Changing Teams (16 page)

“God,” I moaned, wiggling against the warm leather, “this heat is frickin’ heaven.”

Sam gave me a sidelong glance. “That good, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He was silent for a moment, then asked, “Would you love me more if I wasn’t rich, or if I was a heated leather seat?”

“Does the heated seat come with massage?”

“For you, anything.”

I thought for a moment. “That’s a tough one. How not rich are you? Do you have any income, or are you wicked poor?”

“Wicked? Like a witch?”

“Sorry. Old New England saying.” I turned sideways in my seat, and studied his profile. “I think I’d love you either way.”

Sam grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, never taking his eyes from the road. “I’d love you too.”

The trifecta of heated seat, wine, and too much dancing took their toll, and those coupled with the motions of the car lulled me to sleep. I woke briefly as Sam wrestled me out of the passenger seat and carried me up to his apartment, then again when I felt something cold and wet on my face.

“Shh,” Sam soothed when I jerked away. “It’s just a washcloth.”

“Why do I need washing?” I mumbled.

Sam chuckled. “Don’t want to sleep in your makeup, do you?”

“No, that would be tragic,” I replied, then sleep claimed me again.

When next I woke the bedroom was dark, and Sam was sleeping beside me. He’d gotten me out of my dress and shoes, but my underwear was still present and accounted for. After a brief inspection I found that Sam was totally naked. I propped myself up on an elbow and looked down at his face, his features limned in moonlight. The pale light gave Sam’s skin a bluish tinge, and made his dark beard and eyebrows black as night. I smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and thought about what he’d said earlier.

When we had talked on the dance floor, had Sam been telling me he loved me? All that talk about him loving me if I was a midget made it seem likely. God, I hoped that was the case, because I sure didn’t think I could live without him.

I stroked my hand down his chest, feeling the crisp hairs scattered across it, and followed those hairs down to his naval. After the barest hesitation, I slipped my hand underneath the blankets, and found him hard as a rock. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, enjoying his smooth hardness. I’d meant what I said the first time we were in bed together about his cock being just about the most perfect male appendage I’d ever encountered. I loved holding it, taking him in my mouth, even just feeling him press against me.

Since I had just enough of a buzz left to be daring, I wiggled out of my thong and climbed onto Sam’s hips. I kissed his mouth, his neck, my kisses traveling lower in my quest to wake him in the best way possible. When he finally stirred and stroked my hip, I raised myself up and fit him between my thighs.

Sam’s eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Waking you up,” I replied, bending to kiss his chest. “You know you like it.”

“Never touch me again!” Sam screamed as he threw me off the bed. I hit the wall with a thud, and my world went black.

Chapter Seventeen

Sam

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Waking you up.” She grabbed my cock, stroking her hand up and down my shaft. “You looked ready for me.”

“I-I don’t want this,” I pleaded. “Please, stop it. Stop touching me.”

“You know you like it.”

I turned my head and cried into my pillow; I didn’t like this, I hated this. Night after night it kept happening, and I had no idea how to stop it.

“You know you like it,” she said again, squeezing my cock harder. “If you didn’t want it you wouldn’t be able to get it up.”

No, I didn’t want it, I never wanted anything less than this.

“You know you like it.”

That was the last straw. I sat up and threw her off me and off the bed, and hopefully out of my life. “Never touch me again!”

***

I blinked myself awake, relieved beyond words to be in my own bed, in my own apartment in New York, far, far away from where those things had happened. Even though I was shaking so bad I could hardly move, sweat pouring off me, I smiled. I’d had that nightmare a thousand, maybe a million times since I’d moved out of my aunt’s place, but never once had I fought back. No, my dreams had always been the same as the reality, with me being just a scared boy unable to stop her.

This time I stopped her, threw her right off me. That had to mean something.

I heard whimpering coming from the floor by my bed, and as my senses dribbled back I recognized Britt’s voice. Remembering our conversations earlier in the day, and that we’d gone to bed nearly naked, I figured out what had happened and wanted to kick myself. I hadn’t fought back against my aunt so much as I’d thrown the woman I love against a wall.

I slid out of bed and found Britt huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her waist. “Baby,” I said as I knelt before her, “Are you okay?”

“I get that I shouldn’t have climbed onto you like that,” she choked out around her sobs. “But did you have to push me off the bed?”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I said, pulling her into my arms. “I was having one of my nightmares, and when I woke up I thought you were part of it. Are you hurt?” I probed her shoulders and the back of her head, feeling for bruises. God, please don’t let her be bruised.

“A nightmare made you freak out like that?” Britt asked.

“Yeah. They always do.”

“God, Sam,” she murmured, tracing her fingertips down the side of my face. “What the hell do you dream about?”

“Terrible things.” I touched her cheek, my fingers coming away wet. “Don’t cry, baby.”

She frowned and ducked her head. “Sorry. Hurts.”

I placed a hand on either side of her face and forced her to look at me. “Please, baby, don’t cry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, baby.” She smiled, but her tears didn’t slow. She was so beautiful, her honey brown eyes shining in the dim light, and I couldn’t help but kiss her. Her mouth was sweet, sweeter than the wine we’d had at the wedding, sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted. I stood, lifting Britt under her thighs as I turned and deposited her on my bed.

“What are you doing?” Britt gasped.

“I think it’s kind of obvious,” I said, kissing a path down her neck.

“Sam,” Britt said. “Sam, I know you don’t really want to—”

I kissed her between her breasts, then I slid up her body so my face was directly above hers. “Oh, you know what I want, do you?”

“Like you said after you pushed me off the bed, I think it’s kind of obvious.”

“Wrong, baby,” I said, raining kisses onto her face. “God, I want you so much.”

“After you pushed me, I thought you hated me,” she whispered.

“Hate you?” I said, gazing down into her brown eyes. “I could never hate you. Said I’d love you even if you were a midget, remember?”

Britt laughed as she wrapped her arms around my neck, sinking her fingers into my hair. “And I’d love you if you were rich. Or poor. Or somewhere in between.”

“Would you, now?” I asked, grazing my thumb across her cheek.

She smiled the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. “I would.”

I kissed her lips, her cheeks, then I nudged her thighs apart with my knee, but I hesitated with my cock poised at her entrance. Should I go get a condom? That would be smart. Wait, I still hadn’t bought any new condoms, and the ones in my bathroom cabinet were more than two years old. How could I have forgotten condoms? I’m a guy, I should be on top of these things.

I looked down at the woman in my bed, and decided that condoms didn’t matter. Well, I hoped they didn’t matter, but that would be up to Britt. I knew I was clean, and Britt had mentioned on more than one occasion that she’d been single for over a year. Of course, there was still the threat of unintended pregnancy, but I pushed that out of my mind. If that happened, I’d let Britt make the decisions and support her all the way.

Still, my biggest fears loomed over me: what if I couldn’t do it? What if I disappointed Britt?

“What’s wrong?” Britt asked.

“I, um, forgot to buy condoms,” I admitted. “I still only have the old ones. And, um, I don’t want to get you—you know.”

Britt smiled tightly. “It’s okay, I have that birth control implant,” she said. Well, that was one less thing to worry about. “There’s one in my bag, inside pocket.”

I got off the bed and located the pocket, and the little foil wrapped package inside. Once I’d rolled it on, I climbed back on top of Britt. Her honey brown eyes were gazing up at me, so full of trust and love I froze in place. Of all the times to have stage fright.

“All set?” she asked.

“All set.”

When I still didn’t move, she said, “Sam, we don’t have to—”

I rubbed my cock against her, and her words dissolved into moans. “I think we do, baby,” I murmured. “I need you so much I fear I might burst. Is this okay?”

Britt tensed for a moment, then she relaxed underneath my body. “It’s okay.”

Thank fucking God for that. I worked my way inside her, inch by inch, until I had no idea of where I ended and she began. Finally I was where I needed to be and I held her close, my forehead pressed against hers, feeling our hearts beating in time.

“I had no idea it could be like this,” I said. I felt at one with the universe and bigger than the universe, complete unto myself and part of something amazing; I felt like my life’s sole purpose was making Britt every bit as happy as she made me.

Britt moved her hips beneath mine, sending electric shocks of pleasure throughout my body. “It can be even better,” she said.

“Show me, cowgirl.”

Show me she did.

Afterward, I laid on my back with Britt’s head resting on my chest, feeling like the king of the world. For the first time in thirteen years I’d let myself be who I really was, Real Sam, as Britt had put it. And Real Sam wasn’t plagued with nightmares from the past, or terrified his aunt would burst through the door and ruin his life some more. Real Sam was happy.

Real Sam was completely in love with Britt, and he had no idea how to tell her.

Out of the blue, Britt pinched my nipple. Hard. “Hey,” I said, swatting her hand away.

“If you hadn’t been all about my nipples at Nash’s, we probably wouldn’t be here now,” she said.

I smoothed back her hair, then I kissed her forehead. “Do you like being here now?” I asked.

“Yeah. I do.” Britt arranged herself so she was propped up on an elbow, her soft brown waves falling onto my chest. “Have you ever been with a woman? Before me, I mean.”

“Not like I was with you,” I said, squeezing her bottom. “And before you ask, I’ve never been with a man like that, either.”

“What?” Britt clambered on top of me and planted her hands on my shoulders, staring me in the eye. “I thought you’d been gay all these years.”

“Oh, so being gay means you’re promiscuous too?” I demanded.

“No, of course it doesn’t,” she said, ducking her head. “But if you’ve never been with any boys…”

“I’ve messed around a bit,” I said. “Me and Michael dated for over a year, you know. We were hot and heavy for a while, but I never wanted him that way. You know, he’s the only guy I’ve dated since I came to New York.

“Really?” Britt asked. “I thought all the boys liked you.”

“Of course they do,” I replied, Britt laughing as she buried her face in my neck. “Anyway, since you think it only counts when there’s penetration, then I guess none of what I did before tonight counted.”

Britt laid her body flat atop mine with her arms crossed on my chest, her chin resting on her wrists. “Sam MacKellar, are you saying I popped your cherry?”

“Britannica Lynn…” I almost said “you surely did,” but that would have been a lie. I’d already lied so much, and I just couldn’t do it any longer, especially not to her. “Britannica Lynn, I wish you had.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you,” I replied, working my fingers into that silky hair of hers. I would never disparage drugstore conditioner ever again. “I’ll warn you, it’s a hard story to hear.”

Her brow creased. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Yeah. Someone did.”

“Is this what started the nightmares?” When I nodded, Britt relocated again, this time pressing herself against my side and wrapping herself around me in one of those octopus moves I loved. Once she was settled, she said, “Okay, I’ve got you. Tell me.”

“When I was ten, both of my parents were deployed to Afghanistan. I was sent to stay with my Aunt Sophia, but she’s not really my aunt. She’s more like a third or fourth cousin. Anyway, there was no one else who could take me without me having to change schools, so to Aunt Sophia’s I went.”

“I take it all was not well with auntie,” Britt said.

“Sure wasn’t.” I held Britt for a moment, burying my face in her hair. “I assume you know, darlin’, that a man’s body checks its circulation every morning? With a most embarrassing side effect?”

“As evidenced by this morning’s wood,” Britt mumbled into my shoulder.

“Well, Aunt Sophia saw it as an opportunity.” I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the worst days of my life. “The second morning I was in her house, I woke up with her on top of me.”

Britt gasped. “Oh my God.”

“God had nothing to do with it,” I snapped. “I tried hiding from her, locking my door, but she always found me. Or she used a screwdriver and took the doorknob right off.”

“Did you tell anyone? Call the cops?”

“No. If she’d been taken away, there would have been no place for me to stay. That’s pretty scary to a ten-year-old.” I snuggled Britt closer, and warned, “This might be the worst part.”

She squeezed me. “I’m here. Tell me.”

I sighed. “It got to the point where she’d walk in on me in the shower, in my room while I was changing, putting her hands all over me. Since I didn’t want anything to do with her—”

“And you were frickin’ ten,” Britt snapped.

“—my cock didn’t react. One time, she was real mad that I wasn’t getting hard, and yelled what’s wrong, are you gay or something? So I said yeah, I am.”

Britt reached up and loosened my fingers; while recounting my aunt’s misdeeds I’d clutched her hair so tightly I nearly pulled it from her scalp. “Sorry, baby,” I murmured, kissing her forehead.

“It’s okay,” she said. “But I don’t understand. Your aunt thought you were gay, so you decided you were?”

“Not exactly. When my mother returned from overseas, Aunt Sophia gave her an earful about her nasty, deviant son. You see, my aunt was so disgusted by the thought of a homosexual nephew, she never touched me again.”

Britt snorted. “Homosexuality is bad, but it’s okay to rape a kid.”

I shuddered; for so many reasons, I hated that word. “She was sick, but my parents were awesome. Instead of being disgusted, they supported me and my gayness. They found groups of other gay youths for me to hang out with, campaigned against bullying, and made sure no one ever talked down to me because of my sexual preference. By the time I figured out that being gay meant kissing boys, I’d been out for years.”

“But you were never gay.”

I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her fingertips. “No. I never was.”

“When we met at Nash’s studio, and you were making a big deal about my cleavage, you weren’t gay.”

Hadn’t we already established that? “No, Britt, I wasn’t. When I first saw you in that orange dress—”

“You lied.”

My blood turned to ice in my veins. “I was lying to myself,” I said. “I went from being a scared kid to someone with an identity he never wanted to—”

“To someone who lies.” Britt got out of bed and threw on the skirt and blouse she’d worn the day before yesterday. “At any time, you could have said hey, maybe this gay thing isn’t for me. Maybe I’ll give the chicks a try. But you didn’t do that. You kept right on lying.”