34. Bryant

The offensive line sets up against TCU"s defense. We"re ahead by seven, but we need another touchdown to secure the win. It"s the fourth down and we"re just four yards from the red zone and a first down conversion. We either secure the win, or push through a first down so we can keep running down the clock. There"s just enough time left that the other team could push through our defensive line and tie it up if we don"t, sending us into overtime. After a full season of all but dominating every game, this game has been tough. The team is tired, pushing through blood, sweat, and tears to secure this win in the last minutes of the game.

Jack Perry is still the dominant force on our team, helping QB Lane Masters work out the best plays to get through the other team"s defenses. He"s run four of our six touchdowns through the end zone himself tonight. But he isn"t himself, isn"t pushing as hard as he usually does. I can see it in his eyes that he"s all but given up, but he knows winning this championship is his best chance of making something good out of his life. So he"s still there, still doing the legwork.

His heart isn"t in it, though.

"Come on, baby! Bring it home!" I hear a shrill voice scream from the sidelines, sparking more cheers from the crowd of Jackals Football fans. Aniyah Wilcox has left the cushy private box her parents pay for, and is standing on the railing, as close to the players on the field that she can get, blocking the people in the seats behind her. They don"t seem to mind. In fact, one of the men is very graciously holding his hands against her waist to secure her so she can use her hands to cup around her mouth and wave frantically.

Jack gives her a little wave, but I notice his eyes cut back to me. I keep my face impassive and direct the team to pay attention.

The whistle blows. Jack pushes through two defensive linemen, dodging the players that come at him from all angles. Lane should throw to Grant at this point, because the TCU defense has been up Jack"s ass, but no, Grant is blocked. Switch gears, Lane, run the ball! We only need four yards for the first down.

I hear Jack yell Lane"s name. Lane throws the ball, but he"s sacked just as it launches, and the throw is off. Magic Jack contorts his body, seemingly midair, and plucks it from the air. He tucks the ball, and lands just inside the end zone.

The stadium erupts, wildly cheering. There"s still time on the clock and game to play, but everyone in the stadium knows we"ve clinched it. We"re going to the national championship!

Jack does a showy kick up from the ground, landing on his feet and pointing at the sidelines where Aniyah is screaming. The people around her are lifting her up on their shoulders, celebrating her man"s game saving play.

He looks over at me, and I can"t see his eyes from this far down the field, but I"m more or less positive he"s fucking barking at me. It"s confirmed when the rest of the team starts jumping around and barking. I fight not to grin, because I know, as much as he"s pointing to his fiancé in the stands, he"s putting on this show for me. He wants me to know he"s invincible, that he can handle the repercussions of the conversation we had two days ago.

But he"s wrong, full of his baby bulldog bravado. And I can"t do that to him.

I tear my eyes off of them and motion for defense to get set up.

Behind me, Aniyah is screaming, "I love you baby!!!" and waving a flag that says, "SOON TO BE MRS. PERRY!"

Goddamn, I just want to go home. We have ten days to get ready for the championship game, minus the travel days to Charlotte, North Carolina. The Bank of America Stadium, home of the Carolina Panthers, and Jack"s top pick for teams he wants to be drafted to, is where we"ll be playing against the Alabama Crimson Tide for the championship.

I should be happier. And he should be more excited. But all I see on his face, as he hugs his teammates on the sideline, is exhaustion.

A thumping sound rouses me from a disturbing dream that I can't quite remember.

The door. Someone"s knocking on the door?

I sit up in bed, looking over at the hotel"s analog clock. It"s fucking three a.m.

Not thinking clearly through my sleep muddled haze, I rush over and open the door. Jack stands there, leaning against the door frame in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt. His hair, which has grown a little again, looks mussed. He looks fucking edible. He smells like a bar and dried sweat, and the spicy body wash that I secretly keep in my shower at home just so I can rub him into my skin when it all gets to be too much.

"Happy New Year," he says casually, his eyes looking me up and down. I"m in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, and the erection from my sleep is trying to push its way through the folded area at the front.

"What"s wrong?" I ask, trying to pretend like I"m not standing in front of my biggest weakness, half naked with a hard on. Something about the way he"s leaning into the doorframe reminds me of Cowboy Jack, and that actually helps clear my mind a bit.

"Nothing"s wrong. I just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year."

"Why aren"t you out with the guys… with her?" I can"t force myself to say her name, despite my attempt to pretend I"m above it all.

"I was. It got old. I wanted to be here."

"More like you got drunk and your fiancé doesn"t do it for you, so you hoped you could come here and get off?"

His brow furrows, like he might take offense, but then the shithead shrugs. "Could have been a little of that, too, I suppose."

"Get out of here, Jack. I"m sure the future Mrs. Perry would be more than happy to suck your dick for you."

I move to push the door closed, but he steps forward and blocks it.

"Not interested," he says, invading my space and pushing his way into my room. Not that I put up a lot of fight, because I"m a fucking idiot. I can never say no to him.

"What are you doing here?" I say, covering up my dry swallow by running my hand over my face exasperatedly.

"I have a proposition for you," he says. "And yes, it"s that kind of proposition."

His crooked smirk is fucking sinful. I need to tell him to leave, to go back to his future wife and turn his charm on her instead. But I can"t. I"m rooted to the spot, thinking of that first night I laid eyes on him. Did I know then? Was there any inkling of what he would do to me? How he would make me feel?

I don"t say a word, counting on the shadows of the room to keep my thoughts from being obvious. I also don"t kick him out, though.

"How about we pretend we"re both drunk from celebrating the holiday? Then you can take out all that pent out aggression on the only person that"s ever been able to handle you. Just for tonight."

My pulse picks up. I know I"m going to agree before I even consider it. "Just for tonight?"

"Just for tonight," he repeats, stepping out of his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt.

He"s going too fucking slow, though, and I"ve been getting closer to the edge with every glance, every thought and memory. Every anguished daydream over what he might be doing with her.

Crossing the room in long strides, I rip Jack"s shirt open. Buttons fly everywhere, pinging off the walls. The rest of his clothes come off in a fevered rush; each article of clothing drops as I push him backwards to the small bedroom at the back of my suite. My mouth luxuriates in the taste of him. His clothes smelled like a bar, but he doesn"t taste like one at all. I know he hasn"t been drinking, and I haven"t either, for once. But it doesn"t matter, we"re pretending, so we can be free to indulge in each other for one last time. Never mind that this is the third last time, or that I know I"ll never stop thinking about him for as long as I live. I have him now, and that"s all that matters.

I push him back against the bed and crawl up his body, dragging my tongue along his cock, his abs, his pecs, his neck, on the way up.

"Fuck," Jack moans into my mouth as our cocks press together.

Part of me wants to draw this out, make it last all night, for as long as I can. But a bigger part of me is so starved for him that I can"t control myself.

"I have to be inside you. Now," I say, leaving the bed momentarily to track down some lube. There"s still a bottle in the zipper case I keep my toiletries in. I grab it and run back to the room, like I"m afraid that he"ll leave, or that I"ll wake up and this will have been a dream. If it"s a dream, it"s going to be a wet one.

I stalk towards the bed, spreading lube over my cock before I kneel at the bottom of the bed and yank Jack down to me. I press his knees to his chest and gruffly order him to hold them. Then I use one hand to pump his cock while my other hand lubes his ass. I don"t take much time to stretch him out. I want him to feel every inch.

My cock lines itself up, knowing where it belongs, and I push my hips forward. I push in slowly so I can revel in the feel of his tight ring of muscle rolling over every inch of my cock, until I"m fully seated, and he"s writhing against me. I smack his ass.

"I"m in charge here, Jack."

There"s a glint of challenge in his eyes before he wraps his legs around me and rolls his hips.

Fuck, he feels so good.

I meet his hips roll for roll, thrust for thrust, until we"re both dripping sweat, panting against each other"s mouths.

"Bryant! I"m gonna?—"

I lean down to bite his ear, and my voice comes out strained. "Come for me, Jack."

"You first this time," he says, and locks his legs around me. Before I know it, he flips us over, seating himself on top of me.

His thick thigh muscles flex and his abs contract as he moves up and down on my cock.

"Fuck," I grunt, my balls growing tight against my body.

"Come for me, Coach," Jack says, his choked voice pitched a little higher than usual.

He fists his cock and strokes it while his ass slams down on me.

"Together," I choke out, and he nods. I thrust upward, driving my cock into him hard and fast.

"Fuuuuuuuck," Jack cries out, and jets of cum splash all over my stomach, chest, and neck. My cock pulses inside him with every spurt of his cum, filling him as he paints me.

I sit up, pressing our chests together and wrapping one arm around him for stability. We writhe against each other, leaching out every last moment of ecstasy as my release feels like it goes on and on.

"Fuck is right, " I say breathlessly, falling back against the pillows and pulling him against my chest.

We lay that way for I don"t know how long, completely silent, as our breaths and heart rates come down.

Jack finally speaks, laying with his head on my shoulder. "The whole time I was out partying with my teammates and the stupid bitch that won"t keep her hands off me—" I bristle at the thought of her hands on him. And then I remember the time he sent me a video of his hands on her. What a fucked-up journey this has been. "All I could think about is that I wanted to be here, with you. I wanted to just spread out on the bed and watch the recaps of the game on ESPN."

"That"s all?" I ask, laughing huskily.

He grins but shakes his head. "That"s how I know."

"That"s how you know what?"

"That I"m fucked."