Page 163 of Falling Offsides

And God, I let her. I give her everything.

My hands on her waist. Her hair in my fists. My voice in her ear, filthy and broken and full of things I’ll never stop meaning.

“Just like that,” I gasp. “Fuck—you feel amazing… so tight… wet. Fuck, Snow, you ride me so fucking good. So fucking perfect.”

Her nails dig deeper. Her walls clench tighter.

“You’re gonna make me come for you, Princess. So fucking hard…” I growl, bucking up into her, matching her rhythm. “Gonna fill you up like a good little cum slut.”

“Don’t stop,” Courtney orders as I fuck up into her, deep and hard and rough. The way she’s fucking me. She gives and I give and we both take. And take.

I sit up, press our foreheads together, my hands cradling her back as she grinds down over me, riding me harder, her breaths turning into pleas.

Her thighs lock around me, her whole body clenching…

“Auguste—oh-my-god—baby…”

“Fuck!” I lose it at her endearment.

There and then, filling my girl up as she comes for me. Her pussy choking my cock, sucking me deeper as her teeth bite down on my shoulder.

I grab her hips and work us both through our orgasm, dragging them for as long as I can until I’m buried so deep I’m not sure where I end and she begins.

We collapse together. A sweaty, shaking heap of boneless limbs. And I hold her on top of me. I don’t pull out. Unwilling to break the connection. To end the moment.

So I stay inside her, my arms locked around her back, her chest pressed to mine. My heart thundering into hers.

My mouth finds her shoulder. I kiss it once. Soft. Then her temple. Her cheek. I can’t stop touching her like I have to map every inch of her into memory.

She shifts against me, and I feel the damp warmth between us—her arousal, her release, mine. Her thighs still slick. My cock still aching even after everything we just did.

And God help me, I know I’ll never have enough of her.

This girl is it for me. She’s everything.Mine.

THIRTY-ONE

COURTNEY

The sun glintsoff the water like a million scattered diamonds, the yacht bobs as laughter rises in bursts from the upper deck. Auguste’s family is loud, chaotic, and absolutely perfect in a way that makes my chest ache. They’re tangled up in each other’s business, quick to tease, quicker to hug, and so painfully affectionate it feels like I’m watching a movie I hadn’t been cast in—but somehow, he’s pulled me onto the set anyway.

I sit cross-legged on the deck beside a small kiddie pool Auguste and his brother Etienne rigged up with towels and a few inches of water for the twins, Ethan and Elliot. They’re tiny whirlwinds of baby babble and drool, armed with a bucket of foam toy sharks that have already bitten me six times.

“Oh my gosh,” I exclaim, lifting a rubber great white out of the water. “These sharks are hungry.”

Ethan lets out a high-pitched shriek of glee, arms flailing as he drags his green diapered butt closer, splashing me. Meanwhile Elliot continues gnawing on a foam water squirter.

“Are you trying to give the little monsters nightmares?” Auguste says, grinning as he settles beside me with a glass of icy soda water garnished with mint and lime.

“No. They love it,” I say, holding up the shark so it “chomps” his bicep. “It’s called the circle of life.”

Auguste leans in, voice low and warm by my ear. “You’re savage, and I like it, but if either of them starts demanding true crime documentaries by bedtime, I’m blaming you.”

Elliot crawls over and promptly sits on my foot like it’s the most comfortable seat on the boat. I blink down at him, heart doing a weird soft thing in my chest.

“You were like this once,” I say to Auguste, eyes still on the baby. “Tiny. Bite-sized. Probably still scowling at everyone.”

He laughs. “I had the same hair. My mom says I looked like a hedgehog with attitude.”