The Endgame (Atlanta Lightning 1)

“Keep going for me. Let me see you bring yourself off. I want you to say my name when you come. Pretend I’m there with you and scream it.”

He wasn’t moving, wasn’t jerking himself. I didn’t know how in the hell he wasn’t going crazy like I was, but in that moment, I didn’t care. All I wanted was to come. I shoved my underwear down my thighs, then fisted my dick again, stroking hard and fast. My balls were ready to let loose in what felt like two seconds flat. My toes curled, and my world spun as I closed my eyes and shouted, “West!” just as the first spurt pulled from my nuts. Then I came again, come shooting all over my stomach as I said, “West, West, West,” over and over again.

“Fucking beautiful,” he said, making my cheeks heat.

“God, I needed that.”

He grinned. “I hate to do this, but I have to go. I have a last-minute flight to catch that I’m dangerously close to missing.”

“Wait, what? You’re at home.”

“I was about to head out when you called.”

“West, you should have said something.”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but it did. He knew I needed him, and he’d been there.

I love you.

I loved him so fucking much.

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” he said.

“Wait!” I rushed out before he ended the call. “Thank you. I…I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

West cocked a brow, and I knew before he spoke he wasn’t going to answer seriously. “Most people don’t. Talk soon, Bashful.”

Then he clicked off before I could respond.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Weston

January – February

I was tired, fucking exhausted. It had been a crazy few weeks. Right after New Year was always the most hectic for me. Between the travel and everything else, I just wanted to relax and do nothing, but I couldn’t.

Instead, I was schmoozing at a fundraiser for political campaigns. People had paid entirely too much per plate to attend, and all I could think about were the good causes that kind of money could support.

The ballroom was packed, with at least three hundred people in attendance, and I was doing my part, making my way around the room, shaking hands, a smile plastered on my face while telling people what they wanted to hear. I hated this part of politics, kissing ass to be able to get anything done, when half the time it didn’t matter anyway. There was always so much fucking red tape.

This, tonight, was all fake, and it reminded me of my father.

Also, my fucking boyfriend was playing in the second round of the playoffs, and I’d much rather be watching him than…wait. Anson wasn’t my boyfriend.

I sneaked into a corner, pulled my phone out, and checked the score. “Shit,” I cursed. It was the third quarter, and the Lightning were down by ten points. “Come on, Bashful. You can do this. I know you can do it.”

“Boo!” Jeremy said, making me fumble my phone and watching as it fell to the floor. He often frequented events like this too.

“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.” I bent to pick it up, wishing I wasn’t in a damn tux.

“Why are you hiding?”

“Just over it. This—all of it—feels so fake, ya know? It doesn’t feel like we’re doing anything real.”

Jeremy frowned. “We’re trying to do something real. A lot of real things. This is part of the game, and it sucks, but that’s the way it is. Don’t let this detract from the things you’ve accomplished—free childcare for struggling families, tripling after-school programs, especially in low-income areas. You got shit done, West.”

But it didn’t feel like enough. It was never enough.

“You’re a disappointment, Weston.”

I shook my father’s voice from my head. He was the last person I wanted to think about.

“What’s up with you?” Jeremy asked. “Something’s different. Has been for months. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know it’s there.”

There’s a guy, and I care about him, but he’ll never be mine.

Goddamned Anson. He was fucking with my head. “Nothing’s going on with me, except what I just said. I’m starting to feel like it’s all for nothing.”

“Who are you right now? West, you care about people more than anyone sees or knows. It’s not all for nothing. I’m your best friend; have been since college. Yes, something’s going on with you. Hell, you don’t even go out anymore. I can’t remember the last time you were with a man and…wait. Why haven’t I seen you with a guy? Or heard about a guy?”

“Because I’ve been busy.” It wasn’t a lie. I had been.

“When’s the last time you went out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to fuck tonight?”

“Did you ask your husband first?”

“Rules don’t apply with you. You’re always a freebie.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to have sex tonight.”