End Game (New York Stars Book 1)
End Game: 1ST PERIOD – Chapter 3

LATER THAT NIGHT

𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝄠 One Day / Reckoning Song – Asaf Avidan, The Mojos

Gracie gurgles around a laugh as she sinks back a shot of tequila and almost chokes on a slice of lime she stole from the party.

Dopily, I grab her chin, pop my fingers into her mouth with an ease I wouldn’t be feeling if I were sober, and pluck it out. “Dangerous, Gracie. Dangerous.” I wag the mauled slice at her as I relinquish ownership of the bottle too. “You just gotta drink the tequila, not the lime. I’m cutting off your supply.”

Her nose crinkles but she hands over the dish of deadly citrus fruits to me.

Like the sprite she is, she twirls on her bare toes, skirt whipping around her legs as she raises her arms to the sky, both dancing and beckoning me closer.

Her almond-shaped eyes angle upward at the corners, lending a mischievousness to her expression that fits considering her family. Her cheeks slope inward toward pouting, naturally dusky pink lips that lead to a chin with an indentation made for my thumb to sit in.

All that beauty is set beneath a dainty button nose like Tinkerbell, except she’s a brunette. Her face is round, and her mop of hair with bright red tips dances and bobs around her jawline like Rachel’s from Friends did.

Fuck, my crush on her is more gargantuan an issue than the one I had on Jennifer Aniston when I was growing up.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Liam?” she crows.

My focus doesn’t shift to the night sky or the lake.

It stays locked on her.

“Yeah, yeah, it is.”

I know I’m drunk. Hell, I went so far past drunk an hour ago that it’s only my metabolism that’s stopped me from needing to head to an ER to get my stomach pumped. But looking at her twirling in the moonlight, fireflies bobbing around her—she’s like a dream.

My fantasy.

My dick gets hard when she runs onto the lakeshore, water splashing high as it makes the dress cling to her even more than it already did.

I tormented Amelia with the karaoke thing because she made Gracie wear a dress. See, I learned my lesson—always have Gracie’s back—when she transmogrified me into a four-leaf clover, but I don’t get why she hates ‘em.

She’s hot in a dress.

H. O. T.

I’ve seen chicks at Chez Parée look less fire than she does right now.

Why she hates herself in dresses is so incomprehensible to me that the mental power it requires has me staggering backward.

I plunk my ass onto the pebble-strewn shore before I fall and watch her with a weather eye. She’s too drunk to go into the water, but I’ll keep her safe.

She twists around again, letting loose a holler that’s drowned out by the music from the other side of the lake where the reception’s at.

We snuck away from there two hours ago—me because I needed a breather (and alcohol) after being at the center of everyone’s attention, Gracie because Hanna was still scolding her after our stunt.

The tequila I snagged from the open bar encouraged her to stick around longer than I know she intended, so that’s what we’ve been doing—drinking too much. Honestly, this is the happiest I’ve been in months. I wish the night’d never end.

“Come in the lake, Liam,” she croons.

Man, if mermaids look like her, no wonder men have always been lured into the water by them.

“Why? So you can dunk me?” I scoff. “Did you dye this lake green too?”

Her croon turns into a wicked cackle. “Tell me you didn’t deserve it.”

Technically, all I did was back my bud up when she said he was partying too hard, but—

“I can’t.”

I blame myself for not seeing the warning signs.

Kow can be an asshole when crossed, but fucking with Gracie’s best friend just to hurt her? Prompting her to leave us behind for Vancouver when she could have gone to university in Montréal? I didn’t speak to him for six months afterward.

She beckons me with her fingers again as I take another gulp of tequila. “No dye. Just me.”

So, what she’s saying is the water is even more perilous then?

Propping the bottle between some pebbles, I flop onto my back and cup my head with my arm. Tilting forward, I study her and the darkness of the night sky. It’s warm out, comfortable, and I’m with my favorite person in the whole world.

“I’ll just stay here.” And enjoy the show.

“You’re no fun!” she grumbles. “Come and swim with me.”

Tequila.

That’s the only reason, the only reason, why I yell, “If I come in that water, Gracie, we won’t be swimming.”

The sounds of splashing stop. Then, I hear the crashing of her feet on the shore. One second, I’m just lying there watching her, the next she’s straddling me and plunking her ass on my stomach.

Half dazed, I slur, “Jesus Christ, Gracie!”

“What did you mean by that?” she demands, pushing her hair out of her face and almost punching me with her elbow in the process.

When I don’t answer because I’m busy trying not to focus on the heat of her butt against my abs, she leans over me.

Droplets of water sprinkle on my face, cooling me down some as she insists, “Well?!”

Feeling like I actually fell asleep and this is a hazy dream, I cup her chin. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her stare is owlish. “Why won’t you come swim with me?”

“Because you’re too beautiful.”

“I’m so not,” she argues, brow furrowing. “Stop messin’ ‘round. S’posed to be in veeeeeeno vertiras—berrytus, veraturas?”

“Think you got that wrong,” I retort, smirking a little because that’s a reminder this is real, not a dream. Reality has never been kinder to me than it is right now. “And you are. You’re so fucking beautiful, Gracie. I can’t even look at you without it hurting.”

She squints at me. “I’m beautiful like this?”

I nod.

She sticks out her tongue. “How about now?”

“You stick that out any farther and I’ll do something with it.”

Rocking back, Gracie gasps. “Liam!”

“What?”

Her eyes blink. Once. Twice. “Do you have…,” she whispers, only it’s loud enough to be a shout. “…a boner?”

I grin at her. “Sure do. Ain’t ashamed of it either. I can see your tits.”

She peers at them. “Huh. You can.”

“That dress wasn’t made for water, but it was made for me,” I sing as I settle my hands on her hips. “You gonna fall asleep on me, Gracie? I’d like that. Maybe it’d make the nightmares stop.”

In an explosion of wet hair and drenched silk, she surges on top of me, her elbows settling on either side of my head, pinning me in place, surrounding me with the scent of lime, tequila, perfume, and her.

Flowers.

She always smells like flowers.

Fuck, I love flowers.

“Liam?”

“Hmm?”

“What if…” She sucks in a breath. “…I don’t want to sleep?”

“What ya wanna do, Gracie?”

She wriggles slightly and suddenly, her core is no longer on my abs but lower. Right there. Where I need her.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk too.” She pouts. “You got whiskey dick?”

I sniff. “Would I have a hard-on if I did?”

Gracie winks as she wriggles some more and her hand is there. On top of me. Shaping me.

“Fuck. Stop it, Gracie. No fair.”

“I’m not a cocktease, Liam,” she chides before, sitting up fast enough to give me whiplash, she grabs the bottle of tequila at my side and pours some into her mouth.

Then, she stuns me. She doesn’t swallow.

She looms over me again.

Her lips press against mine.

Like the fool I am, I part my own, and a slow trickle of unholy water streams into my mouth.

Swallowing quickly, I watch in a daze as she starts rocking her hips, grinding into my dick while her breath tickles my jaw until, finally, she joins us together.

When she thrusts her tongue into my mouth, I groan. Hands tightening around her hips, I encourage her to ride me that little bit harder, loving the friction and craving more.

I tangle with her some, adoring her taste, half-stunned that this is happening while half-bewildered that Kow hasn’t popped up out of nowhere to drag us apart.

That jackass always has the worst timing.

Moving one hand to cup her nape, I tilt her head to replace a better, deeper angle.

For the first time since the kidnapping, I feel like I can breathe.

As if my head is clear.

As if the shadows aren’t as dark.

As if the stars themselves are illuminating my path.

Cupping her chin, smoothing my thumb over her jawline, I rumble, “I want to touch you, Gracie.”

A soft moan escapes her but she nods.

I encourage her to sit up again and allow my hands to stroke her calves and along her thighs. Eyes locked on her, I wait for her to tell me to back off, but she doesn’t. She just watches me as I replace—

“You’re not wearing panties?” I croak.

“I got sick of being strangled by my shapewear and you could see my VPL through the dress,” she whispers.

I’m not sure what a VPL is, but I am sure that it means she’s naked beneath her skirt.

I have never loved VPLs more in my life than I do right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t need to know that.”

She lets loose a laugh, one that’s wicked and wild and so much freer than I’m used to hearing from her. “Why? Would you have been trying to look up my skirt, Mr. Donnghal?”

Grunting, I let my fingertips trail over the line of her hip. “I still can.”

As her brows lift, I cup her ass and haul her higher. She shrieks but starts cackling like a lunatic when, snagging the hem of her dress, I duck beneath it.

“Oh, my, God!” she cries around another burst of laughter before turning into Scarlett O’Hara on me. “Why, Mr. Donnghal, I do declare you’re a pervert!”

Fuck, she smells like heaven. She’s even flowery down here.

Motherfucking addicting flowers.

Ignoring her chortles, I settle her so that her knees are on either side of my head and I urge her to take a seat exactly where I want her.

The second I’ve got her positioned, she yelps, finally realizing that I’m not messing around.

A shaky breath drifts from her before she holds it for the longest time, her tension ratcheting ever higher with every missed inhalation until she releases the deepest, longest groan that sets off an intonation in my veins.

I purse my lips and blow a stream of air along her slit, aware that my cock has never been harder. I’m in agony, but what a way to go.

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpers as my tongue replaces her pussy.

No way this is a dream. Not when I’m tasting silk.

Not when her scent is all around me.

Not when I’m breathing her in because she’s the only oxygen I ever want in my lungs.

In a flurry of movement, she crumples a touch, spreading her legs wider, angling her hips, rocking forward and back, suddenly unafraid to take what she needs.

How did I know she’d be like this?

How did I fucking know she’d be perfect?!

I groan against her as I suck on her clit. She cries out, deeper than before as I start to press wet kisses around the nub then trail my tongue down her channel.

“Liam,” she moans, and my name has never sounded so sweet as it does on her lips. “How am I… You’re Liam. You’re not supposed to… This is too…”

She jerks up, but I follow, continuing to suck on her clit like I’ve got nothing better to do with my night—spoiler alert, I don’t.

“Liam, you can’t… I’m going to…” She releases a guttural grunt. “No. I mean, this is… too… Stop!”

I do.

Her frantic breathing sounds overly loud as she scrambles away from me.

Away.

From.

Me.

As my heart starts to shatter, that’s when she twists around. I figure she’s about to run off but she doesn’t.

She turns.

Repositions herself above me.

Her hands—

“Fuck,” I bite out before she chokes off my air by settling that delicious pussy where it should always be while her fingers are fussing with my fly.

As she delves between the zipper, drawing my dick out into the open, I hide a grin when she whimpers, “Jesus, Liam, what is this? An ana-freakin’-conda?”

Preferring to stay silent and to get back to work devouring her cunt, I savor her moans and bitten-off cries and her curse words that tell me what I’m doing to her is driving her wild.

Me.

Only me.

When she sucks the tip of my shaft between her lips, I have no idea how the fuck I don’t come. Little brain down below seems to recognize that while he’s currently in heaven, there’s nothing better than this pocket of paradise between her thighs.

Nibbling the edge of her clit with my teeth, I wait for her squeal then suckle it. Wet and noisy and hungry, I feast on her, getting her juices all over my face, wanting to drown in her, craving her orgasm more than I do my own.

When she gasps around my dick, I know why.

The keening sob that vibrates around it has me almost seeing stars, but I hold off. I hold and I hold and I fucking hold. As I lick and flick and torment her pussy, I go through plays in my head, fighting the urge to explode in her mouth.

Cibole, I wonder if she swallows?

When she sags on top of me, I go slow, teasing her until she’s twitching in overload.

Cupping her butt, I shuffle away so I can mumble, “Gracie, you trying to torture me?”

A soft, hiccuping breath is my only answer, but she doesn’t argue when I maneuver her around.

I grin. “You gonna let me do all the work, huh, ma belle?”

She mutters nonsense that sounds like, “Dying. Phone later, caller.”

Snorting, I get her where I need her then I twist us over. It’s a pebble shore but we’re in a semi-sandy patch so I don’t feel like a jerk for letting her lie there.

When I kneel between her thighs, carefully shoving her skirt high on her hips, I rest my dick against her pussy as I reach for the condom that’s only in my wallet out of old habits dying hard—thank fuck for them.

“You with me, Gracie?” I ask as I cover my cock.

She flops her hand on her forehead. “You deserve a reward for good behavior,” she agrees, but the words fade at the pressure of my dick sinking into her.

My tip stretches her slit to the point where her eyes pop open and she blinks blindly at me. Carefully, I start to rub her clit with my thumb as I rock my hips, needing to keep her slick so that she can take me.

Aware of my size because it’s been a problem in the past, I push deeper, taking this slow, loving her hiccuping breaths, the sharp sighs, how her hips rock up and back to help me slide home.

When, finally, I’m there, we’re both panting like crazy and I’m pretty sure I’ve got an aneurysm in my future because the blood vessels in my brain want to pop at how good she feels.

I push my forehead into hers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, Gracie.”

Her moan is half-laughter and half-sigh, but she shrieks when I flip us over so that she’s back on top.

Her gaze is wide-eyed and wild as she presses her hands to my chest.

“I want you to strangle my dick. I want you to come so goddamn hard that you cut off my blood supply. That’s an order, do you hear me?”

She tears at the buttons on my Oxford and her fingers brush over my skin. I feel the dig of her nails as she starts to ride me, slow at first, but gradually getting faster as she replaces her rhythm.

In the moonlight, she glows.

All around her, the silvery atmosphere makes her appear ethereal.

This is starting to seem like a dream again, but I know this one won’t end with me screaming in terror as I wake up.

Needing to get lost in her, I replace her clit, rubbing it so that she feels it with every downthrust. When she grinds into me, when her hips start to wriggle, I know she’s close—I can sense it.

She clutches at me like a vise and whispers, “Liam, I-I think I’m going to come again.”

“Give it to me, Gracie. I want it. I need you to come or I can’t. My cock is so hard for you, bébé. You and only you. I want to come in you, fill you full. Want you to explode around me and—”

“Liam!” she gasps, her body shimmering with tension as she shudders above me.

That’s when I let go.

That’s when I groan as her cunt teases my cum out of me, blowing my mind and tearing the walls of my heart wide open.

“Gracie,” I moan as I come and I come and I come.

As the earth shudders beneath me.

As my whole world detonates in on itself, imploding before exploding because this is where I’m supposed to be.

As my heart stops racing, as my body comes back to reality, I can feel her soft weight above me.

Her breathing is low and steady and the gentle puffs of air at my throat key me into the fact she’s either passed out or sleeping.

Carefully, I pull free of her, taking note that she doesn’t wake up. I lower her skirt, close my fly, try to tug my shirt into some semblance of decency, and haul her against my chest as I carry her back to the lodge where I’m staying.

I know she intended on driving home, but that’s not going to happen.

There’s only one problem with my plan.

Kow.

Not because he thinks I just fucked his sister, but because he’s always the problem child. It’s one of the reasons I had to befriend him—the fucker has no limits. Since I’ve known him, he’s had thirteen near-death experiences.

I’m not sure if I’m his unlucky charm or not, but I swear I’m the one who’s kept him alive this long.

Still, his timing is better than it usually is.

At least he drove his dumb ass into some bushes after Gracie and I got it on and not before.

With her still in my arms, I stride over to the parking lot where Kow’s snoring away against the steering wheel, somehow ignoring the seatbelt alarm that’s bleating and the stench of burned-out tires from the foot he’s pushing the accelerator with.

The dipshit is drunk as a skunk—what the fuck was he thinking getting behind the wheel in this state?

Mouth tight with annoyance, I snatch the keys from the dash before carefully shifting Gracie in my hold. Her face falls into the curve of my neck and the whisper of her breath there has me wishing I could keep her in that spot for the rest of my life.

As that wonderful thought hits me and I let loose a dopey grin, that’s when Kow lets loose too.

In my direction.

I stagger back to avoid the impressively projectile vomit he sprays my way but it gets on my shoes—asshole.

Eyes narrowed, I stride off, his keys in my pocket, as I take Gracie to my room, knowing that I can’t do much to help him while she’s in my arms.

After I settle her on the bed, I stroke a hand over her hair. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Her lips purse but she sighs in her sleep and rolls onto her side with a discontented mewl before her features flatten out in a deep, true rest.

God, she’s beautiful.

Like an angel.

Which is such false advertising that it makes me snicker.

The last thing I want to do is go, but I can’t leave Kow out there. He’ll probably fall in the lake or be barreled into by a lawnmower that’s inexplicably running at midnight or somehow manage to choke on a cupcake—weirder shit happens to him on the regular.

I replace him, thankfully, where I left him.

This time, however, I’m prepared.

I toss the bucket of iced water I stopped off to collect from the wedding reception at him, enjoying his shriek as he wakes up with a bang.

Snarling, I grab him by the ear. “Drunk driving, Kow, really?”

I haul his ass out of the car and snag one of his arms in my grasp. Then, I toss him over my shoulders and carry him like a scarf.

A part of me even hopes someone takes a snapshot of us—just so I can prove that losing thirty pounds has done nothing to fuck with how much I can bench press.

I carry him to his room like that, dumping him in front of the door so I can pat him down for his keycard. Once I replace it, I open up and drag him over to the bathroom where I drop his groggy ass again.

Knowing he’s a kinky, sex-obsessed moron, I replace what I’m looking for in his nightstand.

“What are you doing?” he slurs, head flopping back and forth as I make my return, swinging the furry leopard-print cuffs between my fingers.

Ignoring him, I fix one around the bathtub handle and with the other, I fight for control of his left hand.

Because he’s a lot drunker and slower than me, I manage to tie him in place without too much difficulty. “That’s for being an idiot. You have a room here, you dick. Why did you try to get into your car?”

His head lolls forward, chin butting his chest. “Seemed like a—”

He starts puking again.

“That’s why I cuffed you to the bathtub,” I tell him unapologetically as he practically crawls over the side of the tub and lets it free flow.

By the time he’s done and I’m sure he’s not going to choke on his own vomit, I leave him cuffed in the bathroom and make a return to my bedroom.

Gracie’s still asleep so I quickly shower because I stink, and that’s when I edge my way into bed.

Of course, that’s also when I realize the Bukowskis exist simply to turn me prematurely gray.

Because Gracie’s watery eyes pop open.

Wait, she’s crying?

She squints at me.

Then, she breathes, “Liam?”