Pig Skin
Emmett’s knees were raw and his ass was burning as he stood
unsteadily and tried to tug his pants back up. It was awkward since he was still
holding the football under his arm. The rich leather scent still permeated his
nostrils, the rough grain of the pigskin imprinted on his own skin—it was all he
had to hang onto while Drew fucked him silly and he didn’t think he’d ever again
be able to look at another football, or smell leather, or eat bacon for fuck’s
sake, without cumming in his pants. He set the ball down on the table next to
his now warm beer and tried to keep himself upright by sheer will when his legs
wobbled some more.
Drew wrapped the used condom in a tissue and buried it in the trash behind the
bar. He looked like he’d hardly broken a sweat while Emmett felt like he’d just
spent an hour at the gym. In a fat suit.
“The bathroom’s down the hall,” Drew offered between long gulps of beer.
Emmett felt a little thrill that he’d at least made the man thirsty. “I
remember.” He tried not to sway too obviously before he was out of Drew’s sight,
though he wondered if the other man would’ve even noticed as he turned his
attention back to the game.
Emmett cleaned himself up and tried to dry himself off. The faux fur collar of
his jacket was sticky and prickly against his damp skin and he tried to pat it
down, away from his still flushed neck. Waving the towel in front of his face
also seemed to help cool him down and he sagged against the counter for a few
minutes to just pull himself back together. He shifted uncomfortably though,
more from his own thoughts than from the large red handprint still stinging on
his ass.
The euphoria of his screaming orgasms was starting to wane and he couldn’t help
wondering what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.
Emmett looked around the immaculate bathroom, the shining chrome and black
marble being masculine enough for Drew, with a woman’s touch making it warmer.
The antique mirror. Thick fluffy cream-colored towels and rugs to soften the
edge.
Emmett wanted to go home. Debbie’s garish plastic shower curtain and fish-shaped
soap dish were suddenly more calming for him. He quickly wiped up the spilled
water around the sink and hung the towel back on the rack, smoothing it out so
it didn’t look like Emmett had been crushing it in his fist. But before he left
he couldn’t help peaking into the shower stall. It too was spotless, no mildew
or soap scum marring the glass and tile. Bottles of expensive shampoo and body
wash lined the small shelf and he took one down and sniffed it. Not Drew’s. His
nose wrinkled as a vision of Sierra naked in the shower popped into his mind and
he shoved the bottle back into place, hurrying out.
Drew was still standing where Emmett had left him, staring at the floor. He
looked up at Emmett, glaring. “What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” he
demanded, pointing to the semen stain on the rug.
Emmett gaped at him, surprised by the sudden attack of conscience. If nothing
else, he figured there was a handy bottle of spot remover behind the bar as
well. But Drew still stared back at him, running his hand through his hair.
“Sierra’s gonna have my nuts for this. She loves that fucking rug. We got it in
New Orleans.”
“That’s nice,” Emmett replied dryly, only blanching a little all things
considered. “You need a terry towel and a little dishwashing soap. Blot, don’t
rub.”
“What the--” Drew started, cutting himself off as he heard the door open and
close.
“Honey?” Sierra called to him.
Emmett grimaced and suddenly wiped his arm across the table, knocking his beer
and the football to the floor.
“Shit!” Drew cried as beer splashed his feet and sweatpants.
“Drew,” Sierra ground out, stricken as she stared at Emmett’s shocked face. “Oh,
Emmett, I’m so sorry, are you alright?”
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, staring at the dark stain spreading
across the rug and covering the other one. “I never could catch a ball.”
“He throws that damn thing at everyone.” She patted his arm as she hurried to
the bar and grabbed some napkins. “I’m surprised he hasn’t broken more windows.”
“Sorry, babe.”
Emmett averted his eyes so he didn’t have to see Drew kiss her brow, but he did
see Sierra’s sharp look in return and his stomach clenched in fear. Did she
suspect anything? Or did she even care, he wondered, as her lips suddenly
twitched and she rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not. But you will be.” She shoved
Drew away. “Help Emmett with his equipment while I clean this up.” She paused to
shake Emmett’s hand. “Thanks again for a wonderful party. We’ll definitely keep
you in mind for the wedding.”
Emmett’s smile was strained, the knot in his chest just as tight. “Thank you,
I’d be happy to meet with you any time to discuss it.” A big fat lie that he
somehow managed to choke out. Drew was already heading toward the kitchen so
Emmett quickly said good night and excused himself to follow.
“Nice goin’, Sport,” Drew commended him softly, chuckling, with another pat on
the ass.
They were barely out of sight—or were they? Emmett’s head snapped around,
growing more uneasy by Drew’s cavalier manner.
Emmett crossly stepped out of reach and darted around the island to put some
space between them again, but Drew had already turned his back.
Emmett took the momentary reprieve to dab at his brow and collect his equipment.
“Well, that’s it,” he said with relief, about to slip away, when he felt Drew
standing behind him.
Heat rolled off the man and Emmett started to sweat again, and sway again,
butterflies swarming in his belly again, as Drew’s hand slipped around his
waist. In a blink of an eye Emmett didn’t care if she was just around the
corner. He wanted to be on his knees again, ass and dick throbbing because Drew
Boyd was fucking the hell out of him.
He couldn’t help gasping, loud and blistering in the quiet cavernous room, as
Drew tugged at his pants. His hand slipped inside Emmett’s pocket and then was
gone. Emmett gasped again, a little shrilly if the truth be told, when he was
abruptly released.
“Be there, tomorrow at 2:00,” Drew rasped in his ear before turning away.
Emmett didn’t dare move for a few beats, but he saw the corner of a slip of
paper sticking out of his pocket. He swallowed first, the roaring blood in his
ears seeming to finally recede and he hoped he heard the man right. He swallowed
again, but didn’t trust himself to speak so he just nodded.
But Drew was already leaving the room, sure of his answer.
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