“One more,” I tell her, my voice rough and strained. “Give me one more and then I’ll let you rest.”
“I can’t?—”
“You can. I know you can.” I pound into her harder, chasing my own release now, the pressure building at the base of my spine. “Come with me, Tilly. I want us to go over together.”
I feel her start to tighten around me again, her body responding to my command, and the sight of her—wrecked and trembling and completely mine—finally breaks me.
I groan her name as I bury myself as deep as I can go, my cock pulsing as I empty everything I have into her.
The orgasm tears through me like a freight train.
Wave after wave of pleasure so intense my vision whites out. I can feel myself filling her up, marking her from the inside, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
Tilly comes again at the same moment, her body clenching around me, and we ride it out together, tangled up in each other, our hearts pounding in sync.
I collapse onto my elbows, careful not to crush her, my face buried in her neck. We’re both breathing hard, covered in sweat, and I’m still inside her because I can’t bring myself to pull out yet.
I don’t ever want to pull out. I want to stay connected to her forever.
“See,” I mumble against her skin. “Told you that you could do it.”
“I think you broke me,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
I laugh, a low rumble that vibrates through both of us. “In a good way?”
“In the best way.”
I lift my head to look at her. Her eyes are soft and dazed, her lips curved into a satisfied smile. She looks thoroughly fucked. She looks happy.
She looks like mine.
I finally pull out of her, both of us hissing at the loss, and roll onto my side, pulling her with me. I tuck her against my chest, one arm wrapped tight around her waist, and press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” I tell her. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
* * *
I wake up the next morning with a face full of curls and an arm full of soft, warm woman.
For the last ten years, the morning of a fight has always been the same. I wake up alone in some hotel room, staring at the ceiling, running through combinations in my head until the adrenaline starts to itch beneath my skin.
Today, there’s just Tilly.
She’s draped across my chest with one leg thrown over my hip, her breath warm and slow against my neck. In the morning light, she looks soft, unguarded. There’s a faint mark on her shoulder from my stubble, a brand I put there. Seeing it makes a heavy, possessive heat coil low in my gut.
I want to stay right here. I want to ignore the training, the wraps, the noise. I want to stay buried in her warmth until the world stops spinning.
I brush a loose curl away from her cheek, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw.
She stirs against me and opens her eyes. She looks confused for a moment, staring at the timber beams above us. Then her gaze finds me, and a slow, sleepy smile spreads across her face.
“Hi,” she whispers, her voice raspy.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
She stretches like a cat, arching her back, and the movement presses her curves against me. I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my side.
“You’re warm,” she mumbles, burying her face in the crook of my neck. She presses a soft kiss there, and I feel it all the way down to my toes.
