End Game (New York Stars Book 1)

KEEPING AN EYE ON HUDSON, whose AirPods are in his ears as usual, I lower myself into the shadows, fully aware that Liam’s pouting over not scoring again in tonight’s game.

A win is a win even if it was in a shoot out where he failed to follow through, but there’s no way I’m dealing with his grouchy ass all night long. Some cheering up is definitely required.

Carefully, I grab his zipper, aware that his head whipped away from the window at my first touch.

When I tug it down, he snaps out a breath and then grunts as I pull his dick from within the folds of his dress pants. Not that he tries to stop me, but he rumbles, “Gracie—”

I don’t let him finish.

I just suck the tip into my mouth and flutter my tongue around it. His hips jerk back in surprise and I can feel the muscles in his abs flex as his whole body responds to that one move.

If that isn’t great for my confidence, I don’t know what is.

Staring up at him as I flood his shaft with spit, I start to rock my head, letting him sink deeper into my mouth. One hand rakes through my hair as he holds me to him. As for the other, he settles his elbow on the armrest and leans his head on it to watch me in the play of lights from oncoming traffic.

His posture is so lazily indulgent that sparks of pleasure whisper through me as if I were touching myself.

His hand on the back of my head starts to tighten and release in my hair, encouraging me to take the pace he’s setting.

Because this is for him, and because I can’t take this much further with Hudson so close, I follow his wishes.

He pushes me past my comfort zone, but he does it in a way that would give me time to stop him if I needed.

I want to please him though.

I want that so much, it shocks even me.

We’re both getting shit from the press so reconnecting in this simple way nourishes something in me that’s been on edge since the Stars’ winning streak ended.

I know what it means—he’s happy.

When he’s miserable, he plays like a god.

How can I be on edge about making him happy?

Welcome to the bittersweet world of being a PAL for a pro athlete.

Head bobbing in his lap, I swallow around him. As I suck him and tease him, the hold on my hair is interspersed with soft strokes of his fingertips at my mouth.

It’s a tender caress. Dare I say… a loving one?

Tongue fluttering along that thick vein on the underside of his shaft, I draw him ever closer to the edge.

It’s weird having to be silent, especially when I realize how noisy we are together, but there’s no denying it makes this even hotter.

When his hips rock forward, the motion sharp and unexpected, I cough around his dick then quickly force myself to relax because he’s exploding in my mouth—cum jettisoning down my throat as he hisses with pleasure.

My eyes are watering, but hell if I don’t feel proud as I swallow everything he can give me.

When he’s finished, when I lick him clean, making sure I get every last drop, when I pat his closed fly once I tuck him behind it, I press my lips to his.

He groans as his tongue swipes out to taste himself, but I pull back to murmur, “Told you I was a good girl.”