Page 51 of Challenge Me

“Think so?”

“Mmhmm.” With the hand not on my jaw, he traced down my zipper. “The worst of mankind.”

“Want to burn in hell with me?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. His expression didn’t change as he curled his fingers over my waistband.

“Amir, get your ass in here,” Shawn said, sticking his head out of the locker room.

“Uh, yeah. Coming.”

“Bring the boyfriend, I don’t care. Just hurry up.”

With a wink, Remi dragged me inside. I wanted to protest, but it was a bit late for that. A couple of the guys greeted us, and we made small talk for a minute until Shawn whistled to get everyone’s attention. I was about to head over to the others, but Remi brought me to a table loaded with trays of food. He sat in a chair and kicked back, so I followed suit.

It was a small separation from the rest, and as he ran his fingers up my thigh, I was grateful for it. Everyone seemed to like him, but it was somewhat awkward to have him around all the time. None of the guys’ girlfriends or wives were invited back here, so I had to wonder if it was strange.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he shifted his path beneath the table. I glanced at him when he grazed my dick through my pants. I tried to take his hand, but he quickly tugged my zipper down and dipped his fingers inside.

Hyperaware of everyone in the room, my eyes darted around to make sure nobody was paying attention. Shawn went on about the same shit he always did before a game. Spring training games weren’t official like during the season, but this was the first time we’d be facing off against the Braves since last year’s World Series, so it would set the stage in a way.

Putting my arm over the back of Remi’s chair, I pinched his arm. He leaned closer and circled his thumb over my dick. I pursed my lips as I tried to pay attention to Shawn, but Remi didn’t let up. My growing arousal made him double down, his fingers tracing the length of my shaft.

I set my phone on the table and typed out a message. Stop.

He tapped on the screen without pausing his movements. After you finish.

I stared at the phone with a mixture of nerves and what might’ve been excitement. It was depraved. Arguably, it was insane.

Why the hell was I considering it?

In one quick movement, I unbuttoned my pants to give him more access. I shifted further under the table to make sure nobody could see, and he snickered softly.

I put my lips next to his ear. “You’re a demon from the pits of hell.”

He moved to the inside of my briefs, and I clenched my teeth when his cool fingers touched me. My legs tensed as he angled his wrist to stroke me once. With his thumb on my shaft, he reached lower to lift both of my balls and roll them in his palm. Blood pumped to my groin, making me grow in his hand. Expertly, he wrapped his fingers around my dick and flicked his wrist to jerk me hard.

My knee bumped the table, and a few of the guys looked at me.

“There was a roach.” I wanted to smack myself when they glanced at the floor under the table. Thankfully, they moved on and returned their attention to Shawn.

Remi’s thumb brushed over my head, and I had to release my breath slowly. His pace was maddening, entire seconds devoted to stroking me in one direction. When he reached the tip again, his nails grazed the inside of my thigh and sent goosebumps racing across my skin.

Suddenly, his touch disappeared. I sucked in a breath from the loss and glanced over at him. He brought his hand to his mouth and faked a cough, then dragged his palm downward. When he returned to my dick, he spread his saliva across it.

My fingers dug into my thighs, acting as my only outlet. Every breath was too loud, or maybe they were only loud to me. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and the conversation around me faded as if wrapped in a bubble.

Remi tapped on my phone a few times, and I peered at it. I hate how quiet you are.

All I did was shake my head. What’d he expect me to do? Moan right in the middle of a team meeting? He’d probably love that.

I leaned my elbows on the table and stared at the wall past Shawn. Remi’s grip was relentless, and with quick flicks of his wrist that were imperceptible from above, he drove me closer to my release. With everything I had, I kept my face as blank as possible. As the feeling built, I curled my toes in my shoes and clenched my thighs. A grunt escaped me, and I cleared my throat to hide it.

“Hey, sorry,” Remi said, drawing everyone’s attention. I wanted to smack him because he’d clearly lost his fucking mind. His hand was on my dick, jacking me off with his spit, for God’s sake. “This is random, but I’m drawing a blank here. Anyone play Mortal Kombat?”

Jeffrey perked up. “Yeah, why?”

“Just writing a poem for my buddy, Oli. What’s that guy say before a fatality?”