Down by Contact Read online Santino Hassell (The Barons #2)

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The Barons Series by Santino Hassell
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
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“Oh fuck,” I cried out.

“Yes,” he said, and I could hear the smugness in his voice. “Right there?”

“Ahh . . .”

He rammed it again. My body was tingling as euphoria took hold, because this had to be the best feeling in the world. This sense of being fucked into delirium.

“Yeah?” Adrián yanked my head up by a grip of hair. “You better tell me.”

“Yes,” I gritted out, fighting the buzzing incoherence.

“Yeah? Louder. Fucking let me hear it, baby.”

“Yes!”

Adrián forced his way into me over and over, pressing into my prostate and driving me farther over the edge. Awareness of the room, the chaise beneath, the music, and the game vanished. It was just him lodged deep inside me as he released with a harsh cry, and me moaning shamelessly when I arched up just enough to touch my dick. It took barely a brush of fingers for me to come.

He hunched over me breathing hard while sweat dripped onto my back and ass. It took a few seconds for everything to realign in my brain. When I blinked away the disorientation, it was to the sensation of him pulling out. My toes curled, but I didn’t move from my sprawl on the chaise.

“Simeon.”

“Wh—” I cleared my voice so it wasn’t so rough. “What?”

His fingers dragged along my back and the top of my ass before I lost his touch completely.

“I gotta go.”

I closed my eyes. “Okay.”

He didn’t move. Even when I didn’t say anything else, when I didn’t roll over or joke, he continued to kneel beside me. His fingers ghosted over my back again, sliding between my shoulder blades and coming up to my hair. He stroked it away from my forehead in a touch so soft it had to come from someone else. No way was the guy who’d just murdered my ass being this gentle.

“I’ll see you Tuesday.”

I flashed the deuces.

Adrián inhaled and exhaled loudly. For a hot second I thought he would stay and keep prodding me into an answer instead of taking off while his semen was inside me and his sweat was still damp on my skin, but he didn’t. He picked up his clothes and left.

Chapter Ten

Adrián

I was going to kill Judd.

He stayed the length of every practice, unlike fifty percent of the others who took the bonus hours to get shit done while their kids were occupied, and worked on Simeon the entire time. Laughing at his jokes, asking questions about plays and technique, admiring his dedication to the kids, and asking questions about his family in Louisiana.

I learned more about Simeon by eavesdropping on their conversations than I’d ever learned on my own. It emphasized that I was trash, and Judd was actually serious about conning Simeon into liking him. Because in my world, a fan putting this much effort in had to be for a reason. There were bragging rights attached to hooking up with an NFL player, and that chance it would get serious and you’d get access to that money.

Except Simeon had said Judd was closeted, so it couldn’t be for the glory. And it seemed unlikely he thought they’d hop into a relationship that would get him money. Maybe it was a fetish thing.

My cynicism allowed me to consider all of that, and I didn’t know that it wasn’t at the back of Simeon’s mind either, but he seemed to like Judd. Unless he was good at pretending.

“Why are there so many cameras outside?” Delilah demanded. “Our scrimmage isn’t until next week!”

“They’re here to talk to us about the coming storm,” Simeon said. “About the way the Center has been helping with preparations.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “It’s only a tropical depression.”

I laughed, and she flashed a triumphant smirk. Earlier on it’d been established that if I got along with only one child during this entire shitshow, it would be Delilah. Her family was cool, too, even though I barely spoke to them. I’d complained to Delilah one day about missing my mother’s pasteles, and the next Monday she’d come in with a pan of them freshly made by her grandmother.

“Sandy was a tropical depression, and look how much destruction it caused,” Judd butted in.

“Yeah, but there are like three other factors that combined to make Sandy a super storm soooo . . .” I was being immature, but I couldn’t help it. “Not the same sitch, homie.”

Judd seemed taken aback by my sarcasm. Simeon just shook his head from where he was stacking cones and putting equipment in boxes. I saw the edge of his mouth twitch before he schooled his face into neutrality again.

“I’m sure it will be fine. We just have to take precautions because this neighborhood is in a flood zone.”

“How does that affect your lives?” Brayden asked. “Are you just helping for the photo ops?”


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