’d probably end up in a house just like this one. I have my room, a workout room, and a pool. That’s pretty much all I need. I’m a simple guy, Toby.”