Page 69 of Well That Happened

Grayson’s bigger.

Thicker. Heavier in my hand. A darker flush at the tip.

I wrap one hand around him, then the other, andstill—justbarely.

“I can’t even fit you in one hand,” I whisper, breath catching as I stroke him slowly.

He groans—deep and guttural, head falling back against the pillow.

“You’re killing me,” he growls, voice ragged.

I lean over him, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then trail my mouth down his chest.

“You have a really nice cock,” I murmur, kissing a path along his inked chest. “It’s so hard for me.”

He lets out a wrecked sound, hips twitching. “Keep talking, baby,” he pants. “That mouth of yours is dangerous.”

I grin and stroke him a little harder, twisting my wrist. His abs tense, the muscles in his thighs flexing. My hand slides up and down and Grayson’s breath grows shaky. I love him like this—overcome and mine.

“You’re gonna make me come, just like that…” he gasps, one hand tangling in the sheets, the other in my hair.

And then he comes apart.

It’s not fast. And it’s not quiet. Spurts of thick cum jet out of him over and over while his abs tense and tremble.

When he finishes, it’s with my name on his lips, his hands fisting in the sheets, hips jerking once, twice—then still.

We lie there after, breathing hard and I wonder what the hell I’m getting myself into.

Chapter Eighteen

Rilee

My phone rings just as I’m tossing another load into the washer. I glance at the screen, stomach flipping.

Fletcher.

I swipe to answer, already bracing.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep it light. “You’re up early.”

“Riles.” His voice is groggy, but steady. “How’s it going? You still surviving in the hockey house of testosterone and bad decisions?”

I laugh. “Barely. But yeah. I’m good.”

The lie leaves my mouth too fast—and the panic hits right behind it.

Halloween. Caleb. His mouth.

Then Grayson, last night.

His fingers. His voice in the dark.

Oh god.

Does Fletch know?

Can hehearit in my voice?

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