My breath catches. She bends forward, trailing her fingers down my chest, my stomach—right over my belt buckle.
Then nothing.
She sets her foot down, pivots—just enough to tease, retreat.
But I’m already moving. She doesn’t get the chance.
The last thread of control I’ve got? Just unraveled.
I’m on her in a breath—gripping her waist, lifting her like she weighs nothing, spinning her around to face me.
My hand wraps around her throat—not hard, just enough to tilt her chin. To remind her of whom she married.
“You wore this to fuck with me,” I growl. “As if you don’t already have the power to bring me to my fucking knees.”
She smirks, breath catching. “Then beg, Coach.”
That’s it. I snap.
One second, she’s smirking like she’s still in control—
Next, I’ve got her bent over the balcony rail. Hands splayed against the metal. Back arched. Her body already knows what’s coming.
Her breath catches. “Donovan—”
I press up behind her, hard and unforgiving, lips dragging along the curve of her neck.
“You dressed like this,” I grit, “walked out here likethis… and you thought I wouldn’t lose my fucking mind?”
She shivers beneath me.
I grip her hips, fingers digging into bare skin, possessive, primal,mine.I lean in, my breath hot at her ear.
“You knew exactly what this would do to me.” “You put this on. Walked out here.” “And now you’re gonna take what you asked for.”
She lets out the softest, neediest sound—half whimper, half challenge. It splits me wide open.
I tear her panties down, the lace catching on her garters for half a second before giving way. She’s already soaked. Already pushing back against me, desperate for more, grinding, gasping, chasing the ruin she begged for without saying a word.
“Ten seconds, that’s all you’ve got. And then I’m taking what’s mine—every moan, every tremble, every goddamn breath.” I line up behind her. One hand slides up her spine. The other stays firm at her hip.
I ease in, just the tip—her pussy stretching, slick and tight, already milking me. She gasps a shattered breath, knees trembling, body begging for more.
“Donovan…”
“That’s it,” I growl, fingers curling at the back of her neck. “Take every inch. Every goddamn inch. This is what you begged for.” Then I thrust.
I bury myself in her with one unforgiving thrust. I swear I see heaven. Or hell. Doesn’t matter, I’m not leaving either without her.
She arches beneath me, crying out, her pussy gripping my cock like she doesn’t want to let go. Heat. Pressure. Fucking surrender. All of it, mine.
My right hand grips her hip—my left slides up—slow, commanding—until my fingers wrap around her throat. My wedding ring presses to her throat, claiming her air like it’s mine to give.
She gasps, and fuck—hearing her choke against my fingers goes straight to my cock.
“Fuck, baby,” I breathe against her shoulder, my voice wrecked. “You see this view? Anyone could look up and see you like this—see how perfect you are—how your pussy weeps for me, dripping and desperate, shining when I’m buried deep where I fucking belong.”
A shudder runs through her spine, and a loud moan breaks free—dragged straight from her soul.
