Page 109 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband

"Jesus Christ," I breathe, my hands gripping her hips. "You feel incredible."

She starts to move, rising and falling in a rhythm that has me seeing stars. Her breasts bounce with each movement, her head thrown back in pleasure, and I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

"We did it," she gasps as she rides me. "We proved everyone wrong. We showed them that love doesn't make you weak—it makes you unstoppable."

"That's right," I growl, thrusting up to meet her. "We're fucking unstoppable together."

She leans forward, changing the angle, and I hit that spot inside her that makes her cry out. Her pace becomes more urgent, more desperate, and I can feel her getting close again.

"Touch yourself," I command. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

Her hand slides between us, fingers finding her clit, and the sight of her pleasuring herself while riding me nearly sends me over the edge. Her walls start to flutter around me, and I know she's close.

"Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock while I'm buried deep inside you."

She climaxes with a scream of my name, her body clenching around me so tightly it's almost painful. The sensation triggers my own release, and I flip us over, taking her hard and fast as I chase my orgasm.

"Tessa," I groan, my hips snapping against hers. "Fuck, I'm going to come."

"Yes," she gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper. "Come inside me. Fill me up."

I bury myself to the hilt and let go, my release pulsing deep inside her as I collapse against her, both of us breathing hard and covered in sweat.

"I love you," I gasp against her neck. "I love you so fucking much."

"Always," she breathes, her arms tightening around me. "Forever. No matter what comes next."

We stay tangled together for long minutes, letting our heartbeats slow, savoring the aftermath of victory and love and the knowledge that we've fought for something real and won.

Later, lying in the aftermath with her head on my chest, my phone buzzes with news that makes me smile.

"What is it?" she asks sleepily.

"Our story inspired legislation proposals for workplace equity in professional sports," I tell her, reading the message. "We're actually changing things, Tessa."

She lifts her head, eyes bright with tears. "We did it. We actually did it."

But before I can respond, another message appears that makes my blood run cold.

"What now?" Tessa asks, noticing my expression.

"Harrison's writing a competing book," I say grimly. "His version of events."

Tessa sits up, instantly alert. "Well then. I guess our fight isn't over yet."

"Are you ready for round two, Mrs. Kingston?"

She grins, fierce and beautiful and absolutely unstoppable. "Bring it on."

EPILOGUE

TESSA

One year, two championships, three book tours, and approximately ninety-seven orgasms later—not that I'm counting or anything—I'm sitting across from my husband at the same restaurant where we had our first official date, trying not to ugly-cry into my overpriced pasta.

"Stop it," Dax says, reaching across the table to thumb away a tear that escaped despite my best efforts. "You're going to make me cry too, and then we'll both be a mess. ."

"I can't help it," I sniffle, gesturing vaguely at the framed photo he just presented me with. "Look at this disaster. We look like drunk college kids who wandered into a costume party."