He’s right. Immensely so. Rallying for a good reason, I say, “Yeah, but we could still go for another round or two.”
Damon’s eyes twinkle. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
“I… I’d like that,” he says, and my heart jumps. “I’ll need a minute to recover.”
“Thought hockey players had better stamina than that,” I tease.
He winks. “Ex-hockey player. I’ve got a boring job now. Well… still sports related with a lot of travel, but nothing as exciting as being a professional athlete.”
“What do you do?” Since he’s not leaving soon, what’s the harm in getting to know him? It’s okay. Even if I won’t see himagain, having a decent conversation after good sex is just polite. I think.
“I’m a sports agent.”
My face splits into a grin. “Wait? No way! That’s what I’m going to be doing, too.”
Damon’s eyes widen. “You’re into sports?”
“No! I hate sports with a passion. Don’t get it at all. Don’t even get me started on hockey, with all the grunting and fighting.” I smirk at him. “It helps that the men are hot, though.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. “Why are you going to be a sports agent, then?”
“It’s a family business. My dad wants me to get into it. It should be fine, though. I’m going to prove to him that I’m going to be the best agent ever, even if I was never the jock he wished I would be. He tried getting me into hockey when I was a kid, you know? But I was sickly as hell and my mom had to talk him out of it because my body couldn’t take it. He’s never said it outright, but he’s always been annoyed that his only child—only son—can’t play sports. ”
Damon’s expression melts. I can’t decipher it at all. “You’re not serious.”
“Yes, but no need to look at me like that. I’m incredible at other stuff. I’m good with reading people and I’m good with getting what I want. That would make me an amazing agent, yes?”
“That’s true,” he says, and I don’t miss the way his mouth quirks.
“Wait.” I pull back, blinking at him. Now that I know what he does, a name from earlier tonight makes its way to the forefront of my brain. Something doesn’t make sense here. “If you’re a sports agent, why haven’t you signed Westley Harrison? He won’t sign even with one of his best friends?”
“I never considered him a lead since he’s my friend.” Damon runs his fingers through my hair, scraping his nails against my scalp. “Besides, Westley will never leave his current team. He’d never leave Vaughn behind.”
“Vaughn…” I go through the messy mental notes in my brain. “First-line defenseman of the Rockets. He and Westley have been playing together since middle school.”
“They’re so into each other, and all of us know it but them. If Westley ever signed with an agent, he’d only do it if Vaughn came along for the ride.”
Interesting.
I definitely tuck that information away for later.
Damon continues to stroke my hair, massaging my temple until my eyes flutter close. A small relaxed sigh escapes me. It urges him on, his fingers pressing deeper, stroking at the right spot.
“That feels nice,” I say.
He hums in reply.
And… I’ve decided we’ve rested long enough. I slip a hand between us, wrap it around his cock, and a thrill runs down my spine when he sucks in a breath.
“Looks like someone’s up again,” I say, grinning. “Let’s do something else that feels nice. Again.”
Damon gives me a mischievous grin. “Deal, sweetheart.”
***
I wake up to sunlight hitting my face, and I groan—why the hell did I forget to close the curtains, especially since the guest room in Dad’s stupid penthouse faces the morning sun? I drag myself off the king-size bed, making a whole show of it because of how my limbs are killing me.
