Page 25

MY EYES FEEL like they’re weighted with sand, and when I crack them open, he’s back standing in front of me, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb. I wait for another coaching lesson, but Niko’s quiet, studying me.

“The same thing I said from the other night still stands,” he says in a rough, gravelly voice. “You say stop, and I do. Is it okay if I—”

I nod yes because my mouth has lost the ability to form words.

“I have a condom on,” he says, guiding my hand down to feel him. I have no idea when he did that—probably when I was floating away on my orgasm—but the fact that he did and wants to make sure I trust him sends a flutter of adoration through me.

I glide my hand down the length of him, and he groans. His eyes are clenched shut, breath heavy, and this is the Niko I’ve seen so many times before, the one who seems on the verge of losing all control on the court. Like he’s also dancing on the edge of it being too good. I reach a hand to his chin, drawing his lips to mine one last time before I turn my body, repositioning us so that my back is pressed against his chest.

“Fuck, Bex,” he moans as I reach for his hands, guiding them up to my breasts. Wrapped in his arms, I feel both at his mercy and totally in control.

“I want to give you what you want,” he says, as he gently pinches my nipples, his mouth frantic against the side of my neck. “I want to give you everything.”

He nudges us forward a step, then another, as his hands find mine, bringing them to the top of the net. “Hold on,” he says, and all I can do is moan in understanding.

I think about it, too , I said that night we kissed. About you behind me, bending me over. And here he is, patiently guiding me forward, one hand tangling in my sweaty, knotted mess of hair. Outside, or sort of in public , I told him, as we sat and sipped iced coffees together.

And now I am naked under an endless cover of darkness with Niko’s knee gently nudging my legs wider, one hand on my hip as the other cups my breast. Slowly, he thrusts forward, allowing me to feel every inch of him, until he’s fully seated inside me.

Then he starts to move. His pace is glacial, and with every shift of our bodies together, I moan. I stand slightly, still holding on to the net with one hand as I reach back for him with the other.

“How’s this for de-banging.” He pants the words against my skin, and I let out a throaty laugh.

“I think you could play a lot harder tonight,” I tease, and he responds by lightly smacking me on the ass. It stings with the perfect amount of white-hot pleasure, and I grind harder against him, meeting his rhythm.

He’s remembered everything I’ve told him, taking my fantasies and making them real. But this is better than I ever could have possibly imagined. The sensation of him pushing back into me, so maddeningly slow that we both cry out at the same time, is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. To feel so wildly open and vulnerable and yet so cared for and safe unfurls a new horizon in front of me, an awakening about what intimacy can and should be. My fingers wrap around the net, but even with that to steady me, I feel almost like I’m floating in space, living without gravity. But Niko’s touch grounds me, the soft pull of his hand tugging at my hair, the firm hold he has around my waist, the way he fills me, completely, over and over again.

When it feels like I can’t take much more, he releases my hair and presses his thumb against my clit in firm, deliberate circles.

“Niko, I can’t,” I sputter. “I’m going to—”

I’m going to come, I’m going to fall, I’m going to lose myself to you, I’m going to love you—

He pushes hard inside me one, two, three more times, and the words spill out of him, praising me for being a good girl, for taking him so completely, for driving him so crazy he can’t hold on much longer. I love the way this man talks, and I love the power I have over him, the way he lets go of that intense focus and gives in to whatever lies at the base of his animalistic heart. This is pure, unadulterated fucking. It’s both dirty and so sweet that I can’t tell if I’m about to have another orgasm or burst into tears. Maybe both.

“I’ve got you,” he says with one final, hard thrust, and that’s all I need to hear to let go completely.