Pick Six by Max Monroe

Author:Max Monroe [Monroe, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Mavericks Tackle Love Novel, Book Two
Publisher: Max Monroe
Published: 2018-05-14T18:00:00+00:00

Me: I love your big cock. Put it inside me again after dinner? Pretty please with whipped cream and my cherry-flavored pussy on top?

Then my phone vibrated with a message.

Sean: Okay, baby. But only because you asked so nicely.

I couldn’t not laugh at that.

Nor could I really be upset.

Because, yeah, more sex with Sean? Count me in.

Inside the car I’d borrowed to drive Six to the airport, we’d sat idling in front of the entrance for a good twenty minutes, mostly due to her stubbornness.

I wanted to walk her in.

But she wasn’t a fan of that plan.

“Let me come in with you,” I begged for the fortieth time since we’d left the hotel that morning. The team bus would be coming in just under two hours to bring us back here, to the private plane entrance to fly home ourselves, but I’d been nearly apoplectic at the idea of putting Six in a cab and sending her on her way by herself.

She was headed home, back to California for a week, and the idea of not seeing her until she met us in Dallas for the next game was…unsettling.

It’d actually taken a special favor from the hotel’s concierge—a big fan, thankfully—to acquire a car to bring her myself.

If the picture on the backside of the visor was anything to go by, I was pretty sure he’d given me his personal vehicle.

“No way.”

“Six—”

“Sean, no.” She cut me off, turning her small body in the tan leather seat to face me. Her eyes were serious, something rare for Six, as she appealed to my rational side earnestly. “Are you forgetting who you are?”

“Pretty sure I know exactly who I am,” I argued, turning her words against her. I didn’t want to think about all the other stupid shit. To me, I was Sean Phillips, brother to Cassie and son to Greg and Diane.

Six rolled her eyes. “To the public, Sean. You’re one of the Mavericks’ best players. You’re utterly recognizable around here.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her words of praise. Six was never easy on me, and she rarely acknowledged me as anything other than an asshole. Getting a little peek into a side of secret admiration excited me. “I am, huh?”

“Oh God,” she sighed with a laugh. “Does your ego ever stop needing to be stroked?”

I waggled my eyebrows, and a wayward hand reached out to love on the meat of her thigh. It was all its decision, though, not mine, and I would hold strongly to my stance in a court of law. “Stroking is always good.”

“I walked right into that one,” she admitted, turning to look at the busy sidewalk right outside her window. Pittsburgh airport wasn’t as bad as my home airport, Newark International, a major hub in a populated state, but it wasn’t a slouch either. There was an uncomfortable amount of people, and all of the crosswalks bustled with hordes of humanity each time the light switched over to allow for pedestrians.

The police patrolled the

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