Part of me sort of hoped no one heard, but another part of me just didn’t care anymore. I was hers, she was mine, and we were husband and wife, and in love, and for this moment in time everything was perfect.
She gasped as I pulled out of her, then helped her spin around.
“Is this like, okay?” she murmured.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Is your coach okay with you doing this on his desk?”
I laughed. “This is why I love you, Cat. Well, one of the reasons. You’re so by the book.”
She leaned back, and I helped her remove the hockey jersey she was wearing.
“So ... is he?” she repeated.
I leaned in, then pushed my tip inside her, reveling in the soft moan that escaped her mouth. “No,” I growled in her ear. “He’s not.”
She wanted to protest—I think—but soon her thoughts were like mine, carried away to an island of pleasure and love where everything was perfect and right.
My skin tingled everywhere, and with every one of her moans I was closer to coming. I felt her clench on my cock, and her fingernails scraped my back and sides—my wife’s orgasmic trademark.
Our marriage might have started out as a convenient Vegas sham.
But the way her body felt underneath me when she came definitely wasn’t.
She knew how I liked it when she let me know she was coming, and that made me feral with lust. I clenched and pulled out, and came all over her stomach and breasts. Then, I laid down on Coach’s desk and joined her, holding her hand as we both came down from the clouds.
“What the hell was that?” she breathed.
“I know,” I said. “I thought we couldn’t get any higher after last time.”
“No,” she said softly. “You just came all over my chest. My husband comesinme, por favor. Remember?”
“Oh,” I said, glancing at her. I used the towel that had dropped from my waist and cleaned her up. “My bad, I didn’t think too hard about it.”
She sat up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay. It was actually kind of hot.”
We found Jenny in the parking lot to get Cat’s bag, then headed home. Thoughts weighed on me as we drove back to my place. She seemed to be thinking, too. I had been searching for a waynotto have the conversation we were about to have, but it was unavoidable.
When we got back to my apartment, we plopped down on the couch.
“So,” she said. “Now would be a good time to tell you that I had a run-in with Jackie in the tunnel. And it was really weird. She was saying weird stuff about how ‘Spain has a great climate,’ so I’ll be able to benefit from that. Why would she say that?”
I held her hand and took a deep breath. “So I wanted you to be sitting down for this.”
“Oh boy.”
I could feel the nervousness coming from her.
“After the game, Jackie stopped me, and she showed me a video she somehow got a hold of. It was surveillance footage from the night in Las Vegas. It includes a snippet of us, after we got married, when we were really drunk, playing blackjack at a poker table and bragging about how we’re going to ‘cheat the system,’—your words—and how you’re my hot little Catalan Puck bunny for hire.’”
She squinted. “Oh, yea. We did visit the blackjack tables, didn’t we? Damn. Well, that’s not a good look.”
“Ironic, considering we’re in love now for real.”
Her expression changed, looking hopeful. “So this isn’t a huge problem though, right? If she posts the video, we just respond together—we’ll do a periscope or something—and say that we were joking and that we’re in love. Which we are. Now.”
I mulled it over. It was true. Though Jackie had used scary words like fraud and prison time with me—she knew how to deliver a threat—Cat and I had moved beyond whatever words we had exchanged, whatever mentality we had during our Vegas one night stand.
