“I can’t stop thinking about what it felt like to have your tongue inside me.” He gasped as I brushed his rim, my desire coiling tight with every sound he made.
“I can’t think straight with the sounds you’re making, Hatuey.” He writhed, slippery like an eel as I touched him.
“Stay still,” I growled—grabbing the back of his neck—while I took his balls in one hand and worked his hole with the other. “Stop fidgeting and work that ass, show me how you’re going to take my cock.”
“Ahh…god, why is that so hot?” Hatuey’s eyes rolled back in his head, body soft and open to me. He was lost in what I was giving him, and I fully intended to take our friendship squarely down the path of destruction when the door to the villa crashed open, sending us flying apart.
“What the fuck?” I growled, as Hatuey tried and failed to hide his erection.
“Muchachos estan aqui?” Most of the blood that usually kept my mind functioning was in my dick, so I didn’t place the voice until Hatuey cursed and made a mad grab for his shirt.
My heart literally lodged in my throat—and it was the only thing keeping me from throwing up all over the marble floor—when I realized the voice belonged to Hatuey’s father. My best friend’s eyes widened as he hurried to put on the now completely wrecked T-shirt from his run, while I dropped back into the chair, winded.
“I don’t know what he’s doing here,” Hatuey whispered nervously as he walked to the foyer. I watched him go while I got my breathing back and let it sink in that my best friend’s father almost walked in on us fucking. And when that fun fact finally hit, I really did almost puke.
Baseball players were a superstitious bunch. I usually wasn’t one for giving credence to bad omens. But even I had to admit some things you ignored at your own peril. I was going to take this almost disaster as a clear sign that I needed to keep my hands off Hatuey for good.
Chapter 6
Hatuey
I loved my father, but his timing was shit.
I’d had him. I’d had Yariel right where I’d wanted him. Ready to finally admit—even if only while I distracted him with my tongue—that despite the headassery he’d been on for the last couple of days, he was as eager as I was to take things further.
But my father, bless him, had ruined all of it. Yariel looked like his entire soul had left his body when my father strolled into the villa unannounced. And now two hours later, we were still in a forced chaperone situation. Not that we could get up to much since we were also surrounded by about eighty teens who were doing their best to impress their idol, Brooklyn Bombers shortstop Yariel Cabral. And despite the few cringeworthy moments with my dad, the morning had been pretty amazing.
I stood back as I watched Yari stage an impromptu clinic with some of the kids who were at the camp today. He had them laughing and working hard, swinging bats and stealing bases, as he gave them pointers. He took the time to praise each one of them by name, and the kids beamed under his attention.
He looked so handsome and powerful. Moving that big, lithe body with confidence. He was comfortable in his own skin. The look of a man who knew the power he held and exactly how to use it. He’d come so far from the awkward teen he’d been when we first met. But that boy was still there in that open smile, and the way he lit up with a baseball bat in his hands. Yariel had always known where he belonged. I was the one who had never quite figured that out for myself.
And now here he was at twenty-six, a millionaire, a star athlete using his time and his money to give back to his people. Butterflies swirled in my stomach as I watched him, and I called myself ten kinds of stupid to not have noticed that this man was everything to me. That there was nothing in him I didn’t want for myself. That I wouldn’t worship if I was given the chance.
Mio.Mi hombre.
Nothing had ever felt that absolute, and I realized maybe I had known where I belonged all along too.
“Looks like the program is thriving. I like that you have STEM and arts too, not just the sports,” my father said happily as he looked around. He’d been in a weird mood today, and I was worried that he’d had seen Yariel and me. Not because I was embarrassed, not really. But because I wanted him to find out differently. I looked at him now and he didn’t seem upset—pensive, maybe, and genuinely pleased with what he was seeing. “You two always made a good team.”
I blushed because today that felt real in more ways than one. “When money isn’t an object, it makes things easier,” I said, deflecting the praise.
My dad looked at me strangely, like he was trying to figure something out. But when he spoke his voice was tinted with real emotion. “He’s a good man. Not everyone could shoulder the responsibility all that money and fame come with, but he carries it well. And I know you’ve helped him with that.”
For as much as he never quite understood my friendship with Yari and at times seemed almost wary of how close we were, my father had always been good to him, and never missed a chance to tell him how proud he was of him. Yari’s own parents were supportive but much older than my dad, and over the years he’d come to Papi to ask for advice about his career more than once.
My diaphragm contracted thinking of how he might react to hearing about what was happening between Yari and me. I wanted to be ready to tell him, but I could not ignore the real fear of what might happen when I did. My stomach roiled with doubt and I couldn’t help looking at Yariel. I had to admit that as much as I hated that he was keeping me at arm’s length, he was right. Taking this step was not going to be easy.
I shrugged, still working on an answer to my dad’s comment, and kept my eyes on Yariel, who was now doing drills with the kids. I saw him call over a girl who’d been standing at the back, coaxing her until she walked toward him with her shoulders straight and head held high. He had that kind effect on people—when he called, they came.
I looked on proudly, watching the scene unfold. Yari made a point of waiting for her and I saw a smile appear on her face at whatever he told her as he handed her the bat. I knew what she was feeling, what she was responding to. From the moment I’d first felt it, I’d tried to be in the warmth of Yariel as much as I could. It was still my favorite place.
“Yariel is easy,” I finally told my father. “He just wants to play baseball and give back as much as he can.” My father’s grunt told me he agreed, but his eyes were stormy as he looked at my friend.
Just at that moment, Yari straightened from demonstrating some moves with his bat and looked around the field. His hat covered his eyes, but my thumping heart knew who he was looking for. When he spotted me, the unguarded smile he sent in my direction turned my insides molten. He crooked a finger, not flirtatious or lascivious, but a sign of familiarity. A confident gesture of someone who knew he would get was he was asking for.
I looked at my dad, who waved in his direction. “Ve, te esta esperando.” I nodded and almost started walking the distance to Yariel, but something about my dad’s expression stopped me.
“Todo bien, Papi?” I asked, genuinely concerned at how serious he looked.
