Man On (The Black Jack Gentlemen)

by Liz Crowe

  “Uh-huh.” Parker’s body reacted, but his eyes found Nicco as if pulled by magnets. On the dance floor with what looked like two different women, his lithe, fit body moving in time with theirs, the brutally handsome Spaniard stared right at him.

  Parker choked on his beer. The woman stepped away.

  “Oh honey, I get you. Sorry.” She relaxed. “Have you met my friend, Hugh?” She nodded across the bar to an incredibly tall, thin blond man, who at that moment also stared at him, the bright blue of his eyes piercing and intense. Parker stiffened. Did he give such a gay vibe? Jesus.

  He made a valiant attempt to ignore the way his brain kept pulling him back, kept forcing him to watch Nicco as he moved through the crowd, dancing, groping, kissing. Parker’s mouth dried out at the show the man put on, as the music level ramped up ever higher, the loud thump-thump of the bass beating deep in his chest.

  He sipped more beer, shoving away his growing uneasy feeling at the whole scene. A couple of his teammates wandered by, both with beautiful women hanging off their arms. One of them winked at him and jerked his chin toward the chick next to him who’d somehow managed to figure out she wasn’t his type.

  Parker groaned inwardly. He didn’t even know his type anymore. His conscious brain rejected what this place represented, what might happen tonight. It simply could not. He would not allow it, no matter how badly he wanted it right now.

  His gaze wandered up and down the pleasant landscape of the woman next to him, but he kept glancing back over to Nicco—the man, the legend, his rival on the field, and the one man in the room Parker should avoid, but couldn’t. He watched as the guy’s hands roamed all over the woman in front of him. Saw the girl behind him moving around to clutch his neck, pull him in for a long kiss as their bodies swayed, bumped, ground.

  The other woman pulled her companion from Nicco’s lips then landed a kiss on her mouth. Parker sucked in a breath, uneasy, but kept watching as the women fondled each other on the dance floor moving all around them.

  Nicco looked up and caught Parker’s eye, then leaned back into the dark brown arms of Terry, who’d come up from behind and gripped his hips, seeming to grind his crotch against Nicco’s ass. Parker gulped, unable to tear his eyes away, acutely aware of the strange voyeuristic connection they shared.

  One of the women moved in front of Nicco again and ran her moist, pink tongue down his jaw as they moved to the music. The man gripped her long black hair and pulled her face to his as his hand disappeared up her dress. The crowd ebbed and flowed, giving Parker enough glimpses of them to be certain where Nicco’s fingers had gone.

  Terry ran his hands down Nicco’s arms, to his hips, miming thrusts as Nicco tended to the woman who had just shot off into the orgasmic stratosphere. As he raised his lips from hers, pulled his fingers from under her short skirt and put them in his mouth, he looked right at Parker, winked, then turned the full force of his erotic attention to Terry.

  He faced the other man, dancing in a frenzy of strong male bodies as the two women disappeared into the crowd.

  Parker wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead and forced himself to look away. Could a human explode from lust? If he kept watching he’d be certain to find out. Dropping into a chair in a dark corner, he gasped in surprise to find a different woman draped over his lap, slim bare arms around his neck, lips against his ear. “Hmmm…I like what you’ve got going on down there.” She wiggled, bringing a fresh shot of pleasure and agony to his rock-hard shaft.

  “Uh, yeah, why don’t you, mmfff—” The woman’s lips covered his and the hands he’d placed on her waist to lift her off him slid upward. She tasted of wine, perfume, and a salty, unfamiliar essence he couldn’t place. The pure male in him reacted, fisting a hand in her long hair, shoving his tongue between her lips, tasting her strange combinations and loving it. She ground down against his lap and ran her hands across his shoulders.

  He broke away, embarrassed at his animal reaction. “Jesus, sorry, I’m, oh shit.

  She shifted and straddled him, pressing her breasts into his chest. “It’s okay, sweetie.” Her breath tickled his ear.

  Parker leaned away when he realized the same silky black curtain of hair he wanted to latch onto Nicco had clutched earlier. The moist heat of her obviously panty-less sex settled an ache deep in his balls. The woman grinned at him. “You have the most amazing eyes,” she whispered. He gripped her hips, held her still. The urge to fuck something, hard, had never been so keenly intense in him. The simple, sweet, relationship he’d shared with Christie had certainly not prepared him for this. An incredible pulse of raw lust the likes of which he had never experienced made him want to shove the woman against a wall and plow into her like a rutting bull.

  She licked his lips, sharing the odd taste again—salty, and somehow rich with possibility. He gripped the back of her neck, needing something he couldn’t identify, but caused stars to dance around the edges of his vision.

  “I need to,” he groaned when she slipped a hand between them and lowered his zipper with little effort. “No, I’m… Holy hell.” The soft velvety skin of her palm, warm and pleasant, made him suppress a groan. He sat up and bit her earlobe. “I need to fuck you. Now.”

  She giggled and pushed him back. “No, you don’t, you adorable thing, you. Alas, I’m just the fluffer.” He stared at her, breathless, as she kept her hand busy right here in public in a clichéd dark corner of a huge nightclub in Detroit. He groaned, pushed her off him and zipped back up.

  When he stood, she wrapped herself around him, shoved her tongue into his mouth once more before breaking away and touching the tip of his nose with her finger. “You like how I taste, don’t you handsome?” He nodded, suddenly incapable of speech, his brain buzzing with lust, anger, and frustration. “I sucked Nicco’s cock earlier. He came all down my throat. That’s him you’re tasting.” She licked his lips then stepped away, pulling her tiny excuse for a skirt straight. “Let’s go, sweetie. I think I want to take you up on your offer. You are way too cute to sacrifice to him.” Stunned, struck dumb with horniness, he let her take his hand and pull him up a circular set of stairs, crowded with people in various stages of make-out.

  The thumping music and flashing lights made him dizzy as he followed the woman’s bare legs up and up, until they stopped in a room lit with a few lamps on tables, all shrouded with gauzy curtains. He could see arms, legs, and hear noises his brain refused to register. Cocktail waitresses moved about wearing little or nothing.

  His nerves rubbed raw from over stimulation, he saw his companion pull a curtain aside to reveal Nicco, Terry, and the other woman from the dance floor, sitting with a bottle of scotch and languid expressions.

  “There he is now.” The dark skinned man draped an arm around Nicco’s shoulders. Parker sensed the dead giveaway facial flush and ducked in next to the tall Spaniard, tugging the woman with him. She giggled and put a brazen hand over his still rigid zipper, making him flinch. Terry burst out laughing.

  Fury surged through him. He glared around the table and picked up a glass, downing it in one fiery, agonizing gulp.

  “Cut the crap, Terrance.” Nicco shoved the other man off him and over onto the other woman who shrieked and let him grab her tits. Parker flushed even hotter as Nicco’s voice cut through the chest-thumping music. “Jesu, you are so….”

  “Amazing? Incredibly well hung? Talented with your cock?” Terry leaned into the woman, smiling, his dark eyes sharp and definitely angry, his voice low and rumbling.

  “Shut up. You ass,” Nicco hissed.

  Parker bit back the most compelling urge he’d ever felt. The blazing in his gut burned all the way up to the back of his eyeballs. He gripped his knees under the small table and used everything he had not to put a hand to Nicco’s face, to cup his rough cheek, soothe, caress, ease the tension that rolled off the older man like smoke. He sighed and sat back, let the female he’d been ready to fuck a few minutes ago nibble his neck and keep stroking his deni
m-trapped dick.

  “This is surreal.” He held out his glass. Might as well be drunk on top of it.

  Nicco poured him a healthy splash and shot him a grin that didn’t reach his huge dark eyes. “Sí. Well, you are in one of the most surreal cities on the planet, I’d say. Salud.” He held up his glass and clinked it to Parker’s, the irony taking his face again, replacing the moment of soft introspection.

  Parker put both arms on the back of the booth and closed his eyes. The woman’s lips traveled around his neck. Fingers unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his jeans and slipped them down. First one hand, then two, stroked him. He sighed and went into a familiar space in his head. The space where he fondled amazing soft curves, sucked nipples, fingered warm, velvety female bodies. But always had to imagine something else, something harder, more angular and rough every time to find his release. He shifted his hips, let the alcohol buzz and his own deep need motivate him beyond his usual reticence for public displays of affection much less public displays of utter eroticism.

  “Good Christ,” he gasped when lips covered the head of his cock. A tongue flicked and teased. A hand cupped his balls. A finger slid lower, rubbing and making his entire body pulse with pure pleasure. Music pounded in his ears. His hands clenched into fists. The woman’s soft, eager mouth swallowed him. He grunted at the sensation. His hips bucked. The finger moved lower, massaging, pressing deep, making him groan.

  When he opened his eyes, the woman stared at him, covered his mouth with hers, and he let her, suddenly realizing whose lips were around his cock, whose throat he fucked, whose hair he fisted. He broke away as Nicco’s fingertip triggered a gut-deep, earth shattering, terrifying orgasm roaring up from the soles of his feet, lighting his spinal column and exploding behind his eyes. He cried out, no longer caring if the music covered him up, thrust deep into the other man’s mouth and let it happen.

  Holy shit. Holy mother of ….

  Parker jerked away, panting, fear, terror and lust roiling in his brain, making him breathless and pissed beyond words. “Shit.” He yanked his jeans up, shoved the woman out and fell to his knees in his haste to escape. What the hell had just happened? What had he done? He had to play soccer with this man. He was supposed to beat him at his own goddamned position in two days. They were…teammates.

  His eyes burned. Nicco licked his lips as he stared at Parker, his dark eyes blank.

  Well you did it didn’t you Doc? Yes. You did. Now you are that guy. The guy you didn’t want to be. He grabbed the half empty, three-hundred-dollar bottle of Scotch and stalked away, drinking from the neck of the thing. As he made his way through the crowd, gorgeous men and women draped around him, kissing his exposed skin until he figured out he should button his shirt. But first…He smiled down at a blonde woman with the biggest, fakest tits he’d ever seen and tugged her close.

  The urge to jump off the top of this building felt way too viable at the moment. He had do something to dispel the horror of the last few minutes—when he’d just gotten a goddamn, mother fucking blowjob from Nicco Garza.

  This is not me, his brain insisted as he tugged the strange girl into an alcove, shoved her up against the wall, lifted her skirt and stroked her soft, familiar folds, slipping two fingers into her, making her squirm and sigh. As he leaned over and sucked a nipple between his lips, her body shuddered in a familiar way. He groaned when she palmed his rapidly hardening cock then shoved her off him, took a slug from the bottle he’d never dropped while fingering the nameless, eager chick. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “You’re on the Black Jacks, no?” she purred, making Parker wince at his callous thoughts of “get the fuck away from me”.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Soccer star.” He grimaced at her and stomped away, drinking the burning brown liquor, trying to find the steps so he could escape this utter nightmare. He glanced back and stumbled, the floor having become suddenly unreliable under his feet. A strong hand gripped his biceps. He looked at it then up at its owner’s face.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled, jerking his arm out of Nicco’s grasp. “I am not that guy, okay. I don’t, I can’t, shit!” He lifted the green bottle to his mouth, but the other man took it.

  “Go easy, amigo,” he crooned. Parker squinted, tried to get the two Niccos to form into one, then gave up and sank into a chair, head in his hands. The room resumed its nauseating spin. He sensed the other man’s face near his, but he shifted away unwilling to be near him lest he give in to what he truly wanted. Because it simply could not happen. They were pro athletes, and he would be damned if he disappointed his parents one more time by being…gay.

  A tall glass of ice water appeared, and he drained it, willing the other man away from him. Didn’t work. The tall, dark figure pulled a chair up alongside him and draped an arm over his shoulders. Parker braced himself for sarcasm, for innuendo, for the usual bullshit spewing from the guy’s lips.

  “I’m sorry.” His soft Spanish lilt made Parker clench his eyes shut. “Querido. Lo siento. I should not have done that to you.” The man put a hand on his thigh, kept his lips near Parker’s ear.

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, you silly polite American, it’s not. I took terrible advantage of you.” The hand stroked, soothed, the musical voice calmed Parker’s pounding heart. “Be pissed off. You have every right. But….” Nicco turned his chin with a light touch. “You are…,” He dropped his gaze, surprising Parker. “Amazing.”

  He pressed his full lips to Parker’s once, in a chaste, dissatisfying way, then stood. Parker watched as the one Nicco morphed into two again, heard the two of them speak. “Get water and some sleep, young Parker. We have a big day ahead on Monday.” He tilted Parker’s face up to his, ran a rough thumb over his lips making Parker’s entire body shiver. Then Nicco walked away without another word, hands in his pockets.

  Parker watched him go, his heart sinking. What had he done? How in God’s name could he play now with the man whose dark eyes and full lips made him want to weep with desire? He lurched to his feet, stumbled down the circular staircase and out into the cool night air.

  Chapter Ten

  Rafe stirred and rolled over, reaching out for Maureen’s soft familiar curves. When he hit the living room floor he came fully awake, staring at the rug, remembering the verbal knock-down, drag-out that had landed him on the too-short couch. Adam dropped into a nearby chair, holding a bowl of cereal.

  “Hey, uh, Mom’s in the bathroom crying.”

  Rafe groaned and got to his feet. He had been pushing the team to its collective limit through months of camp in between managing bouts of seriously bad behavior on the part of various players. The daily stress of setting plays, getting a group of extreme sports egos to actually work together, keeping as much of the bullshit out of the media as possible while placating a set of needy investors had proven positively overwhelming. The added bonus of his prized coach delaying his appearance until nearly a week before their first game only added to the frustration.

  So when Maureen had some kind of breakdown last night after a dinner party at Jack and Sara’s house to celebrate the eve of their first game, he’d snapped. Too much booze at dinner, too many veiled innuendoes about team dynamics not working and general behavioral problems and too much denial about his role as the husband of a pregnant woman played hell with his nerves. He had no real excuse. He’d made a bit of a scene, and they had left. The tense car ride home ended with tears from his wife and more fury from him.

  He knocked on the bathroom door. “Honey? You okay?”

  “Go away.” She sniffled. “Far, far away. Go back to the team. Sleep there. I’ll see you at the end of the season.”

  “C’mon, babe. I’m really sorry. I was an ass.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know I was.” Adam tapped his shoulder, held out a steaming cup of something that smelled like lilacs. Rafe smiled. “Adam brought your favorite tea.”

  “Go the fuck away, Rafe, I mean it.
Sorry, Adam.”

  The tall kid shrugged and patted Rafe’s arm. “No worries. She’ll be okay. Let’s eat. You’ve got a big day.”

  Rafe put his aching head against the door, ignoring his stepson’s attempt at adulthood. “Please, Maureen. I am really sorry. I need you today.”

  “Yeah, should have thought of that before you called me—what was it? Oh yes….”

  “Maureen, come on. I didn’t call you anything. You were making too much noise for me to even get a word in.” He stopped. “Listen, I’ve been behaving badly. I haven’t been here for you. It’s partly your fault, you know. You’re so goddamned independent, you’ve set me up. I don’t even know what I do for you. How you even need me.”

  The door jerked open. His wife’s beautiful blue eyes watered. His chest tightened again. Dear God, he was so stupid. These fucking boys parading as men he’d been babysitting, threatening, coddling into working for him and not against him—they did not matter. This, right in front of him, mattered above all else. He took her hand, pulled her close, covered her face with kisses, and muttered any and everything he could think of to make her stop crying.

  “Stop it.” She pushed him away and brushed at her eyes. “Rafe, we are a partnership. That implies need. What you don’t have, I give you. What I can’t do, you can. Don’t you get it? You brought this into my life, gave me a reason to trust you, to believe you’re here for me. You’ve essentially disappeared. I get why but I don’t like it. Not now. Not with all this.” She put a hand on the shelf of her belly.

  He reached out for her, heart on fire with anguish, head buzzing with terror at the sight of her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes. She leaned on the wall, hands to the small of her back. Feeling stupid and helpless, he rubbed her shoulders, then leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head and made her slow way down the hall, calling for Adam to heat the tea back up.

  Rafe watched her go, frustration at his current predicament building in his chest. He pulled his seemingly forever buzzing phone out of his shorts pocket, grimacing at the sight of his assistant’s number.