“Our families will hear the bed. Your brother catching us once is more than enough for a lifetime.”
“Chair,” I say, desperate to have him inside me. “I’ll go slow. It’ll be torture, but I’ll make it worth it. Unless you want to celebrate another way…”
I swivel my hips, drawing a groan from deep in Zach’s throat. His hands land beneath my ass, hoisting me into the air with him. I undo his pants as he walks us to my wooden desk chair, taking a seat after his pants drop to his ankles. He shoves my panties aside then lowers me onto his cock, both of us groaning at this euphoric connection. My hips propel forward, then shift back, a tantalizing rhythm grinding my clit against him. It feels so, so good, I can’t help but pick up the pace, needing more friction.
His hand covers my mouth, smothering my moan. “Quiet, Finley, or we’ll need to stop.”
I nod my agreement, and he removes his hand.
“I need more.”
Zach tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. “How about I talk you through it?”
“Words won’t—” My voice cuts out when Zach takes my earlobe into his mouth, scraping his teeth lightly across my skin. His other hand migrates up my shirt to tease my hardened nipples, sending a bolt of longing to my core.
“No?” he whispers into the shell of my ear.
My hips buck against him, messy movements until I’ve found a spot that’ll make me explode.
“You’re fluttering against my dick. You’re close, Finley.God, you’re close, and—” He mashes his lips into mine but otherwise stays still as I work myself back and forth against him, chasing the breaking point out of my reach. “Fuck,I can’t hold on much longer. I need you to come with me, babe.”
It’s the sound of agony in his voice that sends me over the edge, a wave of pleasure cresting at its painful apex before crashing. The tension in my body breaks, spreading a deliciousheat through every nerve. I slump into Zach, spent and blissed beyond belief. His hands secure me to him, the pound of his rapid heartbeat reverberating against me. My arms snake around him beneath his shirt, my fingertips running lightly over his skin.
“You good, High-flyer?”
“I could stay here all day,” I mutter.
“If we stay in this position, I’m going to get hard again—”
“I know.” My head pops off his chest, and I look at him. “Not seeing a problem with it.”
“You’re tired,” he says, halfheartedly.
“You can do all the work next time.” I push a kiss into the crook of his neck. “Problem solved.”
“I’ll need more than the remainder of our fifteen minutes for what I want to do to you.”
Slowly, he lifts me off him, but we still manage to make a mess of each other. He grabs tissues from my desk and cleans us up with the carefulness I’ve come to expect from him. Always so mindful of how he affects me. I don’t know how I got this lucky, to find someone who loves me so intensely, as much as I love him.
I handle our relationship with the same carefulness, treating it as if it’s breakable, never taking for granted that he’s mine.
Epilogue: Zach
One Year Later
Pride surges through meas I watch from the stands as Finley Harris’s life changes.
The gymnastics world is seeing what I already know: she’s a fucking star. Well, they knew it once, years ago, but her routines in UPC’s first regular season meet are putting an exclamation point on the reminder. No one can deny she’s back and better than ever.
Finley sticks her landing after doing the flippy twisty somersault off the vault I’ve seen her practice hundreds of times. She told me once she didn’t need to wait for the landing to know whether she’d stick it; she can tell based on how her hands block off the vault.
From the megawatt smile already on her face when her feet hit the mat, I can tell she agrees with the enthusiastic reception of the audience. I’m out of my chair, cheering at the top of my lungsalong with them. I sit when Finley’s back with her teammates at the beginning of the vault runway.
This first meet is scheduled on a nongame day, unlike most this season. The contingent of us here for Finley goes rows deep, and from the way she glances up at our section every so often, I know how much it means to her to have this support.
It’s especially true about her parents, who made the trip from Maine yesterday to spend the weekend and see their daughter compete. They worked to heal their fractured relationships, fighting to get to a healthy place where they can support Finley’s decisions.
Jennings leans into me, arms draping over the seat rest separating us. “You’re going to be a meme, Briggsy.”
