“You want it inside you,” he said. “Don’t you, my love?”
I cried out as the thick head filled me. I liked this kind of pressure, especially with all the nice rumbles, but it did shut down entire portions of my brain as I adjusted to it. A minute passed while I let these sensations turn me into soft, throbby need.
“You’re doing so good,” he said.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Not when the head slipped a bit deeper as I positioned the suction element. I should’ve given myself a second before turning it on, but the only thing I cared about right now was pleasing my husband. Hearing more of those tender, gentle words, the ones that felt like him brushing my hair over my ear and kissing my forehead.
I loved suction toys because I could always count on them to suck all the tension from my body in a minute or two. It was my everyday stress relief valve. But now, with Ryan watching and telling me how hard I was working, how pretty and sweet my cunt was, how amazing it’d feel when I came for him, it felt like a miracle. Like magic I’d conjured just for him.
For my husband. The one Iloved. The one I wanted to keep for—for always.
“I’m—” I wanted to say more but all I had were cries and moans and the occasionaloh fuckas my back arched off the bed, my hips rutted against the hand holding the toy in place, and my legs shook uncontrollably.
“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my fucking girl.”
I twitched and panted for a minute, too shattered to turn off the toy. When I could finally command my fingers to press the buttons and pull it from my clenching core, a fresh wave of sensations washed over me and I was pretty sure I watched my soul leave my body.
“Wow,” I whispered. I heard Ryan’s answering murmur and that was when I realized I still had the phone positioned belowdeck. I propped it against the pillow and glanced at him, a surge of shyness wiggling through me. “Hi.”
I watched as he mopped his balled-up shirt over his torso. He smiled and he seemed so…proud. As if he just couldn’t believe me. As if I’d done something remarkable. I hadn’t, but I still adored the way he looked at me. It magnified all the aftershocks coursing through my body. “How’s my girl feeling now?”
“After review of the play, the ruling on the field stands.Wow.” I grinned at his bare chest. “How’s my husband?”
“Missing you so fucking much.” He glanced down at himself, laughing. “Thinking about flying home tonight.”
“No, you’ll just have to go back for another shoot,” I wailed. “Stay and get it over with. You’re there now.”
“The only place I want to be is between your thighs.”
“And you will be,” I said, pulling out my most severe teacher voice. “When you finish all of your work.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “You’re not making this any easier.”
I hit him with a stern gaze. “Let’s put on our thinking hats. Will it help us to throw away all our hard work just because we want to play? Or will that make more work for us—and our friends who are only trying to do their jobs—later on?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stay.” He threw his shirt across the room with a grunt. “But if you keep talking like that, we’re going to be setting up at the line of scrimmage real quick.”
“Hmm.” I reached for the box and held up a waterproof suction toy resembling a rubber ducky. “Any chance your suite has a bathtub?”
“I fucking love your devious mind, wifey.” He dragged a hand up his bare chest, settling at the flowers near his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
chapter twenty-eight
Emme
Today’s Learning Objective:
Students will be able to plan ahead.
Field day existedfor many purposes. One less day of instruction to plan at the end of the school year when none of us had the stomach for more of that. An opportunity to let kids cut loose when they had the most energy to burn. A chance to spend the day outside while the weather was perfect. Most importantly, it gave us all something to look forward to—the beginning of the end. It was always the last Friday of the school year, the final event before a short week with class picnics and grade-level promotion parties.
If we could make it to field day, we could make it to the end.
Yet field day had never been any remarkable event. When I’d taken over the coordination in my first year at the school in an attempt to impress my principal, I’d thrown myself into research to find the best activities. I came up with a fairy-tale adventure theme and shaped the games, team names, and awards to match. Fun, cute, silly—and all the supplies came from the phys ed closet. Everyone loved it. And I used that exact playbook for the next few years, mixing up the themes and swapping indifferent activities. It still required a good deal of prep but I knew what I was doing and everyone was happy enough.
But I knew I’d never be able to go back to that playbook after this year’s field day. No part of my hula hoop hopscotch would ever compete with the professional obstacle course that filled the school grounds. Or the dozens of college athletes—not to mention all the NFL players—on hand to help. There was aclimbing wall, for fuck’s sake. And a massive blow-up slide that looked like an obscene amount of fun. I wanted a turn.
As promised, I didn’t have to do a thing. I walked my class outside in the matching t-shirts that’d arrived earlier in the week and the college kids jumped right in, splitting them into small teams and leading them to different stations where Ryan, McKerry, Hersberler, Wilcox, and Bigelow showed them how to complete the activities. There were a few other players from Ryan’s team manning the drills and obstacle courses, including a wide receiver still recovering from knee surgery who’d been appointed the low-impact task of high-fiving kids at the bottom of the slide.
