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It goes on and on, and he sucks me through every single second.

Once I’m spent and my legs barely hold me up, Garrett sits back and wipes his hand across his mouth.

“Good boy. I think that you deserve a reward,” I say, walking around until I’m standing behind him. “Get on the bed. On your knees, facing the headboard.”

He jumps to his feet and races over as I stand, watching him.

I take in every inch of his body, memorizing the way his muscles flex as he moves. He’s got strong thighs, a tight ass, and abs that tell me he spends a decent amount of time in the gym.

And then there’s his cock.

Long, thick, and very, very hard. The head is angry and purple, desperate for some action. It’s also glistening with his need to come.

He’s a fucking vision that I could spend hours upon hours drawing.

But not right now.

I crawl onto the bed behind him before gripping his jaw and twisting his head around so I can kiss him.

He’s just as eager as I thought he would be, his tongue sneaking out to find mine the second our lips touch.

My other hand slides around his waist. His abs tense as my fingers bounce over them as I slowly sink lower to find what I really want.

He whimpers wantonly into my kiss, and his entire body trembles as I inch closer to where he needs me most.

My fingers dance over the smattering of trimmed hair down there before I finally connect with the soft velvet of his shaft.

His body jolts as I wrap my hand around him, and fuck if I don’t feel it almost as potently as his ass grazes against my hardening cock. Honestly, it barely went down. It’s too desperate to be inside him.

The second a familiar wetness coats against my sensitive skin, I groan and rip my lips from his.

“Did you get prepped for me?” I ask, my voice nothing but a deep rasp.

“I wanted to be ready,” he says, thrusting his hips, ensuring he continues teasing me.

“I didn’t tell you to do that,” I point out.

He smirks at me. “You didn’t tell me not to.”

“Brat,” I force out through clenched teeth.

“Fuck, Nash. That feels so fucking good.”

I startle at hearing that name while in bed with a man. It’s like two worlds colliding, and I don’t like it very much.

“Do you remember what you’re meant to call me in here?”

“Cooper,” he breathes.

Fuck. My name sounds too good rolling off his tongue.

I turn his back so he’s looking at the headboard, allowing me to drag my nose and then my tongue up the column of his throat.

Beneath his skin, his pulse races.

I know the fucking feeling.

“Good. In here, I’m not a hockey player. I’m not someone you know outside of this. I’m just a man who wants to fuck you until you forget your own name,” I breathe in his ear. “Got it?”