Page 25 of My Freshman Mate
I set a punishing pace, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. I'm not being gentle. I can't be. This is a re-claiming. My hands leave red marks on his hips, his wrists, his thighs. My teeth find new places to mark him—the soft skin of his shoulder, the sensitive spot where his neck meets his collarbone.
I pull back for a moment, my eyes raking over his body. There. His hip. A pale, untouched stretch of skin. I lower my head, inhaling his scent before my teeth sink in, not just a nip but a real bite, hard enough to break the skin.
Braiden screams, a sharp, breathless sound of pain and pleasure. His whole body convulses, his inner muscles clenching around me so hard I see stars. I lick at the small beads of blood that well up, tasting him, marking him, branding him as mine in a way no one can ever mistake.
"When you feel my knot, you'll remember who you belong to," I growl against his ear, feeling the beginning of that telltale swelling at the base of my cock. "You belong to me, Braiden. That means I protect you. I keep you safe. I'm the only one who gets to claim you."
His legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, his heels digging into the small of my back. His cock is trapped between our bodies, leaking steadily onto his stomach with each thrust. I can feel him getting close—the way his breathing hitches, the way his muscles tense, the way his scent sharpens with impending release.
I shift my angle, hitting that spot inside him that makes his eyes roll back, and his whole body jerks beneath me. "There," he cries out, his voice breaking. "Oh god, Wes, right there."
"Come for me," I command, driving into that spot again and again. "Show me you're mine. Let me feel it."
His release hits him, and he comes hard, his spine bowing from the force. His inner muscles clamp down on my cock with a force that nearly undoes me. He comes with a broken sob of my name, his release painting his stomach and chest in hot, white stripes. Seeing him marked by me, inside and out, I lose control.
The pressure at the base of my cock builds, an unstoppable, primal force. My body takes over, my hips driving forward with a final, guttural roar as my knot swells fully, locking us together. It's an incredible sensation, a physical anchor that seats me so deep inside him there's no question where he ends and I begin.
Braiden gasps as my knot expands inside him, his eyes going wide with shock and pleasure. He's completely, utterly filled, stretched, and held in place. Possession is written all over his face—in the dazed shock of his eyes, the slack line of his jaw.
I empty myself deep inside him, pulse after pulse of hot seed. This isn't just sex. I'm erasing Nash from his skin, replacing every trace with me. My scent. My claim. My mark.
Braiden sobs beneath me, his body trembling. Not from pain—I can smell his pleasure mixed with the lingering fear and relief. It's too much for him. Too much for both of us. I gather him close, careful not to jostle where we're still connected, and roll usonto our sides. My knot will keep us tied for half an hour, maybe longer. Good. I don't want to let him go.
"Shhh," I murmur against his hair, my voice gentle now that the frenzy has passed. "It's okay. You're safe. I've got you."
His sobs gradually quiet to hiccupping breaths, then to the deep, even rhythm of exhausted sleep. I hold him close, one hand stroking his back in soothing circles, the other cradling his head against my chest. His scent is clean again—books and sweetness and me. Us. As it should be.
As I calm down, exhaustion hits me, along with the gut punch of what I just did. How close I came to seriously hurting Nash. How I must have looked to Braiden—feral, violent, out of control.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the darkened room. I reach for it, my movements slow and deliberate, trying not to wake Braiden or pull at where we're still connected.
It's a text from Coach.
Campus security called. Disciplinary hearing set for Friday. Nash's family already involved. His father's on the board of trustees. This is serious, Chambers. Could be looking at a season-long suspension if we don't handle it right.
I read the words and feel like I've been punched in the gut. A season-long suspension. My senior year. The year scouts come to every game. The year that determines my draft position, my future. My NFL career.
Gone. All of it. Because I couldn't control myself.
Friday's hearing is coming, and I'm fucked. Nash's daddy sits on the board. His family has money, connections. My dad? Just an ex-player. Respected, sure, but not powerful. They've already decided I'm guilty.
But with Braiden's heartbeat against mine, steady and alive, I don't give a shit about any of it. Football. The NFL. My future. None of it matters like he does. He's my future now. My priority. My everything.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I'd do worse. And that should scare me, how easily I could destroy everything for him, but it doesn't.
"Worth it," I whisper into the darkness, tightening my hold on the only thing that's ever really mattered.
Braiden
"Iunderstand, Coach. I'll take full responsibility at the hearing on Friday."
Wes's voice slices through the fog in my head, dragging me from a shallow, restless sleep into a sharp, cold reality. I lie perfectly still, my eyes wide open in the pre-dawn gloom of the bedroom, my ears straining to catch every word. He’s in the living room, his voice low and gravelly, stripped of all its usual confidence. It sounds… broken.
"Yes, sir. I know what's at stake."
My heart starts to pound, a frantic, sick rhythm against my ribs.What's at stake? What’s happening Friday?
"Season-long suspension." The words are quiet, but they hit me like a physical shock, and all the air rushes from my lungs. "I know. The scouts will be—yes, sir. I understand."
