“Let’s jump in the shower,” he says, his lips still touching mine as he motions toward the bathroom.
Shaking my head, I drag his shorts and boxers down as I drop to my knees while holding his gaze.
“Ari—”
“I want you like this, Beefcake. Right here. Please.”
It’s risky. And probably stupid. Definitely stupid. Anyone could walk in the gym and see us. Locking ourselves in the bathroom is a much smarter idea.
But we don’t claim to be fucking smart.
He’s frozen, watching me. I lick the underside of his cock, moaning at the extra-salty taste of him.
“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath, briefly closing his eyes before they lock on mine again. “You like that, Minx? You like when I’m sweaty?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly. Never once has he made me feel weird or bad about wanting to try something. Even when it doesn’t go the way we expect it will. Exploring kinks with someone you trust fully is so fucking empowering. I lick him again, from base to tip, then take him in my mouth.
His head drops back, and his hips buck. “Shit. Fuck. Sorry, baby.” He tries to pull back, but I dig my fingertips into his ass, keeping him there. I use my tongue, my teeth, my lips on him until he’s clenching his jaw. “You want me to come down your throat?”
I pop his dick out of my mouth. “Yes. But I want you to fuck my face first.”
His eyes go even darker than they already are. “Open your mouth, brat.”
I do, and he slips his cock back between my swollen lips. He wraps my ponytail around his hand, gently but firmly, and does exactly as I asked him to. Tears stream down my face as he comes with a grunt, filling my throat and mouth with his cum. Swallowing him down, I lick every drop off his dick before he pulls me to my feet and up into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist as he steps out of the clothes at his feet. His mouth collides with mine, and I don’t notice we’re moving until he sets me down next to the fighting ring on the other side of the room.
He helps me out of my leggings and then buries his face between my thighs, breathing me in through my panties. Fuck, Ilove when he does that. Hooking his fingers between the fabric and my skin, he pulls them down and sort of slingshots them.
“Did you just yeet my thong?”
Ignoring my question, he shoots me a smoldering look. “Up in the ring. I want you on your hands and knees.” His tone is demanding.
I’ll allow it. Feeling brave and praying no one walks through the door anytime soon, I yank my shirt, which is really one of his shirts, up over my head and toss it on the floor before unhooking my bra and dropping it.
His eyes follow my movements. “Fuck, you’re so goddamned gorgeous.”
I believe it when he says it. Because he truly sees me that way, scars and all. I turn and climb up onto the floor of the fighting ring and start to crawl under the bottom rope. Luca wraps his hands around my thighs, pulling me back until my knees are at the edge and slightly spread apart. The… what the fuck is this thing called? The part outside the ropes. Is it an apron? That’s a stupid name for it, but I think that’s what it is. Whatever it is, it’s wide, so I fit on it without the rope being in my way.
“Look right, baby.”
Turning my head, my eyes meet his in the mirrors on the wall. He stands behind me, his hands on my hips. We’ve fucked in our bathroom and other bathrooms all over this house, multiple times, and obviously there’s mirrors in them. But this… this is different. I haven’t even paid attention to the mirrors before.
I’m paying attention now.
“Is this okay?” he asks. He offered to smash every mirror in the place when I told him what set off that hoodie day in the middle of family movie night. But the scars don’t bother me as much as they did before he kissed them all that first time.
My voice is raspy when I answer. “Yes.”
Luca holds my gaze as his hands slide across my skin. Theyskim along my ass, down the outside of my legs, and then back up my inner thighs.
My breathing is already labored, but when he cups my pussy in his palm, I damn near mewl.
“You’re fucking drenched for me.”
“Luca,” I whine, arching my back to push against his hand.
“Cheek on the floor,” he growls.
I suck in a stuttered breath before we both watch in the mirror as I lower my upper body and press my cheek to the canvas.
