WARNING: Contains two dirty-talking, hard-f*cking, no-apology-making alpha males. Read at your own risk. Wanting him is the riskiest play of all… Miami star quarterback Jordan Barr is the hottest man that halfback Eric “The Brick” Higgins has ever laid eyes on, and he’s wanted him in his bed for years. When a chance encounter puts the two pro football players in the same town, the same TV studio, and the same locked room, the sparks don’t just fly, they burn. The chemistry between them is intense, immediate, and explosive and Eric isn’t about to miss his chance to have Jordan off the field. He’ll have Jordan naked in his bed—rumors of game fixing haunting both of their teams be damned. Eric is one extraordinarily stunning man, and Jordan would love nothing more than to show Eric what it’s like to be taken by someone who knows exactly what he wants, in the bedroom and out. But Jordan has bills to pay and far too many responsibilities to throw caution to the wind. He has to resist. But it’s getting hard…. Really, really hard. Play Hard is the first installment in a three-part MM romance trilogy and ends in a cliffhanger.
The last time he’d laid eyes on Jordan was the summer after high school, when they were both working as junior coaches at football camp. It was the summer Eric had embraced his inner horndog, getting it on with two older local guys after practice. It wasn’t until the summer was over, however, that he’d learned that one of those same studs had blown Jordan behind the movie theater. Eric had spent a solid month afterward cursing his gaydar for failing him. He had wanted to get his hands all over Jordan’s tight body for years—ever since that summer after high school. Jordan had always been a stunning specimen, and he’d only gotten better with age. Hell, why fuck around? Jordan Barr was the hottest man Eric had ever seen in the flesh. If Jordan only knew how many times Eric had taken his dick in his hand and pictured Jordan. Pictured taking him, touching him, sliding his fist up and down Jordan’s thick cock until the other man came screaming his name. Eric wanted to feel Jordan fucking his hand until he lost control, then have Jordan return the favor, pumping Eric’s dick until he couldn’t think…well, straight. Eric smirked. Straight clearly wasn’t an issue. He imagined Jordan’s jaw would hit the floor if he knew he’d starred in so many of Eric’s fantasies he practically headlined the marquis. ’Course, if Jordan’s mouth were wide open, Eric knew exactly what he’d like to do with it—slide inside and get those full, sexy lips wrapped tight around his cock. Fucking hell. Get it together, Higgins. Eric smiled as he shook Jordan’s hand, trying to play it cool, as if he hadn’t whacked off to imaginary Jordan a few hundred times. “We actually grew up together, but it’s been a long time.” “It has.” Jordan nodded, his light blue eyes glittering with that same sharp intelligence Eric remembered. “I always respected your game, man.” And I yours. Boy had he. As he and Jordan shook hands, electricity shot between them, another lightning strike, and this time, the thunder-down-under decided to join the storm. Careful, Eric. You’re going on live TV in just a few minutes with this guy. You can’t have an erection the size of a goal post when you sit down on the couch. Eric cleared his throat. “I was a fan of yours, too. Still am,” he said with a raised brow and a half-smile. Fan of your ass. Fan of your mouth. Fan of your cock—or I’m sure I will be once I get my lips around it. Jesus Christ. His dirty mind was working overtime this afternoon. “Thanks.” Jordan pulled his hand away a little too quickly. “Nice weather today, huh? I guess Tampa needed a long shower to cool off.” Eric laughed easily, even as he wondered if that was Jordan’s way of calling him out. Did Jordan know that Eric had spied on him in the shower one afternoon when they’d both stayed late at camp? Eric had been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Jordan alone after practice—his stunning body glowing in a shaft of sunlight streaming through the high, dusty windows of the locker room. Every tight, toned, tanned, wet inch—including the increasingly erect inches between his legs—had been on stunning display, making Eric’s body respond with an epic woody of his own. The sight had taken his breath away and fed his fantasies for years. “Well, I enjoy a good shower,” Eric said wryly, unable to resist testing his theory. “Don’t you?” A flush crept up Jordan’s strong neck. “Yeah. Sure. Showers are good.” Well, well, well…
J.T. Fox loves white-hot, sexy stories about men in love (and in lust), rescue dogs, football, soccer, rugby after work, and long, lazy Sunday afternoons with friends. J.T. lives in the south with one alpha pug, two opinionated cats, and a partner who puts up with more than his fair share of crazy.