Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Six of the guys who were playing with us are showering, chatting with one another. Most everyone has been at St. Lawrence since freshman year, so they’ve all had a whole year to get to know each other. I, on the other hand, haven’t even been here three weeks, so it’s gonna take time to make friends.
As I scrub off, my mind keeps drifting through that awkward moment in the game, as if trying to remind me of something, and then it hits me like a fucking brick: Brad catching my tee and shoving me to the ground.
His asshole comments when I confronted him about it.
Heat flares in my cheeks as it all comes rushing back.
That fucking prick.
That asshole!
The knot in my chest is back, even stronger than when I was about to pummel his fucking ass. But despite getting riled up again, I’m relieved it’s all returning to me. And as I hear Brad chuckle in a neighboring stall, I’m about to rush out and take him on.
“You don’t mind.”
Seth’s words float through my mind, stopping me in my tracks.
I didn’t relax until he said those words. But why?
There’s a wild thought that maybe what he said had something to do with my change of heart. But that’s impossible.
My confusion around whatever the hell happened keeps me from starting shit back up. I finish my shower, throw a towel around my waist, and head out of the stall.
Seth and Brad are at their lockers, Brad’s bulky physique on full display. The size of those muscles reminds me how easy it would have been for him to overpower me in a fight. Those biceps of steel, the flesh as taut as his abs, as he lets his thick dick hang out, assuring me that the rumors Alexei told me about him being a sex god are likely true. A reminder that the world isn’t fair because a guy who’s a prick shouldn’t also know what to do with one.
As Brad finishes the combo on his lock and opens the door, he says, “You just gonna keep staring at it, Pretty Boy? Or did you want to play with it some too?”
I hadn’t realized how long I was staring at his junk until he said that.
He turns to me, putting it on full, proud display. His flesh glistens under the fluorescent lights as he stands there, nude except for a necklace with a cross that dangles between his pecs.
I force my gaze to his, moving close to him again. Despite this rage in me, my dick twitches again and my mouth is watering. Gonna pretend it’s just how hungry I am to kick his ass.
“I don’t know what your fucking problem is,” I say, bringing with me all the intensity I had before whatever the fuck happened that got me to calm my ass down.
“Hey, hey,” I hear from beside me, and Alexei inserts himself between us again. He’s damp, like he heard us starting up again and tossed on his towel quickly to intervene.
Brad and Seth glance at each other.
“You don’t mind.”
It’s like Seth is trained in hypnosis or something, and that command was supposed to calm me down. It’s a wild theory, but why are they looking at each other like they’re surprised I’m coming at them like this, unless they thought that should have been enough to subdue me?
As Brad’s gaze meets mine again, he says, “Alexei, don’t stand in his way. If he wants to lose his temper, let him.” He approaches me, puffing his chest out. I notice that dong wagging between his legs before he pushes up close. “Lil’ Scholarship Boy’s got a temper on him. Come on.” His lips are inches from mine. “One punch. Just so when I destroy your ass, everyone knows you started it. Or we could kiss and make up?” He winks.
I must not be as pissed as when I was outside, since I’m able to restrain myself, think about the consequences of getting into a fight with him. I am a scholarship boy, and if it gets out that I was in a fight with one of their richy-rich kids, I can’t imagine that’s gonna do me any favors. And unlike most of the kids in this school, I don’t have the money to get me out of a jam.
When I don’t make a move, Brad sneers. “Good boy,” he tells me, like a lapdog doing his bidding. “Now, unless you want to grab my cock and start jerking, if you don’t mind, I wanna get some fucking pants on.”
The heat in my chest sears, and I press my hands against his pecs and give him a good shove. Unsurprisingly, it only makes him stumble backward slightly. But that’s the fucking least I can do to let him know I’m not afraid of his ass.