Teaser: After I Win

August 11, 2014

 

 

This excerpt (and the rest of the story) is not safe for work.

 

It's halftime. I can hear my blood pounding in my ears almost loud enough to drown out the screaming crowd and cheerleaders, before the noises dissolve into the halftime show. Coach is patting me on the back, and on some level his words sink into my head, make some kind of sense, but I'm not listening to him; not really anyway. I'm looking for Moon, but not with my eyes. I never need eyes to see him. I can feel him there, in my head, with his shadows and smug smiles already sneaking in. He's the biggest tease now, right at mid-game, and we both know it, we both love it. He flatters me, pats me on the back, and I can almost feel his hands like they're there. His shadowy magic seeps into my skin, brushing, teasing, touching. I send my electricity back at him, like I always do, tracing the shadows back to their source to find him hidden outside the locker room.

 

Coach's words start making even less sense when those shadowy tendrils dig deeper. I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning as every little bit of shadow magic curves, twists, and strokes deep in places Moon's hands can't hope to reach, even if we we're tangled in bed, sheets and skin damp with sweat, rocking hard against each other…

 

The noise I make is luckily concealed by a cheer from the rest of the team, and I try my hardest to join in with them, but Moon's trying his hardest to make me come – right there in the locker room, surrounded by my teammates and the coach.

 

Except he doesn't. He brings me right to the edge, so close it hurts and I'm almost blind with it, and then backs off. I can practically hear him smirking, and his voice in my head is full of promises. The rest after you win, Bradley, and I know he can feel me shiver. But that's not all he can feel. My response is a crackling core of lightning, singing along every one of his nerve endings. I can feel him panting with the same lust and want I feel. I'm white-hot around the edges and ready to go, ready to drive someone into the ground, ready to tear the field apart.

 

He wants me like that. Aggressive, just this side of violent. He wants me brutal and punishing. He wants me to take no prisoners, and I want him to want me that way. So when halftime's over, I run back out onto the field. The other team never sees me coming.

 

--

 

Like it? Want the rest? It's a free read right here (written under a different pseudonym). Find it here on Goodreads.

 

 

 

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