Page 14 of Scoring Zone
“I told you, I hurt you.” I fail to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“This isn’t about my feelings—”
“Your feelings!” I throw my hands in the air. “G, I broke your skin and left welts all over your body!” And worse, I recall his flavor on my tongue every single day.
He tilts his head in confusion. “But that was my favorite part. I mean, after you put your mouth on me, and after sliding your dick between my cheeks and after stroking us together and coming all over each other, then it was my fave.” His lopsided grin appears and steals my breath.
My mind reels. “How could you like that? I totally disregarded your consent and treated you like…like…I disrespected you.” There. That’s mostly the truth.
Grayson stares at me for a long time. So long that I have the urge to run away.
“Do you judge men who bottom?” he asks, and I flinch at the abrupt change of subject.
“I think everyone gets to decide for themselves what they want to do. It’s not my place to tell anyone what they should or shouldn’t do during sex.” That seems obvious but whatever.
Grayson raises an eyebrow.
He doesn’t say anything.
We gaze at each other expectantly.
He bites the inside of his lip, waiting. Waiting for me to do or say something.
I bury my eyes in the crook of my elbow. “I judged you for what you like.”
“Are you or are you judging yourself?” he murmurs.
“I lost control and you know…” I wave my other arm in his direction.
“Austin Lapointe,” he full-names me in a stern voice. “Look at me when I say this.”
I breathe deeply, drop my arm, and meet his gaze.
“I enjoy rough sex. Do you know how hard it is to find a person capable of manhandling me? I’m a big dude, so it ain’t easy. I. Love. It.” He pokes me in the chest as he says the last three words.
I nod, at a loss, and he lets out an indignant hum.
“Listen, during team dance parties, you must have seen Lucky’s body. You can’t miss the fact that Drake makes it his mission to cover him in bite marks. Benzy blushes and grins like a fool when we call out his purple bruises. They love how their partners show their possessiveness. It’s only a problem if oneperson likes it and the other doesn’t. I loved it.” He exposes his shoulder, and the skin that used to be red and raw only has a tint of yellow.
I touch it to make sure it’s real and not covered in makeup or something.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” I say seriously.
“Then trust me to tell you if you’re crossing a boundary. We didn’t talk about safe words or anything, but I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” His shirt covers his shoulder again, and I’m torn.
Part of me hates what I did, and another part is disappointed my teeth marks are gone.
“Tinny, I’m a tough guy. A few marks don’t hurt. In fact, they were a huge turn-on. I took a picture to remember it.” He shows me his phone, and I recognize the ornate mirror from Vegas.
The tightness in me unravels, hearing him call me Tinny, but looking at his bruises is too much. “But I can’t trust myself with you.” The truth is dragged from my depths as I expose my shame.
“Don’t say that because of me. If you didn’t enjoy what we did, that’s different. But I would put my life in your hands, and I trust you. If I had asked you to stop, without a doubt, you would’ve.”
I wish I had his confidence. This isn’t solely about sex. The darkness in me overrides my rational brain. “I want to believe you.”
“Have I ever led you the wrong way?” he asks with a chuckle because, as my copilot, he’s gotten us lost several times.
