Page 151 of The Play

“Anything and everything,” Deacon said, and he crawled over Grant and his kiss, which had been hot before, was incendiary now, burning Grant from the inside out.

It blew the rest of Grant’s mind at how completely Deacon took over. Like he’d just been holding back, waiting for the minute Grant asked for it, his hands working Grant’s pants off and then his underwear. Each brush of those big calloused fingers made him harder, until he was panting and straining against Deacon’s hold.

“I got you,” Deacon murmured, and he disappeared for a second but was back before Grant could think about moving.

He leaned down, the first brush of his lips against Grant’s cock making him moan. Before Grant caught his breath and adjusted to the pleasure shooting through him, there was a single wet brush of a fingertip between his legs, against his hole.

Grant squirmed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna take everything I give you, baby,” Deacon crooned.

Then, dipping his head low, he began to suck Grant’s cock in earnest, slipping it between his lips and driving Grant crazy with the teasing brushes of his fingers.

Finally, he slid just a fingertip in, and Grant had to squeeze his eyes shut, the visual of how fucking gorgeous Deacon was, like this, given over to his pleasure, sending him right to the edge.

He didn’t want to be there yet. He wanted to enjoy this. Wanted Deacon to slide his cock in and take him apart from the inside out.

“Not yet,” Deacon murmured.

Had anyone ever been so in-tune with what he wanted—what he needed? Grant didn’t think so. Every lick, every brush and thrust of his fingers unwound him a little bit. But each time it felt like he got close, too close to losing it, he didn’t stop entirely, but pulled back just enough.

Enough to drive Grant wild.

By the time Deacon was three fingers deep, thrusting lazily and with intent, Grant was sobbing into the pillow, thrashing his head as Deacon wrung out more and more pleasure from him than he thought he could possibly take.

But it wasn’t only Grant at the edge of his control—when Deacon finally slipped his fingers out and shed his jeans, gripping Grant’s thighs with a power that left grooves in his skin, Deacon’s fingers were shaking and his breath was coming in long, drawn-out gusts.

“God, I want you. I love you. Seeing you like this . . .” Deacon said unsteadily and then pushed inside.

Grant cried out, and it was so easy to lose himself to the easy thrusts of Deacon’s body. The way he took him over, turned him inside out, made him cry with how goddamn amazing it felt.

He knew the moment Deacon lost it, too, because his thrusts went deeper, harder, and it only took a brush of his hand over his cock for him to clench down and fall into his orgasm.

Deacon followed half a second later, groaning loudly as he ground into Grant’s body.

A few minutes later, Deacon settled back into bed after he disposed of the cloth he’d brought to clean both of them.

Grant flopped over his chest, unable to help the slow smile that overtook his face.

“That was . . .” Grant sighed, happily.

“Yeah.” Deacon’s voice was gruff but full of affection.

Grant could have easily fallen asleep like this, but he could feel a tiny bit of tension in the man underneath him. So he waited. There was something Deacon wanted to say, but it was no use rushing it out of him.

“You know,” he finally said, “you’re not the only one who likes that.”

That was not what Grant had expected him to say.

They hadn’t ever discussed it—but then why would they, when clearly Grant loved being fucked so much, especially when the man doing the fucking was Deacon?

“Really?” Grant didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but he did.

Deacon chuckled, a low rumble underneath him. “I don’t usually do it during the season. I worry, probably more than is necessary, about it affecting my performance on the field. But yeah. If there’s someone I trust, I do. And I trust you.”

“That means we’ve both got something to look forward to, when the season ends.”

“You’d be interested in doing that?” Deacon sounded unsure.

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