Red Zone

by Shannon West

  Fully intending to beat the man within an inch of his life, I took a step in his direction but stopped when I felt Kingston’s hand close around my upper arm. “No. He isn’t worth it, Memphis.” To his father, he said, “Get the fuck out of here before I turn him loose on you. When or if you’re ever man enough to admit your own faults, give me a call. If you aren’t calling to apologize, I don’t want to ever hear from you again.”

  “You’re disgusting! Both of you!” he snarled at us. “I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting on that call. No faggot could ever be a son of mine!”

  Kingston laughed softly. “Trust me, dad, this faggot won’t be waiting by the phone.”

  There was a stare-down between father and son for a minute. Another minute. During the third minute, I realized what Kingston’s piece-of-shit father was waiting on. He was standing in front of me…in front of mine…fucking waiting for Kingston to fall apart. Fury swept through me as I reminded myself this man was undoubtedly the cause of so many of Kingston’s issues. A growl erupted from my throat and I lunged for him, only to be blocked by Kingston—again.

  “So not worth it, babe,” he whispered and then, to my shock, wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me down for a full-blown, nasty, tongue down my throat, make my toes curl kiss. For the first time in our relationship, I allowed him complete domination without questioning it and worrying it to death, and he grabbed the ball and ran with it. His tongue tangled with mine as he slammed his body into me and pushed my back against the wall.

  I heard Kingston’s father make a few more breathless, vulgar comments, but when he saw he’d lost our attention, he stormed from the room, slamming the door with all his strength. I could hear him roaring his disgust for both of us as he retreated down the hallway. I wanted to worry about Kingston. I wanted to go after his father and make him shut the fuck up—I wasn’t ashamed of my relationship with Kingston, but wasn’t sure if my lover had been ready to come so completely out of the closet just yet. Hell, I wanted to do a lot of things but couldn’t do a damn thing because Kingston’s lips were working some wicked magic on my ability to maintain control.

  After his delicious assault on my mouth finished, he asked, “You okay, soldier? Should I have mentioned my dad was an ass? That he’s homophobic as fuck?” He blinked playfully at me and added, “Just a couple more of my family secrets right before one of the biggest games of our lives, huh?”

  My heart lurched at his attempt to hide the sadness and turmoil swirling in his eyes. “Don’t you dare, Kingston,” I whispered harshly. “Don’t you dare act like the bullshit you’ve had to live with isn’t that big of a deal.” His eyes dropped and he nodded. Putting my finger under his chin, I lifted his head back up and said, “I’ve never been prouder of a person in my entire life, babe. You continue to amaze me with your strength and determination every damn day.”

  His eyes cleared instantly.

  “Tell me what you need from me,” I urged. “I’ll offer any strength you need. That bastard, this ballgame, the fans, my dad…nothing is going to be put before you, Kingston. I should never have put you in this position, on this day.” I growled. “Fuck…on any day.” I took him in my arms and searched his face. “Tell me the truth, Kingston. Did what I do to you—was it the same as what your damn father did? Did I mess with your head the same way?” I closed my eyes and shook my head, pain suddenly hitting me hard and coursing through me. “Damn it, of course, I did, didn’t I? And even though you gave me your consent, you really weren’t in any frame of mind to agree to be under my control, were you? Not after growing up with that guy as your father. Oh my God, I fucking took advantage of you, just like he did, didn’t I?”

  But before I could really get on a roll and start beating myself up, Kingston pulled back and looked at me, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever you’ve got going on in your head, just stop. Let it go. I’ve talked with my psychologist about this, you know. She questioned the same thing, but I set her straight—nobody gets to question my autonomy and my right to live the way I want to. To love the man I want to. And no, my head isn’t screwed up. I admit it was for a while. But you helped me, Memphis. You probably saved me, and I know exactly how I feel and exactly what I want now. With you, I finally accepted my feelings. Mine…not what somebody else expects or wants from me. You helped me see that, Memphis. You’re all mine and you’re all I want.” He offered me his wrist, reminding me of the first time I held him. “Hold me tight one more time and then let’s get this part of our lives finished and put it behind us. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.”

  I gripped his wrist tightly, pushing on the pressure point just as I had during our first encounter in our apartment. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet mere seconds. Hate had turned to lust and then to love. He’d always had this strength inside him. It just gotten lost for a while.

  “I’m ready,” he said with a smile. “Are you?”

  “Always.”

  *****

  Memphis

  Three hours later, it was abundantly clear that Kingston’s bastard father had succeeded in fucking with our heads…or my head, I should say. Kingston had run his heart out, weaving in out of would-be tacklers, putting on a show of fancy footwork, and just plain running over some defenders. My performance, on the other hand, hadn’t been quite so spectacular. I’d thrown the ball twenty-four times. Fifteen times, it had been caught, but that left seven that had missed their target. And I’d thrown two interceptions—my first and second for the season.

  Kingston had racked up over two hundred yards in nine carries.

  Even with my crap performance, we were only down by five points…with three seconds left in the game—enough time for only one more play. We had sixty-seven yards to get past the red zone and into the end zone. Sixty-seven fucking yards.

  My father just used our final time-out. He was furious. Losing was his least favorite thing in the world. Most of the other guys on the team cringed and hung their heads as he raked us over the coals regarding our performance for the evening—which was really unfair, because I had been the only weak link of the night. Not for the first time in my life, I wondered if the NFL was really for me, or if it was just a pipe dream.

  “Are you fucking listening to me, Memphis?” my father screamed as I allowed my mind to drift into a spot it didn’t belong at the moment.

  “Of course,” I lied. Kingston patted my ass, and I had to fight back a grin.

  On his board, my dad worked out a play that had me launching a Hail Mary pass to our top receiver, Clifton Davis. The team was quiet and all wore shocked expressions. I simply nodded, bumped my helmet against Kingston’s, and headed back onto the field. My team followed, grumbling under their breaths with each step. They knew the final play of the game didn’t belong to me—not with the way I’d played so far. Once we got into a huddle, I said, “New plan. You’re still going long Davis, and this team expects you to find a way to make sure your ass is open in the endzone.” I turned to Kingston. “I’m giving you a lateral pass and you’ll be the one to throw that baby into the endzone to Davis. Got it?”

  “Hell, yeah!” Malachi said, his eyes locked with mine. “It’s about damn time you took over the team and acted like a leader!”

  Kingston looked terrified…no, maybe horrified. He also sent me a what-the-fuck look. I answered with a pat on his ass and the same grin he’d just given me on the sideline. “You’ve got this, babe. You’ve always had it and now you get to show it to the world.”

  We lined up, and I could see my father’s scowl turn into a look of absolute shock as he realized I’d changed the play. At this second, he had no idea what play we were going to run, but he realized his play had been changed. If he’d had one more time-out, I know he would have used it. He didn’t—so he was shit out of luck.

  ****

  Kingston

  This time last year, I’d found myself humiliated
on and off the field. My life had taken a downward tumble that I never once thought I could climb back out of. Memphis had stolen my job—my security blanket. Without the glory of football, I’d believed myself to be nothing. A loser.

  Then Memphis had given it all back to me, on and off the field. Confidence and love roared through my veins.

  We lined up, and I heard Memphis calling out his father’s play…the one that none of us really intended to run.

  The center snapped the ball to Memphis, the lateral pass came to me, and I tucked the ball like I intended to run. Just before reaching the line of scrimmage, I straightened, zoned in on Davis, and launched the ball like I’d played quarterback the entire game. They say time stands still when you’re about to die. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. I know this, though. It sure the hell slowed down for me at that moment. The roar of the crowd faded away as my eyes tracked the ball through the air. Even when I was tackled, the pigskin remained in my vision. Yard by yard…until it landed safely in the hands of my receiver. Davis caught the ball in the endzone and even made it look easy.

  And, just like that we won our fourth National Championship in a row.

  The crowd went wild, and so did the rest of the team. But I knew I’d won the real prize on the field that day…Memphis Sawyer. And I never intended to let him go. Was I being fucking corny? Hell yeah, I was. Did I give a fuck? I chuckled to myself. Hell, no. I gave all my fucks to Memphis.

  Epilogue

  Kingston

  A little over a year had passed since our final National Championship game, and my love for Memphis had grown at a ridiculous pace. I’m stronger…much stronger, thanks to him. There’s still no relationship with my family and while I’m not holding my breath on my dad, I hope there will be an opportunity for the door to open back up with my mom one day in the future. Memphis took me to visit Eric’s grave—something I hadn’t be able to do since his death.

  It was ugly. Very ugly, but I survived and got stronger from it.

  Memphis signed with North Carolina’s NFL team and, true to our promise to each other, I followed. My dream of teaching might turn out to be a bit more difficult with all the traveling required for Memphis’ busy life, but you wouldn’t hear me complain—he’d given me too much for me to whine about not being able to have it all!

  So, here I was, doing something I never imagined I would have the guts or balls to do. Memphis had blindfolded me but instead of heading to the playroom nestled in the basement of the mansion Memphis had purchased us with his first pay check, he’d carefully led me to the garage. After a bit of whining on my part, he finally convinced me to allow him to ease my frame into the Corvette he’d been determined that I needed. Yeah, when I’d given Memphis my heart, I hadn’t had any idea how much money the Sawyer family actually had. Getting used to being taken care of—physically, emotionally, and financially—by another person was tough for somebody like me to get used to.

  “Are you going to at least tell me where we’re going?” I asked. Well, I yelled it since Mr. Exhibitionism had the top down on the convertible. I could only grin as I imagined what people must think when they passed us on the road and saw the black tie over my eyes.

  “Nope!”

  “A new club?”

  “Stop asking or I won’t punish you for an entire week,” he threatened.

  I stopped asking questions since I wasn’t sure I could go a week without the thrill of the pain he offered me. He didn’t make me wait long, though. The drive couldn’t have lasted over thirty minutes. I felt him put the car into park and then the sexy purr of the engine quietened.

  “Don’t move and don’t dare touch that blindfold!” he ordered.

  I heard his car door open, close, and then seconds later, he opened mine and reached for me. I bit back a cuss word when my knee slammed into the door.

  “Oops. That’s on me. I’ll be more careful,” he cooed in my ear. “I’ll even kiss it and make it all better when we get home tonight.”

  “You’re gonna kiss more than that,” I grumbled playfully.

  He smacked my ass. Hard. “Just for that, I believe some edging will be included in tonight’s games.”

  My dick instantly plumped and a moan escaped from between my lips. The bastard knew what he was doing to me, how horny he was making me. Even though we were still outside and in front of only God knew how many people, my hand reached down to give my cock a rough squeeze.

  Just as I expected, Memphis slapped my hand away before I could get a good enough grip to ease any of my discomfort. “Fuck, Memphis,” I groaned. “Don’t talk trash to me and then leave me hanging. That’s just cruel, babe.”

  “I know, fireball. I know. I enjoy watching you squirm so damn much. I can’t help myself.” He turned my shoulders and moved me away from the car and shut the door. With his help, we walked what seemed like fifty yards but was probably more like ten feet. I was beginning to get nervous. Damn, I hope he hadn’t bought me another car. After the Corvette arrived, he started muttering about it being too small and might be dangerous for me to drive. If he’d bought me a redneck truck, I was going to have to put my foot down and demand that he send it back.

  “I bought you a little something,” he whispered in my ear. He’d moved until he stood behind me, his hard cock bumping right up against my ass. My hole clenched with desire just from feeling him against me.

  And while my body was aroused, my mind screamed in frustration over the way Memphis insisted on buying me things I really didn’t need. Fuck, I was nothing more than a house-husband; it wasn’t like I needed all the cars, jewelry, and clothes he insisted on gifting me. Memphis didn’t need to give me material things to prove his love. I’d even called his uncle to talk to him about the lavish gifts, but he’d merely shrugged my concerns away and said it was the Dom in Memphis—every Dom wanted to take care of their sub, in every way possible. That wasn’t good enough for me, though. I had a feeling we were about to have to engage in a difficult discussion.

  He licked my earlobe. “Fireball, you don’t look very excited right now. Granted, I can only see part of your face, but the part I’m seeing is not screaming with excitement.”

  Dammit, he sounded like a little kid that was on the verge of getting his feelings hurt. I tried to put on a sincere smile, and said, “Sure, I am, babe. You…you just spend too much money on me.” He turned me around until we were chest to chest. “I’m not doubting or questioning the decision to follow you wherever you go, Memphis, but I need to feel like I’m contributing something.”

  He gently took the blindfold off and pulled me against his chest. “Am I overwhelming you, fireball?”

  I blinked against the light that flooded my eyes with the blindfold gone. Taking a quick glance around, I noticed that it didn’t look like we were in the best part of town. I didn’t feel unsafe, but I knew we weren’t surrounded by the opulence that accompanied the NFL. Feeling bad for pissing on his surprise, I bit my bottom lip and murmured, “Maybe a little. I feel kind of…useless, babe.”

  He grabbed my ass with both hands and said, “I’ll never get tired of using you, fireball.”

  Okay. Ouch. That hurt a bit. I was being serious and he was making it all about sex…and him. The incredibly selfish part of me wanted to scream that it would be nice if something was about me every once in a while. The old Kingston would have taken it on the chin and never let him know my feelings had been hurt. The new Kingston was going to call him on it.

  I shoved away from him and snarled, “Fuck you, Memphis! It isn’t always about sex!” I wanted to stomp away but since I didn’t have a clue where I was, I didn’t have any choice but to stare him down. He crossed his arms over his massive chest—yes, he’d gotten even more muscular since signing with a professional team. Those muscles didn’t scare me, though. I stood my ground.

  “What? Are you going to stand there and act like the last year has been all about me? That you didn’t have to squash your dreams of teaching, so I could
follow my dreams of playing ball? Are you acting like you don’t have to sit home all day by yourself while I train? If I didn’t know better, fireball, I’d think you weren’t happy in your role as my trophy boyfriend.”

  I growled. Literally growled. “This isn’t a game, Memphis. These are my feelings and dreams you’re walking on right now. I think you need to step back and take an inventory of what you just said to me!”

  He smiled…and it wasn’t one of his sassy, arrogant, Dom smiles. It was the sweetest smile I’d ever seen on his lips. “I think you need to turn around, fireball.”

  Oh, shit! What if we had a huge audience and I’d just acted like a brat? Cameras? There could be cameras—those sports people followed him at every opportunity. Shit. Shit. Shit. Slowly, I turned around. There weren’t any people. No cameras. We were standing in front of what looked like an old manufacturing textile plant…one that had seen its better days.

  Confused, I turned back to face him and asked, “What? I don’t understand. You bought me an old textile plant?”

  He moved until we were the original embrace, his chest to my back and his arms wrapped lovingly around me. I felt him kiss the top of my shoulder. “No, I didn’t buy you an old textile plant, smartass. Well, I kind of did. I bought you an old textile plant for you to have renovated.”

  A horrible thought slammed into me. Was this his way of asking me to move out? I looked at the giant brick building in front of me, broken windows everywhere, and wondered if I was looking at my future home. We’d be together but not really together. He was throwing me away.