Want Me

Rowan McBride

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Joel Beckett is blessed. He's popular with the ladies, a star on the football field, and worshiped by everyone on campus. Including Walker Cain. Only Walker's worship has crossed the line, driving him to invoke ancient magic...
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Full Description

Joel Beckett is blessed. He's popular with the ladies, a star on the football field, and worshiped by everyone on campus.

Including Walker Cain.

Only Walker's worship has crossed the line, driving him to invoke ancient magic that binds them together in an inescapable downward spiral. Now reality is shifting, and with each new life Joel is forced to watch Walker steal away another of the blessings he'd always taken for granted.

It's never enough. Cursed blood runs hot, and with every turn of the spiral, Walker breathes the seductive words that Joel can't resist. The words that could drag them both into hell.

Want me.

  • Note:Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and reedited since that publication.
Excerpt
“Hey, how’s the roommate working out?”

I shrugged, leaning back against the tree as I stared at the students walking across the quad. “Okay, I guess.”

Sitting beside me on the grass, Sam tossed me a soda. “Just okay?”

As I tapped the top of the can, Tiffany Miller sauntered by and gave me a flirty little smile.

Nice mouth. Long legs, which I always went for, and a pretty good lay. But I’d already had her, so right now the soda in my hand seemed more interesting.

“It’s not like we have a lot in common, Sam.” I took a long drink. A mousy redhead sitting at a picnic table across from us gawked at the swell of my biceps. “We don’t talk very much.”

“You don’t think he’s…creepy?”

I glanced at Sam. Although we’d both only started our sophomore year at Hamilton University a month ago, we were already superstars. Our strength and speed on the football field guaranteed that. “Creepy?”

His face scrunched. “He’s all quiet, with his nose in a book 24-7. I don’t even think most of them are textbooks.”

Sam distrusted geeks in general, and my roommate was 100 percent geek. “So he likes to read. So what?”

“And he’s always watching those old black-and-whites. Where the quarterback dates the cute girl, opens doors for her, gives her his jacket. All that shit.”

Frowning, I took another sip of my soda. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Joel.” He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest. “Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you?”

Yeah, I noticed. Didn’t see Sam’s point, though. “He looks at me the way everybody looks at me.” I let my head drop back against the tree trunk and stared up at the Colorado sky. “I’m a god.”

I’m a god. You’d think I’d be more impressed, saying those words. They didn’t pack the punch they used to. At six-six and just over three hundred pounds of hard, cut muscle, I’d been inspiring awe and worship for years. My roommate was tiny. Like, five-feet-four tiny. Of course he would stare.

“Joel.” Sam clenched his fist. “I think he’s a fag.”

My eyebrows lifted as I glanced at him. “So what if he is?”

Sam’s back went ramrod straight. “Don’t you care?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What if he tries something with you?”

Lemon-lime soda damn near came out of my nose. “Try something with me? Get real. He’s not stupid.”

“Don’t you… Don’t you worry that he might be having nasty thoughts about you?”

I snorted. “Fuck, I don’t care. As long as they stay in his head.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

Knowing I had to at least make a show of doing my homework, I rose to my feet. “I gotta go home now to my dirty-thinking roommate.”

Sam stood too. “I’m telling you, that kid’s got some seriously weird stuff going on inside him. I mean, what kind of name is Walker, anyway? He Indian?”

I’d thought the same thing when I met him. Well, American Indian. Native American. Whatever. “Naw, he’s got some fancy word for it that I can’t pronounce. So he just lets me call him gypsy.”

“Gypsy.” Sam shuddered. “Be careful around him, man.”

Laughter was my response as I walked off. Passing the picnic table, I accidently knocked a few books off its surface. I picked them up and handed them to the mousy girl. “Sorry about that.”

She hugged the books to her small breasts, her dark eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses. “Th-thanks, Joel.”

It didn’t surprise me that she knew my name, and I didn’t feel bad not knowing hers. “No problem.”

“J-Joel?” she asked tentatively when I started to leave.

I paused. “Yeah?”

“My name is April.” She tilted her head to the side and gave me a shaky smile.

Now that did surprise me. Girls like this hardly ever had the nerve to talk me up. As I looked over her little green sweater vest, the pleated Catholic-school-style skirt, and the clunky combat boots, I actually considered her. Just because she was different from the girls I usually fucked. But I knew I couldn’t. I’d break her right in two.

“Nice to meet you, April,” I said, flashing her a grin for her bravery before leaving the quad.

What was Tiffany doing tonight? It didn’t matter. She’d drop everything if I called. I’d had her, but in one short school year I’d managed to have most of the girls worth having on campus. No shame in starting over in my second year, I guess. Plus there was a whole new class of freshmen chicks to check out.

Shit, I was bored.

Wasn’t sure why. All the girls on campus wanted me. Lots of the guys too. Even Walker, if you could believe Sam. I could fuck anyone I wanted, really.

Who wouldn’t want to be me?

But lately the only real rush I got was when we smoked another team in football. After a game, everything was hotter, brighter, wilder. Girls were prettier; beer tasted better; the jokes guys cracked were fucking hilarious.

The charge used to last for weeks. Now it only gave me days. Sometimes hours. If it weren’t for the whole campus worshipping me 24-7 between games, I didn’t know what I’d do.

What was up with these down-ass thoughts? I shook them off and climbed to the third floor of my dorm. Things would get better. I knew they would. Already pro scouts were sniffing around me. Soon enough, I’d get to play for bigger crowds, for higher stakes. Then I’d feel more alive.

Yeah.

I threw open my door and strode in. The scent of flowers swirled around me, and some of my tension eased. Out of habit, I checked to see if the TV was on. I’d never admit it to Sam, but I sorta liked the old movies my roommate watched.

Walker glanced up from his desk. His lank hair fell over his dark eyes as he smiled. “Hi, Joel.”

“Hey.” I dropped my backpack on my desk. “Doing homework?”

“P-personal project.”

I cast a disinterested glance his way and paused when I saw the bottles of black ink next to the different-sized brushes. “Art project?”

He nodded so hard I thought his head might flop off his thin neck.

“Cool.” Looking the little guy over, I could understand why Sam thought he might be Native American. It was that chestnut-brown skin, completely smooth of scars or pockmarks. If he weren’t such a skinny little dude, he might actually catch a girl’s attention once in a while.

And he was skinny. I’d seen him in a towel a few times. You could count his ribs, just about every bone in his body. As I rubbed my hand over my own chest—a thick shelf of full, swollen muscle—I couldn’t imagine how a thing like that happened to a guy. Even when I was a kid I wasn’t that thin.

“Joel?”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

“I was just asking if you were okay.”

“Fine.” I frowned and ran my fingers through my hair. “I think I’m going to take a shower before starting my homework.”

I saw his chest hitch. Fuckin-A. Maybe he was having nasty thoughts about me.

Not really caring, I pulled my shirt off over my head. I heard him gasp before I went into the bathroom. My mouth crooked as I turned on the shower and let the water warm up.

So the geek got a thrill. No big deal.

I got underneath the water, let the liquid heat cascade over my skin. I picked through some of Walker’s stuff, sniffing at the bottles, trying to figure out which one made the room smell like flowers. As usual, no luck. I grabbed a bar of my own soap and lathered myself up, dipping my fingers into the crevices between my muscles, running my palms over the dense mounds of flesh.

Loved being big. That was one thing I never got bored of—how everyone, even professors, even coaches, had to look up to me. How even my best friends were a little uneasy standing next to my bulk. How women, no matter how eager, always had second thoughts when they saw the python I was packing in my pants.

I smiled as I stroked my pecs, the hard ridges of my abdominal muscles. My fingers dipped into dark curls of pubic hair just before gliding over the thick shaft of my dick. I slipped my hand underneath, cupped my heavy balls as pleasure filled every cell of my body.

Heedless of the soapy water, I opened my eyes. This felt good. Really good. After-game good. I wanted…

Figuring I should call Tiffany after all, I hurried to rinse myself off and jumped out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around my hips and flung open the door.

Walker stood in front of me, stark-naked.

“What the fuck!” I yelled, jumping back.

Walker’s thin body trembled—I could swear I heard his bones rattling under his skin. “I-it’s started already, hasn’t it? You felt it in the shower.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I clenched my fist. “Put your damned clothes back on, you little freak!”

Still shaking, he raised his hand. “Y-you want to keep staring at this, don’t you?”

My gaze locked to the pattern painted on his palm. Jet-black spirals drew me in, and each layer contained letters or runes or pictures I felt like I should’ve been able to understand but which were just out of my ability to comprehend. The lines swirled deeper and deeper, holding me entranced.

“Yes,” I said softly.

Walker edged closer, his voice still tentative. “You want to drop your towel, don’t you?”

“Yes.” My fingers tugged at the material, let it fall to the floor. It felt natural—because I did want it.

He took another step forward, and I stepped back, bumping against the doorjamb.

Walker’s prick was straining hard as he stared at my body. He was eye-level with my chest, and when he moved closer I could feel his warm breath puffing against my skin as he fastened his gaze on one nipple, then the other.

Something was wrong. I should shove him back. I should pound the shit out of him!

But all I really wanted to do was stare at his palm.

Walker moved away, just slightly, and his hand began to drop downward. Enthralled, I followed its path. Lower… Lower…

Then the pattern disappeared from sight, and my rage roared to life as I balled up my fist. “You son of a—”

My entire body froze when Walker’s hand closed around my cock. He looked up, his voice full of frightening confidence as he smiled. “You want me, don’t you?”

Dark swirls of pleasure coiled around my dick, spun into my body. My head fell back against the doorjamb as I groaned. That spellbinding, all-consuming pattern bound us together as it sank from his searing palm into my needy, throbbing cock. It wound its way through me, wove its way into my mind, until there was only one thing I could think—only one thing I could say—as I sank to my knees.

Yes.

Copyright © Rowan McBride

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