Aiden
As I watched Noah working the room, mingling with the very people who could take him further than I ever could, my chest went tight. I could make him a star player. I could break him down, build him up, teach him how to push past limits until he was stronger than he ever believed possible. But when it came to the world beyond the field- the private sponsorships, the glittering contacts, the resources only money could buy–men like William Hart held the keys.
True, Noah had the skill and the hunger, and everyone in this room could see he was a damn good player. But with Lexie’s popularity glued to his side and her father’s checkbook wide open, he’d be untouchable. Unstoppable. And where did that leave me?
My heart sank as the thought hit, sharper than I wanted to admit: maybe the best thing I could do for him–the boy I’d claimed, the boy I couldn’t let go of–was to step back and give him to the kind of future he deserved.
The thought tasted like poison.
I left before I did something I’d regret, before the sight of Lexie
£his arm or Hart grinning at him twisted me into the kind
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of man who’d burn this whole circus down. I drove home in silence, the city lights blurring past, my hands gripping the wheel hard
enough to ache.
All the way back, the same war raged in my head. What was more
important–my obsession, my need to own him, to keep him close–or giving him his best chance at the life he’d dreamed of, even if it meant cutting myself out of the picture?
I stretched out on the couch, jacket tossed across the chair, the silence of my house pressing down like a weight. My chest was raw, torn open, knowing I was in too deep, just as I feared from the start.
I poured myself a drink, letting the burn sit heavy on my tongue, when my phone buzzed.
Noah: Where are you? Did you leave me to the wolves?
My heart jumped just seeing his name. Damn kid.
I sighed, thumb hovering before I typed back.
You didn’t seem too in distress.
Another buzz.
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Are you jealous, Sir?
I clenched my jaw. The nerve.
Why should I be? You know the rules.
A pause. Then:
I’ll do my best considering.
I stared at the screen, the words hanging there like bait, daring me to react. My thumb twitched but I forced myself to set the phone down,
unanswered.
Did he actually want someone else? Was that it?
I raked a hand through my hair, the alcohol burning hotter now in my chest than in my throat. What the hell had I done–leaving a
hormonal, half–crazed, needy boy unsupervised in a room full of beautiful girls who’d happily eat him alive?
Such a fool.
But then again–it was his life. His decision. Wasn’t it?
I stood up and paced my living room, back and forth, drink in hand.
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Poured another. Watched game film, rewound old practice recordings, broke down plays on the screen like it mattered. But it wasn’t the routes or the passes I was studying–it was him. Every flick of his wrist, every snap of his body as he launched the ball. My boy. My
obsession.
Two hours slipped by before my phone buzzed again.
Noah: I’m done here. I’m going home.”
My fingers flew before I could think.
Alone?
The reply came fast.
Been coming home alone for weeks. Thanks to you.
I smiled into my glass, the tightness in my chest easing just enough.
My game. My rules. I need you focused.
A pause.
Is that so? Because this is all I can focus on right now.
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Another buzz. Then, a photo lit up my screen. His cock, hard and flushed, veins standing out like it was begging for mercy. My boy sprawled on his bed, needy, daring me to ignore it.
My jaw clenched. He thought he could distract me with that? Well, he
did.
If I was going to let him make his own choices, at least it’s make damn sure he made them with the right head.
I should’ve ignored it. Should’ve shut the phone off and left him to
stew in his own desperation.
Instead, my thumb hit video call.
He answered so fast it was almost funny, breath already ragged. “Sir
I flipped the camera, giving him a close–up he wasn’t expecting–my cock hard in my grip, my fist sliding rough and relentless.
His eyes went wide. “Holy shit,” he gasped, hand tightening around
himself.
“Don’t just stare,” I rasped. “Stroke it. Now. You need to switch focus?
Let’s do it together.”
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That cocky grin of his cracked through the screen as his hand moved,
keeping pace with mine. The next few minutes turned into nothing but frantic breathing and the obscene slap of skin, both of us strung tight, racing like it was a competition neither could afford to lose.
He came first, of course–shuddering, moaning my name, spilling hot across his stomach, his chest heaving as he fought for air. And then I- broke, groaning low, the vein along my cock pulsing as I spilled across my fist and belly in sharp, punishing bursts.
I broke the connection the second it was over. No words. Just silence,
my chest rising hard, my head spinning.
And there I was again–alone, reeling, wondering what the fuck I was
doing.
I dropped the phone onto the couch beside me, chest still heaving, the air thick with the sharp scent of sweat and release. For the first time all night, I felt loose, almost calm. My boy was home, sated, ready for the week ahead. First week of college, a fresh start, and maybe just maybe–I could close my eyes without my head spinning.
I showered, poured the last of my drink, stretched out in bed. The
house was quiet, the kind of silence that could almost pass for peace. I let my eyes slip shut.
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Buzz.
A smile tugged at my lips instantly. Noah. Of course. Couldn’t resist
another word.
I reached for the phone, already half–grinning–until I saw it.
Not Noah.
A private number.
I know your little dirty secret.
The smile froze on my face, my heart stopping cold in my chest.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
