Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“He’s getting close,” a silver fox noted. “Don’t let him come.”
The guy blowing his dick relented, resorting to a handjob instead. Pumping slowly, with minimal contact to Zink’s glans. The ginger eased up, too, then growled and reluctantly withdrew.
Zink’s glistening cock jerked. Another guy shoved inside. A dark-skinned stud sporting ink and massive muscle. Gripping Zink’s hips, he drove in deeper. Zink belted a curse. Muscles rumbled with a grin, then started to thrust.
And so it went for the next half hour, Zink’s grunts and gasps mixing with the club music pulsing below. Only when the last guy finally got his turn, did the group as a whole open up the throttle. An orchestrated onslaught, assailing Zink’s body. Each man feasting with an ardent fervor as he jerked his own stiff cock.
Kai averted his gaze as things spiked to critical; Zink’s urgent cries, the throng’s groans and curses, as they raced as one collective toward their fiery finish. He didn’t want to think about orgasms, let alone see them. It’d only send his brain back to thinking about Breck. A college kid who already occupied way too many of his thoughts.
Which wasn’t good for all kinds of reasons. Breck was a diversion he didn’t need.
Besides, the last time a guy like Breck took up residency in his head, Kai ended up flat on his back. With a hole in his chest.
Sighing, he looked back at the fuck fest winding down, and crossed his arms.
‘King Breck’ could mean nothing to him.
Just the temporary source of superficial fun.
And yes, okay, fine. Also a feast for his eyes.
But that was it.
Absolutely nothing more.
Life was fine just the way it was.
* * * *
Breck booked it down the basketball court, his crew darting ahead, forcing their Patriots team’s second strings to hustle on defense. His heart pounded. He was in his element, rocking his point guard role as ‘floor general,’ which at the moment meant leading his ‘army’ through a fast break. An offensive strategy that moved the ball up court as quickly as possible, getting his men into scoring position before the defense could set up.
Practice season was in full swing.
As was this scrimmage.
Every nerve ending in his body felt alive.
Dribbling fast, he checked his options as they neared the free-throw lane. Charlie, two o’clock. Reggie at eleven. Their small forward, Ecker, in the corner. Jegs, straight ahead.
Breck tore into the paint and set his sights on their center, squeezing the ‘rock’ through the passing lane to Reggie. Reggie caught it and leapt without a heartbeat’s hesitation, firing the ball up and over into the basket.
Breck grinned, shifting to defense mode as both teams headed in the opposite direction. It didn’t take him but a second to steal the ball. Bounding back down the court, he paused at the free-throw line, allowing his guard to get all up in his face. Not an accident on Breck’s part, just an element of his strategy, enabling Jegs to run a mean-ass pick-and-roll.
Breaking away from his own defender, Jegs slid in fast behind Breck’s guard. Breck didn’t waste a moment and darted past his opponent, only to ‘roll’ around Jegs so tightly that their shoulders brushed. Breck’s guard turned to pursue but now Jegs blocked his way. In the time it took Jegs’ own defender to get into position to assist, Breck was already landing a jump shot.
Swish.
Nothing but net.
Their opponents reclaimed the ball. Everyone charged back down the court, the squeaking and chirping of sneakers filling the gym. Every so often, the coach would bark some orders. Mostly at the second strings. No big surprise. The starters were handing them their asses.
After a while, despite the second strings’ efforts, the coach recast the teams to have an equal number of starters on both sides. Which significantly helped to level the playing field.
Breck’s team still won.
Why? Because they’d had the fucking king.
Once he’d had his fill of celebratory hand slaps and chest bumps, he drained a bottle of water and headed for the showers. Jegs and Charlie ambled alongside him, Jegs clearly happier than the shooting guard. He’d been on Breck’s team after all and was still basking in their win.
“Chin up, dog.” Jegs grinned as they shoved into the locker room. “I’m sure you made some sweet plays. Never saw any, but I’m sure they happened. Probably when I was down tying my shoe.”
“Get bent,” Charlie laughed tightly. “I scored more fuckin’ points than you.”
“Bullshit,” Jegs scoffed.
“Dude. I was downtown all day. Must’ve sank at least ten three-pointers.”
Jegs turned to Breck as they reached their lockers. “Is he for real?”
Breck grinned and tugged off his shirt. “Do I look like his score keeper to you? I was focusing on other things. Like bringing the win.”
Jegs smirked, shucked his clothes, then opened up his locker. “I brought it, too. You may command, but I execute. By the way,” he beamed broadly, “that alley-oops was fuckin’ sweet. The way you lobbed the ball to the basket? And then the way I slammed it home?” Jegs grabbed his crotch and nodded. “Bro. Gave me wood.”