Chapter 17: Hidden Scars: Chapter 16

since Preston punched me in the face. Coach saw it the next morning and lifted an eyebrow at me, but didn’t ask any questions. The swelling has gone down, but the bruising is dark purple under my eye and even bled over into the inner corner of my other eye. I look like I got my ass beat.

Practice the last few days has been brutal, Preston being even more than usual. Has he apologized for hitting me? Of course not. Not that I expected it. He doesn’t really give off the vibes of someone who says sorry.

Practice is over and we’re changing in the locker room when Coach comes in.

“Okay, guys,” Coach starts. “We have a busy weekend ahead. Tonight, we are having a team dinner at Doctor Andrew Carmichael’s. He has donated a lot to our team and our school, so you will be on your best behavior and dressed to impress. We’ve arranged vans to take us. Be outside the rink at five.”

What. The. Fuck.

Preston’s dad’s house?

Apprehension makes my skin tingle. I’m uncomfortable with this. Can I get out of it? Will he be able to tell that Preston sucker punched me after kissing me? Is he going to pretend to be a doting father or will he be an asshole?

I run my hand through my hair with unease making me antsy. Does Preston know about this? I scan the room but don’t see him, but that’s not surprising. He seems to disappear a lot.

Everyone showers quickly and dresses before filing out of the locker room. A quick scan of the area tells me Preston is not in here.

We have to wear a suit? I don’t fucking have one! God damn it.

I rub my forehead as I leave the rink to head to the dorms.

“Hey, man.” Brendon slings an arm over my shoulders and drops into step with me. “What’s your hurry? We’ve got a few hours still.”

“You have a suit I can borrow?” I blurt out the question as Paul jogs to catch up with us.

“What happened to yours?” Paul asks.

I sigh. “It ripped.” That’s probably the easiest version to tell.

Neither of them says anything as we enter the dorm building.

“Well? Anyone have one I can borrow?” I look between the two of them. Paul is smaller in the waist than I am so I doubt anything he has will work, but it’s better than nothing.

“We can see if we have something that will fit.” Brendon shrugs as the elevator doors open and we step inside.

I lean against the back wall, frustrated and irritated. I can’t afford a suit, but I can’t keep using someone else’s either.

The ride to the third floor is short and we step off, walking the few doors down to their room. As Paul unlocks the door, Preston steps out of our door and immediately finds me. Our gazes lock and he lifts his head just a fraction, but I get the sense he wants me to come to our room.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Just a sec.” I step around Brendon, feeling his stare on my back. Preston moves back into the room and I close the door.

“What?”

The tightness around his eyes is back, that stiffness in his shoulders, and he’s vibrating with a weird energy I’m not used to feeling from him.

“Don’t speak to my father.”

That was not what I was expecting. Insulted, I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin. “Why not? Afraid I’ll tell him all about how you jacked me off? Or that you shoved your tongue down my throat before sucker-punching me?”

His nostrils flare and his mouth sets in a thin line. The need to kiss him and punch him, war within me. I hate how confused he makes me. Why do I want to help him when he’s nothing but an asshole to me? He’s never nice or friendly, all he does is point out my failures, typically in public.

I hold my ground. He doesn’t want me to talk to dear ol’ dad? He’s going to give me a fucking reason.

Preston crowds me against the door, his chest almost touching my arms as he leans his hands on the door beside my head. My body prickles with awareness that I both love and loathe. I want his hands on me so fucking badly, to use me, but he’s an asshole. Who wants to fuck the guy that makes their life miserable? Apparently, this dumbass. There’s something about him that calls to me. I want to be closer.

He smells of fresh body wash and shampoo, woodsy and clean, combined to a mouthwatering scent that makes my dick ache.

“You have no idea what you’re up against when it comes to my father.” His body is so tense he’s almost vibrating.

I drop my arms and smile smuggly up at him, dragging my teeth over my bottom lip while I eye his mouth. “You seem a little tense, need to blow off some steam?”

Carefully, I grip the bottom of his shirt, so I don’t touch his skin. I don’t lift the fabric up, just pull on it and lean my hips forward until our bodies touch. He’s watching me like he’s not sure what to do, like I’ve thrown him off. If this is what it takes to make him stop bitching at me, I’ll be using it in the future.

“Jeremy.” My name is a growl, and it makes my skin break out in goosebumps.

With a knowing smile on my face, I look up at him. “I can’t tell if you hate me because you want to fuck me or because you can’t?”

Faster than I can blink, his hand is around my throat, pressing me into the door. My dick is at attention and throbbing.

“If I wanted you, I would have you.” Preston snarls his words against my lips before taking my mouth in a brutal, harsh kiss. He holds my jaw still with a few fingers while still pushing against my throat. My body sags against him, wanting him to take whatever the hell he wants from me.

I moan into his kiss when he grinds against me, using his free hand to grab my wrist and pin it against the door. One of my legs wraps around his ass to keep him against me.

I rut against him, needing the friction, chasing the high of orgasm.

Preston pulls back from my lips, lets go of my throat, and as my dazed eyes meet his, he slaps my cheek. Stinging heat flairs on my face and my balls draw up, readying to fucking explode.

Releasing his shirt, I reach for my dick and stroke myself quickly. I need to come so bad it hurts. I’m half-crazy from it. It’s been too damn long.

“Pull my dick out.” Preston’s gravelly, lust-filled voice has me rushing to get him out. I’m still balancing on one leg with one arm pinned against the door. His hand on my wrist flexes and I’m sure I’ll have an imprint of his fingers on my skin. I want one.

My hand wraps around both of our cocks, stroking us together while his eyes bore into mine. I can’t look away.

We’re breathing hard, our air mixing between us until I can taste him.

He throbs against me and knowing he’s so close to the edge pushes me over. Cum shoots from me. My mouth falls open and a groan is pulled from the depths of my soul when Preston slams a hand over my lips.

His forehead drops to mine, and he thrusts into my fist, spraying more cum onto my hand and our shirts. We sag into the door and he releases his hold on me. My arm drops from the door and my leg slides off him.

I close my eyes and try not to fall on my ass while I reconnect with the world around me. I feel Preston’s hand on my shirt, low on my stomach, then he slides still-warm cum across my lips. Opening my eyes, I find him staring at my mouth until I slide my tongue across it, the bitter taste of us sharp on my tongue, but not bad. Honestly, I would gladly take more if he wanted it.

His eyes meet mine for a second before he grabs his garment bag hanging from his dresser pull and goes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

I put my dick back in my pants and catch sight of another garment bag on my bed. A knock on the door makes me jump. I rip my t-shirt off and turn to open the door.

“Dude, are you coming or what?” Brendon is standing there, irritation clear in the lines of his face.

My eyes flick to the bathroom door for a second before I answer him. “Yeah, I’m coming.”