Page 93 of Knot My Only Fan

“Come for me, baby.” I tease her clit with gentle scrapes of my teeth, as my fingers pump in and out of her. I add a third finger. Her back arches off the bed and she starts riding them as I suck on her clit.

“Stanton!” she cries out as her slick gushes from her pussy, but I don’t stop, instead I lap every drop.

Savoring the sweetness on my tongue, I let out a low moan as I eagerly devour her pussy. Her body trembles as I taste her, and I know she is falling apart.

My cock weeps on the bed, and my knot aches. If I’m not careful, it’ll be too full to lock inside her.

“Stanton, that was...” She sucks in a soft breath.

An unusual feeling of pride washes over me as I embrace her tightly against my chest. I gently press my lips on the top of her damp forehead, wanting so badly to knot her, but her eyes are near closed, and I can wait. “Let’s clean you up and get dinner.”

Her eyes shoot open. “No way, I want your knot.”

I smile. “You’re going to need food first.”

Chapter 30

Lucas

I don’t enjoy nightclubs, and considering I play hockey in stadiums with up to twenty thousand seats, I don’t like enormous crowds. There’s something comforting about spending time by myself. I’m used to it now … being alone.

Stanton is concerned about the fact that I drink alone and he thinks it’s unhealthy. I don’t give a shit. His childhood was filled with hardships, and he thinks mine was blessed.

He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

Tonight is harder than most.

My head is fuzzy. I’ve lost count of how many bourbons I’ve had as I try to get the vision out of my mind of her wearing his shirt … his name… his number. And then at the press conference afterwards, hearing him gush about finding the love of his life.

And telling the world he was about to be a father.

Stanton drinks with the rest of the team after most of our games. Tonight, I know he’s with her.

When I gave them my blessing, I never expected for them to get together so quickly. I hate it, and deep down, I secretly wished she’d proposed an alternative solution.

What the fuck, Lucas?

A stabbing sensation cuts through my abdomen.

Why does it hurt so fucking much?

I knock back the tumbler, gulping more of the amber liquid inside. Feeling the burn as it glides down my throat.

“Fuck!”

Having a custom-made jersey made with his name over where my baby is growing doesn’t make it his. And I want to strangle him, before I remind her the baby inside her is mine, not his.

I take another gulp of the burning liquid before I spin the tumbler in my hand.

“Where the fuck is he?”

A vision of the two of them together is blowing my mind.

When the apartment door opens, I twist in my seat, waiting for Stanton to come inside, but I groan when my father is the one who strides toward me.

He shakes his head when he sees me drinking again. “You’re pathetic.”

“Cheers.” I lift the crystal glass and tilt it to him. “To shit lives.”

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