Cooper (New York Players #2)

by Lulu Moore

To quote Janet Jackson, ‘You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone’. I definitely know. And I’m getting it back.

“Je n’ai jamais rien voulu autant que je te veux. Tu me rende dingue.”

“Baby, I need you on your knees right now. I need your lips around my cock so badly. I need to empty myself down your throat.” My voice was dark, raspy, and unrecognizable.

“Get on your knees, Francesca.”

“Bébé tu es tellement parfait,” I whispered against her lips.

“I have to say, the French is sexy. I do like that.”

“Don’t be too hard on Coop, Fredster. You have him by the balls right now,” he whispered.

And the week we spent together was undoubtedly my happiest. Being with you made me feel more alive than I’ve ever been; more alive than every time I lace up my skates and get on the ice, more than every puck drop, or goal scored. You’ve given me life beyond hockey.

January 27th was the day you sent me my first ever playlist. It was made up of your favorite British bands. The first song on there was Wonderwall by Oasis. We had a big game that night against Philly, and I listened to it all day. I scored four goals. I’m not saying it was because of the playlist, because I know it wasn’t. It was because of you. You’re my Wonderwall, Tiny.