by Roz Lee
In his head, he heard the words he should say, Congratulations, Bent. I wish you all the happiness in the world.
But, he couldn’t bring himself to say it, because it wasn’t true. He didn’t wish him happiness—not with some woman he could never love the way she deserved to be loved. Why should the ass be happy when he was denying Sean the same opportunity? So he smiled then said what he felt, instead.
“Congratulations. I’ve never seen a more deserving asshole.” Then he winked.
In less time than it takes a one hundred mile an hour pitch to travel from the mound to home plate, it was clear Bent comprehended his meaning. His face turned purple. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“You fuckin’ son of a bitch.” The left fielder stood, placed his knuckles on the tabletop then leaned across. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you, Flannery? But you’re nothing but a second-rate, washed-up, wanna-be baseball player. I don’t know why the Mustangs traded for you in the first place. You run like an old man. Only an idiot gets caught in a fuckin’ run-down between bases.”
Everyone was standing now. Those nearest to Bent had their hands on his shoulders, urging him to back away. Sean sat, unable to move as Bentley unloaded on him. The worst was, most of what he said was true. He couldn’t run, not like he used to. Second rate? Yeah, it fit. Washed up? Most likely.
Clenching his hands into fists beneath the table, he absorbed the wrath coming his way.
“Why don’t you get out of the game while you can still walk, huh? Because you’re a coward. A fuckin’ coward.”
Sean blinked. Bentley Randolph was calling him a coward? No fucking way. A red haze clouded his vision. He stood. Before he could flatten his nemesis, several sets of hands were on his arms, his shoulders, yanking him back from the table. A scuffle was taking place on the other side, too.
“Enough, Randolph.” Doyle Walker’s voice. “Get him out of here.”
He must have been talking about him, not Bent, because the hands holding him tight tugged and pushed. Chairs scraped across the painted concrete floor then he was being marched toward the door. Over his shoulder, he saw the man he both hated and loved being shoved back into his chair.
They were in the parking lot, headed toward the bus, when he dug his heels in. He shrugged them off. “Let me go.”
They let him go, forming a loose but ominous circle around him. He straightened his suit coat and tie then sucked in a lungful of air.
“I’m okay. Thanks guys for getting me out of there before I broke him into little pieces.” He had no doubt he would have done it, too, given the chance. He wasn’t going to tell them, but the option was still on the table, he just wasn’t going to do it in public.
“What gives between you two, anyway?” Todd asked.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing,” Tony said.
“Trust me, it’s nothing.”
“Well, whatever it is or isn’t, the two of you are going to have to figure out a way to get along, at least for the remainder of the season. Last I heard, the team wasn’t making any more trades, no matter what, so you’re both stuck for now.” Jason Holder, according to…well, everyone…had the ear of management. If anyone knew their trade plans, it was the Mustangs starting catcher.
What did it matter? He doubted he’d survive another trade, anyway. Besides, he’d have to go as a package deal with a younger player as incentive. He’d be sent down to the minors, and the kid would play. It’s the way it would be for him, and they all knew it.
“I know,” he said, scuffing the asphalt lot with his shoe. “I do my best to stay clear of him, but you were there. You saw what happened. He started it.”
“He did,” they all agreed.
“But you were about to finish it,” Todd said.
“Damn right I was.”
Laughter rang out around him. Startled, he glanced at his teammates. “What’s so funny?”
Tony spun around, holding his ribs as he laughed. “Nothing. Tonight’s the most fun I’ve had in ages. I thought things in Texas were going to be dull. Boy was I wrong.”
“Dull?” Todd and Jason echoed each other before they too doubled over laughing.
Relieved at least these three weren’t offended by his behavior, he sighed, then burst out laughing, too.
* * *
Bentley peered through the peephole then swore under his breath. What the fuck is he doing here?
“Open up, Randolph. I know you’re in there.”
“Shit.” He jerked the door open. Sean stood there, still wearing the suit he’d had on at the restaurant. As it always did, the sight of the man made his mouth water and his cock twitch. Even the pissed off expression on his face looked sexy.
“What the hell do you want?”
His adversary stepped forward, forcing him back into the room. The door slid shut behind him then, all of a sudden, there was a finger poking him in the chest.
“Don’t ever question my ability to play again.” The guy jabbed him hard. “If you ever call me a coward again, I’ll fuck you six ways to Sunday.”
He locked gazes with the man who had invaded his room, his life. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”
Sean stopped—his finger smack in the middle of Bentley’s silk tie. His eyes narrowed. He grasped the narrow fabric, wrapped it around his hand twice until his fist was at Bent’s throat. One solid yank brought them nose-to-nose.
The purely masculine scent invading his nostrils made his knees weak, his dick hard. His heart slammed against his ribs. Calling the asshole’s bluff had been a mistake. The man’s eyes blazed, and the heat coming off his body equaled his own. He hated the way his body defied his brain.
“Who’s the coward now?” Flannery taunted, his lips hovering a breath away. “Who’s shivering like a fucking trapped animal?” He canted his head, moving closer. “Who’s going to get fucked?”
Fear and wild desire hit him like a sucker-punch to the gut just as Sean’s mouth closed over his. His lips were firebrands, taking, demanding, promising. Bent closed his eyes. Maybe if he couldn’t see who was kissing him…but he didn’t need his vision to know. A day’s growth of beard abraded his cheeks. The hand molded to the back of his head was too large and strong to be female.
Different than anything he’d ever experienced, exciting and terrifying at the same time.
Sean shifted his weight, bringing his erection in contact with Bent’s hip. Someone groaned, and he realized the sound had come from his own throat. He pressed himself closer, ground his own erection against the hipbone gouging his stomach.
Fingers fisted in his hair, yanked his head back. “Open your goddamn mouth,” Sean growled.
He pressed his lips together in a tight line.
The man gave his head a hard shake. “Open it now or you’re going to be on your knees sucking my cock before you know what hit you.”
Panic swept through him like a wildfire. Instinct brought his clenched fist from his side to his tormenter’s stomach.
The bastard grunted, caved in the center for a second. “You son of a bitch,” he hissed. “You want it hard so you can say I forced you? It’s what you want it, isn’t it?”
Yes. No. His jaw worked but no words came out.
“Don’t even try to tell me you don’t want me to fuck you because we both know it would be a lie.”
He drove his fist into the first baseman’s stomach again, but the other man held him fast by the fist wrapped in his tie. It took the guy a moment to recover, but when he did, his eyes were aflame. The next thing he knew, Sean dragged him across the room by his neck then flung him face down on the bed.
Bent struggled to get up, but Flannery straddled him, locking him in place with his weight. His knees clenched tight around his hips, immobilizing him. He’d been here before. Paralyzed by fear of the things he wanted, needed, and he wanted to struggle as much as he needed to believe the man straddling him was forcing him. The sound of silk sliding against sta
rched cotton rent the air. Large hands grabbed both his wrists, wrenching them to the small of his back.
Tears filled his eyes as the tie secured his hands. He made another attempt to dislodge him, but the other man wouldn’t be moved.
“Fight me if you want, but I am going to fuck you, then you can go back to your fiancée—forget all about me. I know you think that’s what’s going to happen.” His hands slid beneath him, working his tie free of the shirt collar then loosening the first two shirt buttons. “You want me to fuck you because you think doing it once will get the desire you feel for me out of your system. You want to believe I forced you so you won’t feel guilty about wanting me every time you fuck her.”
The man was reading his mind. He grabbed Bent’s shirt by the collar and yanked. Buttons popped down his chest, allowing his assailant to bare him down to the waist.
“I love your back,” he said. “You’re strong. Have to be to make the throws you do. Christ, your shoulders are a work of art.”
Bent sobbed into the coverlet as his tormentor stroked the exposed skin. Like the time in his yard, Flannery’s hands on him felt good, his praise mocked him.
Dear God, this is wrong. So fuckin’ wrong.
“Shh,” he soothed, sweeping broad circles across his flesh with his callused palms. “You know if you asked me to stop, I would. But you won’t ask. You want it, just like I said.”
Stop. Oh, please, stop. He groaned when his vocal chords refused to utter the protest.
Weight shifted from his buttocks to his thighs then hands were at his waist, unbuckling his belt and the fasteners on his slacks. He steeled himself for what was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for the rush of desire and abject terror that engulfed him when his trousers were around his thighs. His shoes hit the floor then, in a heartbeat, he was naked save for his ruined dress shirt, and the tie still looped around his neck.
Hard hands forced his ass cheeks apart.
Run. Now.
Get the hell out before…before….
His legs ignored the commands of his splintered brain. Something he didn’t dare try to name held him immobile while the man, the bane of his existence, examined him in the most intimate way possible. Humiliation ate at him, but still, he allowed the probing to continue.
“I’ve never had virgin ass before.” He kneaded the flesh with his hands. “Don’t move.”
Virgin ass.
For how much longer?
Not fuckin’ long.
A faint hum told him the bathroom light had been turned on. If he was going to run, now was the time. His heart thudded.
Run.
Get out.
Now.
His mind sent signals to his limbs, but he didn’t run. Then Sean was back, using his thighs to spread Bent’s legs.
He would have caught me if I’d run.
You are such a liar.
You want him to fuck you.
“Up on your knees.”
He struggled to obey, but not fast enough. Rough hands shoved him into position.
Bent closed his eyes against the shame of having his balls and hard cock exposed for another man’s eyes. How could he deny he wanted to be fucked when his cock was harder than a cured-maple bat?
“Look at you.” Flannery palmed his balls then grasped his erection, coating the length with cold lotion, stroking until Bent couldn’t remain still. He pumped his hips, seeking an end to his torment.
“Not yet. I’ll be damned if you’re going to get satisfaction from the idea of being fucked. No, sir.”
He rocked back toward the hand slathering his asshole with cold, pungent lubricant
“Hold still.”
Slippery fingers reamed his asshole. There was a flash of pain that quickly gave way to a pleasant fullness. Groaning, he buried his face in the comforter, grateful he couldn’t see. Feeling was bad enough.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” The other man worked the digits in, out, and around, forcing more moans from his lips.
He screwed his eyes shut realizing a level of mortification he’d never thought possible. His hands were tied, but he wasn’t helpless. He could get away if he wanted, but…he didn’t. The fingers breaching him felt too wonderful.
So fuckin’ wrong.
So fuckin good.
“Don’t fuckin’ move.”
He couldn’t. Hate, fear, desire, humiliation, all held him prisoner.
Behind him, Sean cursed. A belt buckle clanked, metal against metal. The rasp of a zipper and the soft swish of fabric crumpling followed by a familiar sound of foil tearing, grounded him in reality. He lifted his head so his chin rested on the comforter. Blinking against the bright lights in the room, he knew it was now or never. His last chance. If he didn’t say something, didn’t escape, he was going to get fucked.
A muscle cramped in his neck. He twitched at the pain.
“I said, don’t move.” Long fingers gripped his hips tight then hauled his knees to the edge of the bed. “We aren’t through.”
All thoughts of bolting evaporated.
A stiff cock nudged at the tight ring lubricated with the hotel’s hand lotion. Bent almost swallowed his tongue when the contact changed to insistent pressure. Instinctively, he clenched his ass cheeks as tight as possible.
“I’m going in, no matter what,” Flannery said. “Your choice. Easy or hard.”
He didn’t need it spelled out for him. It was going to hurt either way, but less so if he relaxed. He sucked in a deep breath, releasing the tension in his ass on the exhale.
Sean must have taken the movement for his decision or an invitation. The pressure became unbearable for the space of a heartbeat then the massive dick he’d first seen in the shower five years ago burned its way up his ass.
He buried his face in the bedding again, taking a mouthful of fabric to muffle the scream he couldn’t contain.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The huge cock felt like a hot poker shoved up his ass.
“Goddamn, you’re tight.” Fingers probed the ring of fire where the two of them were connected. “You’re okay, though.”
Spitting the cotton out, Bent wailed, “I am not fuckin’ okay! Get your goddamn horse dick out of me!” His stomach roiled with disgust.
“Not on your life. Your asshole is mine now, and I’m fucking going to enjoy it. So are you.” Strong hands stroked his ass globes, massaging, soothing. “Just give it another minute.”
He willed his muscles to relax.
Oh, God.
The searing pain dulled then ebbed away. The longer Sean’s dick was inside him the better it felt. He couldn’t like being fucked by a man. No way in hell was he going to enjoy being fucked.
God, no. Please. Please. Please. He had no idea what he was pleading for—mercy or the forbidden pleasure creeping into his mind and body—taking over.
The bastard was fucking right. He liked it
Feels…so fuckin’ good.
“Fuck.” Tears he couldn’t control streamed down his face. He needed more. He wanted it all. “I can’t…please….”
Sean ground his molars. His legs trembled with the effort to keep still. Everything in him called for action. After all these years, he had Bentley Randolph right where he wanted him, and he wasn’t going to rush the experience for either of them.
The man needed time adjust then he would find the pleasure. He hated causing him pain, but it couldn’t be helped. The first time was a bitch. Reaching around, he found his lover’s bobbing appendage and wrapped his hand around it.
“Fuck.” He moved his hips, bucking into Sean’s fist, inadvertently sliding down the length of his cock.
“Hold still,” he admonished, taking his time to drive deep, savoring the feel of the tight ass taking all of him. Heeding his own advice, he remained motionless as long as possible. Then he resumed stroking the other man’s cock, waiting for a sign he was ready to continue.
He’d known plenty of guys who couldn’t maintain an er
ection with a dick in their ass, the man beneath him wasn’t one of them. His cock remained hard, throbbing as his hand slid along its length. It wasn’t long before Bent began to moan. Sean realized his reluctant lover was lost in the sensations—no longer thinking about who provided them.
Flexing his hips, he pulled almost all the way out then slid back in one torturously slow inch at a time. The other man’s moan assured him all was well. He did it again, increasing the speed. Again and again, he worked in and out, faster, harder with each stroke until the slap of skin on skin punctuated by male curses filled the room.
Fuck.
Bentley felt so damned good. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was built like a god—broad shoulders, slim hips, and the most beautiful tight ass he’d ever seen. His back was smooth, rippling with powerful muscles below the surface. He couldn’t resist touching him, tracing the long line of his spine down to the bunched shirt at his wrists bound with navy blue silk.
Shit. If he had it his way, he’d fuckin’ tie him up every chance he got. He loved having him at his mercy, even if it was nothing more than an illusion. A lousy necktie, poorly applied was nothing against the kind of strength his lover possessed. If the man wanted to get away, he could.
But he didn’t.
Sean ran his hands along toned hairy thighs then back up to smooth ass. So much power, but his to command. Using his thumbs, he held him open, watching in awe as his dick disappeared inside the tight hole. He tore his gaze away, daring to look at his lover’s face.
With one cheek pressed into the mattress, his eyes closed, a watery track traversed his cheek down to his stubbled jaw. His lips parted. Incoherent, though blissful, sounds came forth. All of a sudden, it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He wanted it all.
Chapter Seven
Bentley couldn’t move.
Impaled on Sean’s massive cock, a tangle of emotions and sensations assailed him. Unbearable pain at first had morphed into a somewhat pleasant, full feeling, followed by pleasure so intense he couldn’t quantify it. Nothing in his extensive prior sexual experience equaled it. He felt small…weak…possessed. The tie binding his wrists was nothing. He sensed a few artful twists would release him, but even so, the restraint wouldn’t prevent him from kicking the shit out of Sean if he wanted to.
