Page 66 of Pucking Daddy

The counter is too hard, the angle almost too deep, and absolutely none of it matters.

Jaxon thrusts into me with the same intensity he brings to everything—controlled at first, then increasingly ragged as my nails score his shoulders.

I hook my ankles behind his back, pulling him deeper, chasing the friction that builds and builds until I can't breathe.

"That's it." His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back. "Take it. Take all of it."

His other hand finds my clit again, rubbing in tight circles that match his rhythm. The pressure coils impossibly tight, edge approaching fast.

"I'm going to—"

"I know." He drives harder, faster. "Let me feel it."

I shatter.

The orgasm tears through me in waves, my body clenching around him, his name escaping on a broken cry. He swallows the sound with his mouth, kissing me through the aftershocks as his own rhythm stutters.

"Fuck—Zara—"

He buries himself deep and comes, shoulders shaking, a groan vibrating against my lips.

For a suspended moment, neither of us moves. Just breath and heartbeat and the distant roar of an arena emptying somewhere above us.

Then his phone buzzes.

Reality crashes back.

He pulls away slowly, disposing of the condom in a trash can, retrieving his jacket, fingers moving mechanically through buttons I'd destroyed.

"That was—" He stops. Starts again. "We should probably talk about—"

"Boundaries?" My laugh comes out unsteady. "I think we obliterated those about five minutes ago."

"This complicates things."

"Everything about this situation is complicated." I slide off the counter, smoothing my skirt with trembling hands. "But we still have a custody case to win, and we still need to convince a judge that this marriage is real."

His eyes search my face. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Before I can answer, his phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen, and his expression shifts from post-coital daze to immediate alarm.

"What?"

"Simone." He is already moving toward the door. "Apparently we're late to some family photo thing in the suite, and my ex's fiancé is making comments to reporters about 'hired help.'"

"Lovely."

We emerge into the corridor separately—him first, me thirty seconds later—but Simone finds us within minutes anyway, her expression suggesting she knows exactly what has happened and is professionally obligated to pretend otherwise.

The rest of the night blurs together. Photographs with sponsors, polite conversations with other coaches' wives, a mercifully brief encounter with Jaxon's ex across a crowded room.

Through all of it, I feel his gaze tracking me—heavy, complicated, impossible to ignore.

It isn't until we are in the car heading home that my phone buzzes with a tabloid alert.

RAPTORS COACH'S NEW NANNY: HIRED HELP OR SOMETHING MORE?

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