End Game (New York Stars Book 1)

SOME THINGS in life are worth regretting—not telling my mother that I was dating Liam before we went public isn’t one of them.

Sometimes, you have to take the bull by the balls (not the horns) and do what you want.

I did that when I moved to New York.

I’m doing that now by dating Liam.

I don’t need anyone’s permission.

I’m almost thirty years old—my mom doesn’t have to approve of my dating decisions so I don’t get grounded.

That’s why, as she berates me, I’m not stressed or tense. If anything, I’m eating ice cream for breakfast because it’s the weekend and I’m an adult who can do whatever the fuck I want.

“Mom?” I state, breaking into her tirade. “I don’t feel like spending the rest of my Saturday morning listening to you tell me that Liam and I shouldn’t be dating. We’re not related. It isn’t incestuous and you implying otherwise is just weird.”

“Gracie,” she snaps. “It’s all kinds of wrong. You grew up together!”

“From sixteen years old! Auntie Virginia knew Uncle Jak from when they were in kindergarten. You don’t think that’s creepy. Or do you?” I inquire, sticking the spoon back into the carton as I kick my legs up on my favorite part of this kitchen—the counter.

No, I didn’t get bent over it yesterday because Liam was exhausted after the party, but today is a brand-new day filled with exciting opportunities.

“Jakub and Ginnie have nothing to do with this. Why are you bringing them up?”

“Because you’re implying that my relationship with Liam is strange. I’m trying to understand what the problem is.”

“The problem is that he’s part of the family.”

“Isn’t that all for the better?” I insert smoothly. “What are you saying? That he’s not good enough for me or that I’m not good enough for him?”

“You lead completely different lives.”

That that’s her answer kind of kills my buzz because by not responding directly to the question, she’s saying that I’m the one who falls short here.

Typical.

I laugh to myself as I stick the spoon back in the ice cream. “Mom, I don’t have time for this conversation. If you want to moan and gripe about it to anyone, call Liam. He’ll tell you that we’re the only ones who matter in this relationship. Not you. Not Dad. Who, by the way, texted me earlier to tell me I looked pretty last night.” So there. “Regardless, I’m over what anyone thinks because no matter what I do, it never compares to what Kow, Noah, and Trent—”

“That isn’t true!”

“Sure it is. Maybe if I’d stuck around the printing shop, you wouldn’t have such a massive problem with me, but I don’t think that’s the case. I think you’d always have a problem with me because I’m a girl and, for whatever reason, you think that means you can give me crap when you don’t give any to my brothers.

“Kow’s a manwhore. Literally sticks his dick in any honey pot that buzzes around him. Noah’s got that little problem that the family doesn’t talk about, ya know, rage. And Trent, well, we both know why you don’t give him shit because he’d walk out of the door as soon as you tried to tell him how to live his life.

“They might earn millions for hitting a puck around, but you know what? I could earn the same at some point. Once I’ve got my MBA, the sky’s the limit, and my career won’t have an expiration date like the boys’ have.

“But what do you gripe about? That I should be working in one of the printing shops! Why don’t you care that that isn’t what I want to do with my life?”

When she stops spluttering, I muse, “Maybe we shouldn’t talk for a while, Mom.”

“Gracie!”

After everything I’ve said, that that’s all she can blurt out makes me narrow my eyes in annoyance. “What?”

“You can’t talk to your mother like that.”

“Too late. I already did. I’m tired of being the family punching bag. Tired of taking shit for the team when the team doesn’t want to take shit for me.

“One of your precious sons wants me to buy you a birthday gift because he can’t be bothered trawling the stores for you, and I’m the moron who’ll do it for him—but I’m the problem child.

“I’m the one who shouldn’t be in the city because it’s a dangerous place though a little boy is alive because of me. Yet, I’m also too dumb to keep from being mugged and it’s my fault someone targeted me. None of you, by the way, have even asked me how I’m doing after that.

“As for last night—”

That’s when Liam walks in, his cowlick scooped upward as he scrubs his hand over his face. “Your mom?”

“Who else?” I mouth back.

“You should have told me privately. You shouldn’t have let me find out from the newspapers,” Mom inserts now that I’ve given her a chance to reply.

“Why?” I demur. “So I could get this lecture a day early? I don’t think so. Your birthday card will be in the mail, Mom. I think I’ll be radio silent until you come to terms with the fact that I’m not only an adult, but that I deserve to be treated like one too.”

When I hang up the phone, Liam starts applauding.

Returning the tub of ice cream to the freezer, I have to grin. “Shut up.”

He rounds the counter with a smirk. “That was a long time coming.”

“It was. Trust me.” Wriggling my shoulders, I mumble, “That was a massive load off.”

His hand rubs the back of my neck. “To be honest, I’m surprised you took as much as you did from her.”

“Says the man who didn’t even realize my relationship with her was strained.”

“Hey!” he complains. “I might be slow out of the tunnel but once I pick up speed, I’ve got your back.”

Lips twisting, I nod. “You’re right.”

“What was her problem? I thought she’d be happy. She always says I’m like family.”

“You are. But you’re not the problem, Liam. I am.”

His frown turns immediately black. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m the one who’s flying too close to the sun by being with you.”

His mouth gapes and I’m faced with the wonderful sight of the Liam Donnghal being stunned into silence.

I gently tap under his chin to encourage him to close his mouth. “I’m not overly shocked that that’s her opinion. So you shouldn’t be either.”

“She actually said that?” he growls, moving nearer to me. So close, in fact, that I can smell his aftershave from last night.

We’d come in, he’d drawn me into the bedroom, then, after dragging off his clothes and setting my news channel on mute, we had fallen back onto the mattress and he’d almost immediately tumbled into sleep.

I hadn’t minded. Sure, he was a pussy tease, but I’d seen how the evening had drained him and I’d been quietly content to just lie there, relax, and read after the relatively stressful night.

“Gracie?!”

I blink up at him. “What?”

His hand rubs my neck again, his fingers taking the weight of my head as he urges me to answer, “Did she say that to you?”

That’s when I make the glorious mistake of biting my lip.

Immediately, he swoops in and kisses me.

It’s the most wonderful way to reset. Just that single peck, the sharing of personal space, breathing each other’s oxygen, grounds me. Brings me back to this moment.

It lets me say with a nonchalance I wasn’t feeling at the time, “About my not being good enough for you? Not in so many words, but I asked if that was her problem because she wasn’t making any sense and her nonanswer was my confirmation.”

I shrug as he tips me forward, pressing me into a hug that I didn’t need, because I am fine, but I’ll accept because he’s warm from sleep and smells good and feels even better.

“I’m so sorry,” he rasps. “I knew we should have told her privately.”

“Like I said to her—and get the lecture a day early?” I harrumph. “Nah. I’ll send her a birthday card and after that, I don’t want to hear from her for a while.” My hand settles on his arm as a thought occurs to me. “I don’t want this to affect your relationship with her, Liam.”

“How can it not? Jesus, Gracie, she can’t talk to you like that, one. Two, I won’t let you think I’ll back up that kind of behavior.”

“She’s practically your second mom and family matters to you,” I reason; hell, I’m not trying to ‘season’ his life with more people who care for him only to take Mom out of the picture. Talk about a step backward. “But my relationship with her is not yours. You get me?”

When he just scowls at me, I continue, “Look, Liam, she’s always got a problem with me. No matter what I do.

“This time, I’m just past the point of giving a damn because life is too short and if I want to spend my days with you pestering me, then that’s my prerogative and not hers.”

A chuckle escapes him, one that I feel as it rumbles through his chest. “Tell me you don’t enjoy me pestering you.”

With a smirk, I murmur, “Oh, I enjoy it. Very, very much.”

If that sounded more like a purr than anything else, that’s my voice box being a tease. Not me.

When he tips backward, urging me away from that little divot between his pecs that smells of him, I almost pout, but before I can, his lips are on mine and that’s even better than a hug.

I melt into him.

Literally, I just fall right into him because I know he’ll catch me.

Always.

As my arms slide around his waist, I hug him tighter, needing to be as close as I physically can be. Needing that more than he can know because this right here?

It’s acceptance.

It’s happiness.

It’s him knowing who I am and liking me anyway.

So when my lips part and I welcome his tongue inside me, my hand slides toward his hip. My fingers mess with the waistband of his shorts and, barely a second later, I slip them beneath the fabric and find his shaft.

He jolts, but he doesn’t stop me. If anything, how he groans against my mouth is sheer perfection.

As I shape his length, I take him into my palm and squeeze as I start to show him how much I appreciate him.

How much I want him.

Crave him.

When he pulls back, his forehead falls onto mine so he can rumble, “Fuck, Gracie. Fuck, bébé, you drive me goddamn crazy,” I just smile and drag his boxer briefs down the rest of the way.

Holding the base of his shaft, I tug free of his clasp on my neck and, bending at the waist, lower my head. When my lips find the tip of his dick, the guttural moan that he lets loose is music to my ears.

I made him make that noise.

Me.

I open up, sucking down before smoothing my tongue over the mushroom-shaped head.

Little beads of pre-cum have gathered there and I use that to lubricate the tip, smoothing it over the silky flesh.

Nibbling on the edge just so he will jolt in surprise, I switch tracks and suck. Hard. Making him buck into my mouth and hiss: “Gracie! What the fuck are you doing to me?”

I grin and hum around him, sucking on the tip in short pulses so that he can feel it on the most sensitive part of his cock.

When his hands find their way into my hair, I don’t argue. If anything, I enjoy the tug and pull at the roots as he steers me but mostly, I ignore his silent orders and do as I want.

This is my rodeo, not his.

I gather spit in my mouth and let it trickle down his shaft. “Cat got your tongue, Liam?” I ask, aware he’s been relatively silent since I started.

His chuckle sounds pained as I trace the veins at the back of his dick. “No, Gracie’s got it.”

“Right answer,” I croon, tilting my head so that I can press tiny bites to his length that I soothe with long licks that take me from root to tip.

“Stop teasing me.”

Maintaining eye contact, I flick my tongue over the slit. “But it’s so much fun.”

I shudder when his fingers tighten around the grip he has in my hair and he grinds out, “Shut the fuck up, Gracie, and take my cock like a good girl.”

Those words go straight to my clit.

Deliciously incentivized, I find the head again and start to take him into my mouth, bobbing low, rocking back and forth while I suck in my cheeks to give him the pressure I know he needs.

Hands finding his balls, that’s when I’m the one who comes across a surprise—right in the softness there, in that taut flesh, there’s a piercing.

Eyes widening as I explore it, I let my finger gather the slick spit that’s caught at the base of his dick, bubbling away with how fast I’m moving, then I let it drip onto his perineum, playing with the piercing as I go.

When I find the pucker of his ass, he doesn’t yell in distress or moan about men not liking that shit. If anything, he broadens his stance so that I can play.

At that moment, I have a problem of my own.

I’m wet and aching and in need.

Deciding that the good Lord gave me two hands for a reason, I find the waistband of my pajama bottoms and, parting my legs much as he had, I find my clit and, thoroughly busy, I start to rub it while I thrust a finger into his butt.

While he groans, he clenches around me and releases the deepest grunt I’ve ever heard him make.

For whatever reason, that’s broken him because he starts to growl, “That’s it, Gracie. You take my dick in your mouth. How wet are you, baby girl? That’s all for me, isn’t it? Because you love what you’re doing to me. You love teasing me, ma belle, don’t you? Don’t lie.”

There’s no chance of lying, not when my mouth is full of his dick, but he changes the parameters of the game and I’ve never been so grateful that I didn’t drop to my knees—his hands move from my hair and he presses against my pussy through my pajamas from behind.

As he rubs me there, it feels better than my own fingers. Suddenly desperate, I retreat and lower the waistband onto my hips. A hissed laugh escapes him as I swallow around him, each gulp letting me take him deeper until my nose is burrowed in his pubis and the silver piercing cocooned there rubs the tip in a soft greeting.

That’s when he takes over—his hand finds my clit, one sliding into my pussy, the other just pleasuring me like no one ever has. The parameters of our position mean that I’m pretty much deep-throating him, but choking on a dick has never been more fun.

What a way to go.

“You’re so wet. I knew it. My filthy bébé. So fucking filthy for me. I wouldn’t have you any other way, Gracie.” The words are snarled but it’s when his fingers find my G-spot that I start shuddering. Then, he reels me in for the kill. “You’re perfect to me, do you know that? This sweet cunt—there’s no better out there. It’s made for my dick. And your mouth? Tabarnak. I couldn’t have known that it’d be perfect. But it is. So perfect. You take every fucking inch. Mon Dieu!”

His words take me higher than I ever thought possible.

As ecstasy whistles through my system, I wiggle my fingers, wanting to overwhelm him with pleasure in return.

He has his own special spot that I hunt with my homeland security skills, and I don’t stop until I make him jerk in my mouth. Until his seed explodes down my throat. Until it pours inside me as he releases the darkest, deepest of moans while I milk his prostate and I almost choke on just how much cum he releases.

But he doesn’t stop teasing me either.

His fingers carry on, continuing their torture, and because we’re in sync in a way I didn’t anticipate, as I swallow his release, I find my own and it’s incandescent.

Overwhelming.

So loaded with him that it might as well be Liam-shaped. Just like that part of my heart that’s starting to exist solely for him…