Page 49 of Callous Shot

“That makes two of us.” I let my head fall back against his shoulder, and I felt his lips curve upwards.

“Let me get you off.” His mouth closed around my earlobe, and then he bit down gently. I shivered. “I don’t want you to leave. Not until⁠—”

“Ignore what I said. This isn’t about exchanging favours. I sucked your dick of my own volition. You don’t have to do anything else⁠—”

A warm palm covered my mouth. “Do you ever fucking shut up?”

I wanted to make a comment about the fact that I’d been quiet when I had his dick halfway down my throat, but his hand was in the way. So I did what any sensible person would do and licked his palm. Instead of letting go, he breathed across my ear, making me shiver yet again.

“Get my hand wet.”

My now fully hard dick jerked at his low command, and before I knew what I was doing, I was licking all over his palm and sucking his fingers, feeling his erection grow more and more insistent against my ass. His breaths were coming in short pants, matching mine, and when he curled his fingers around my dick, we both moaned.

“Fuck,” I breathed as he slid his hand down the full length of my erection, coating it in my saliva, his fingers rolling my foreskin back when he reached the tip.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yeah. Make me come, Link,” I said, just to piss him off, but it had the opposite effect. He groaned, his hand moving faster, while his other slid up my chest to rub over my pecs.

I’d had countless sexual experiences, and only now was I discovering just how fucking nice it felt to have my nipples played with. My hips jerked forwards into his grip as he switched between rubbing over them and tugging them gently.

“Why does that feel so good?” I panted.

“It doesn’t do much for me, but I fucking love the way it’s making you so turned on.” He thrust against my ass. “You’re so fucking hot, and I hate it.”

“Hard fucking same,” I agreed fervently as he brought me closer and closer to the edge. “Hate the way you make me feel. Hate you so much.”

“Hate you more,” he groaned into my throat, thrusting harder as his thumb swiped over my tip, and I just…detonated. My dick throbbed, firing out ropes of cum all over Lincoln’s bathroom sink and tiles, my vision going hazy and my legs going weak with the force of my orgasm. I was only dimly aware of him thrusting against my ass again, warm cum spreading over my skin as I gasped for breath.

My brain was static, and my heart rate was through the roof.

I met Lincoln’s eyes in the mirror, and we both jolted, immediately tearing our gazes away from each other.

What had we just done?

23

DAN

The problem with being dickmatised was the aftermath when you had to face not only what you’d done, but who you’d done it with. I’d showered and borrowed a pair of Lincoln’s shorts—not that I wanted to, but it wasn’t like I carried a change of clothes around with me—and I was now sitting on the edge of his bed in his shorts and my hoodie, looking around his apartment in the most awkward silence ever.

The apartment itself was nice, probably Georgian if I had to guess. It was pretty elegant, all high ceilings and tall windows, neutrally decorated in what my mum would call “calm colours”—soft greens and creams and natural wood tones. It was clear that Lincoln liked his own space, otherwise he would’ve been in one of the shared houses, and I could appreciate that. I mean, I loved getting to live with my teammates, and I definitely didn’t miss the former prison cell that had served as my accommodation in my first year at uni, but there was something about being able to have your own place that appealed to me. Then again, it kind of seemed like it might be a bit lonely. For me, at least. I did not do well on my own—I’d have to get a cat or a fish or a snail or something.

Apartment aside, the reason for the awkwardness was the fact that reality had hit both me and Lincoln, and neither of us was sure how to act when we were alone with each other without fighting…or fucking, now, I guessed. Not that our earlier incidents would be repeated. My gaze flicked to the man who was currently sprawling on the soft cream carpet next to the archway that separated the bedroom area from the kitchen and living space, scrolling on his phone as he did his best to act as if his nemesis wasn’t hanging out on his bed.

“This carpet wouldn’t stay nice in our house,” I said eventually, just to break the silence.

To my surprise, Lincoln huffed out a laugh instead of coming out with a cutting remark. “It wouldn’t be my first choice. My mother paid for a decorator. I had no say.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair, his mouth twisting. “The colours are supposed to calm me after my ‘violent’ hockey games.”

“Does it work?” I shuffled back on his bed, relaxing a little as I propped myself up against his pillows, stretching out my legs in front of me.

Lifting his head, he stared at me for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before his mouth curved into a smirk. “Depends if we’ve played against your team.”

A laugh burst from my throat, and his smirk widened into a grin. I shook my head, smiling. “I know exactly what you mean, Bellingham. Those are the nights I have my best fights at the yard.”

“Except for the nights you gatecrash our parties.” Rising to his feet in one smooth movement, he flipped off the light switch next to his head, leaving just a soft glow coming from the lamp in the lounge area. Glancing in my direction, his gaze flicked between me and his mattress. He shoved his fingers through his hair, muttering something under his breath before crossing the room to the edge of the bed. When he’d come out of the shower, he’d mumbled something about making up a bed on the floor, but for now, the only place to sit was on his bed…which I’d commandeered. I raised a brow.

“Can I help you?”