7. Chapter 5

Can't say I'm not enjoying having Killian-bitch ass-Blackwell pinned under me, especially after he had the balls to stink up my damn hotel room. So much for being rested for tomorrow's game. At least we're playing a team we've wiped the floor with multiple times.

And chasing him got me hard and leaking again, igniting something primal in my blood. Fuck. What is it with my dick liking him so much? Seems it forgot to read the memo he's my enemy.

But that scared look he's got going on doesn't suit him. Killian's never backed down from me and this new development is sucking all the fun away. Time to kick it up a notch, get under his skin a bit.

I lean in close, until the ragged warmth of his breath hits my cheek. Slowly, deliberately, I drag my teeth over his earlobe, biting down just hard enough to pierce the skin. The coppery tang of blood hits my tongue and Killian makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a growl, his hands flexing against the carpet.

"Miss me that much, asshole?" I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Get the fuck off me." Killian"s voice is strained, almost brittle, but I can feel the heat rolling off his body, the tension thrumming through his taut muscles.

"Nah. You look too good being pinned underneath me." My hand grips his nape, and I push forward, holding his face down to the ground. "Gotta say, that little stunt with the stink bomb? Pretty pathetic, even for you."

"Reed, I"m not gonna say it again. Get. Off." There"s a waver in his voice, a hairline fracture in his trademark bravado, and it sends a dark thrill rushing down my spine.

I sit back on my heels, easing my weight off him minutely, and that"s all it takes. Killian surges up like a wild thing, twisting and bucking beneath me until he manages to throw me off balance. We tumble sideways, grappling for dominance, a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and heaving chests.

His fist slams into my cheek with a fury that's been building for the last few years. Somehow, he ends up on top, his knees bracketing my hips as he stares down at me with a mixture of rage and hunger, like a lit match to gasoline. "I hate you so fucking much."

"Feeling's mutual."

For a moment, we just stare at each other, bare chests heaving, the air between us electric with tension, but when I spot the delicious bruise on his forearm—my mark from where I bit him—I groan.

He tilts his head, his golden blonde hair a wild tangle, and his pupils so large his eyes are almost black. His whole body is practically vibrating with barely contained energy, like a livewire.

I"ve never wanted anyone so much in my life. It"s terrifying.

Slowly, deliberately, I angle my head up, my blood singing with anticipation. "Go on then, golden boy. Hit me again. See what happens."

He makes a sound like a wounded animal and then he leans down, his mouth crashing onto mine, hot and furious and devastating. His teeth catch my lower lip, biting hard enough to draw blood, and I groan into the kiss, my fingers raking down his back as he shifts until his body is flush against mine.

We tear at each other like brutal beasts, all tongues and teeth and desperation. Killian rocks his hips against mine and the friction is electric, like a lightning bolt of pleasure racing from my toes to my scalp.

I can feel him, hard and hot even through our pants, and my entire body throbs, my heart rate going through the roof. This is the first time I've had another dick against mine and . . . I fucking like it.

A lot.

I hook my leg around his and roll us over, pinning him beneath me once again, this time chest to chest. We"re both panting, staring at each other with blown pupils and kiss-swollen mouths.

"Tell me to stop," I rasp and when he doesn't answer, I roll my hips, driving my erection into his. "Blackwell, tell me you don"t want this."

But he doesn't say a word. Or can't.

Regardless, there' still some lines I won't cross.

Ever.

I grab his chin and squeeze. He hisses as I stare into his wide eyes. "Call it at any time and I stop. I'll beat you bloody, but I draw the line at non-consent."

He snorts, snapping out of whatever trance he'd been in a moment ago. "Murder good, rape bad."

"Exactly."

Killian swallows hard, his throat working. For a moment, I think he"s going to push me away, but then he reaches up and fists his hand in my hair, yanking me down into another bruising kiss.

"Reed, just get your fucking hand in my pants before I change my mind."

Without wasting another second, I reach into his sweatpants and wrap my fingers around his hard length. Holy Mary, mother of fucks. Every cell in my body lights, my own dick leaking into my boxers at the feel of his hot skin in my palm. "You're . . . pierced?"

"Stop talking." Both of his hands grip my hips and his eyes flutter closed as his head falls back against the floor.

I give his dick a squeeze, his glorious abs twitching with his cock, then lean in until our mouths collide once more. Killian's tongue swirls around mine, warring, plunging, and sucking. He shouldn't taste so good, but I can't get enough.

"So hard for me," I say, nipping his jaw as my thumb grazes one of the barbells near his crown. "Fucking perfect."

"Didn't know you liked guys."

"First time. Now get my dick out." I lift a bit and the tiniest whimper leaves him, as if he hates the loss of contact, so I jerk him harder.

He wastes no time yanking my sweats down as far as he can get them, his calloused hand wrapping around me, moving from base to tip. My head drops down, resting on his shoulder as I buck into his fist.

God, it feels so fucking good I can barely breathe through it.

Killian chuckles. "Gonna blow already?"

"Fuck you."

"Not there yet."

We both freeze and I pick my head up, meeting his gaze. His mouth opens and closes for a second. "I . . . uh. Just being sarcastic."

I swallow hard, thankful he backpedaled because I'm not sure I want more than this. Maybe it's just an in the moment type thing.

Experimental.

Pushing my length against his, I wrap a hand around both of us and jerk. Roughly. A dash of pleasure thickens my dick, but it soars into an avalanche when Killian thrusts, rubbing me with his piercings.

By the third time, I'm thrusting as well, matching his rhythm and fucking my fist. Wetness slips beneath my fingers and I'm not sure if it's his precum or mine. Don't really care.

"Fuck, Reed." Killian is grunting, panting, moaning. But it's the way he says my name, all needy and gravelly that pushes me close to the edge. "Reed. Fuck. Reed . . . I'm coming. I'm coming. Jackson, I'm coming."

Watching his face as he orgasms, his fingers digging into my biceps as his cum coats my hand and our dicks, causes a fever-like sensation to spread throughout my body, my balls pulling tight, then I follow him over the edge embarrassingly fast. "Mother of fucks!"

My cum coats him, marks his skin, and a low growl erupts from deep in my chest as I thrust two more times, making sure to milk every last drop out of myself and onto the flushed golden boy beneath me.

Killian's hands drop from my arms as we stare at each other, breathing hard.

I push up and sit on my heels. "You look good covered in my cum."

His eyes narrow, gaze falling to my chest. "I marked you too, fucker."

I look down and sure enough, a few ropes of his cum are on my skin. The corner of my mouth ticks up slightly, then my brows furrow.

Since when do I like being marked?

Reality starts to seep back in, cold and sobering. I sit back against the wall, putting some much-needed distance between us. My body feels strange, wrung-out and oversensitive.

Killian also sits up and scoots back, rubbing his palms over his face. "This doesn"t change anything. I still can"t stand you."

"Right back at you."

A soft sigh falls from his lips as he shakes his head, cheeks flushing. "I've never even looked at another guy. Not even once. This . . . you . . . it's all new to me."

"I've watched some gay porn. Didn't do much for me. Not like watching my roommates." Okay, maybe I added the last part to cut the tension because a tandem freakout with my rival isn't happening.

"What the hell?" Killian stares at me, shock and disgust warring one another on his face.

I roll my eyes. "Not like that. Well . . . maybe like that. It's not my fault they go at it at two in the morning."

"Don't want to know any more about Petrov, thank you very much." He reaches for his waistband and pulls his sweatpants up, covering himself. "You need to go."

And I should.

Only, for the first time in three years, maybe ever, I feel completely satiated in a way that goes deeper than the physical. Like an itch I didn"t even know I had has finally been scratched.

It"s disorienting, and I don"t have the first clue what to do about it.

"Jackson, get out." Killian's voice is quiet but firm.

Something in my chest squeezes at the dismissal. At the rejection. I stand and yank my pants up, then storm out of his room, knowing one thing with a cold certainty—this isn"t over.

Not by a long shot.