“I haven’t been with anyone else.” Brayden says it like it’s the most obvious thing.
“At our wedding, you had a mark right—” I touch my neck illustratively.
He frowns for a moment like he’s trying to remember. “I got hit by a ball during batting practice.”
“And the photos with other women?” I press.
“Just photos. Most of them thought I was Blake.”
“I have a—” My mind scrambles for the wordIUD. “I won’t get pregnant, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He blinks at that. Smiles the same kind of smile Asher had on last night. “I wasn’t.” Brayden shoves his joggers the rest ofthe way down his legs, sits on the bed with his back against the headboard. “I want you on top of me.”
Not what I was expecting. I’m strong enough to hold my own weight, but even then, I’m still not light. “Are you sure?”
Brayden winds his arms around my waist, positions me so I’m across his lap, legs on either side of his hips. “I’m sure,” he says, simply. He leans and kisses my shoulder, a line down my neck, cradles both of my breasts in his hands and strokes his thumbs across my nipples. Before, I thought he was going to fuck me to prove a point. Now, I’m not sure what point he’s trying to make.
He takes his cock in hand and guides himself to my entrance. Slowly, I sink down. My pussy is swollen from my previous orgasm—I pant a few times, adjusting to how thick he feels, how at this angle he’s so deep I can practically taste it in my throat.
I’ve had sex before last night—not a huge amount, but enough. With Asher, it felt different: hot and frantic and so desperate I was willing to blow up my marriage. With Brayden, I ride him while his hands drift all over my body, from my shoulders to my chest to the rolls on each side of my waist, to my hips and back up, again and again.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” he says.
“Since we got married?”
He shakes his head. “Since the moment we first met.” He pulls me to him, kisses me deeply, pushes himself even deeper inside me until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
Is that what this is supposed to feel like all the time?I want to say. Not to Asher, but to all the other men who came before, who were, in retrospect, just jerking themselves off using my body.
A minute later, Brayden’s hips snap up like he’s been keeping himself under control—and that control is starting to fray. “Okay, change of plans.” He gropes around on the bedspreaduntil he finds the vibrator and flicks it on. For some reason, a thump comes from the hotel room next door—Asher’s room—like he just slammed his hand against a hard surface.
“Huh,” Brayden says, sarcastically, “wonder if he can hear us.”
He guides me on my back, brings one leg up over his shoulder, drives himself into me, impossibly deeper, until my pussy throbs around him. Wets his thumb in my mouth then drops it to play with my clit.
Pleasure courses through me, in the soles of my feet, the small of my back. A noise gathers in my throat—a wordless yell—as my body tenses.
“That’s it, let him hear you,” Brayden says. “Let him know exactly who’s doing this to you.” He grabs the vibrator and presses it right to my entrance, mean, unrelenting, and somehow both too much and almost, almost enough. I clench my eyes shut, overwhelmed.
“No,” he snarls, “eyes on me. I don’t want you to think you’re with anyone else.” He increases the vibrator’s speed impossibly higher. “You stood at that altar and promised to forsake all others.”
I’m panting now, orgasm building inside me like a storm. “I did.”
“And you broke that promise.”
“I did.”
“See, that’s how we’re different, Sav. I don’t break my fucking promises.”
He touches the vibrator to my clit, and that’s it, that's all it takes. I’m coming, squeezing around him, scratching my nails up his back and moaning as he shakes through an orgasm that spills into me, hot and wet and seemingly never-ending. He pulls out and I think that's the end of it when he buries his hand between my legs, fingering me until I come again, another waveof it—this one like an ocean overwhelming me before I gasp for him to stop.
After, Brayden looks up at me, face lit, body collapsing into the bed. I do the same into the pillows, hoping the housekeepers will change the sheets or possibly bring us a whole new mattress. Around us, the hotel is coming to life. Distantly there’s the sound of people walking through the hallway—Brayden’s teammates—and the noise of the city rising up from the streets.
“I need to go to the park.” He groans it but doesn’t move.
“You missed your morning run.”
“I did cardio.” Brayden smirks at that, and his hair has gotten longer since we first met, long enough I can reach and drag my fingers through it. “I’m gonna clean myself up. You should stay here. Order room service. Read your favorite articles—the ones with the really tiny font.”
