Page 257 of Scoring the Player
“I know, right? It’s a punch in the heart.” His voice cracks. “The best kind.”
“Oh, wow, you too,” I whisper, kissing the side of his face.
He does that now—cries quiet tears. Sometimes the only proof is his red eyes, but he always seems better after.
“Here,” she says, opening the lid of the box and pulling out a medium-sized bandage. She peels back the paper. “Christ, I can’t see.” She pauses and fans her eyes again. “Salem here, you do it.”
I take the bandage and raise his injured finger. Kissing his palm before removing the bloodied paper towel, I say, “Hold on.” I reach under the sink for the antiseptic. “What do you think for the next family bake-off we make a unicorn cake?”
The monthly challenge has expanded to include guest appearances from Denzel, Blue, and Anaïs. Blue tries to help, coining himself “assistant pastry chef,” and for the most part he is helpful—only one-third of the eggs he cracks requires us to pick out the shells. Denzel cleans up as we work, making sure to make appearances for Mom and Dad on camera. Anaïs licks all the bowls clean and teams up with Mom to supply endless dad jokes.
“Okay, but we all need to wear matching unicorn onesies!” Anaïs exclaims.
“I’m down.” I laugh.
We turn to Blue. He watches as I wrap the bandage snugly around his finger.
A fresh set of tears pools at his lids. “Fuck yeah. I’m in.”
When we’re alone again, I tell him, “Thank you for organizing tonight.”
He nods. “I know how much you love to host and have friends and family around.”
Arnaz
“Oof,” I grunt as the side of my face hits the wine cellar’s brick wall.
“What do you think of when you watch me?” Salem rasps, reaching around for my belt buckle.
Iwaswatching as he laughed with Ty and sat with Denzel, who isn’t big on social gatherings, and made sure Anaïs ate enough, and asked questions about Sid, Tommy, and Kieran’s childhood.
I kick my pants and briefs away, then flip us so he’s against the wall. “I like watching you be in the world.”
“Hmm?” he hums.
It’s the only explanation I have for the months of hiding away at night to watch him as I fell asleep.
I kiss his neck and start working on his belt. “I can’t stand the distance.”
Once I get him naked from the waist down, he pulls me closer, until we’re slotted against each other, and takes us both in hand. “Where do you want to be?” he asks as he drizzles lube over our cocks.
“Closer,” I pant as he presses the head of his cock against mine. Rolling his foreskin over my dick, he grips our two heads together, then begins slowly stroking.
“Where do you want to be?” he asks again.
“Inside of you. Fuccck.” My head falls back as I tunnel into the velvet walls of his skin, his metal points pressing into my sensitive head.
“You about to nut?”
“Yeah,” I rasp. Shit is instant when he does this.
He works me until my toes dig into the floor, and my breath starts to choke up.
I gasp when he releases me, and my head falls forward. He holds me as I catch my breath and nibble on his collarbone.
He shudders as I tug on his piercing and drop my mouth to his shoulder and suck on it.
“Mm, stop if you want me,” he warns.
