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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

KENDRA

W hen I get really angry, I go quiet.

I don’t know why I do, but tonight, I’ve never been more thankful for that part of my personality. Or that Jack is clearly the same.

Honestly? Nothing good or helpful can come from what I have to say about the guy I just met.

Swinging his truck into the reserved space in the underground parking lot, Jack continues to grip his steering wheel with white knuckles long after he puts the truck in park.

When he spoke about his dad being an asshole, I naively thought he was a prick who thought a lot of himself. No, Elliott Thompson is way more than that, and my heart breaks for not just my boyfriend and Darcy, but for his mom, Felicity. Christ, what must it have been like to live with him daily? I could barely stand him for a half hour.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to meet with him.” Jack’s voice breaks me from my thoughts. “I swear I knew nothing about his intentions with your family.”

Slowly, I peel his hand away from the steering wheel and entwine our fingers. I haven’t said anything since I stormed out of the restaurant, and even now, I’m struggling to find the right words. So, I squeeze his hand tighter, hoping he’ll find some comfort in my actions.

After a few more beats, I pull open my passenger door and climb down from the truck as Jack does the same, and I hold out my hand for him to retake as we head for the elevators to his apartment.

Up until this point, so much of our relationship has centered around Jack looking out for me. For what I want and need.

Yet tonight feels different. Tonight, I feel like he needs me.

When the elevator ascends past the first floor, I reach over and hit the Emergency Stop button.

“Kendra. What are you do?—”

I silence my boyfriend with a kiss as my hands drop to the zipper on his pants.

In my boots, I’m still way smaller than his tall frame, but he doesn’t tower over me like he usually does, and that drives my dominance forward.

“Sit on the railing.”

As he lifts himself to balance on the brass rail behind him, I cast a glance around us. No cameras.

I know this dress turns him on. I think I’ve known since the day he saw me wear it in Lloyd’s. Even if I was determined to ignore Jenna as she tried to convince me there was something between us.

“This is all for you,” I tell him as I pull the straps over my shoulders and lower the dress to reveal my bare breasts, showing him I wasn’t wearing a bra tonight.

“Oh fuck, Kitten,” he croons. “You’re fucking spectacular.”

I waste no time as I reach inside his pants and take out his dick. I don’t know how long we have before someone works out the elevator has stopped and tries to set it running again.

The first swipe of my flat tongue across his head has him drawing in a sharp breath .

“Grip the railing,” I tell him before I swallow his cock.

His fingers plow into my hair while my mouth and hand work in perfect synchronization. I’ve never blown Jack before, but by the way he moans and tugs at the roots, I know I’m giving him exactly what he needs.

I cup his balls with my other hand and gently massage them. They grow tighter, and he flexes his hips, driving further down my throat.

“I’ve fantasized about you sucking my dick for so long. Swallowing me down as I make you gag.”

I pop off and stare up at him. “Choke me with it.”

Jack’s jaw hangs open as a trail of spit connects my lips with the swollen head of his dick.

When I take him back into my mouth, he thrusts up into me, harder than before. I gag, just like he wants, and double down, pushing him even further.

“Motherfucker,” he gasps. His hand falls to one of my nipples, playing with it between his fingers.

I want to hear him roar when he comes and releases not just himself, but all the pent-up tension he’s felt tonight down my throat.

“Gonna blow.” Jack puffs the words out breathlessly.

Right before he fires off, I feel his dick harden and his balls contract to the point of no return. He hangs his head, his face full of awe and his body completely at my mercy.

I pull off briefly. “Good boy, baby.”

The first shot to the back of my throat is fucking delicious. I can’t lie. He tastes as good as I thought he would, and my body pulsates with raw need.

When I’ve swallowed him twice and he’s still coming, I bring his cock out of my mouth and continue to pump, spilling his hot release all over my tits.

“You called me a good boy,” he whimpers.

“I did,” I reply, his cum still squirting onto me. “Do you like it when I praise this pretty cock? ”

“Yes, Kendra.”

His face is flushed, his eyes are wide, and his jaw is slackened with desire as I rub him into my skin. His relaxed body is everything I hoped for when I stopped the elevator, and when I stand up straight and hover over him, his cock still hard in my palm, I swipe my tongue across his bottom lip and let him taste himself.

“Actions speak louder than words, and tonight, I couldn’t find the right thing to say about your dad. Other than he’s an asshole.”

Dropping off the railing, he cups the sides of my face in his hands, his forehead resting against mine.

He reaches across and pushes the Emergency Stop button to set us going again and then pulls my straps back over my shoulders. “No part of this was fake to me, Kendra. Not when I asked you to the gala and not now that I have you as my real girlfriend. I always knew you were incredible, but somehow, you’ve taken that word and leveled it up to the point where I’m on my fucking knees for you.” His lips tremble as they find mine. “I know so much of what we share is fun and exciting, and that’s absolutely the truth. It’s just that, now, I’m falling in love with you too.”

The barometer for a good blow job has to be your mascara and how smeared it is afterward.

Well, mine is fucking streaming.

While Jack lies passed out on his bed, needing to “take a minute to recover from that masterpiece”—his words, not mine—I take the opportunity to cleanse my face and soak in my smug feeling.

Mission accomplished. And fuck you, Elliott Thompson.

I’m finishing up on my eye cream when my phone lights up from an unknown caller, and my heart falters when I recognize the international dialing code.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Kendra Hart?” A British female voice, not all that different from Darcy’s and Felicity’s accent, immediately speaks.

“Yes, it is.” I spin around and face the en suite door, waiting with bated breath for her to reveal who she is and where she’s calling from.

“Oh, great. I deliberately called at this hour since I wasn’t sure what time was best to catch you. My name is Sarah Watkins, and I’m the head coach for London Villa.”

Oh fuck, I know who she is. Only one of the best coaches in the world, now heading up arguably the best team in Europe right now.

“How can I help you?” I ask, trying to steady my phone in my shaking hand.

“I hope you don’t mind me calling you directly. Your agent gave me his permission. I felt this would work better, coming straight from me since I’ve had you on my radar for a long time.”

“You have?” I turn back around and face the mirror.

She chuckles lightly. “Oh, yes, absolutely. But due to financial rulings, we couldn’t make an offer to the Storm until now. Well, actually not officially until January, when the winter transfer window opens here in the UK. The point behind my call is to let you know of our intentions. Come the new year, we plan to trigger the release clause in your contract and invite you to join us.” She pauses. “If that’s something you want.”

My mouth runs dry, and I struggle to formulate a response. Instead, I stare at my reflection, motionless.

“I understand this is a little out of the blue,” Sarah continues. “We are just concerned that this is a big move for you, and we understand it might take some time to think it over, so we wanted to give y?—”

“I don’t need any time to think about it,” I interject, finally finding my voice .

“You don’t?” Her voice is excited.

I shake my head and stare down at Jack’s toiletries lining the counter. Swallowing thickly, I pray that my decision is the right one. I can’t make the same mistake again. But my gut has never been stronger on anything, and I can’t ignore that either.

“I can’t accept whatever offer you make.”

She exhales slowly. I can sense her disappointment through the phone. I close my eyes and pray to anyone listening that I didn’t just set my career up in flames.

“Can I ask the reasoning behind your decision?”

“It’s nothing to do with your club, the team, or you as a coach. The setup you have over there is phenomenal.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “My decision is a personal one. I …” I drop my eyes to the tiled floor, and Jack’s smile is right there in my mind. “I recently entered into a relationship with someone and have found a lot of happiness that I didn’t have for a long time. This isn’t a situation where he can move across the Atlantic with me, and neither is it one where I’d ask him to.”

She hums in understanding. “Jack Morgan?”

“Yes,” I answer, realizing my boyfriend isn’t exactly a secret.

“So, your intention is to stay and play out your career in the US?”

I open my eyes and think over the gravity in her question. We’re both the same age, and the NHL doesn’t exist outside of North America, whereas soccer does. Part of me wants to decline answering her question, but I know why she’s asking—she wants to know if there’s a possibility of me transferring to Europe anytime soon or if I see my long-term being stateside.

Thoughts of my brother twist my stomach. Moving to England would mean I’d be much closer to him. I’d also get to see him on the regular since he’d play in the UK far more than he does the US. Memories of my dad racing backward and forward to Mom also play out in my mind. They made it work, but is that what I want for me and Jack? Between our away series, we already spend way less time together than we want .

I know there are no guarantees for us working out, and I can never tell Jack about this call. I have zero doubt he’d tell me to follow my dreams, but what he doesn’t realize is, he’s rapidly become a part of them.

I don’t realize I’m crying until the first tear hits my cheek, and I swipe it away quickly. “Yes,” I say with way more certainty in my voice than I expected. “Things are really serious between us, and I have no plans to leave the US anytime soon.”