Page 76 of Second-Rate Superstar

I swallowed. He was so close I could smell myself on his face. My eyes dipped to his chin, still glistening with my arousal. With his gaze tracking mine, his lips curved into a lopsided grin.

“If my words can’t reach you, I’ll just have to show you.”

Before I could question his meaning, his lips claimed mine in a punishing kiss. Tongue sweeping inside, he tangled it with mine, letting my unique flavor coat my tastebuds. Surprised, my eyes opened. He was right; it was different, but it wasn’t bad.

Sensing he’d made his point, Braxton pulled back, his eyes dark with desire. “I go down on you becauseIenjoy it.” His hand grasped mine, bringing it to the hard length tenting his sweatpants and positioning my fingers to grab it. “The smell, the taste, your reactions. All of it gets me hard. Never will I expect a blowjob because I devoured your pussy.Relationships—the sexual side of them in particular—are not transactional. At least, they shouldn’t be.”

To show my understanding, I gave a firm stroke of his cock. His hips jutted forward, thrusting it into my hand. Releasing my hold, I grazed the waistband of his sweats, but Braxton pulled back.

When I looked at him in question, he shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m going to prove to you that giving you pleasure will always be enough to satisfy me.”

I whined, arching my back so my breasts rubbed against the rough fabric of his T-shirt. “Please. Let me touch you.”

Dipping his head to pepper kisses along my neck, he murmured, “You doubted me, sweetheart. Now, you’ll have to wait ‘til next time.”

He was serious? He would walk away tonight without taking anything for himself?

With each passing day, Braxton bucked the stereotypes—this time of the womanizing, self-centered, sex-crazed athlete.

And he’d made it no secret that he was all mine.

Lips trailed down my torso, and Braxton resumed his position between my thighs.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded when my body writhed, head thrown back in anticipation.

Blazing heat rolled over my skin when I met his hungry whiskey gaze. Lowering his face, his eyes never left mine as he darted out his tongue, giving quick little flicks to my needy clit. My mouth dropped open, the sensations heightened by the intense eye contact as he performed this intimate act.

A finger probed at my entrance, and all my muscles tensed in unison. Braxton must have felt it because he backed off, not stopping the strokesof his tongue, even as a question entered those beautiful eyes locked on mine.

The truth was, I’d tried “losing” my virginity myself—more than once. But no matter how hard I tried, as soon as a toy barely breached the barrier, it hurt, and I couldn’t force myself to push past the resistance. I’d promised myself it would be different when the time came for a flesh-and-blood man to claim my body. I wouldn’t be in control of the force of penetration, and while I was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant, I would let it happen. Or so I hoped.

Judging from my reaction to Braxton trying to finger me, I wasn’t sure my body agreed.

There wasn’t much time to ponder that eventuality as Braxton closed his lips around my clit and sucked. The change in pressure and sensation sent me soaring. My back bowed, every muscle locking before pure pleasure shot through my veins. Hearing fuzzy, I was deaf to my cries of passion as my hips bucked, trying to draw out every ounce of hands-down the most intense orgasm I’d experienced to date.

Sated, I laid back limp on the couch as Braxton crawled up my body, cradling my sweaty form to his chest, whispering soothing words in my ear.

He was incredible, and for a fleeting moment, I thought perhaps the universe was making up for the shitty start I’d had in this life. Maybe the worst had passed, and it was time to be happy. Lord knows I was due.

And Braxton? He seemed to need a lifeline as much as I did—a person to cling to as the storm raged around us.

There would always be noise surrounding his career and family name. But in these moments? No one else existed.

If we could shut out the rest of the world in our relationship, we might just have a chance.

Stroking the sweaty tendrils of hair plastered to my face, Braxton’s warm voice spoke in my ear. “Come to my game Friday night.”

Lifting my heavy head, a lazy smile crept onto my lips. “I don’t know. My boyfriend gets upset when I watch hockey without him.”

He pinched my ass, and I jolted in his arms. “Never lose that spark, Firefly.” He kissed my temple. “I mean it. Please come.”

An undertone of desperation in his voice made it sound like heneededme there. But he knew attending a game in person was a big step for me. I hadn’t entered a professional sports arena since my dad left; there were too many tainted memories.

Then it struck me. He wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. There was something more at play, but he wasn’t ready to share, and I respected that. I owed him the same blind support and compassion he’d always shown me.

Keeping the conversation light, even though I knew the request was anything but, I teased, “You got a hookup for decent seats?”

His deep chuckle warmed my chest. “They’re okay. Might be able to swing a pass with club-level access.”

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