Binding 13

She didn’t want that from me.

Not even when I offered.

Sure, there were no feelings involved, and I had never been interested in having a relationship with her, but after spending six out of eight months with my dick inside her, I wasn't opposed to buying the girl di

I had offered on many occasions and she had declined every last one.

Because that wasn’t public enough.

Because Bella only wanted me when I was on full-view in the pub or at school, where she could show me off to all her friends like I was some prized fucking bull.

Bella had informed me via text message that she had moved on to Cormac Ryan from sixth year.

I had half suspected something was going on between the two for a while now because he had been acting shady as fuck around me.

Cormac had gotten the call up from The Academy during the summer. He'd been to a few sessions with the youth and competed in several bouts of trials.

So far, Cormac had been unsuccessful in earning a permanent placement contract and I wasn’t holding my breath for the guy.

That wasn’t me being a spiteful prick.

It was me stating facts.

He was a decent winger, but he needed to pull some serious magic out of the bag if he was to make it onto the main card with the club.

If he made it, good on him.

If he didn’t, I didn’t give a shite.

Cormac was in the year above me so we had never been friends, per se, but having played on the same team for the last five years, I had expected a little more loyalty.

And if Bella was looking to provoke a reaction out of me by screwing my teammate, she would be sorely disappointed because I would never give her the satisfaction.

Did it hurt?

Yes.

Did I feel betrayed?

Of course.

Did that mean I wanted her back?

Hell fucking no.

Because I couldn’t handle liars, and that's what she was.

I also didn’t cope well with mind games, which was exactly what she was trying to do to me.

Breaking up with me, going off with my teammate, and then turning right around and flooding my inbox and telling me she wanted me back was a prime example of the games this girl liked to play with me.

What she failed to understand was that it didn’t matter how many games she tried to play or how many times she promised to suck me off.

There was no going back there.

Not for me.

Maybe I was dead on the inside like Bella had suggested in the million text messages she'd sent me after I turned her offers of working things out down.

I didn’t think so.

I had feelings.

I cared about things.

Just not liars.

"I have a confession to make," Gibsie a

We were on our twenty-ninth out of thirty ordered laps of the pitch and he was starting to wilt.

Actually, I was on my twenty-ninth lap.

The rest of the team were on their fourteenth.

Gibsie was on his eighth, and the wilting began at lap four.

Now, he resembled a lad falling out of a nightclub at three in the morning with a belly full of Jager bombs.

He, along with the rest of them, needed to get it together because we had the School Boys Shield to play for next week and I had no intention of ru

These gobshites had ten days to get their shite together.

"Are you listening?" Gibsie growled in a breathless tone, grabbing onto my shoulder in the hopes that I would pull his lazy ass around. "Because this is serious."

"I'm listening," I told him, dragging in gulp of air and expelling it slowly. "Confess away."

"I have an insane urge to kick you in the balls –" Gibsie puffed out a ragged breath before he finished with, "And break what's left down there."

"The fuck?" Shaking his beefy hand off my shoulder for the hundredth time, I switched positions, jogging backwards so I could glare at the bastard. "Why?"

"Because you are a freak of nature, Kav," he panted, dragging himself along after me. "There is no goddamn way any fella in your position –" he pointed a finger at me and then sagged forward, pressing his hands to the back of his head, "with a broken dick should be able to run for this long without dropping dead." Groaning he added, "My cock's in perfect working order and it's fucking crying from exertion, Joh

"My dick's not broken, asshole," I growled, looking around to see if anyone heard us.

Thankfully, the rest of the team were at the other side of the pitch.

"I want a picture of it," he wheezed. "So I can show coach and pretend it's mine. He'll never make me run again."

"Keep talking about it and you won't need a picture to show coach," I bit out. "I'll cut your cock off and you can hand it to him instead."

Gibsie grimaced. "Still too soon to make jokes?"

I nodded stiffly and then spun around, recapturing my earlier pace, as I loomed closer to the finish line.

"Sorry lad," he panted, falling back into a hobbling run alongside me. "It's just u

"Do you honestly think this is easy for me?" I bit out.

If he did, then he was fucking crazy.

I had 'speed' because I spent most of my childhood and all of my teenage years working on my body.

While Gibsie and the lads were playing knock and run and spin the fucking bottle, I was on a pitch.

When they were chasing girls, I was chasing gains.

Rugby was my life.

This was all I had.

But the laborious pace I was keeping today was so far off my usual standard that it was pathetic.

I was sluggish and the only reason it wasn’t noticeable was because this was school level.

If I dragged my ass like this at The Academy, where I played alongside the best players in the country, then I'd be instantly called out on it.

My body was on fire and I was moving on sheer will.

Everything hurt to the point where I had to breathe through my nose to stop myself from vomiting. I would pay for the exertion with a sleepless night of writhing in agony, half a dozen painkillers, and a scalding hot bath in Epsom salts.

But I couldn’t stop.

I fucking refused to give in.

If I gave Coach Mulcahy a single inkling that I wasn’t up to par, he would call the heads at The Academy.

And if he called The Academy, I was screwed.

I slowed my pace when I reached the end zone, walking it out, keeping my muscles loose and moving.

If I stopped short, I was going to seize up, and I intended on doing just that in the privacy of my own car.

Swiping a bottle of water off the ground, I paced the sideline like a mad-man for several minutes, desperately trying to walk off the pain.

I didn’t dare perform a post run stretch-out.

I wasn’t that much of a masochist.

When my heartrate returned to normal, I waited for coach to give me the nod for early dismissal, then headed back to the changing rooms, my job for the day completed.

I hadn't realized Gibsie had followed me up the path until I heard him let out an earsplitting wolf whistle. "You're looking well, Claire-Bear!"

Curious, I followed his train of vision only to find two familiar looking blondes huddled under the awning outside the science building.