A Very Filthy Game – Winner Takes All Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
<<<<172735363738394757>71
Advertisement


I grope my erection, stroke it a few times. I reach for the lotion on the coffee table and slick myself up quickly.

“Show me how hard it would be to say no,” I say as I indulge in the filthy sight in front of me. Gunnar standing against the window, skyscrapers watching him, offices across the way able to see him. Anyone walking by who happened to look up could see the back of the man, his hips jerking hard and fast.

If they only knew what got him off so savagely.

Me.

Just me. Sitting here like a king in my penthouse in San Francisco telling him what I want.

“Show me,” I tell him. “Show me right now.”

I grip my cock harder, stroke it faster as I record in my mind every second of his beautiful body fucking his fist. His hips pumping and snapping. His fist racing. His lips parted.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Babe, I’m going to come so fucking hard.”

On an upstroke he squeezes the head and angles his cock so his come spurts all over his stomach and onto his hand.

I am nothing but heat and desire as I thrust into my palm. “Now watch me.”

His eyes snap open and, like he can’t quite believe he got to both feel that and see this, he gazes longingly at me as I take myself over the edge. Pleasure whips through me as my climax unloads all over my stomach too.

I say his name, a low, guttural Gunnar as the final drops spill all over my chest. Then I spread my release all over my abs and tell him, “I might let you do that to me next time.”

“You better,” he says.

I shudder, basking in the shock waves. Then I tell him to go clean up and call me back.

I’m cleaned up, too, when the phone rings a few minutes later, his face on the screen again. He’s sprawled out on his bed, exhausted.

“I’m still not saying yes,” he says.

“I know. But I wanted you to know what I could give you.”

“Message received. But do you understand where I’m coming from?” His voice is gentle, a little imploring. It works its way into my cold heart.

“I do. And I respect the way you’re thinking. I still want you to say yes, Gunnar. But right now, I’m going to let you go so you have the space to think for yourself.”

He chuckles. “You made me come hard so I could think for myself?”

“I made you come hard because that’s what you want from me. And you can have all of that. I won’t distract you from baseball or your family.”

“I know you think you won’t . . .” He shuts his mouth and says nothing more. But I know he’s thinking what I am. It’s already too late for that.

Perhaps it’s good that we have some time apart. “Gunnar, I’m not going to call you again while you’re in New York. And you won’t call me either. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. You do, Rafe.”

He loves following orders and I know he will follow this one. I say goodbye and I tell myself I won’t think of him.

But I know it’s a lie as I get to work the next day on a new business deal.

28

DO I STAY OR GO?

Gunnar

Today I’m going to leave it all on the field.

After the national anthem, I knock fists with Zane as we trot to the dugout to get ready for our at-bats. “Let’s do this,” I say.

“No, let’s sweep this,” he corrects.

Well, yeah. “Obviously.”

Our left fielder bats first and strikes out. Zane ekes out a single, then steals second. When it’s my turn, the announcer warbles, “And now, batting third for the San Francisco Dragons . . . Gunnar Ford.”

I come to the plate, and two pitches later, I send Zane home on an RBI single in the first inning.

He gives an extra jump as he crosses home plate, and like that, we fall into the rhythm for the game.

For the next few innings we play tight, tense ball, padding our lead little by little. There are no distractions in my head today or my heart. My focus is solely on the game. That’s not hard because this sport lights me up. Always has, from the first time my dad and I played in a local park.

As I jog to third base at the bottom of the fifth to man the hot corner, I think of the promise I made Dad when he was sick. I was just a kid, barely in middle school, but I told him I’d look out for Mom, for Jamie, and for Charlie, my little brother.

This is how I keep my promise.

When the Comets slugger, Tanner Sloan, comes to the plate and sends a scorching line drive my way, I dive for it, slamming into the dirt, my glove stretched out and my leather victorious.


Advertisement

<<<<172735363738394757>71

Advertisement