Page 74 of Good Pucking Luck

I look up at him, our gazes meeting as I spread long licks up and down his shaft. I take the head of his erection into my mouth, suckle it, taste a burst of precum on my tongue as it leaksfrom his slit. There is nothing in the world like having a dick in my mouth,hisdick in my mouth.

I let my lips stretch around him, take as much of him inside me as I can, adding my hand to the mix, stroking and sucking, savoring his hot, pulsing cock while mine throbs behind the fly of my shorts.

His fingers thread through my hair, his grip on me strong. He tastes so damn good, feels so damn good. Each sound he makes, each gasp and word of encouragement, goes straight to my head, fuels me on, makes me hungrier and more eager for him.

I move faster, choke a couple of times but keep going. I want him to come fast and hard. Want to bring Rylan the kind of pleasure no one else can. Want to swallow down his salty load like a dehydrated man needs water.

I bob on his cock while trying to work open my pants. I have to let go of his dick to do it, but I don’t lose him from my mouth, can’t imagine not having Rylan’s dick between my lips.

Once my pants are open, I tug them out of the way, one hand jerking my dick, the other jerking him while I suck him.

“God, you’re so damn sexy. Best mouth I ever had. You look so fucking pretty down on your knees for me. You turn me on so much. I can’t fucking believe you’re mine.”

His words are like a detonator to my lust for him, pushing a button that has me losing myself to my orgasm, just from a few strokes and sucking him off, along with what he said.

“Oh fuck,” Rylan says when he sees me spurt all over my hand and the ground. His cock twitches between my lips, pulses as he loses control too, balls drawing up and emptying his cum down my throat. I keep swallowing every drop, dying for more.

When I’ve sucked him dry, I nuzzle into his balls, kissing and licking him while catching my breath.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” he says, “but I’m thankful.”

He deserves this and more. “I want you to meet the Jilted Exes.”

Rylan hooks his finger beneath my chin and tilts my head up, the excitement clear in his ocean-blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I reply, and while it might not be perfect, it’s a start.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Rylan

“How are thingsgoing with your guy?” Mads asks when we finish a morning yoga class and everyone else leaves the workout room at our practice facility. He got me into doing yoga with him, and I must admit, it’s really helped my flexibility. Mads is a stretchy fucker, but he’s also into it for the relaxing and meditative part, which I haven’t fallen in love with.

“Good. We’re actually going to his friend’s house tonight so I can meet them.”

Mads cocks a brow. “So, you guys are doing things in public together?”

I ignore the stab of disappointment that lands in my chest. Why am I taking this so personally?Idon’t even think it’s a good idea for everyone to know about us, but every time I think about it, I feel…hell, I’m not totally sure what I feel. Like he doesn’t believe in me, like he doesn’t believe in us. Which is unfair of me, I get that, but fair or not, it doesn’t change my emotions. “Nah, like I said before, we’re waiting until the end of the season. We’ve got the playoffs coming up, and our record is fucking fire. We don’t think it’s a good time to risk it.” I can’t help fearing that Hayes will want to hide us even then, that he won’t be ready. And I should understand that. Idounderstand it. Being with someone famous is a lot, and his history doesn’t help, but that disappointment is still there.

“Gives him time to change his mind after he sees your playoff beard,” Mads teases.

I tackle him, wrestling him to the mats, just as the door opens and I hear, “I’m going to kick your asses if one of you gets hurt,” in Coach’s deep baritone.

Before I realize what’s happening, Mads scrambles out from under me and pushes to his feet. “It was all Pierce’s fault.”

I stand too. “Way to throw me under the bus, buddy.” I turn to Coach. “He’s a liar. I was defending myself.”

Coach can be a hard-ass, but he’s a good guy, a great coach, and cares about his team and players. He offers a small smirk. “Just be careful, both of you. Pierce, can I talk to you for a minute?”

I nod, my gut twisting. It’s like getting called into the principal’s office when you’re a kid. Even knowing you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s scary as fuck.

Coach Warren slips out, and Mads asks, “Want me to wait?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, man.”

He claps me on the shoulder, and we each grab our bags, then head out—Mads going left, me right, toward Coach’s office.

“Is everything okay?” I close the door and sit down.

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