inside the building, the pain overwhelming. Isaiah was his, had always been his. But now the man wanted to throw away what they could have together, all because the fool was scared. And it pisses me off that he won’t take a chance on us . Tears stung the back of his eyes. He wanted to lose it, to curse, to rant, to cry; basically everything a man shouldn’t do. Pressure built inside him until he let the cleansing anger push aside the hurt. Bringing his fist down on the steering wheel, he fought the desire to chase after his stubborn man, to shake some damned sense into him, but instead decided he’d been kicked in the teeth enough for one day. Not only had he killed his chances at the point position by running off during the meeting, Donnie’s duplicity would probably get him the promotion. He should go to the board like Isaiah suggested but a better plan formed in his head. He twisted the keys in the ignition then shoved the car into reverse. Donnie would never know what hit him.
***
“Enough, enough!” Donnie panted, bending over and bracing his arms on his legs. Dressed like Sean in white shorts and polo shirt, his racket dangled from his fingers.
Slowing to a halt, Sean was barely breathing hard. Unlike his opponent, he had a standing racquetball game every Thursday with Archer. It kept them both in shape and was a great stress reliever. “What’s wrong…out of shape, Zylka?” he taunted. “I thought you said you were going to wipe the court with me?” Knowing Donnie’s lack of athletic prowess, he’d been surprised when the other man agreed to the game. Of course he agreed. He just wanted to rub in my face that he got the point position on the new account .
“I didn’t know that you were a cutthroat player.” Still wheezing, Donnie moved toward the glass wall.
“Did you expect less? I’m a lawyer. We play to win at every opportunity.” He grabbed his towel and bottle of water from the bench next to the door. Taking a swig, he followed Donnie into the changing room and locked the door behind them. The fucking little weasel wasn’t going to slip away from him this time. Fingering the small voice recorder in his pocket, he clicked it on; it would begin recording the moment either of them spoke. He would have proof this time. “But then I expect you know all about not playing fair.”
Donnie opened his locker. “What lawyer does? It’s all about winning. The board doesn’t care about justice. Nope they want to see Ws in the win column. The more we succeed, the more money we bring in. It’s simple matter of supply and demand.”
He leaned against the locker next to Donnie’s. “True. Kind of like, going into a restaurant and ordering a meal?”
Donnie stiffened. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
Sean lifted a brow. “Really? Then you want to tell me why my boyfriend knows you?”
Tossing his headband onto the shelf, Donnie laughed. “I knew you were a queer fucker, just like that fag, Nico. It was bound to happen considering all the time you hang out at his place. Do you have kinky threesomes with him and his hunky partner?” His voice grew raspy. “Do they make you bend over for them? Do they make you lick their asses then take turns shoving their big cocks up your ass?”
He refused to rise to the bait. Instead he merely watched as the other man’s breathing increased. A niggle of suspicion had Sean’s eyes drop to the surprising bulge in Donnie’s shorts. Like most gym shorts, Donnie’s hid little. The little shit was actually getting worked up at the thought off Sean being at the mercy of his boss and his boss’s husband. The little fucker was either bisexual or in denial of his true nature. Perhaps it was time to find out. He let his voice drop low and husky. “So what if I did?”
Donnie’s nostrils flared. “You’re such a fucking man-whore. Just like a slut, you bed hop. Nico and Kell weren’t enough; you had to fuck that chef as
***
“Enough, enough!” Donnie panted, bending over and bracing his arms on his legs. Dressed like Sean in white shorts and polo shirt, his racket dangled from his fingers.
Slowing to a halt, Sean was barely breathing hard. Unlike his opponent, he had a standing racquetball game every Thursday with Archer. It kept them both in shape and was a great stress reliever. “What’s wrong…out of shape, Zylka?” he taunted. “I thought you said you were going to wipe the court with me?” Knowing Donnie’s lack of athletic prowess, he’d been surprised when the other man agreed to the game. Of course he agreed. He just wanted to rub in my face that he got the point position on the new account .
“I didn’t know that you were a cutthroat player.” Still wheezing, Donnie moved toward the glass wall.
“Did you expect less? I’m a lawyer. We play to win at every opportunity.” He grabbed his towel and bottle of water from the bench next to the door. Taking a swig, he followed Donnie into the changing room and locked the door behind them. The fucking little weasel wasn’t going to slip away from him this time. Fingering the small voice recorder in his pocket, he clicked it on; it would begin recording the moment either of them spoke. He would have proof this time. “But then I expect you know all about not playing fair.”
Donnie opened his locker. “What lawyer does? It’s all about winning. The board doesn’t care about justice. Nope they want to see Ws in the win column. The more we succeed, the more money we bring in. It’s simple matter of supply and demand.”
He leaned against the locker next to Donnie’s. “True. Kind of like, going into a restaurant and ordering a meal?”
Donnie stiffened. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
Sean lifted a brow. “Really? Then you want to tell me why my boyfriend knows you?”
Tossing his headband onto the shelf, Donnie laughed. “I knew you were a queer fucker, just like that fag, Nico. It was bound to happen considering all the time you hang out at his place. Do you have kinky threesomes with him and his hunky partner?” His voice grew raspy. “Do they make you bend over for them? Do they make you lick their asses then take turns shoving their big cocks up your ass?”
He refused to rise to the bait. Instead he merely watched as the other man’s breathing increased. A niggle of suspicion had Sean’s eyes drop to the surprising bulge in Donnie’s shorts. Like most gym shorts, Donnie’s hid little. The little shit was actually getting worked up at the thought off Sean being at the mercy of his boss and his boss’s husband. The little fucker was either bisexual or in denial of his true nature. Perhaps it was time to find out. He let his voice drop low and husky. “So what if I did?”
Donnie’s nostrils flared. “You’re such a fucking man-whore. Just like a slut, you bed hop. Nico and Kell weren’t enough; you had to fuck that chef as
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