So I give it to him.
I take him all, no gag, just cheeks hollowed and eyes locked on his, watching him break apart above me. Watching the exact moment control leaves him. His hips stutter forward, chasing my mouth, and he's gasping, cursing, my name over and over, "Fuck, Rhys, fuck", and I don't stop, I push faster, deeper, chasing the second he gives up.
Every twitch, every sharp breath is fuel. I want him wrecked. I want to taste it, want to feel him come apart on my tongue, want to be the reason he forgets why this is a bad idea. His grip tightens in my hair, not guiding anymore, not controlling, just holding on, like he needs something solid while everything else falls apart.
"Oh my fucking—" His voice cuts off, and it lands in the way his body gives out on him, knees going weak.
And there it is. The moment. The exact second he shatters. Victory hits fast and hot, curling through my gut, my cock, everywhere, as I pull back enough to look at him, to see what I did. Jamie Nash, completely undone. Because of me. A slow, gratified smirk pulls at my mouth, settling deep in my chest, as I take all of his cum straight down my throat. I loved it. Theway he breaks. The way he loses himself.
The way he tastes.
I pull myself up so we're face to face again, my body sliding against his, feeling his hurried breaths, his racing heart. My thumb brushes my mouth, relaxed, predatory, like I'm savoring him still on my tongue, letting him watch me do it.
Then I look back up at him and smile, sharp and easy and completely in control. "That's what I thought."
Chapter 32
Jamie
I’m pissed.
At myself, mostly. At the specific, catastrophic failure of willpower that was last night. At the fact that I let it get that far, that I let him push me exactly where he wanted me, that I stood in that locker room afterward with my back against the wall and my mind blank for the first time in as long as I can remember.
Rhys touches me like he’s testing how much self-control I actually have. And I always let him win. That cannot happen again. It won’t.
I know how Rhys operates now. I know the buttons and I know exactly how he presses them and knowing that means I can stop it. That’s all willpower is — the space between the impulse and the action. I’ve been living in that space my entire life. Hockey got me here. Discipline got me here. Not some hookup, not some want I can’t even put a name to, not him.
Because it’s not worth it. I can’t risk losing everything. I don’t have room for anything else.
I grab my phone and send him a quick message.
Jamie:
Let’s meet for one on one again. Tomorrow morning?
He’ll think it’s an excuse to see him. He’ll think this is me circling back to him because I can’t stay away. Let him think that. Because tomorrow I’m going to make myself very clearand then I’m going to go back to using the only thing that actually matters between us — hockey — to get this team where it needs to be.
That’s it. That’s all of it.
I set my phone down and stare at the ceiling for a long time.
????????
The next morning feels more like myself than anything has in weeks. Routine. Eggs, bacon, toast, assembled in the usual order, eaten at the usual time. Dressed and out the door with enough time to spare. The sky is still grey and the campus is mostly quiet and I walk to the rink feeling the familiar weight of clarity that comes with having made a decision and meaning it.
Today I end this.
Whatever game this has been — the leverage, the locker rooms, this obsession with Rhys that I can’t seem to outrun — it ends today. Before it costs me anything else.
Rhys is already there when I arrive. Leaning against my locker with his arms crossed and that look on his face, the one that says he knows something I don’t. Except this morning it reads slightly different. The smirk is there but underneath it something is watching me more carefully than usual.
Good. Let him wonder.
“Callahan.” I gesture at the bench. “Sit down.”
He pushes off the locker slowly and sits, eyebrow quirked up. I actually prefer this — the slightly off-balance version of him. It’s the closest thing to quiet he gets.
I stay standing and keep my voice level. “Whatever this has been between us — I let it go too far. And I’m sorry for that.” My jaw is tight enough that the words come out slightly clipped. I make myself look at him even though it makes me uncomfortable. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.”
