Emily swatted away his statement. “Oh, please, you’d explode from all your internal demons if I didn’t force you to share.” Emily was pursuing a minor in psychology. And although Trevor would never admit it to her, she really should be majoring in it. The girl was gifted. And relentless. “So why’d you change your mind?” she asked. “I thought you only let them cop a feel.”
“I do. Normally. It just . . . happened.”
“I told you not to work at that place.” Emily sighed, clearly sensing that it had been a shitty experience. “If you need to take on shady work, at least be a stripper. It’s more respectable.”
Trevor was used to this argument. “It is not. Then I’d have to give lap dances and they’d hump up against me. Plus, I’d have to wear a thong, not briefs.”
“But you have a cute ass!”
“Stop looking at my ass!” he said, trying not to laugh. “Besides, how many male strip clubs are there around here?”
“Okay, fine, good point. So what made today’s client different? Are you like super broke and about to sell a kidney?”
“No, no, I’m scraping by. It’s just . . . He’s this guy I kinda have a crush on.”
Emily gasped. “Oh my god, you knew him.”
“Shut up,” Trevor hissed. “Keep your voice down or I’ll be screwed.”
Emily pressed her lips together, duly chastised, but her eyes begged for more. He begrudgingly added, “I don’t know him know him. I’ve just seen him around.”
“On campus?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, like this is going to come up in casual conversation. Besides, you haven’t given me any juicy details about the mystery guy. It’s pretty much a nonstory.”
“Good. ’Cause that’s all you’re getting.” He opened his notebook, trying to find the latest lecture for their problem set. He could feel Emily still staring at him.
“How’d it go?” she finally whispered.
And Trevor felt all the horror rushing back. “Awful,” he admitted, looking up into her sympathetic eyes. “He totally freaked. His buddies were playing a trick on him.”
“Oh shit, did he punch you?”
Trevor shook his head, thinking back on the moment. Matt had seemed more embarrassed than enraged. He’d placed the blame completely on his friends, almost apologetic. It was confusing as hell, actually. There’d been a few moments when Trevor thought Matt might have been into it. He could have sworn Matt had given him a heated once-over when he’d entered the room. That he’d almost leaned into Trevor’s touch midway through the massage, but clearly Trevor was delusional.
Matt Lancaster was as straight as they came.
“Are you gonna do it again?” Emily asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“No, absolutely not,” Trevor replied, a little shocked at how dejected the thought made him. Not about other clients, of course, but about the fact he knew he’d never have Matt walk into his massage room ever again. Even for just a regular massage. And that bummed the hell out of him.
Luckily, their friends arrived moments later, and he turned all his attention to solving his multivariable calculus problems for his Financial Economics class. Math was complex but simple at the same time. Almost always only one right answer. Much easier than life. And it would lead him to a great job in finance. A job where he would never, ever have to feel so exposed again.
Matt didn’t get up off the turf. He just lay there, letting the impact of the hit slam through his body. He’d been sacked by a second-string sophomore during a scrimmage. Coach was gonna kill him.
A second later, Connor was staring down at him. “Dude, get up.” He hauled Matt to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you this week?”
Matt glared at him and walked off so that Coach Boyd could tear him a new one.
“Sorry, it won’t happen again,” he offered before Coach started railing.
“Jesus H. Christ, Lancaster, get your head out of your ass,” Coach Boyd snapped, clearly not accepting any more apologies. “You’ve been shit all week in practice. Missed passes, interceptions, tripping on your own goddamned feet. Whatever the hell is going on in your head, get over it. We play North Alabama this weekend, and I need your A game. If you can’t bring it, I’m benching you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Matt replied, knowing North Alabama was one of the toughest to beat in their Division II Conference. Bodine College might not be in the big leagues of the Division I NCAA, but that didn’t mean folks took football any less seriously around these parts. Every Saturday of football season, the stadium was packed with the majority of the college’s eight thousand undergrads along with thousands more—local fans, alums, and graduate students, plus the rival teams’ own rabid fans. Sunday might be for church, but Saturday was for worshipping at the altar of football.
Coach stared at Matt for a long moment. Coach Boyd was a good guy, tough but fair, always pushing for the best. He didn’t put up with bullshit on or off the field. And Matt worked hard every day to prove he deserved the full ride to Bodine College.
“Son, you need to talk about anything? Family problems? School?” Coach Boyd asked gruffly. He wasn’t a real touchy-feely guy, but Coach was about as close to a father figure as many of them had. Matt would certainly exchange him for the asshole he’d been born to. Still, it wasn’t like Matt could tell Coach Boyd the truth. He’d been avoiding the truth his whole life.
So Matt forced a smile and shook his head. “No, sir.”
Coach grunted and let it go. “Then get out there and stop fucking up.”
Matt nodded and ran back onto the field. He’d been a wreck since the guys’ stunt at the massage parlor. They might be okay with him being gay, but he freaked out quite regularly. It had been hard enough admitting it to himself. And now for them to know . . .
Besides, Matt felt absolutely clueless as to how to be gay. He pretty much had no experience with other gay guys, so Sunday had been embarrassing as hell. But that wasn’t what was really messing with his head. No, it was the fact he couldn’t get Trevor out of his mind—the feel of his hands on his body, the way he’d touched Matt’s ass, the way he’d . . . Matt groaned, trying to stamp down his thoughts. It might be prime fodder for jerking off in the shower, but he sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking about it during practice.
Matt managed to make it through the rest of the scrimmage without any more major screwups, and then he ran five miles on the treadmill in an effort to totally exhaust his body. He didn’t want to lie awake again that night.
But at 2 a.m., he was still wide-awake in the quad he shared with Connor, Damian, and Ryan. He could hear Ryan snoring all the way in the other room on the other side of the common area. Matt shifted on his pillow, hoping his restlessness wasn’t keeping Connor awake in the bunk above him.
Then he heard Connor’s annoyed mumble: “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Matt said.
Connor heaved a huge sigh. “Dude, are you still pissed at us?”
“Nah, man, I’m over it. Well, I’m not over it, but I’m not mad at you anymore.”
Connor swung his head over the side of the bed. “‘Not over it.’ Interesting . . .”
Matt groaned. Sometimes rooming with his nosy best friend was a real drag.
“Samantha, the lady at the massage parlor, said she had someone special for you,” Connor said. “Was he hot? Did he get you going? And now it’s messing with your head?”
“Fuck off,” Matt snapped, but that only made Connor laugh.
“You want some advice?”
“No,” Matt immediately replied.
Connor ignored him. “Just go back and get it out of your system. Like, literally, dude. Get your repressed spunk out of your system.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Connor shrugged and flopped back onto his pillow. They lay there in silence. Finally, Matt heard himself saying, “How did you learn about that place a
nyway? What if we’d been busted?”
“Nah, I overheard my old man telling one of his clients. A guy who was going through a nasty divorce. He needed to blow off some steam but not get caught. So Dad suggested this place even though it was a two-hour drive.”
“Jesus, your dad really is a full-service attorney.”
“Hey, he knows people make bad choices; he’s just trying to control it the best way he can. So if he recommended this place, it must be safe as hell. Go back, man, ask for the same guy. Get your rocks off.”
“Nah, it’s okay. He actually, uh, goes to school here. It’d be too risky.”
“Really?” Connor asked.
“Yeah, I’ve seen him around a few times. We had Freshman Lit together. Seemed like a cool guy. And he’s . . . well, hot as fuck. He’s got this brooding punk thing going on.”
“Gross.” Connor gagged.
Matt kicked the bottom of Connor’s mattress hard, making Connor curse. “Jesus, you’re the one that started this,” Matt growled.
“Doesn’t mean I want to hear about how you have the hots for some guy.”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you too,” Connor said with a smile in his voice. “Now go get your happy ending.”
Matt groaned at the cheesy line. No way in hell was he going back to the massage parlor.
Two days later, Matt found himself in the massage parlor. Sitting on a massage table. Waiting for Trevor.
He was still fully clothed in jeans and a T-shirt. He’d even worn a baseball hat and sunglasses as he’d entered the lobby. Not that anyone outside of the college town really knew who he was. Guess that was a benefit of not being good enough for a Division I school. Something his dad bemoaned, but he was grateful for. Football was not his life. He liked it well enough, and it certainly had given him the freedom from his asshole father that he’d needed—no relying on his old man’s money.
Which was why he shouldn’t have come back to the massage parlor. Too big of a risk. Matt needed his football scholarship. But, damn, he hadn’t gotten Trevor out of his mind, and it was messing up his game. So if this was what it took to clear his head, then so be it. They had a major game tomorrow.
Matt adjusted himself on the white sheet, staring at the clock. His nerves were mounting by the minute. Maybe this was a bad idea. Yeah, this was a bad idea. He’d get over it on his own. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. He stood up and reached for the door just as it opened. Matt jerked backward.
Trevor opened the door only partway and leaned against the doorframe, not really entering the room. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking all cocky and gorgeous, as he arched his pierced brow. “Are you here to kick my ass?”
Matt busted out a laugh, taken off guard. “No, no. I promise.”
“Okay,” Trevor said with a bit of a skeptical look, but he came into the room anyway, shutting the door behind him. “Well, I take it you’re not here for a prostate massage?”
“Hell no. Jesus, how can you do that to guys?” Matt asked. “Go up their . . . you know what.”
“Hey, don’t judge me!” Trevor snapped, his eyes narrowing in anger. “In some cultures, erotic massages, prostate massages, are considered healing.”
“Like in your culture?” Matt heard himself stupidly ask, not actually sure what Trevor’s background was—Chinese, Thai, Japanese?
Trevor lifted his eyebrows. “I was born and raised in Texas.”
“Oh,” Matt said, feeling idiotic.
“Yeah, ‘oh.’”
“So you’re practicing your healing technique? Are you pre-med or something?” Matt tried again. Man, he sucked at small talk.
Trevor’s eyes widened, and then he laughed. “I— No, I’m a finance major. And I’m broke, okay? Really broke. The irony is not lost on me.”
“What about student loans?”
“Okay, too many questions.” Trevor clapped his hands, getting down to business. “You want this massage or not?”
Matt nodded, terrified, but unwilling to leave. Not now that he was this close.
Trevor couldn’t hide his surprise. “You do? I thought it was . . . another joke.”
“Um, no,” Matt muttered, looking down at his shoes.
“Okay, right, okay, uh, no problem,” Trevor stammered, turning to dim the lights. Apparently, they were both nervous as hell. The now-darkened room helped matters considerably, hiding them more.
“I’ve never done this before,” Matt confessed in a near whisper.
“Gone to a massage parlor like this?” Trevor asked in an equally low voice.
“No, uh, never had a, you know, from a guy,” Matt clarified, watching Trevor from the corner of his eye. Gauging his reaction.
Trevor seemed to freeze for a long moment, then he simply nodded and straightened his shirt, putting on a businesslike demeanor. “No problem. We have lots of curious clients.”
Matt decided not to correct him by admitting he was fully gay. No ambiguous feelings here.
“So you’ll be having the Deluxe Swedish Massage today?” Trevor asked, pulling his shoulder-length hair up into a loose knot. Matt wished Trevor would leave it loose, but he didn’t have the balls to ask.
Instead, Matt shuffled back over to the massage table. “Yeah, I’ll just have the, um, deluxe part the normal way. The front part. Not the, uh, deep-tissue one.” He could’ve sworn Trevor was trying not to laugh at him.
But the guy managed to hold it together. “Got it. I’ll just give you a minute to undress.”
Trevor stepped out of the room. Matt released the breath he was holding. Damn, that had been awkward. But he’d come this far. He shucked off his clothes and crawled under the sheet, facedown, his head in the opening of the round cushion. His skin tingled in anticipation. He was doing this, really doing this.
A few seconds later, Trevor quietly re-entered the room. He turned on some music, a slow rock song. Matt heard the snap of a lotion bottle opening and held his breath. Damn, how he’d wanted this man to touch him again. And then Trevor was there, smoothing warm oil down his back in broad strokes. Matt sighed in contentment. Finally. It felt like heaven. It felt . . . like relief. Trevor knew Matt wanted him to touch him. And he wasn’t grossed out or offended. Then again, it was his job.
That thought actually made Matt a little sad. He wished it could have been for real, that he’d met Trevor at a bar in a big city, asked him out on a date maybe.
“This feel good?” Trevor asked. Just his deep voice made Matt’s nerves pulse, and he felt his dick swelling. Matt managed a nod. It felt good, so very, very good. As Trevor’s hands started to dig into his shoulders, loosening the knots, Matt actually groaned.
“You’re good at this. Where’d you learn massage?” Matt mumbled, trying to cover up his groan.
There was a long silence, but finally Trevor said, “My parents own a Korean spa. The Dallas ladies love being pampered. I had to help out.”
“Was it like this place?”
Trevor huffed out a horrified laugh. “No, god, no. It was all on the, uh, up and up. A classy place.”
“Hey, who says this isn’t classy?” Matt joked even though he was pretty sure he’d seen mildew in the locker room shower stalls. Trevor ignored him this time, and settled into his job, working out the aches and pains that Matt suffered from daily practices. He almost started to relax again when he felt the sheet being lowered, his bare ass displayed to Trevor’s eyes.
Matt wished he could look up. Wished he could see what Trevor thought of his body. Was he hot enough? Was his ass too round? Too pale? Fuck, he’d never really thought about his body before in a sexual way. Like in the way someone else would see him. He suddenly very much wanted to be attractive to Trevor. Because Trevor was . . . beautiful. Yeah, it was ridiculous to call a man that. But, screw it, the guy was hot.
Trevor had incredibly long eyelashes and his cheekbones were a bit hollowed out, like some fashion model. Yeah, the guy could be on a New York runw
ay. He’d probably fit in better there. Not that Matt knew jack shit about fashion; he wasn’t that kind of gay. Matt wondered if Trevor was that kind of gay—or if he was gay at all? But the guy sure had more style than he did. He even sometimes wore jewelry, like leather arm cuffs and stuff. It was sexy. Trevor was sexy, especially when his long, firm fingers slid over Matt’s butt cheeks.
Matt moaned loudly, his cock now fully hard, begging for attention. Trevor dug his fingers deep into Matt’s glutes, massaging the tissue from top to bottom, then back again. He also carefully avoided going anywhere near Matt’s backdoor. Guess Matt had freaked out pretty good last time. But he really, really wasn’t ready for that. Everything else Trevor was doing? Oh, hell yeah.
Trevor lifted his hands from Matt’s ass, and Matt had to stifle his protest. But then Trevor’s hands were back on his skin massaging his upper legs. With each pass, Trevor would move a little farther up Matt’s thighs. On the fourth pass, his thumbs dipped inward, caressing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Matt drew in a ragged breath, trying to hold himself still. Trying not to hump the table like a teenager in heat.
Trevor removed his right hand and dragged his oiled index finger from the top of his ass crack down to the back of his balls, not pushing in, not separating the folds, just teasing him. Before Matt could worry that Trevor might go deeper, as he had last time, he was gently nudging Matt to turn over.
“Lie on your back for me,” Trevor murmured when Matt didn’t move right away.
Matt hesitated. It was one thing to have a boner when he was hidden from view. But to reveal it to Trevor . . . Well, that was pretty much the point of no return. Matt closed his eyes tightly. This was about a hell of a lot more than a handjob. This was about . . . admitting to someone else he liked men. It was . . . terrifying.
And it was everything he wanted. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed the touch of another person. Not just sexually, but intimately. Matt mentally groaned at his thoughts. He was turning mushy over a damn massage.
His alter ego mentally chastised him for the stereotype, but Matt was done with deep inner thoughts. His dick was taking over from here on out. It was telling him to roll over. So he did.
The Quarterback Page 3
