Page 7 of The Rival

“It won’t happen again,” I repeated.

“Sportsmanship’s important, sweetheart,” he said, his teeth grazing my ear. “Just cause we’re rivals doesn’t mean you have to play rough.” He laughed. “We can do thatafterthe game.”

“Just touch me, already, Jason!”

“So impatient,” he snickered. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to get you alone? Maybe if you hadn’t elbowed me two years ago, I might’ve asked you out sooner, and we could’ve been fucking by now. You’ve been playing hard to get, and now you’re trying to rush me? No. I’m savoring this.”

My lust-filled brain wasn’t ready to process the implication behind him saying he’d been attracted to me for a while. I’d unpack that can of worms some other time because at last, Jason wrapped a hand around my dick again and started giving me some meaningful strokes while grinding harder between my cheeks. He was manipulating my body like a master, pushing me faster and faster to an end which I didn’t see coming—literally.

Jason held me up as my legs gave out as I came. I didn’t care if he’d bested me in this way, unable to last longer than him. He stroked me through the duration of my climax, and then he let go of my waning dick to bend me so I was slumped forward, face pressed against the tile wall to catch my breath.

“Spread yourself open for me.”

With shaking hands, I reached behind and spread myself. Water followed my spine and slid down my cleft, making me shiver. I watched as best as I could as he rutted against me, showing me exactly what he would do if he could properly fuck me, if I could somehow take the entirety of him. My mouth hung agape, eyes half-lidded as I heard him grunt a loud curse, and then his balls twitched as he blew his load on me in hot, thick ropes. It just kept coming, with some splattering on my thighs and lower back.

Jason was right. What did it say about me if I was willing to let my rival debauch me so thoroughly?

Arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me upright. His mouth was on my searing skin, kissing along my shoulder blades and neck with intense hunger that would definitely leave lasting marks.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Jason groaned as he pressed feverish, open-mouthed kisses across my skin. He was holding me with some kind of possessive, all-consuming desire I’d never experienced before, but it was dizzying, addictive. In such a short span of time, he had turned my whole world inside out.

Unable to move on my own, Jason guided me under the spray so I could wash up. We faced each other, and even though I couldn’tmeet his gaze for longer than a few seconds, he didn’t seem to mind—not if the satisfied grin was anything to go by.

This was the man who had been my cross-town rival. We had competed in the same basketball league, each serving as team captain and point guard for our respective teams. He was from the wealthy town next door. He oozed self-righteous success. He was a sore loser. I shouldn't have wished he would continue touching me so intimately.

But God, Jason was incredible, and I didn’t want whatever the hell this was to be over the moment we went our separate ways when we left the locker room. We could keep or leave the rivalry; the feud paled in comparison to our true potential. From what he had described in the throes of passion, maybe he didn’t want it to be over either.

“Cheer up, Matt,” he said, cupping my chin so our eyes met. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll treat you to dinner at my restaurant sometime. Wouldn’t that throw our teammates for a loop.”

I let out a shaky breath. All the snarky responses I could come up with were lost in translation the moment they reached my tongue. I didn’t know what to say with all these feelings swirling inside me.

The showers turned off. Jason wrapped an arm around my waist and led us back to the lockers where the air was hot and humid.

When he let me go, Jason turned away towards his side of the aisle to get dressed into fresh clothes. At first, I didn’t move. In one deep breath, I mourned the loss of his contact; in another, a powerful reality check sucker-punched me.

What was I still doing here? Why hadn’t I just gone out with my friends and teammates to celebrate our victory?

When I started getting dressed, each movement was in slow motion, my brain on auto-pilot as I pulled on a hoodie and a different pair of basketball shorts.

I finished getting dressed before him, and even though I tugged my duffle strap onto my shoulder, I didn’t move to leave. I stood frozen in the aisle, my stomach twisting into knots.

Once one of us left the locker room, what would happen then? Would we just go on acting business as usual? No, even if we pretended, our dynamic would be forever changed. I wouldn’t be able to forget.

Shit, would I still be able to play basketball with all this baggage?

Then it hit me. Had that been Jason’s goal all along? Was this some kind of revenge for losing?

I couldn’t breathe, my hand clenching around the strap of my bag.

“Did you mean any of it?” I finally choked out, heart fluttering a mile a minute in my chest. What would I do if he laughed in my face and said no?

Jason finished tying the laces of his Oxfords before rising to his full height. He had dressed into a dark gray button-up and black slacks. His brown hair was already starting to dry from the heat, and he had worked some product into his hair to smooth down wayward strands. He looked like he was about to go out on the town or go straight back to his restaurant instead of going home.

“What do you think, Matt?” He asked while fixing the cuffs of his sleeves.

I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “I think you shouldn’t answer a question with a question.”

Jason fell quiet. Minutes ago, he was rutting against me without abandon. An hour ago, he was a whirlwind on the court, fighting to keep his team alive in the league’s final game. Now he was quiet and nonchalant, acting as if he wasn’t the same man who had confessed to carrying a torch for me.

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