Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He collapsed on top of me seconds later. When I tried to move from beneath him, he closed his hands around my wrists and kept me still as he spoke. “Next time, this goes in your ass, and don’t tell me there won’t be a next time because you and I both know there will be.” He rolled his hips against me once more, softening cock smearing his release and sending a fresh jolt of desire through me that warred with the fury of him being able to pin me down. “I fucking own this ass, and I’ll be the one to take it first.”
“Fuck you,” I spat out.
“If you’re lucky, Bougie.”
And then he released me and was out the door so damn fast I checked the floor to make sure he’d taken his clothes with him. They were gone, but no way he’d had time to put them on.
PART TWO
Second Half
This section crosses over with the timeline of False Start, occurring during Cullen Atwood’s first season with the Denver Rush.
10
TUCKER
September
I hadn’t had sex in months, and it was fucking with my brain.
After that night with Patrick at the party, I just…hadn’t fucked anyone. At first, I didn’t notice, but then about a month in, I realized I hadn’t hooked up or even tried to hook up with anyone in four long weeks.
That truth bomb had fucked with my brain. Why hadn’t I really thought about indulging in a night of pleasure with another person? I was young and single. There was no reason not to have a good time. Hell, I spent part of the off-season in Florida with my family, and there were a few ladies there that were regulars for me, yet I’d never called them, and when they called me, I never answered.
It wasn’t because I was stuck on him because fuck that noise, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how he had melted beneath my touch. How hungry he’d been for my cock and how needy my dick felt for him, too. It had become an obsession until eventually, I knew that no one would satisfy me until I had him beneath me.
Until I had his ass.
Yet, I didn’t call or text him, and Patrick didn’t call or text me.
He wouldn’t, though, would he? Not after how I had told him his ass was mine, then walked out on him.
That was maybe a mistake.
Or not.
Who the fuck knew?
At the time, I’d told myself it was because Whitt had dismissed me the night of Christmas Eve, and yeah, while having the last word had been fucking great, there was more to it than that.
It was how much I’d wanted to possess him, how much I really expected him to save his hole for me, that even back then had been fucking with my brain.
Time hadn’t dulled that shit.
I just needed to fuck him and be done with it, but I wasn’t making any moves to enable that to happen either.
God, I hated him.
Only I didn’t.
Point proven by the fact that we were in the locker room after our first practice of the season with our new wide receiver, Cullen Atwood, and while he was going back and forth with Baby G and Ramsey, all I kept thinking was how much of a cocky motherfucker Atwood was, which reminded me of a certain someone who wouldn’t be named. Atwood had been traded for Nance, who I couldn’t say I would miss. He’d always been a dick but showed his true homophobic colors last season when Garrett was an out and proud bi man. It had only gotten worse since the whole world knew G and Ramsey were together, so basically, the trash had been taken out.
I wasn’t sure about Atwood yet, though. He was a dream receiver on the field, but his life outside of it was a mess. He’d been known to party and get into a lot of trouble. He was a hothead, and that wasn’t something that me or Rams would deal with on our team. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and not judge him yet, though.
I stepped closer to the trio, ready to get my thoughts off Patrick and onto shit that mattered, just as Garrett said to Atwood, “I’d offer to hang right now, but football gets me horny, so I’m gonna take Ramsey home and let him score on me.”
I groaned, less because of what Garrett said and more because I wanted to score on someone, too, and the innocent comment just reminded me of that. “They do this all the time,” I told Atwood.
“Says the guy who has my boyfriend’s hand up in his ass?” Garrett replied.
Jesus fucking Christ. Only Baby G.
I ignored his comment and let Ramsey deal with him, the two of them both trying to tackle each other in the middle of the locker room.