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He pushes in, then comes out—not all the way, but some.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He lifts a brow. “If the condom fits…”

I’ve never had sex while I talked, and I admit I’m enjoying the arrogance, the confidence, the playfulness.

“Next time, I’ll buy them and get the correct size.”

He glances away, twisting his lips in a grimace. “It’s the biggest size they make.”

I give him a saccharine smile, and he lifts my butt up and slams me down to the base of his shaft, and I cry out. It’s as if my body is splitting in half. But by the third time, I say in broken breaths, “You’re right. It’s bigger than the condom.”

“That’s my girl.”

His girl.I like the sound of that.

Since I gave in, I expect him to let up, but he slides me up and down faster and harder. My short fingernails dig into hisshoulders. “Yes, Yes,” I shout. “Oh God, yes.” My back squeaks against the glass like when it’s being cleaned.

I’m on the precipice of an orgasm. It’s been building between the pain and pleasure. “I’m… I’m.”

My body goes taut as I try to stave it off, not wanting it to end. I bite down on his shoulder, which sends his hips into overdrive, flattening my back against the glass and pistoning his hips hard against me. John fills every millimeter inside my walls, giving me everything he has.

Then he stops. Just stops. “Did you hear that?”

Breathless and panting, I say, “No. Come on, John. I want you to… you know.”

“I thought I heard your name.”

“That was you whispering my name.”

He seems to buy it and fucks me slow as if he wants to make sure no one is around. After a few minutes of long, languid stokes, he spins me around. “Hands on the glass.”

I don’t know how many times I’ve come today. Or how many times I’ve shouted his name, but this raw, pure sex is exhilarating.

John plunges into me repeatedly with one hand on my hip to keep his rhythmic flow, and the other on my clit. I can hardly believe that I feel my core tightening once again, but I do as his movements become erratic.

“Bex, I need to go harder.”

Can it be any harder?

“Go for it.”

That’s all it takes. He slams into me at a blistering pace; my shoulders are hitting the glass. I try to extend my arms so we can have more of a foundation.

“Fuck, you’re dripping every time I pull out. So, fucking beautiful that I want to stop and lick, but I can’t. I’m so close.”

He pinches my clit and rubs it hard against my pelvic bone at the same moment he slams into me. “I…I can’t…broken.”

He pulls out, spins me once again to face him, and rips offthe condom. His head falls back as he grips his dick and strokes it wildly as he comes all over my neck and chest. When he’s finished, his body relaxes, and his lips saunter from my cheek to my lips.

Our limbs are like wet noodles, and we take a tumble onto the floor and manage to topple the floor lamp, breaking the shade.

“You broke me and the lamp,” I snicker, then suddenly I realize that my relationship with John has changed. As much as I wanted to have sex with him and feel his body against mine and in mine, I hadn’t thought too much about the repercussions of the sex. Especially since his confession that I’m the only one for him.

He pushes us to a sitting position, absently brushing his hand over my skin. Neither of us know what to do next. Do I stay right here? Do I scurry to the bathroom? Do we want the same things? I do know I want to have sex with John again.

As I glance into his eyes, I don’t see regret, but I do feel the confusion in his muscles. Athletes don’t like the unknown. We’re people who live by schedules and rules and more schedules and more rules. If we know the challenge, we can confront it. Not knowing is a bitch. And here we are.