Her arms wrapped tighter around my waist, head resting just below my collarbone. That was it. No need for big declarations or flowery shit. Just her holding on like she finally found solid ground.
And me, holding her like I’d tear down the fucking world to keep it that way.
Because this? Us?
This felt like the only thing that had ever made sense.
And I wasn’t giving it up. Not for anyone.
I tilted her chin up, my thumb brushing over her lips. "Now," I murmured, my voice a low growl. "I want you to show me just how much you belong to me."
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew what I needed, what I craved. Slowly, deliberately, she sank to her knees in front of me, her hands trailing down my sides before resting on my thighs. The sight of her like that—so willing, so eager—sent a surge of heat straight through me.
I was already hard, aching for her. I pulled myself out, my cock straining towards her mouth. Her breath hitched as she looked up at me, lips parting in anticipation.
"Take it," I commanded, my voice rough with need.
Without another word, she leaned in and took me into her mouth. The sensation was immediate—hot, wet, perfect. She moved slowly at first, savoring the taste of me, her tongue swirling around the head before taking me deeper.
"Fuck, Kennedy," I groaned, my hand tangling in her hair as I guided her rhythm. "Your mouth was made for my dick."
She moaned around me; the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. My grip tightened in her hair as I began to thrust into her mouth, each movement more demanding than the last. She took it all—every inch, every thrust—her eyes locked on mine the entire time.
The sight of her on her knees for me, so willing to please, pushed me closer to the edge. Her lips stretched around my cock, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. My control was slipping fast.
I could feel it building—the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was ready to snap. "I'm gonna come," I warned, my voice strained with the effort of holding back.
She didn’t stop. If anything, she only intensified her efforts, taking me deeper until I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, I came hard and fast, filling her mouth with everything I had.
She swallowed eagerly, not wasting a drop. But some still escaped—a thin trail of come slipping down her chin as she pulled back slightly. The sight of it—the evidence of what we’d just shared—made my pulse race all over again.
I reached down and wiped it away with my thumb before bringing it to her lips. She took it into her mouth without hesitation, sucking gently as she cleaned off the last remnants of my release.
"Good girl," I murmured softly, pulling her up into a fierce kiss. "You’re such a good wife."
Chapter 21
Kennedy
The arena buzzed with life the moment I stepped inside; the sound swelling around me like a heartbeat I could feel in my bones. This time, it didn’t overwhelm me. It energized me.
I tugged Nick’s jersey tighter around me as I found my seat near the glass, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like a costume I was borrowing. It felt like mine—like a banner I’d chosen to wave, loud and proud.
I scanned the ice instinctively. And there he was.
Nick Maddox.
My husband.
Black and white gear, jaw set beneath his helmet, posture coiled like a loaded weapon. My pulse tripped over itself. There was something unshakable about him, something that made the whole rink tilt in his direction like gravity bent for him alone. I couldn’t look away.
The puck dropped, and the game began, but my world narrowed to him and him alone. Everything else fell away: the fans, the announcer, even the cold biting through my jeans. I tracked his every movement with breathless focus.
The way he moved across the ice was nothing short of beautiful. Calculated. Sharp. Fluid. Like a predator in his natural element. Every time he checked someone into the boards, I found myself half on my feet, heart in my throat.
“Go, Nick!” I shouted, unable to contain the rush building inside me.
He glanced my way—just a flicker—but it landed like a punch straight to my chest. He saw me. He heard me. And I didn’t care who else did.
