International Men of Sports 3
w/ Devon Rhodes
Book Three in the International Men of Sports series.
Excelling at the game he loved was everything to King, until Lukas showed him at first touch how much better his life could be…
Ewansiha ‘King’ Kroenig is at the pinnacle of his professional football career, even with a problem knee. He keeps his cool and keeps his head down, and that control has served him well. King is bisexual and has been known to date beautiful women, while he also occasionally satisfies his craving for men with the team’s trainer. It’s a good life, but starting with one bizarre and personal request from his ex, Silvia, his orderly life goes spinning out of control.
Lukas has no problem admitting he’s gay, but with a loudly homophobic team captain, he knows better than to go there around the team. He has his whole career ahead of him and is being groomed to take over for their star player, King Kroenig. If he admires King for more than his athletic prowess, what can it hurt?
No harm, no foul…until a certain trainer who knows them both well decides to play matchmaker, then all bets are off. And once they’ve experienced that first taste, they want more. But it’s not as simple as hooking up or dating when you’re teammates, with high profiles and little privacy. And when they each suddenly gain responsibilities they never expected, they must figure out a way to reconcile their personal lives with the expectations of others.
Reader Advisory: This book contains one MMM ménage scene and brief references to offscreen underage sex.
“Hey, King, are you still dating that brunette?”
Ewansiha looked up from where he stood in front of his locker. Padraig O’Leary stared at him, obviously waiting for him to answer his question. Ewansiha had never really understood why Padraig had started calling him King, even though that’s what his last name meant. He’d asked O’Leary about it once, and the man had said it was because he was the star of the team and the highest paid, so that made him the king.
“Well, are you?” Padraig stripped off his jersey then tossed it towards the hamper in the middle of the locker room.
“No. She was more interested in being a WAG than having a relationship with me,” he answered, referring to the acronym for women in the ‘Wives And Girlfriends club’. “Do I look like Beckham? And let me tell you something. She wasn’t Posh Spice either.”
“Who the fuck cares who she is? Man, the way she looks, she has to be a wildcat in bed.” Padraig waggled his eyebrows, and Ewansiha’s fellow teammates laughed as their captain held out his hands in the universal sign for big breasts.
Barely able to keep from showing his disgust for Padraig’s sexist remarks, Ewansiha shrugged. “She wasn’t bad. I’ve had better.”
With that comment, he finished removing his workout gear, throwing it in his locker before grabbing his shower stuff. He was done listening to them since he knew it would devolve into bedroom exploits, and while some of those guys were gorgeous, Ewansiha had no interest in knowing what the men liked in bed.
Being black was hard enough at times because of the racism he’d often encountered over the years. Being black and gay could get him killed. It was wrong and Ewansiha was ashamed for thinking it, but at times he was glad he was bisexual, so he could hide the fact that he liked guys as well behind the women he dated.
Oh, he’d managed to find guys to fuck without worrying about them outing him, but when it came to parties and clubs, he’d bring a woman then he’d lose her for a few hours while he went to find a little male companionship. Most of the time, the women weren’t interested in where he went. They were at the events to be seen with famous or infamous people.
Ewansiha turned one of the showers on then waited until the water heated up before he climbed in.
“O’Leary up to his usual bragging?”
He whirled around to see Lukas Schulz standing there, in all his naked glory. Ewansiha took a deep breath, trying not to let his gaze trail over Lukas’ chest to his flat stomach and everything that lay beyond it. While he tried to ignore the other men on his team, Lukas was one of the few he couldn’t keep from staring at.
“The man is a pig,” Lukas commented before stepping into the stall next to Ewansiha’s.
“Oh right. Yeah, he is, but he’s a stud. Captain of a top professional football team. He has to be a little arrogant.” Ewansiha stepped into his shower, letting the hot water pound on his shoulders.
Lukas snorted. “A little arrogance is fine. He’s a smug asshole, and it’s annoying.”
Ewansiha had never heard anyone talk about Padraig like that. Of course, it was how he thought of the captain, but he kept his mouth shut. Ewansiha wasn’t the type to rock the boat, and he wasn’t interested in getting a reputation as a prima donna. There could only be one on each team and Paolo Lancaster was theirs.
For all of Padraig’s bravado and assholishness, he wasn’t a prima donna. He was just obnoxious and ignorant. Paolo was their top goalkeeper, and a media darling. All the stupid shit he did was front page news for the tabloids. It was annoying, but Paolo’s adventures kept the reporters and paparazzi away from Ewansiha’s life, so he didn’t make a big deal about him.
“That’s true as well. You did well in practice today. How’s your knee doing?” Lukas shot him a glance as he ducked his head under the water.
Trying to ignore how good Lukas looked, his hard body glistening with water, Ewansiha grabbed his bottle of shampoo and nodded. “Yeah, it’s almost as good as new. A few more practices to strengthen it, and I’ll be at a hundred per cent.”
Lukas grunted. “Good news, King. Team’s not the same without you.”
“Ah, but you and Colfer can take up the slack. You’re just as good as I am. Why haven’t you got the big contract yet?” Ewansiha had wondered that before. Lukas had an insanely fast first touch time—he could get control of the ball and make the ideal move or pass moments later—and he was position versatile. So, when Ewansiha’d suffered his injury last season, he’d been afraid that Lukas would take over his starter’s position on the team.
Ewansiha was at the peak of his athletic prowess, but the injury he’d sustained had been severe enough that he knew it had shortened his playing career. His retirement wouldn’t happen in the next couple of seasons, but it would happen, and far sooner than he would’ve liked.
“They’re not going to give me more money with you, Padraig and Paolo around.” Lukas shrugged. “I’m in no hurry. As long as I don’t get injured too badly, I’ve got time to make it big.”
“And the talent too,” Ewansiha said as he finished rinsing the soap away then turned the water off.
Scrubbing his towel over his head, he took advantage of the fabric covering his eyes to peer around the edge to get a glimpse of Lukas’ tight ass. He’d heard too many athletes being compared to Michelangelo’s statue of David, but hell if that comparison didn’t fit Lukas to a T. Ewansiha wanted to kneel behind the man and bite one of those firm butt cheeks.