Page 22 of My Family

"You're playing a dangerous game, pet, one that ends up with you on your knees and begging for forgiveness. So think carefully about how you want to proceed."

I stand, stretch my arms. "If you're mad, just say it."

He steps closer. "I'm not mad."

"You're something."

He stands his ground, eyes locked on mine. "You think I'm threatened? Maybe I'd prefer if you had half her composure instead of acting like a child."

He steps back, grabs the kettlebells, and starts his set. I follow him with my eyes, the way his body moves, the way his jaw stays tight through each swing, the defined lines of his muscles shifting under his skin.

But I don't know when to stop. Impulsivity is my thing.

"You know," I say, "She held my hand when she was showing me how to shade. It was pretty nice."

He stops mid-rep. "She touched you?"

"Yeah," I say, milking it. "Real gentle. You want me to show you?"

He drops the weights and then surprises me. "Show me," he says. I raise my eyebrows.

"Okay," I say, and reach out, touch his hand like she touched mine, but slower, interlacing my fingers with his just to spite him. "Like this."

He watches my hand. Then looks up, and I see the edge in his eyes, the flicker of something predatory.

"You think that's funny?" he says, his voice low.

"Yeah," I say. "I think it's hot when you're jealous. You know I'm gay, right?"

"Sure. I used to think I was straight too. Come here."

He grabs my wrist, hard enough to make me gasp, and yanks me toward the locker room. I don't fight him but, fuck, every nerve in my body is on fire, dick harder than a rock, the anticipation serving as fuel. He's going to make me regret every word, and I'm going to fucking love every second.

The shower room is never warm, even on the summer days when the sun actually makes it through the reinforced windows. Today, the tile is freezing. The drains stink of bleach. The ceiling pipes drip in places, fat drops hitting the floor. The tiles are cold and wet from the last group. Ethan pushes me up against the far wall, where it's less likely anyone can see if they walk by. My shoulders slam into cold ceramic, my whole body jolting at the sudden contact.

He cages me there, arms on either side of my head, his chest pressed into mine so hard I can feel every heartbeat through his shirt.

"You haven't shut up about her all day," he says.

"Yeah?" I say, grinning up at him. "So what are you going to do about it?"

His answer is to press his mouth to mine, rough, the kind of kiss that leaves a bruise. I go pliant, because I know that's what he wants, but I bite his lip on purpose, just to see if he'll snap. He does.

He shoves me back against the wall, hands on my hips now. His breath is hot on my cheek.

"I'm going to make you forget her name," he says, voice dark.

"Good luck," I shoot back, but my voice is already shaky.

He grins, feral. "Let's put this mouth to a better use, shall we?" he asks.

He grabs my hair and pushes me down, rough, guiding my knees to the tiles. The floor is ice. My knees hit so hard I know I'll have bruises. I like that. I love that he doesn't care if it hurts. I tip my head back to look up at him, and he's already got his cock out, thick and hard, the head red and leaking. My mouth waters instantly.

"You want to show off? Show me how good you are," he says, voice gone low.

I open without being told. His hand is still in my hair, holding me steady as he presses in, slow for the first couple inches, then all at once. I gag and drool, my eyes instantly watering, but don't fight it. He knows exactly how far to push before it crosses the line, and he always dances right up to the edge, just to see me struggle. My hands come up, grip his hips. He tastes like sweat and soap and musk. He holds me there, lets me choke for a second, lets tears drop. I blink up at him, lashes wet, and the hunger in his eyes makes my cock twitch.

He uses my mouth, fucking in shallow thrusts, only pulling out to let me breathe, then right back in. The only sound is my gagging, his breathing, the slap of his hips against my face. I dig my nails into his thighs, and he just tightens his hold on my hair.