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  He’d imagined sucking Sean’s dick, had fantasized about fucking his ass, but he’d never considered the man might fuck him first. He’d never once considered letting any man near his ass, but he’d barely offered a protest when Flannery bound his arms and stripped him. Pressed face first into the bed, his ass reamed by the biggest cock he’d ever seen, he couldn’t think of anything but how fuckin’ good it felt. The pleasure scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of him.

  Tears stung his eyes.

  Liking what they were doing was wrong on so many levels, not the least of which he was cheating on Ashley—with a man!

  How could he do this to her?

  How can I not?

  There was no rationalization—no excuse he could utter to make his betrayal okay.

  Sean’s balls slapped his in a constant rhythm that sent waves of erotic pleasure coursing through his body. Every thrust made his cock throb. He ached for release.

  Despite the self-loathing burning in his chest, he spoke the damning words. “Need to come…. Please.”

  He gasped as Sean pulled all the way out. With one hard shove to his hip, the other man rolled him to his back, pinning his hands beneath him. Bent looked up into the face of the man he hated with every fiber of his being. The first baseman’s unyielding gaze swept down his body, pausing at the most visible sign of his capitulation, his turgid cock.

  Long fingers closed around the aching appendage. Bent groaned, letting his head fall back while his hips rose to meet the rough strokes.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, yanking him forward by the tie still knotted around his neck. “You’re going to come, all right, but when you do, you’re fuckin’ going to know who you’re with.”

  In seconds, his knees were up around his ears. His tie cut into the back of his neck, causing his back to arch so his sole means of escape was to close his eyes. But he couldn’t.

  Sean stood between his splayed legs, still wearing his shirt, tie, and suit coat. Heat flooded Bent’s face. His breath came in short pants. He’d never felt as vulnerable as he did right then.

  He watched as Sean guided his cock into place. His ass was sore from the first invasion, and he wasn’t sure he could stand to have it in him again so soon—especially in a position where he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings.

  He was given no time to protest. Flexing his hips, the man he’d given himself to, tunneled deep.

  “Fuck,” Bent hissed. The pain soon gave way to the overwhelming feeling of pleasure he remembered. “Why do you have to have a goddamn battering ram for a dick?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” A sharp tug on the necktie wrenched a groan from his gut. “Look at me.”

  He stared at the man holding him a prisoner of his own desires then shifted his focus away. Another hard jerk brought his gaze up again.

  “Don’t fuckin’ do that again.” He slid almost all the way out then powered back in hard enough to send shockwaves all the way to Bent’s toes. “No evasion. No denial.” He repeated the same hard stroke, emphasizing his commands.

  “This is you and me. This is what we’ve both wanted for way too long.”

  “Fuck you,” he said, though he knew his defiance meant nothing. The man was right. He’d wanted it five years ago. He wanted it now. His shame couldn’t be any greater.

  Spitting into his palm, his tormentor fisted Bent’s cock then began to pump. Hate for himself, for the man controlling him, rolled through him like a red tide, blurring his vision and turning his stomach.

  He could make him stop. The bindings at his wrists wouldn’t prevent him from rolling away, breaking the connection. But as desperate as he was to end the humiliation, he was just as enslaved to the forbidden pleasure coursing through him.

  He knew the bliss of having a woman’s soft hand jack him. He loved the feel of their slim fingers around his dick—loved the way they always held something back, afraid they might hurt him. But, dear God, when Sean fisted him, he’d had to clench his jaw shut or scream the rafters down.

  No tentative touch. The bastard jacked as hard as he fucked. Combined, the two sensations blew his mind.

  He bucked his hips, drawing a series of guttural oaths from his tormenter, and perhaps a few from himself. He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was the driving urge to fuck and be fucked. He was out of his mind with the need to shove into the tight tunnel of resistance formed by Flannery’s fingers.

  “Ahh, Jesus…. Fuck,” he ground out. He tore his gaze away from the sight of his cock’s round head bursting forth from the callused hand clamped around it. The cords in his teammate’s neck were tight, his jaw locked in a grimace as he rocked his hips, reaming his ass with hard, fast thrusts.

  Lust flared hot and bright. He closed his eyes, conjuring the image of the first baseman’s naked, hot, soapy water sluicing down his back, over his tight ass. He saw him turn. Saw the hard ridges of his chest and abdomen. Saw his cock held just as the man now held his.

  Lightening struck the small of his back, sending tendrils of fire through his lower body, igniting an inferno in his balls.

  Another hard jerk to his neck. “Look at me,” Flannery commanded.

  He locked gazes with his teammate. Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed it down, savoring the chemical burn in his esophagus as his due for what he was about to do.

  His dick throbbed, and his asshole clenched. Liquid fire spattered across his bare skin. Triumph lit Sean’s face. He hated the man even more for understanding what he’d done to him.

  His cock softened, but his captor continued to hold it in a vise-grip. His hips had stilled, his cock buried balls deep in his ass. Released from the chokehold of his orgasm, he noticed the firm line of Sean’s jaw, saw the muscles twitch there. He recognized the other man’s agony. Sean needed to come as badly as he had moments ago.

  “Do it,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Just fuckin’ do it then get the hell out of here.”

  “This isn’t over.” He withdrew then breached him again. His face contorted in a mask of pleasure/pain Bentley couldn’t mistake.

  Sore as he was, he felt the pulsing contractions ripple along the cock buried up his ass. The knowledge of what was happening made the bile rise in his throat again, yet he couldn’t help also feeling a wave of satisfaction at having brought such a strong man to the breaking point. He recognized the feeling as the same one he experienced when he brought Ashley to orgasm—power over another human being’s body, the immense fulfillment of giving the ultimate pleasure to another.

  Closing his eyes, he slumped backward. He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of his shoulders that dragged the tie free, or if the other man simply let go, but the minute his shoulders touched the mattress, he wrenched his torso. Rolling to his side, he left the other man no choice but to jerk his dick free.

  A twist of his wrists and he was loose. He scrambled to his feet. Globs of cooled cum slid along his chest, renewing his shame. Beside him, Flannery removed the condom, tying the open end into a simple knot before tucking his limp cock back into his pants.

  The hate Bent knew so well, gripped him in its angry fist. The man looked perfect in his suit, still neat and clean while he stood naked and soiled. Scooping cum from his belly, he flung the evidence of his perverse nature at the man responsible.

  “Get out.” He pointed toward the door. “Get the fuck out of my room, out of my sight.”

  Sean secured his zipper, looked down at his now ruined suit. His lips curved into a mocking smile. “I’m leaving,” he said, “but we’re far from over.” He swept at a large damp spot on his lapel. He brought the finger to his mouth and licked it clean.

  Mesmerized by another man tasting his cum, he was surprised when strong arms wrapped around him, hauling him up against a hard body. Lips locked his in a kiss as unbreakable as the first baseman’s embrace.

  He fought to get free, but one hand fisted in his hair, yanking him into submission. Mouth still gaping, he was unprepared when something cold an
d slimy was shoved past his lips and his jaw forced shut sealing the object inside. Surprised and sickened, his gaze met Sean’s.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Bentley—ever again, or I’ll fill every hole you’ve got with cum, for real. But you’d like it, wouldn’t you? You’d like to feel my load filling your ass. I know you want to taste my cum, so there it is. Enjoy.”

  Releasing Bent’s jaw from his iron grip, he stalked to the door. Stopping with his hand on the handle, he turned. “You’re a fucked up asshole, in more ways than one.”

  Bent spit the used condom in the direction of the closing door then raced to the bathroom. Hunched over the toilet, his stomach heaved until his abdominal muscles ached. Sinking to the cool tile floor, he braced against the bathtub, letting his head fall back. His throat burned and his mouth tasted like a cesspool.

  Guilt, hate, and self-loathing kept him rooted to the spot. He could no longer deny his attraction for Sean, but on the other hand, he couldn’t imagine never holding Ashley again, never seeing ecstasy on her face when she came apart in his arms. He closed his eyes, recalling the same look of wonder on Sean’s face. Being with him felt right, but it was so wrong.

  He couldn’t have both of them. Hell, he couldn’t have Sean. Not now, not ever. He had to forget about what had happened tonight—let it go. It wasn’t as if he was the first guy to experiment with another guy, but that’s all it was or ever could be, an experiment. The results were conclusive—he could find pleasure with another man, but he didn’t need the connection the way he needed a physical connection with a woman—Ashley, to be specific.

  Music floated in from the other room. He groaned, recognizing the ringtone his fiancée had programmed into his phone to indicate the call was from her. For the first time since they’d become a couple he let her call go to voicemail. He couldn’t talk to her at the moment, not with Sean’s scent still on his body reminding him of the pleasure he’d given and received—pleasure he had no business wanting, yet he did.

  Sean was right. He wanted to taste the other man’s cum, wanted to take him down his throat, wanted to feel his jiz shooting up his ass. God help him, he wanted Sean to experience those things from him just as badly. Hell, his dick was getting hard again just thinking about shoving it between the man’s tight butt cheeks, fucking him hard. Having a woman beneath him was one thing, but commanding a powerful athlete like Flannery, having him at his mercy would be something entirely different. Just like it had been different, but arousing for him tonight. Hard. Raw. Primal.

  With Ashley he always held something back. She was too feminine, too fragile to take the kind of fucking he’d received tonight. It would break her in half. But he could bend Sean over the back of the sofa and fuck the hell out of him. Ride him without any brakes. Flannery could take it.

  But it wasn’t going to happen. Whatever he had with the man was over. Done. Finished.

  It had to be.

  He raised his knees, spread them wide then rested his forearms on top. His dick stood at attention, throbbing with need though still sore from being handled with such roughness. Eyeing the complimentary bottle of hand lotion on the counter above his head, he assessed his state of arousal. Determining nothing short of an orgasm was going to cure it, he placed his hands on the tub behind him and lifted himself to sit on the edge. The hard surface brought a tinge of discomfort, a reminder of the abuse his ass had taken, but he welcomed it.

  Sighing, he reached for the lotion and filled his palm with the cool liquid. At first, he held himself with a gentle touch; much like Ashley would, pumping with slow, cautious strokes. The lotion felt nice, the smell reminiscent of the flowery oils she favored. He could see her, smiling up at him, asking with her eyes if she was doing it right. Her hand soft, her fingers barely encompassing his girth, her sweet efforts to pleasure him warmed his heart. He wouldn’t trade what he had with her for a million fucks with Sean, and certainly not for one experimental evening.

  Memories flooded in. He realized he’d tightened his grip and his movements were harsher, less forgiving than before. This was how Sean’s hand had felt on him, his grip firm and unbreakable. He’d jacked with purpose, knowing as only another man could where the limits were to their endurance. Every guy jacked his own junk, but having someone else do it for him, someone who wasn’t afraid his dick might break off, was different. Relief. No reassurances necessary. No patient coaxing or praise, just matter of fact, jack him off then let the guy breathe again. Fast. Hard. Confident.

  His fingers squeezed his aching flesh. He leaned back, bracing one hand against the opposite edge of the tub in order to give himself more room to pump. Clear fluid leaked from his urethra, glistening in the harsh bathroom light. He closed his eyes, imagining his hand was Sean’s ass sheathing his cock in moist heat while Bent took his pleasure in deep, forceful thrusts every man dreamed of when they were fucking a woman, but if they were any kind of gentleman wouldn’t consider using.

  The man could take it. Hell, he’d probably welcome it. He was that kind of an asshole.

  He pictured Flannery smiling at being called an asshole. Then he envisioned those smiling lips closing around his cock, sucking hard. He came, his hot seed spilling on his flat abs once again. Curses flew—bouncing off the polished surfaces, coming back at him like the screams of sissies on a carnival ride.

  Spent, his ass slid down the inside of the tub to the bottom. Scooting around, he lay prone, used his toes to turn on the faucet then lift the valve to start the shower.

  Water cascaded over him, washing away the outer vestiges of his shame and humiliation, wrinkling his skin. The water rose as it overwhelmed the drain capacity. It stung the ring of muscles Sean had abused. His natural instinct was to protect the area, but he refused to move, taking the pain as punishment for his sins.

  He might one day accept what he’d done with Sean, but his betrayal of Ashley would always be with him—a secret he couldn’t imagine telling her. She couldn’t possibly understand how he could want her, want a life with her, but still feel what he did for a man. She’d leave him in a heartbeat and never look back.

  If a sore anus and bruised insides were the only price he had to pay, he’d count himself fortunate.

  * * *

  The hotel bar was dark, inhabited by a few people who were probably just like him. They had nowhere to go and no one to care if they did. The atmosphere was perfect for his mood. The last thing Sean needed was company.

  “Scotch, neat. Three fingers.”

  The bartender slid the glass across the polished marble then raised an eyebrow at the hundred-dollar bill Sean plunked onto the bar.

  “Keep ‘em comin’.” He headed to a secluded booth in the back.

  The first tumbler of amber liquid loosened tight muscles and eased the physical aches from holding himself together for as long as he had. Weeks of sexual tension took a toll on a man’s body, not to mention he still hadn’t recovered from the locker room fight his first day with the Mustangs.

  The second tumbler of liquid fire burned off the fog clouding his brain. Confronting Bentley had been stupid, not to mention, dangerous. The proof of the revelation throbbed in his lap. Hell, in his anger and frustration he’d practically raped the man then topped the assault off with a threat. Yeah, he’d handled it well. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up in jail.

  The third tumbler of guilt ate at his conscience. Bentley didn’t deserve the treatment he’d received. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t accept who, or what, he was. Society was to blame for that. Homophobes were everywhere. Theirs was the standard for pretty much the world, and certainly for professional athletes. The guy was doing his best to fit in, even if it meant rejecting a chance at happiness.

  The fourth tumbler of reality scorched truth into his heart. He had to let the man live the life he thought he wanted. He needed to forget tonight, forget the pure ecstasy on his lover’s face when he came, forget the way he’d gazed at him when he’d rammed his cock up his ass, forget h
e knew more about the Mustangs left fielder than the man knew about himself. He was too afraid of what he would find out about himself if he looked. He’d never admit he’d enjoyed what Sean had done to him. He’d never admit his desire for another man was a natural part of him. He’d live the lie for the rest of his life rather than face up to the truth.

  It was the truth.

  Draining the last dredges from the crystal glass, Sean let his future settle on his shoulders. There wasn’t anyone else—just Bentley. Out of necessity, he would find other sexual partners, he’d always managed to. But love? His was reserved for one man. If tonight proved one thing, it was the love of his life would never return the sentiment.

  The fifth tumbler of forgetfulness numbed his heart and blurred the edges of his brain, so when he closed his eyes, he slept.

  Chapter Eight

  Sean’s ass was in a sling, no two ways about it. After the bartender shook him awake, instructing him to clear out so he could close the bar, he managed to find his room all by himself. He collapsed on the bed, but not before he’d woken his roommate by knocking a half-dozen empty beer bottles onto the floor.

  The bus ride to the stadium proved to be more than his stomach could handle. He’d earned the animosity of the entire team by throwing up in the bathroom at the back of the bus. Sitting on the bench, hung over and despondent, he couldn’t argue with his one game time-out. He was in no shape to play baseball. Hell, he could barely see to tie his shoes, and there weren’t enough painkillers in the world to ease the jackhammering going on inside his skull.

  His sole consolation was, Bentley didn’t look like he was doing much better. He was functioning on a normal level, but Sean could tell his nemesis was struggling to keep his head in the game. His shoulders were tight, and if he clenched his jaw any harder he was going to need dental work. It was only the fifth inning and the man in possession of his heart had struck out twice. His fielding error in the third had cost the Mustangs a run they couldn’t afford to give up. But, Bentley being off his game gave Sean’s mood a much needed boost.