Page 73 of Pucking Strong (Jacksonville Rays #4)

I lean into the pressure of Henrik’s hand at my throat. “What?”

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, grinding against me with his hips. “Teddy, please.”

At the sound of his begging, I gasp, squeezing his shoulders. “Put me down.”

He leans away from the wall, and I slide down his front, feet touching the ground.

Only an inch or two separate our heights, but I still always feel like he’s gazing down at me from on high.

“You’re serious? You would want that? Like, you know what it means and where stuff goes, and … you still want that?”

He rolls his eyes, which relaxes me a little. An eye roll is such a me thing to do. I’ve officially become a bad influence on this polite Swede. Now he sings drinking songs, and rolls his eyes, and says lewd things, like, “Fuck me.”

Dropping a hand between us, he cups my dick.

His hold is firm, possessive. “I want you to take this cock and put it inside me,” he says against my lips.

“Paint my insides with your cum; drag your nails down my back. Don’t stop until I’m marked inside and out.

Everyone will know why I call you min man.

” He leans away, and I see the glint of excitement in his eyes. “Is that clear enough for you?”

Groaning, I pull him to me in a fierce kiss.

I break away first, pushing on his chest. “I swear, I was about to give you the best massage of your fucking life. I was gonna make it so good, relax you from head to toe. Then I was gonna suck your cock and swallow all your cum like the good little whore I am.”

His eyes widen, cheeks blooming pink, as I match him dirty word for dirty word. It’s adorable. “And now?”

I grin. “Now? I’m gonna bend you the fuck over.” Squeezing his ass in those stupidly snug lounge pants, I lean in closer. “I’m gonna take your tight hole, spread it with my fingers, and fuck you till you’re screaming my name. We don’t stop until you’re dripping with me.”

He drops his forehead to my shoulder, both hands clinging to the front of my shirt, as he mutters something in Swedish.

“What’s that, baby?” I tease.

“Do it,” he says in English. “Take me, Teddy. Show me what this can be.”

Oh god, his submission is such a fucking turn-on. I’m usually the one who likes to play the brat and then get railed. Henrik’s request feels like a gift, something precious and rare and so delicate. I have to be careful. I can’t mess this up.

As if he can sense the swirling shift in my thoughts, he tips my chin up. The blue of his eyes is so warm and inviting. “The time for hesitation between us has long passed. We need this, ja? We’re ready.”

I nod, tears in my eyes. “Yeah—or—I mean, ja. Whatever. Fuck, Henrik, I’m saying yes .” I chase the words with another kiss, his soft beard hair bristling against my lips.

Our hands are everywhere as we pull at each other’s clothes, dropping our shirts to the floor. God, his skin feels like a furnace. He runs so hot. I brush my hands over his hairy chest, groaning with relief to feel him in my arms. Fuck, he’s mine .

“Mitt hj?rta—wait—”

At first, I don’t register his words. I just keep kissing him, shoving my hand inside the tight band of his lounge pants until I feel the warm silk of his dick in my fist.

He groans, his forehead pressed to mine. “We can’t do this here. We’ll wake Karolina.”

The utterance of her name has me pulling away, gasping for air as I glance around.

We’re standing half naked in the living room with my hand down Henrik’s pants.

Now that Karro is using crutches to get around the house, she could come out here and investigate.

Knowing our girl, she will. She’s too damn curious for her own good.

I push away from him. “Bedroom?”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours is mine.” I pull him forward. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice when you moved all your stuff back into the closet? By the way, we’re renovating your perfect bathroom.”

“Oh, are we?” There’s amusement in his tone, but there’s an edge too. My quiet Swede is very particular about having everything just so.

When we get into the kitchen, I turn to him and stop.

He all but collides with my chest. Hands on his shoulders, I hold his gaze.

“There’s only one sink, Henrik, which screams bachelor pad.

And if you haven’t forgotten, you’re married now.

” I wiggle my ringed finger in his face.

“And you gifted that bathroom to me as a wedding present.”

His smile widens. “Oh, did I now?”

“You did. And if you think I’m gonna share a sink with you, you’re crazy. I may share clothes and colognes, and, yes, once in Sweden, I accidentally used your toothbrush. But if you love me, you’ll invest in a second sink.”

He leans away in surprise. Then his brow furrows as he clearly considers my words.

Shit, there I go again, letting my mouth run away with me. And Henrik is too damn literal. He takes me at my word every time. He’s never actually said the words yet, even if I think he might feel them. Did I just set him a test? Some bar he has to jump over? If he loves me, he’ll get me a sink.

Seriously? Why the hell didn’t I tell him to get me a Porsche? Or a trip to Southeast Asia?

God, I can’t think about love sinks now. My husband just asked me to paint his insides with my cum, which is a memory I’ll be replaying in my mind until the end of time. Groaning again, I grab his hand. “Come on.”

He follows me down the hall and back into our bedroom.

The lights are off, but a glow of yellow light stretches across the carpet from the bathroom.

His side of the bed is so orderly and minimal.

Mine is a mess of books I only pretend to read.

I’m always too tired at night to focus on the words on a page.

My new eye massager is plugged in atop the teetering pile. That I do use. It’s amazing—

Focus, Teddy!

I don’t even know what we need. I’m so out of practice.

Henrik and I are definitely sexually active now, but up to this point, we’ve restricted everything to hands and mouths.

I don’t think I have any condoms. Lube, yes.

I introduced Henrik to the wonderful world of lubed hand jobs last week.

He doesn’t like fooling around in the shower, something about the water confusing his sensations.

But he definitely liked the feel of my lube-slicked hand pumping his cock until he blew a load on my face.

We should use a condom, right? I don’t bottom for anyone unless they’re wrapped.

But I haven’t bought any condoms while I’ve been living here.

It felt too much like a jinx. Wish and plan too hard for something, and the universe makes sure it doesn’t happen, right?

Goddamn it, these stupid, superstitious hockey players are rubbing off on me.

Now, my version of the Stanley Cup playoffs is finally here, and I’m unprepared?

I turn to Henrik. “Please tell me you have condoms.”

He leans away. “What? No, of course not. Do we really need them?”

“Honestly, we’ve been a bit lax when it comes to protection.

Everything just sort of happened, and then I wanted it to keep happening, and it felt so damn good.

” I close my eyes, relishing the memory of the first time we came together on the bathroom floor.

“But safety matters. I mean, I got tested. I showed you the results.”

“You did, but—”

“And we both know you’re fine,” I keep going. “So, I guess I just let it go in my head that we should be using condoms during blow jobs too. But we totally can. We should definitely … Yeah, let’s take a breath, and let’s talk about this—”

“ Teddy. ” Henrik grabs me by the shoulders.

I lean away. “What?”

He fights to hide a smile. He lifts a hand and brushes his knuckles along my cheek. “Breathe with me.”

I suck in a breath as he places his hand back on my shoulder.

“There’s no one else. You are safe with me, as I know I’m safe with you. But would using a condom make you feel more comfortable?”

His question makes my brain skip like a busted CD player. “I—would you be more comfortable?”

He just shakes his head, all calm, cool, and collected. “I’m asking what you want, mitt hj?rta. Be brave now and tell me.”

I let out a heavy breath, my eyes locked on the man in my arms. This is up to me?

He would trust me to choose? Lost in the blue of his eyes, I say the words on my heart.

“Oh god. Henrik, baby, I wanna take you bare.” I smooth my hands over his naked chest, loving the feel of his warm skin against my palms. “I don’t want to use a condom.

” I drop my gaze to somewhere around his collarbone.

“Is that … would you be okay with that?”

It’s a huge ask, I know. I’ve never done this with anyone.

Well, not since I was a sixteen-year-old kid messing around at a swim meet.

In my adult life, I’ve always been a paragon of health and safety.

I’m even still taking my PrEP. But with Henrik, this doesn’t feel like a risk. God help me, it feels like coming home.

He tips up my chin, a soft smile relaxing his features. “Min Teddy … jag ?r din och du ?r min.”

His voice is a tad lower when he speaks in Swedish.

I’ve learned enough of his repeated phrases to intuit what he said this time.

I am yours, and you are mine . The words wrap around my heart, and I close my eyes, trying to memorize the feel of this moment.

His everything. I’m Henrik’s everything.

Opening my eyes, resolve burns in my chest. “Get on the bed.”

He hesitates, glancing over to the rumpled sheets of the bed I only ever allow us to sleep in. Our sanctuary, our safe space. If we do this on the bed, there’s no more pretending this is anything but what it is: a full relationship with hearts and bodies entangled.