Winning With Him by Lauren Blakely

Grant

For the record, I am an excellent sleeper. I can crash anywhere.

Team plane? Not a problem.

Any hotel on the road? I’m down for the count in seconds.

My own bed on a Saturday morning?

There is literally no place I’d rather be.

That’s why it pisses me off that my brain has a motherfucking bee in it right now. It’s flapping its wings, whispering dangerous thoughts.

Check your phone.

Maybe he sent you a breakup text.

Don’t check your phone.

He probably took off for New York without saying goodbye.

I figured, stupidly, that I could sleep through Declan’s morning outing to see his father. Like it was just a dream. I’d wake up and he’d be back kissing me.

But that’s not what happens. I can’t fall asleep again. Still, I’m glad he went. This is a test.

It’s not a test for Declan though.

It’s for me.

Can I trust him to return? Can I trust he won’t break my heart again?

I want to pass the trust test so badly.

Staying busy will help.

I get out of bed, brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and pull on some hot briefs—because positive thinking—and a pair of gym shorts—because I’m meeting Crosby and Holden for a workout later. I pad downstairs to the kitchen and start some coffee. When it brews, I pour the mug, go to my couch, grab my tablet, and catch up on sports news. The Dragons still don’t have a new manager. Our cross-town rival team has been cleaning house lately, and the last piece of the puzzle is a new skipper. Holden’s been antsy, hoping for one.

When I check the clock, it’s been forty-five minutes since Declan took off, and my heart grows a little more restless every second.

But I talk back to it.

Trust him.

I repeat that, as needed, until I hear the most wonderful sound—my garage door opening. A few seconds later, it closes, then I enjoy the clicking of the door that leads into my house, the footsteps pounding up the stairs.

“They were out of sesame. I got you an everything bagel,” Declan calls out.

All the butterflies in the city land in my chest. “Perfect.”

I rise, meeting him in the kitchen. After I toast the bagel, I spread peanut butter on it, and then take a couple bites.

He arches a brow. “You like peanut butter on everything bagels?”

“I like peanut butter on everything.”

Declan closes the distance, presses his body against mine. “Would you like peanut butter on my cock?”

“Is that a trick question? Two great things that taste great together? Yeah, I would fucking love that.”

I set down the bagel. I’m not into food play, but I’m into him. I’m into the fact that he’s here.

He runs his thumb along my cheek, across my whiskers. “And I like your morning stubble too, Grant.” He kisses my jaw, enjoying my half-a-day beard. “Mmm. You just got out of the shower.”

“I did,” I say.

“Love your freshly showered smell,” Declan whispers, and my skin sizzles, then heats even more when he crushes my lips with his.

When we break the kiss, I ask, “How did it go?”

“It was good. We just talked. He didn’t ask for anything. And I didn’t offer him a ride when we were done.”

I arch a brow. “Is that a big step for you?”

“I think so. He was angling for one, but I didn’t want to let him that far into my life—or yours. It’s my life. And ours. I want to live it on our terms.”

I grab his hips, splaying my hands wide on them. “You’re so sexy when you’re all therapied and shit,” I tell him.

Declan cracks up and hauls me in for another hot kiss. After a few minutes of making out just because we want to, I glance at the clock. “When do you have to leave?”

“Around twelve-thirty. Maybe twelve forty-five. Flight’s at three.”

“I’m meeting the guys at one to go to the gym.”

“Perfect. We have plenty of time for all sorts of good stuff. Like this.” Declan sinks to his knees. Pushes down my shorts. Gives an appreciative smile when he’s eye-to-cock with my tight boxer briefs. I love how my man runs a hand over the outline of my dick then jams his face against my hard-on, inhaling my scent, and rubbing his cheek and mouth along the ridge. “Tell me you’re not wearing these to the gym.”

I roll my eyes even as I grab his head, jerking his face up close and personal against my cock. “They’re for you, obviously. I have tons of Rafe Rodman briefs to wear for you. Especially now that I know you’re a junkie.”

“Mmm. Junkie for your junk. They make your dick look so good.”

“Bet you’d look good in Rafe Rodmans too,” I say.

“It’s almost a shame to take them off,” he says, taking his time sliding them down my legs. “But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Because I didn’t only get you an everything bagel.”

“Oh, you got me something else too?” I ask as I step out of the bright blue sexy-as-hell briefs. “Are you going to give me an everything blow job?”

“I am. And I bet you like it more than the bagel and peanut butter.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

But there’s no contest. Declan’s blow jobs are definitely better than peanut butter. I love how he licks and kisses the head of my dick, how he swirls his tongue down my length, how he takes me in deep.

It’s a beautiful sight—this man on his knees for me. His hands slide up and down my thighs. His lush lips stretch open wide. His gaze drifts up to mine, watching me as I watch him suck me off. Declan’s hands roam over my stomach and around to my ass. He grabs my cheeks hard, jerking me deeper into his throat. My mind spins and pleasure twists through my body.

After a minute like that, he has me in his clutches, cupping my balls, playing with my ass. Without warning, he pops off me and spins me around. “Hold onto the counter,” Declan says.

“Oh, fuck yes,” I gasp as I rest on my elbows, lift my ass higher, and wait for the thing I crave from him.

A dirty, delicious treat.

His big hands cover both cheeks, and he growls as he spreads my ass open. “I’ve been wanting to do this to you forever,” he murmurs.

With a naughty hum in his throat, he grips my cheeks, kneading and squeezing hard. He lifts his right hand, smacks my ass, then kisses the top of my crack.

I shiver, bowing my back, arching higher. “Yesssss. Please.”

“Mmm. I fucking love your ass,” Declan says like he’s worshipping me. If I thought he adored my cock last night, he takes his devotion to a whole new level when he licks down the length of my ass, then presses the most carnal kiss in the whole world against my hole.

“Unghhh,” I grunt. There’s no way I can manage words.

Declan’s noisy enough for both of us, though, as he flicks his tongue against me. He hums like this is his greatest wish, like he’s wanted nothing more than to have me this intimately.

This intensely.

His tongue lavishes attention on my entrance, with big, long licks and decadent moans, chased by hungry kisses, followed by just the right kind of swat. The I want your ass kind of swat, not the I want to spank you smack. There’s a difference, and the first turns me all the fuck on to the moon and back.

I shudder, arching and moving against his mouth. When he flicks his tongue there, right there, my dick jumps, leaking at the tip, throbbing as pleasure swirls inside me.

This was one of my fantasies of him. One of the things we never got to do before. I have to see this.

I crane my neck around and holy fuck.

It’s better than my dirty dreams.

The sight of Declan on his knees, worshipping me, sends adrenaline pumping wildly in my body. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s happening to me. The guy I want—the guy I’m fucking crazy for—is going to town on me.

“You’re so fucking hot, Deck. God, that’s so fucking good,” I rasp, my chest heaving with a wild kind of pleasure that spirals and rockets higher.

My toes tingle.

My bones vibrate.

My whole body sings.

A brand-new sensation builds inside me like a relentless drumbeat as I sink deeper, dropping my head onto my hands on the counter—giving in completely.

“Yessssss,” I groan.

“You taste incredible,” he murmurs, then he consumes me again. It’s wild and intimate, filthy and beautiful.

He’s turning me inside out, taking me apart, opening me up, as I happily slide into a land of bliss. My body twitches with pleasure, and I’m desperate, so damn desperate to reach the edge. To grab hold of the ecstasy he’s promising me with every flick of his tongue.

I reach down between my legs, grab my aching cock. “I’m close,” I groan as I shuttle my fist along my length, eager for release.

My body jerks as I stroke hard and fast, and Declan doesn’t relent. He’s officially blowing my mind. Lust tears through me until I’m shaking everywhere. “Gonna come any second,” I warn.

He stops and spins me around again. Taking my shaft into his mouth, he swallows me whole, loving on my dick as I unload with a savage growl. Starbursts strobe behind my eyes, colors blasting my brain cells as my orgasm takes over my world.

“Yes, fucking yes.” My hands curl tight around his head as I shoot down his throat.

I can’t stop groaning, can’t stop panting. I don’t even think my legs work. They’re Silly Putty as he lets go of my dick, wipes a hand across his mouth, then stands, looking like a cat who ate all the world’s canaries.

I grab his waist, needing to hold on to him. “Whoa,” I say softly.

Declan stares at me lasciviously, licking his lips nice and slow, as if he just finished a feast.

I’m still moaning. Harsh breath staggers from my lips. My shoulders heave. “So, that was a really good bagel,” I tell him in between gasps.

He nuzzles my neck, laughing as he whispers against my skin, “You can have a bagel anytime you want, babe.”

Pretty sure I’m going to be taking him up on that offer again and again.

I pick up the bagel and finish it. Best I’ve ever had.

But soon, it’s time to go. After I give him a goodbye blow job, we kiss relentlessly at the front door.

We don’t make promises, though. Promises got us in trouble before. Besides, we already made a plan—the we’re-not-supposed-to-have-a-plan plan.

With a reluctant tip of his forehead, he reaches for the doorknob, then spots a Hawks cap on the entryway table. “My hair’s a mess. Any chance I can borrow your hat?”

“You know I like you in my clothes.” I hand him the cap then think better of it and set it on his head. Why waste one more chance to touch him?

When he leaves, I’m both sad and happy.

I try to hold on to the happy, though, as I straighten up the place, pull on a workout shirt, and change into compression shorts, since the Rafe Rodmans are not for the gym.

Before I go meet the guys, my phone lights up with a text from the man wearing my hat.