Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
But post-nut clarity was real, and I was instantly pissed and filled with regret—mostly at myself for getting into this situation with a guy like Tucker.
I shoved him as hard as I could, and he fell onto the mattress next to me as I sucked in lungfuls of air.
“Takes one to know one, I guess,” I said, sliding from the bed and swiping my clothes from the floor. “Catch you the next time we wipe the turf with your asses.”
Without looking back, I headed into Monica’s bathroom and turned the shower on.
When I came out, Tucker was gone, and a mixture of relief and some other inexplicable feeling I didn’t give a shit about examining poured through me. I was just glad to be heading back to LA, far, far away from Malik Tucker.
It wasn’t until I was in the Uber halfway to the airport that I realized Tucker hadn’t come.
Oddly enough, that was the thing that fucked with me most of all.
4
TUCKER
“How ya been, man?” I asked Houston. We’d had a game earlier today. Ramsey and I decided to go to the bar to blow off some steam, and since Houston had been there watching us play, he came along. It was good to chill with Houston. We didn’t spend nearly as much time with each other as we used to. Part of that, I figured, because it was likely hard for Houston since the rest of us played and he couldn’t anymore. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost football, and hanging out with guys who still had what I wanted would likely be tough for me, too.
“Good, just getting this knee stronger and trying to figure out what in the hell I want to do next,” Houston replied from where he sat across from me in the private booth at the upscale Denver club.
I took a drink of my beer while Ramsey picked at the finger foods on the table.
“Sucks, man. We miss you out there. Baby G’s doing good, but it’s not the same as having you.”
Houston swallowed a large gulp of beer, then set his bottle down before Ramsey asked me, “Is your family flying out for the holidays?” effectively changing the subject.
I always missed my family even more this time of the year. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. Depending on my football schedule, we tried to spend either Thanksgiving or Christmas together every year. It wasn’t right without them, and the times we couldn’t make schedules work, I felt their absence. “I’m hoping so.” If not, I’d head out for Christmas. It was a whole lot easier for just me to get on a plane rather than everyone else coming to Denver. “You know you’re welcome with me,” I told Ramsey. His mom had passed away when he was a kid, and his dad, an ex-NFL player, was a real piece of work. Ramsey hadn’t shared all the details with me, but I knew he was a dickhead—one who’d gotten kicked out of the league. Ramsey had fought the stigma of being his son most of his career.
“I’ll be with McRae…s. The McRaes, I mean.”
Ramsey and Houston tossed an awkward expression back and forth that was pretty fucking suss. That was…strange. What were they hiding? And why had Ramsey answered that question like he was just learning how to talk?
That line of thought was snuffed out by three beautiful women approaching us, which was honestly just the distraction I needed. Because Whitt was the most annoying motherfucker in the world, I hadn’t had much sex since the threesome, which resulted in me basically mounting him and Whitt jerking our cocks together until he busted a nut between us. I played the game real well, flirted, and went out, but no one grabbed my attention, and I’d emptied my own balls a few times with the memory firmly planted in my mind. It wasn’t because of him, I told myself. Not because I liked him, at least. Knocking the cocky SOB down a few pegs while we’d been in bed together and seeing the want he likely hadn’t even known he had in his eyes was a powerful aphrodisiac.
My dick had liked it a lot and clearly still did, considering it was starting to chub up months later just thinking about it.
“You’re Houston McRae, aren’t you?” the blonde asked. “And Warner Ramsey and Malik Tucker?”
“Yeah, we are. And who do we have the pleasure of speaking to?” I flirted because they were hot, and maybe I just needed to fuck Patrick Whitt out of my head.
The women introduced themselves, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect it was—three of them, three of us. The night was looking up.
“Do you guys want to dance?” Lydia, the gorgeous Black woman with a sexy smirk and ass for days, asked.