Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

I can’t get enough of the way Grant smells. Both musky and clean, with a hint of manly sweat. He’s everything I crave. I drop his dick from my mouth to slide my nose in the crease between his thighs. “Ah,” I groan, getting a nice big hit of him. His scent jumbles my brain.

But . . . his mouth on me fries all my senses.

Kicks them into overdrive, sends blood pumping to my dick, my balls, and oh hello, my ass.

Grant Blackwood is a sneaky lover.

As he suctions my cock to the back of his throat, he presses a lubed finger against my hole.

A full-body tremble shudders through me. “Yes. Fucking yes,” I growl while he sucks me deep, working that finger at the same time.

Just so.

Sliding in another, he crooks both fingers, going all come-hither in my ass, while my dick is wiggling and dancing around in his mouth.

I’m not going to last.

Nope.

Not at all.

I drop my head farther between his thighs, giving in to the wild bliss running rampant in my cells. “Yes, babe. Gonna come. Gonna come so hard.”

I fuck his face, grind against his fingers, and grip his thighs, until a growl rips from my chest. All the pleasure in the world coils tight inside me, then I detonate down his throat.

I unleash an orgasm that feels like a force of nature. Like a Category 5 storm. “Goddamn,” I grunt, my face in his crotch, my nose inhaling the sexiest man I’ve ever smelled, as I come so hard.

Shuddering everywhere.

Hell, my body is shaking and may be for days as I pant and moan.

Then I laugh when my shaft becomes too sensitive. Grant slides off my cock, his fingers easing out.

The second he’s free, he gives an order: “Lie down. Open your mouth wide.”

Well, then.

I scurry off him, move to the other end of the couch, and park a pillow behind my head. “Give it to me.”

My sexy, naked, sweaty boyfriend prowls over me, a feral look in his blue eyes. When he reaches my chest, he straddles my shoulders, grips his cock, and slides a fist down his thick, glistening length, still wet from my saliva.

I don’t just part my lips. I open all the way. And he fills me.

He braces one hand on the back of the couch, his biceps and forearms rippling as he pumps his hips. I open wider, take him deeper, savor the taste of his arousal.

“Look at you. Taking me all the way. Sucking me so hard,” Grant grunts. “Love your mouth. Love your tongue.”

I urge him on with my hands, squeezing harder, making carnal sounds as I devour him.

“So good,” he growls, his eyes slamming shut, his features twisting. Then he stills. Cries out, “Coming.”

His taste floods my tongue, the flavors sending a heat wave over my body. I growl as I drink down my man’s essence, savoring every second of his release, of his moans, of his gasps.

Then, he slides out of my mouth, moves down my body, and sinks on top of me, chest to chest. “Wow,” Grant whispers. “You are just wow.”

He’s repeated my words back to me from more than five years ago.

I run my fingers through his hair; it’s sweaty around the ends. I press a kiss to his forehead then whisper against his face, “Or maybe we are.”

Grinning softly, he wriggles closer, wrapping himself around me. Arms, legs, hands, chests. We are tangled. “Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs.

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me.”

“Excellent. Especially now that you’re getting addicted to my Wonderland Amusement Park.”

I laugh, running my fingers through his hair once more. “Getting addicted?” I snort. “I’m afraid there’s no getting. It’s happened. I’ve done it.”

“Good. Because I’m keeping you.”

“You better. I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, making him a promise I know I’ll always keep.

Grant Blackwood is the love of my life.

At last, I’ve found my way back to him, and I’m never letting this man go.

Like he wrote on a baseball—I feel the same.

He means everything to me.





39





Grant





The thing about being a pro athlete is you need to eat. That gives me the chance to show off my expert food-ordering skills once again.

When I hit send on the DoorDash order with Crosby’s mom’s organic café in the city, a reply lands in a minute.

Great game today! Order will be there in ten minutes. - Oscar

Laughing, I show it to Declan.

He arches a brow as he pulls his jeans back up. We’re in my bedroom, putting on clothes since the food is on its way.

“Who’s Oscar?”

“My regular,” I admit sheepishly.

“You have a regular DoorDash person? Why not get a concierge at this point? Maybe you need a PA just for your food orders,” he teases as he snaps his jeans and pulls on his polo.

Rolling my eyes, I put on shorts and a T-shirt. “Anyway, he knows me.”

Awareness flickers in Declan’s eyes. “Ah, so I shouldn’t answer the door with you.”

I flinch, hating that we’re hiding.

I close the distance. “That’s not it. I just want to tell our friends first. I don’t want them to see on Twitter or some sports gossip site that you were spotted at my house,” I say, reaching for his hand. “And I don’t want the teens I volunteer with through the Alliance to find out from anyone other than me—than us, you know?”