Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Brady finally looks up. It’s obvious he has an issue with his family, but I have no idea what it is.
“We’re not going to ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. You should know that by now,” Kit says. “And if you have to spend the night with your family—”
“No, no. Don’t get me wrong. There is no way you two are getting out of making me come later, but I need to have dinner with my family first. Is that okay?”
“We’ll be at our apartment,” I say. “Come over whenever you can get away.”
“Leave the door unlocked for me.” He bounces away, running to the group of people who cheered for him and his brother. None of them are paying attention to us, and I’m surprised and impressed by how stealthily Brady slips back into the group in his robe as if he was there all along.
“I’m happy you made it back in time,” Kit says.
“Yeah. Me too.”
The only problem is we’ve barely said hello again, and I’m not ready to say goodbye.
CHAPTER SEVEN
brady
Law school is kicking my ass, and so is my internship. Spring break can’t come fast enough. It’s been nine months since the last time I saw Kit and Prescott when they showed up at my graduation, and even though they’ve tried to set another meetup since, I’ve been juggling working at King Sports and studying. Law school is not as easy as an undergrad in sports management. Who knew?
The one time I might have been able to meet them somewhere for one night—suggesting somewhere in the middle of nowhere America halfway between the two coasts—Prescott couldn’t leave Coronado because his team or squad or whatever they’re called were on four-hour alert, which meant they had to be ready to deploy if needed within four hours.
I’ve spent most of my last nine months in a classroom or following my uncle around the country scouting summer camps and colleges for upcoming hotshot athletes. At one point, we were in LA, and I was tempted to try to sneak away for a few hours to see Prescott, but I figured it would be weird with just the two of us.
Well, not weird weird, but a bit weird. It’s not like all three of us have to be together at the same time, but I dunno, I thought it might be awkward. That and I really didn’t have the time to make it to San Diego anyway.
I was convinced this on leave deal Prescott and Kit made wasn’t going to work, but then the planets aligned, or the sex gods took mercy on us, and we’ve planned one whole week together. As soon as this new player signs his deal with us, I am out of here.
In three hours, I’m going to be on a plane heading for a small island off the coast of Tampa in Florida, where I’m going to come as many times as I can until the point where I’m going to pass out or die of dehydration.
I don’t plan to leave the hotel room if the guys let me. I’m sure a tiny little island in the Gulf of Mexico will have food delivery options.
Hmm, maybe not. But I’m sure if I begged, Kit or Prescott would go fetch sustenance for me.
Fuck, Kit and Prescott. It feels like forever since I’ve seen them.
As much as I wanted to stay more than one night with them at graduation, I couldn’t really swing it. Not with my family wanting to spend every waking moment with Peyton and me.
While everyone was celebrating our graduation, drinking and having a family party at our house, I snuck away for a couple of hours. Had an amazing, sweaty, cum-filled time and then came back to my bed in the early hours of the morning. Everyone thought I’d gone to sleep early.
Too much excitement about my future. Definitely not so wrung out from two dicks filling me up.
I can’t wait for it to happen again.
Nine months with barely any contact has been hard. With Kit and Prescott being SEALs, their social media is limited. Their personal accounts are anything but personal. Their full names, Guy Kitchener and Jimmy Prescott, is the most I’ve ever learned from them. They can’t share much on their profiles because of security issues, so the only times we’ve been in contact is via group text message.
They’ve asked how my life is going and things like that, but it’s always a one-sided conversation with them because other than SEALing—totally a word they use all time and not a term I made up that annoys them to no end—they don’t have much personal lives. It’s a reflex to be vague about my life when they have to be about theirs.
I’m nervous to see them again. I worry about our dynamic being suddenly different or them not liking me now that I’ve lost a little muscle mass. I was never at their level of physique, but I used to hit the gym with my brother and his teammates. I was once a center in football. I’ve been bulky nearly all my life, but I barely have time to breathe, let alone work out, so I’m not as big as I was in college.