Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps #1)(26)

Luck wasn’t necessary, but a half hour later, my interest in Alex had waned. I really was tired. Plus, we’d have to go to his place, and then I’d have to jet back to Houston’s in the morning before football. Or we’d have to fuck in a bathroom, which I wasn’t usually against but wasn’t in the mood for tonight. It had absolutely nothing to do with that split-second look in Ramsey’s eyes earlier. Nothing at all.





The next morning I woke up to my phone vibrating incessantly.

Ramsey: Hey

Ramsey: You awake?

Ramsey: We’re going out next Monday night.

Garrett: I usually like to be asked, but I can appreciate alpha male initiative. Pick me up at 8. I hate roses and daisies. Tulips are fine.

Ramsey: FFS. I can see you’re still typing. Don’t even bother with some dumb two-lips joke.

Garrett: Fine. Okay, so where are we going?

Ramsey: To find me a hookup.

Ramsey: If you’ve got that stupid cocky grin on your face right now, wipe it off.

Ramsey: You’re now my default wingman option due to proximity.





I did have a cocky grin on my face, and when it ebbed, it wasn’t because of his second comment but because I was beginning to suspect my generosity was about to bite me in the ass.

Damn.





7





RAMSEY





I’d finally found the way to shut up Garrett McRae.

I tilted my head down, took in the sight of him on his knees, looking up at me with big, brown eyes full of heat and a mouth stuffed with my cock.

Fuck yeah.

He bobbed on me, taking me to the back of his throat, working his tongue just right, swallowing around the head every time I thrust my hips forward to fuck his pretty, smart-ass mouth.

“I like this Garrett. Hard to talk shit with my dick stretching out your lips.”

Mischief and fiery want sparked in his eyes, making Garrett’s pupils blow wide. He pulled off, leaned close, inhaling deeply before lapping at my balls. “Of course you like this Garrett. I’m gonna make you come so hard, all your future orgasms will fail to compare.”

My dick jerked, and my knees buckled. Why did he get to me so fucking much? That shouldn’t have been hot, but it was. “You wish, Little G. Now shut up and suck my cock. I’m getting bored.”

He laughed. “Only because I want you to remember that the best orgasm of your life was from me…and I might want to drain a load out of your balls too.”

I held his head, pushed past his lips, and snapped my hips forward. Garrett took it like a champ, like if there were a cock-sucking Olympics, he’d win gold every fucking time.

One kiss. All it had taken was one goddamned kiss to get us here.

He whimpered, and I grinned. “Yeah, there we go, take that dick like a good boy.”

He lifted his arm and gave me the finger. Only Garrett would flip someone off during head.

But then that hand lowered to my balls next, cupping and tugging on them just a little before his finger sneaked back to rub my taint. Tingles started at the base of my spine, my vision went blurry, and—

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Oh fuck.” My eyes popped open at the sound of my alarm going off. “Goddamn, son of a bitch, Garrett fucking McRae.” Even Dream Garrett, sucking my cock, was annoying, because somehow, it was his fault he didn’t coax an orgasm out of me before I woke up.

It had been like this all week. I didn’t know how he managed to get inside my head so thoroughly, but he had. It was unnerving as hell. I’d never experienced something like this before. I sure as shit hadn’t had sex dreams about someone days in a row just because they’d mock-hit on me. He threw out the anchor and somehow caught my ass, but I would never tell him that.

My alarm went off again, so I reached over, grabbed my phone, and turned it off before plucking the lube out of my nightstand drawer. I slicked up, dropped my hand below the blanket, and took my dick in hand. I was aching, balls full, precum pooling in one of the valleys between my stomach muscles.

I kicked free of the comforter. My hand didn’t feel as good as Fantasy Garrett’s mouth, but it would get me off. I needed to get laid. It had been too long. Hell, was Alyssa the last one? I was pretty sure she had been. I didn’t ever go this many months without getting my dick wet.

I had a feeling I knew the culprit behind why I’d waited.

I tightened my hold, stroked myself with long, lazy pulls before speeding up, jacking myself quickly, then taking it down a notch again. I focused on the crown, twisting my slick palm around my glans, little bursts of pleasure going off inside me, multiplying as I rubbed myself just right.

Before I knew it, my whole body was tingling, all those pinpoints of satisfaction coming together to explode in one giant fuck yes when my balls drew up and I shot all over my stomach, chest, and hand.

Damned if brown eyes and a cocky grin didn’t flash behind my closed eyelids when I did.

With a frustrated growl, I climbed out of bed and went straight for the shower. Tuesdays were our only days off, which was why I’d chosen Monday to go out with Garrett. Hopefully, I’d have enough fun that I’d need to sleep in the next morning.

Depending on our schedule each week, Fridays were often reserved for games or traveling. Football season was a grueling six months, but there was nothing I loved more. Where my dad had floundered under the curfews, schedule, and discipline, I flourished. It was possible to have a good time and be in the NFL.