Page 14 of Overtime with Orion
“Tell me what you want,” I whispered, my forehead resting against hers.
“I want you inside me,” she breathed, her hips canting up, trying to take me in. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
I pushed in slowly, an inch at a time, letting her feel every ridge, every stretch. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her mouth fell open in a silent cry of pure pleasure. “Oh, God…”
“That’s it,” I murmured, sinking deeper until I was fully sheathed, buried to the hilt in her incredible heat. I stilled, letting us both adjust to the perfect, tight fit. “Jesus, Larkin. Your pussy…it’s like it was made for me. So tight. So perfect.”
I began to move—a slow, deep rhythm that had her clutching at my back, her nails digging into the jersey. Our whispers became a frantic, urgent dialogue in the dark.
“You feel so good,” she panted into my ear. “So deep.”
“Who do you belong to?” I growled, driving into her with a little more force.
“You,” she gasped. “Always you.”
The bed creaked softly, a rhythmic counterpoint to our ragged breathing. I lost myself in the feel of her, in the way her body welcomed mine, in being stretched over the woman who was my entire world. This was better than any championship, any roaring crowd. This was home.
My control began to fray. “I’m close, baby.”
“Me too,” she cried softly. “Don’t stop.”
I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit, and circled it firmly. That was all it took. She came beneath me with a muffled sob, her inner muscles milking me, pulling my own release from me in a powerful, blinding wave. I buried my face in her neck, my own groan stifled against her skin as I emptied myself into her.
For a long moment, the only sound was our shared, shuddering breaths. I rolled us to our sides, keeping her tucked against me, my jersey sticking to our damp skin. I kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose.
She nuzzled into my chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal. “I think I finally understand the victory formation,” she mumbled, already half-asleep.
A laugh, low and content, shook my chest. I held her closer, my gaze drifting to the framed photo on the nightstand—the twoof us on our wedding day, on the day we began building our beautiful family. The house was silent, our girls were safe and dreaming, and the woman I loved was curled trustingly in my arms.
Ten years ago, I thought my life was over when I lost football. I was wrong. It was just beginning. This—the quiet, the chaos, the love that filled every corner of this old house—was everything. I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Cassie finds love in S’more of Silas by Pippa Brook. It’s part of the Mountain Men Fall Harder series, and it’s available here.