False Start (Playing for Keeps #2) Read Online Riley Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Playing for Keeps Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
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“Yeah.”

“Should’ve remembered that. Damn Boy Scout. So c’mon, then.”

I almost grinned in spite of myself. Yeah, definitely still impatient. Keeping a hold on his hip, I shifted my weight to my good knee and lowered enough to fish around in the front pocket of my backpack, coming out with a lubed condom I rolled on quickly before rubbing the head of my cock over his hole.

“Fuck yeah. C’mon,” he urged again in a low murmur.

He thrust his ass back, but I grabbed his asscheek, keeping him from impaling himself, and took my time, easing into the vise grip of his ass until his body heat enveloped me, and a shudder rolled through my shoulders. Goddamn, how this ass used to torture me, how much time I used to spend daydreaming about how good it felt in my hands, around my cock, under my tongue, getting twisted up and hard on the sidelines as I watched him run down the field and anticipating the minutes until we no longer belonged to the fans or the coaches barking into our ears. Until we were just each other’s for a handful of hours. It was easier to focus on that than how limited our time together was, back then. And eventually, I failed at even that.

But not today. I knew exactly what I was here for.

I concentrated on the splay of my hands over his skin, keeping him spread wide as I started to move. Where a litany of filth would’ve once poured from my lips and been met in kind, I kept it locked down, teeth clenched, because we weren’t that anymore. Just former lovers using each other for a quick dopamine hit. I reminded myself of that over and over as pressure built inside me, as he started meeting my thrusts, the rush of his rapid breaths matching mine.

“Shit, McRae,” he grated out, and the sound of my name on his lips after so long almost undid me. His release reverberated through my body, contracting around my shaft, and I pressed hard into him, burying my teeth into the strained tendon near the base of his neck and tasting the salt on his skin mixed with the chemical tang of his cologne.

When he reached beneath, slick fingers rubbing over the base of my shaft, wrapping my balls, and tugging, I lost it. An electric shock of desire jolted my body into submission, and I barely managed to stifle a shout as my orgasm roared through me, spotting my vision with pinpricks of light and dark. Gripping my shaft, Cullen pumped me dry until I sank against him, wrung out and weightless, the heady scent of his release triggering one last pulse from my cock.

For a long minute, we drifted in a postorgasmic lull, the tide of his breath washing through me like it was my own. I let myself have that minute of respite, but the second Cullen’s breathing evened out, I pushed away. I wasn’t about to stick around and risk more awkward moments.

“I need to get to my gate,” I said, straightening and putting myself back together. I snapped the condom off and tossed it before tucking myself away.

Without missing a beat, Cullen nodded and did the same. “Where are you heading? I didn’t even ask.”

“Job interview in New York.” I flexed and contracted my leg a couple of times to shake off the stiffness.

“Shit, your knee. I…is it okay?” Cullen’s brows furrowed with concern, and for some reason, out of all the strangeness of the last half hour, it was that expression that got to me.

“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t. I’d be paying for that orgasm for the rest of the day, physically speaking. And mentally? Probably much longer. I grabbed the strap of my backpack and opened the door. “Travel safe.” I decided to forgo telling him to say hello to his sister for me. God knew what she thought of me after Cullen and I went our separate ways. She was still the only one who knew about us, as far as I knew.

“Good luck with the interview, I guess,” he called out from behind.

“Thanks.”

As the bathroom door swung shut behind me, I told myself that was the closure I needed. Convincing myself it was actually true? That’d be a little tougher.

1

CULLEN

Seeing Houston—McRae—always fucked me up. It didn’t matter if it was in person or not; it always put me on edge and made me do dumb shit. I wasn’t blaming him. It was my fault. I’d spent my life doing stupid stuff, testing the limits and fucking up, but when it came to McRae, I somehow got even dumber.

Our first year in the league, when I’d heard he was dating a model, I’d had a huge party that got so wild the cops had been called, and people got arrested. To say my new team wasn’t impressed was an understatement. When he’d blown out his knee, I’d nearly lost my shit. It had taken everything in me not to jump on a plane and fly to Denver. He’d been hurt and might lose football, and I knew how much that would fucking kill him. The last thing he would have needed was me, the guy he used to hook up with who never knew when to be satisfied and not push for more. The guy who had ended up ruining everything by doing what I always did and ignoring boundaries, always wanting more, more, more.


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