I whispered praise into her ear, pressing kisses, not giving her the roughness she’d asked for, not yet. I needed this first, this gentle prelude playing before we hit a crescendo where neither of us would know where one ended and the other began.
My fingers pushed inside her panties, sliding from her centre to her clit, coaxing her to an orgasm that had her holding onto me, whimpering as she came.
I stopped thinking, running on instinct, not waiting for her aftershocks to come to a stutter.
“I want you on your hands and knees. Face your mirror.”
She looked at me, half stunned that I wasn’t giving her time to come down, but we didn’t have that yet, I didn’t want that.
Jerrica looked at me as she moved, my hands steering her into position so she was looking into the floor-length mirror, her ass up in the air, me behind her, kneeling up. I pushed my sweats down, releasing my cock and giving it a couple of hard fists, watching her eyes in the mirror.
This position could be completely anonymous, unless you had a mirror in front to make that eye contact, to see the other person’s expression. To have that same moment and find electricity in that connection.
It might be rough. It might be hard and fast and raw, but this wasn’t just about fulfilling a basic need.
I toyed with my cock at her entrance, moving it down through her folds and back again, her wetness slick over the sensitive tip.
My hands gripped her hips, steadying her as I pushed inside with one wicked movement, her groan echoing through the room, her eyelids dropping. I started to move steadily, using my grip on her hips to get deeper, harder, filling her up and filling the room with words telling her how good she felt, how tight she was around my cock, how much I fucking loved her.
The reversal of those words was what I’d said before.
Now, they were in the right order.
She came with my fingers on her clit and her eyes on mine through the mirror. I followed her with a groan, my arms holding her back against my chest, a hand on her breast, the sensation of us being so fucking close I didn’t know if it was going to be possible to separate. I didn’t know if I wanted to.
Words came out of my mouth that I’d never heard before, praise, love, wants, needs. How she was mine, and possessive utterings that I thought were reserved for my teammates whose balls were kept in cases owned by their girlfriends.
I knew there would be times when I felt that panic, when I doubted myself, when I had no idea what I was meant to do because my early life lessons in love had never been taught. But I could learn now.
We collapsed onto our sides, my cock still buried deep inside her, her head turned so I could press messy kisses to her lips, invading her mouth with my tongue, wondering how the hell I could get closer to her.
Eventually, we slowed, heartrates coming down and breath settling back to normal. Her body curled into mine and my arms wrapped around her, holding, touching.
This wasn’t like the first time we had sex. It wasn’t the same as in that hotel room in France, when we started to learn each other. This was something I’d never had, never known I needed.
“I love you.” The words came easily now. “I don’t think a day’s going to go by where I don’t say those words to you.”
“I love hearing them from you. I love you. Every bit. Even the ones you want to hide from me. Especially those.”
I think there, in her bed in her brother’s house, I found peace for the first time.
It wouldn’t be the last.
Epilogue
JERRICA
Baby Oliver Morriswas big and chunky and incredibly good natured. He also weighed a ton, which was why I was holding him on my knee, listening to him gurgle, while Jesse attempted to warm up a bottle.
This was our third time on babysitting duty, just for an hour or so, while Amber and Nate took the girls to see the puppy that would join their family in a few weeks’ time.
Personally, I thought a puppy would add even more to the madness, but my unflappable brother had simply shrugged and taken the idea in his stride.
Oliver’s birth had been traumatic, and there had been a moment when Nate had thought he might lose both Amber and their son. It had been Jesse who’d talked him out of that dark spot, made him find the light that the doctors had told us was there. The birth had not been straightforward, sudden labour that Amber’s body hadn’t been prepared for, and Oliver had been big. There had been blood loss and a drop in heartrates and emergency caesarean being called.
Nate had driven him and Jesse from the training ground, although I was pretty sure Jesse had done the actual driving as my brother would not have been in any fit state. I was also sure that I’d never find that out for certain.
I’d been with Amber at the hospital, calling Nate, my voice hysterical when I tried to relay what was happening. Afterwards, I’d realised just how Jesse had held everyone together — me, Nate, Jude, Nicky — we all knew and loved Amber. Jesse had been calm, reassuring, practical.
