Page 109 of Who's Loving You
“Say it, Valentina.” My breathing grows shallow and I press my hands on the roof and throw my head back.
My toes start to tingle and the buzzing in my ears grows louder. The world feels like it’s spinning out of control, my body flying, unsure of which way is up. Theorgasm is hurdling at lightning speed and I’m helpless against its fury.
“Yes. Shit, right there.” My cries rebound from window to window, coming back at me like encouragement to keep going.
A slender hand slides down my throat, reaching into my lungs and squeezing the last ounce of air, leaving me breathless.
I gasp, my eyes rolling open like a drowning victim breaking through the surface, and fall limp into Nic’s arms. He clings to me as his foot slams so hard against the floorboard that the car rattles, and I feel his dick throb.
“Fuck. Fuck!” he growls and loses himself, euphorically.
My hand streaks down the cold window and I grind my teeth, bearing the force of Nic’s momentum. His Adam’s apple protrudes from his thick, corded neck, bobbing up and down as he gulps the small pockets of air remaining in our space.
His body stops jerking and exhales. I watch his face turn soft and a smile spreads. We stare at one another, relief washing over both of us that we have come to rest on the same shore, side by side. Pretty rapidly, but nonetheless by each other’s side.
With a gruff and dry voice he says, “Say it, Valentina.”
I know what he wants. The three little words hang from the tip of my stubborn tongue. In my head I hear the samelet goechoing over and over. It’s time I stop fighting it and start living it. No more wading in shallow waters, bracing for the wave that will carry me off to the harsh sea.
Deciding to dive head first, I tell him, “I love you,Nico. You’re annoying and infuriating, and you make me angry as much as you make me smile. But for some reason, I want nothing more than to belong to you and only you.”
His cocky smirk teases me, and I just know he’s going to turn this touching moment into something that will make me want to shove a sock in his mouth.
“I knew you loved me. I saw it the moment you held my balls for the first time.”
“Ugh! I take it back. Let me out.” I pretend to tug on the door handle, but Nic snakes his arms around me, keeping me tethered to him.
“No way. It’s gonna be you and me against the world. And if anyone tries to mess with us, I’ll get my savage sugar mama to handle them.” I drop my head against his shoulder, my cheeks red with embarrassment.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“It was fucking awesome. I hope someone got it on camera.”
The air turns still and only the soft whistle of the wind from outside can be heard. I stare at him and caress his face, a look of content in his eyes. I know I’m stubborn and difficult, and I don’t make it easy for him. But if it wasn’t for Nic breaking through my walls with a jackhammer, I don’t think I’d ever know what it truly feels like to be cherished.
Without Nico, I don’t think I’d even know what love is. He’s opened my eyes and I never want to shut them again.
“Thank you for never giving up on me.”
Nic leans close, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear and whispers, “I will forever be the one who’s loving you, Valentina.”
SUPERBOWL SUNDAY
NICO
Istand with my hands gripping my pads, chewing on my lip as I watch from the sidelines. A sea of fans, dressed in red and blues, shout as the clock winds down. Only one play stands between the Drillers and the Lombardi. If our defense can hold them here, Rinaldi can take a knee on the snap and we are champions once again.
There’s only problem with this scenario. My win equals Soba’s loss. And as desperately as I want to win this game, I also want to see the look on my best friend’s face as he’s hoisted on the shoulders of his teammates in celebration.
The Jumbotron pans from the stands to a close-up of Waggers and then over to the Rage’s coach, each one in their own state of panic.
I look over to where I know Val is waiting with my parents and Greer, ready to either run onto the field to congratulate me, or comfort me through the pain of losing.
Soba calls the snap, his voice barely audible over thecacophony of voices, and I watch with intense focus as the ball is cradled in his talented hands.
The D-line works to break through the Rage’s O-line, and each side battles back and forth over the line of scrimmage. Receivers dart off in various directions, and my eyes follow them, wondering which one will make the play. Defenders are on their backs and the struggle to break free.
Sweat drips from my hairline and I hold my breath when I see Soba fall back and release the ball. My eyes track it as it floats over the field, practically touching the clouds.