The Endgame (Atlanta Lightning 1)

His breathing was getting faster, his thrusts more urgent, his hand tighter in my hair. My cock was aching. “I’m gonna come, Anson. If you don’t want a mouthful, pull off now.”

But I did. I wanted his release all over my tongue, down my throat, in my stomach. Wanted to know what he tasted like straight from the source, so I kept going, kept sucking him until his body bowed upward and his dick jerked in my mouth. West shot, then shot again, his load hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed him down, then sucked harder, hoping for more. He shot again, and I took that too, proud of myself for working that out of his balls.

West grabbed me and pulled me toward him. I straddled his waist, but he kept pulling until I was at his chest. “Feed it to me. Take my mouth as hard as you want.”

Need incinerated my insides. I thrust into his mouth, and West took it, didn’t even fucking gag as I pumped my hips into his face. He grabbed my ass, slid his finger down my crack, and pulled me open. I fumbled my thrusts. West let go, and I forced out, “No, don’t stop,” still fucking his mouth. He spread me again and rubbed a finger over my hole. It was embarrassing, but this was him, and I wanted it. He tapped me there as I savored the hot suction of his mouth. He pushed at my entrance, not quite sliding inside, and my orgasm swept through me. I fisted my hands on his headboard, fucking roared as I filled his mouth, and West swallowed me down like he was starving for me.

Suddenly I was lying beside him, a sweaty mess. “Shh.” He brushed the hair back from my face, wiped his thumb beneath my eye, and Christ, was I fucking crying? I tried to pull away, to get out of bed, but West held me there, held me down. I tried to turn my head, but he wouldn’t let me do that either. He just wiped my face, kissed my cheek, my lips, my forehead until I gave in and let him take care of me.

We didn’t speak. Eventually, he lay on his back, pulled me toward him, turned off the light, and held me close. I fell asleep against his chest.

Chapter Twenty

Weston

I dreaded the alarm the next morning. It had taken me forever to fall asleep. I’d set the alarm on my phone and lain there, holding Anson and thinking.

The last twenty-four hours were supposed to get him out of my system, but it hadn’t worked. If anything, we were more entwined. He was tangled and knotted around me in ways no one had ever been, in ways I wasn’t sure I could unravel. I wanted more with him. I told myself it was because I hadn’t fucked him, or he hadn’t fucked me, but I knew that wasn’t true. It was a lie that made things easier, because any other option spelled trouble.

Trying for anything more than what we’d had would be a disaster. It was destined to fail and risked Anson’s career.

So I’d shoved those thoughts away, finally letting myself get some sleep, but it felt like the moment I closed my eyes, the alarm went off.

I could tell Anson woke with it. His body stiffened against mine as we lay there in the dark. “I, um…I’m sorry I lost it. That was really fucking embarrassing. I don’t know what that was about.”

I did. It was about how shitty the fucking world was. How shitty sports were. About denying who he was and telling himself he could walk away from men after today. I didn’t tell him those things because he already knew them. “Don’t apologize. We’re friends, right? Friends are there for each other.”

Friends. But my relationship with Anson didn’t feel the same as my relationship with Jeremy, and the word tasted wrong on my tongue.

“Yeah, friends,” Anson said. “I gotta take a piss.” He got out of bed, went to the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and then I heard the shower start. I sent a message to my secretary that I would be in late, then sat on the edge of my bed and waited for him.

Anson’s shower was quick. He came out a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist. His bag had made it upstairs at some point the day before. He dug inside it, and I went into the bathroom to take my own shower. I left the door open, and when he came in, he was already dressed. He didn’t look at me as he brushed his teeth.

Before I knew it, we were in my car, heading to the airport. My fingers beat against the steering wheel as I drove. It was still dark, and traffic wasn’t too bad yet. With each mile I drove, my heart beat harder and my body wound tighter.