Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Breck’s hips rocked faster as every part of him went up in flames. A heartbeat later, raw pleasure burgeoned in his junk.
Oh, shit. That did not feel like a trick of the mind.
That was definitely a red-flag warning that he was readying to blow.
Rapture consumed him, his dick in ecstasy. His hips ground faster.
The pressure spiked.
“Oh, fuck—” he gasped. He was going to come.
Bracing himself, he reveled in the freedom of letting go.
But right as his nuts prepared to fire, Kai stayed his hips. “Shit,” he growled breathlessly, clutching Breck’s ass. “This is what you consider the nothing else that I do to you?”
Breck froze, Kai’s words snapping him out of his frenzy.
Wait. What the—
Paranoia crashed into him.
Was Kai mocking him? Had he been playing him? And now he was reveling in having disproved Breck prior claim?
Mortified, Breck lurched to his feet. “This isn’t— I’m not—”
“Not what?” Kai sat up and eyed him. “Gay? Attracted to your instructor?”
Breck bristled. That asshole was calling him out. “Neither,” he grated.
Kai settled his forearms atop his knees and lifted a brow.
Breck ground his molars. “I’m bi. It’s different.” Yup, splitting hairs. “And you’re a dick. So, no. No attraction. This was purely fucking physical.”
Kai’s lips quirked. He wasn’t buying it.
Breck scowled. “I gotta go. Got places to be.”
But as he stalked toward the locker room, Kai called after him, all smugness gone. “It’s okay. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Breck paused and peered back at him.
Kai met his gaze.
And still, Breck frowned.
Because no, no it wasn’t okay.
His opponent had just gotten the upper hand and discovered the truth. That he was Breck’s distraction. He was his weakness. Which meant that Kai now held all the fucking cards. And, no doubt, from this day forward, he’d never let Breck forget it.
Inwardly cursing, he turned and shoved into the locker room. He never should’ve stayed after. Why couldn’t Kai have just left shit alone?
He grabbed his duffle bag and yanked it open. Thanks to that dickhead, he still needed to come something fierce. A problem he’d have to fix, but no way would he be rubbing one off with that fucker on the brain.
Snagging his cell phone, he scrolled through his contacts. Not one name caught his eye. He growled and tossed it into his duffle, swapped clothes, then irritably packed up and headed for the door. When he left, Kai was nowhere to be seen. Then again, Breck had intentionally avoided looking.
Why bother? The cat was out.
Game fucking over.
— SEVEN —
FOUR MONTHS LATER
————————
“C’mon. Finish this, Grandma, or you’re doing two more.”
Breck glowered up at Tad from the bench he laid sprawled atop. “Fuck. You. Mitchel,” he grated, gripping his barbell.
His spotting partner snickered, but Breck wasn’t fooled. Tad was just frustrated that he couldn’t beat Breck’s record. Groused about it every time they got drunk. In Tad’s defense, he gave it his all at every workout. Which Breck respected. And for all Tad’s effort, he was looking pretty sweet. He’d never catch up, though. While he was maxing at two-forty, Breck was benching two-sixty-eight.
Growling through his final rep, Breck racked his barbell and gingerly sat up. To his right, Ned was finished up, too. Like Tad, his build was notably impressive. Not crazy-tall, but housing plenty of muscle. Out of the four of them, he came in third, benching a whopping one ninety. Which, for that five-foot-ten master punk, was exceptionally commendable.
Jay stepped back from spotting him, grabbed a towel and wound it tight, then feistily snapped it into Tad’s side.
CRACK!
Tad jerked from his reverie.
“Whatchu grinning for?” Jay drawled.
Tad grinned and returned the gesture. “Was wondering if you or your spotter over there are ever gonna break two hundred.”
Breck smirked.
Jay scoffed. “One eighty’s no chump change, brah. Besides, perfection takes time.”
“How much time?” Breck chimed in. “Jesus. It’s been two years.”
Tad laughed. “I think with Jayman, time is relative.”
Jay balked. “I’ll show you relative.” He snapped Tad again. “You butt munchers are all talk when we’re up here lifting. Funny how I don’t hear a peep from anyone when we’re downstairs swimming laps.”
Breck rolled his eyes, lips curving, but held his tongue. Couldn’t exactly argue. Where anything related to water was concerned, Jay was the shit. Hell, he’d made it to the championship for surfing. Breck may rule the basketball court, but Jay was most definitely king of the sea.
Tad didn’t bother arguing his claim, either. Just yanked the curly-haired dolt into a headlock and knuckled his scalp. “Touché, Ariel. Maybe we should be calling you tadpole.”
“Shit,” Jay laughed, shoving him off. “I’m a great white, bitch.” He grabbed his junk. “So suck my great-white dick.”
Ned howled in laughter.
Breck grinned and stood up. “More like a great-white pain in my ass.”
“That’s right,” Jay proudly agreed, lifting his chin. “And I take great pride in that shit.”