Gabriel slaps his hand against the locker. “Fuck, that feels good.”
“So good,” I grunt back. I’m bursting, desperate to touch him everywhere at once.
His hand reaches back and finds my hip as he pulls me tight. “Fuck me raw if you want. And I promise. I won’t yell your name too loud.”
I grunt with pleasure. “Yes, please.”
First, I grind my dick to his ass again. Then I push Gabriel’s pants down while he paws saliva onto my cock. He takes my hand and his hand both to his mouth and then reaches backward to guide me as we spread spit on my dick and his hole. We feel each other everywhere, breathing heavy and moaning under our breath, until I lick my fingers and stroke my wet crown to his rim.
I look down and spit on Gabriel’s crack, watching the saliva drip, and slap my dick to the wet spot.
We’re both naked, sweating together, totally connected in the silence. Gabriel rubs his own precum on his rim, too, arching his ass to show it to me, and I finally lose it. Grunting his name once, firm and clear, I grind my wet crown to his hot hole, keeping it there until his muscles open and I slide in.
Heaven.
I’m drowning in pure ecstasy. My body is all instincts as I ease into Gabriel’s tight ass, opening him with slow rotations. My precum lubes him up, and the tight burn feels good, so satisfying as my muscles ache.
Gabriel swallows a grunt as he reaches back to stroke my face. I push him against the locker, and he takes every inch of me hard and deep as his erection bounces in my fist.
I fuck my husband. The man I’m falling in love with.
Gabriel.
Not my arrangement. Not my hookup.
It’s Gabriel clenching down tight on my cock, urging me to fuck him harder. Gabriel pulling my face so that he can turn and kiss me. He buries his tongue in my mouth as our bodies crescendo into an orgasm, and I sink into him, shooting while he convulses with the force of his climax.
I never imagined I’d be here, gleefully fucking my husband in the stadium after losing a major game. But I’d never imagined a man like Gabriel, either.
“My man,” I growl, pawing his chest and holding him to me.
Gabriel sways back into my arms. “My man,” he agrees.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
GABRIEL
My emotions ricochetback and forth. Spencer wants me, and not just for sex. He looks at me with fierce, intense devotion in his eyes, and it feels so fucking good.
But the doubts are still there, too, buried beneath the joy. There’s still a voice in the back of my head insisting that he’ll leave me, or I’ll fail him in some way I don’t understand.
In the honeymoon suite, I fight to silence the troubled thoughts. We strip each other the second we’re inside. Spencer drags me into the shower with him, and in the hot steam, we take turns on our knees. My ass is still raw and warm from the incredible fucking he gave me at the tournament, but somehow, even after hours of an exhausting game, my man has enough left in him for another round.
Spencer takes me in a post-orgasmic kiss, and the hot water beats us from above.
“You must be starving,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I am. Haven’t slowed down enough to realize it.”
I pull him out of the shower, eager to take care of him, prove my worth as a partner. “I’ll order,” I tell him as I wrap a fresh towel around his shoulders. “Do you have any routine for when you exit a tournament?”
Spencer cocks up half a grin. “A burger and a beer, usually.”
“Burgers and beer it is.” I brush a kiss across his lips before stepping back. “Coming right up.”
A burger and a beer will probably knock him out. Spencer has a tendency to pass out after a good climax anyway. After I call the food in, I return to the big round bed and see that he doesn’t need a beer to put him down.
Spencer is ass-up naked, face against the pillow, and dead to the world.
