Page 87 of Clean Point

He groaned in ecstasy, his hand reaching forward to my hair, and using the tension to help me go deeper, bottoming out in my needy cunt.

We fucked hard, desperate, and loud. His fingers gripped at my body, moving from my hips to my hair to my shoulders, any leverage to keep himself buried deep inside of me. He leaned forward, his hand finding my breast. The feel of his cock inside me was overwhelming with need, with how good we felt together.

I gave into the feeling, to the welcome closeness of his body. As if I’d never feel the same without him anymore. Now that I’d found this missing part, living without it was immeasurably harder. An orgasm finally ripped me open, my fingers curling into the bedsheets, my pussy greedy, taking everything he had to give me.

I swore, his name fell from my lips like a curse, the only tangible thought in my brain as he continued to ride me through the waves. He was so big it filled me up, but even without that, sex had never felt this good before. Not with anyone.

‘You’re so beautiful coming on my cock. You feel too damn good,’ he struggled out between broken groans of pleasure. I scarcely managed a response, mindlessly lost to the feeling of him inside me as he continued the unrelenting pace, nerve endings electrified.

‘Keep going,’ I finally managed, still thrusting my hips to meet him, the intensity of the orgasm already faded, making room for another. His hand on my hips helped me keep up, a grip on my ass, squeezing, driving me wild.

‘I don’t think I can last much longer,’ he confessed with a single laugh. ‘It’s too fucking good with you. Like you’re made for me.’

‘I want you to come. Show me how good I make you feel,’ I ushered, mindlessly urging him on as I came again. ‘I want to take it all, Nico.’

Another wave crashed hard into me as he drove on with fury, and I felt him push deep inside of me as he came. I groaned, overwhelmed all over again by the intensity, by how I felt for him. He rested on my back, the warmth of his body welcome, the heaviness of him against me a reminder that this was real. We were here. We were together. He was mine.

We stayed still for a moment, his chest leaning over my back as we both heaved for air. He turned his head, kissing the centre of my back.

‘Has it ever felt like that for you before?’ he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

‘No,’ I confessed, still dazed from the connection between us. ‘You?’

He kissed me again. ‘Never.’

37

Nico

Call Me Lover – Sam Fender

‘Can you flex your knee for me? Any sharp pain?’

I did as my physio asked, extending out to stretch my leg into his arms. Pain radiated up and down as I gritted my teeth. My hands fisted the edge of the chair I was sitting in. ‘It’s a bit stiff, but nothing I can’t manage.’

Jon had all but wrangled me into an emergency appointment after my second-round singles match. I’d won it, comfortably, but it was long, gruelling on anyone. When I’d hobbled off the grass, Jon had made it clear that this appointment wasn’t something I could avoid.

Ethan, my physio, cocked a disbelieving eyebrow as he looked from my knee to me, but he stopped short of pointing out the fact I limped into his assessment room.

His attention turned back to my knee, working it up and down. ‘The surgical site seems stable, but there’s inflammation, probably due to the intensity of the matches you’ve been playing. Can you walk for me? Any noticeable limp or change in your gait?’ Ethan asked, moving and letting me push myself from the chair. At first, any weight on the leg was unbearable, but it soon broke into an easy movement.

‘It’s not too bad when I walk,’ I said, eventually walking from one side of the room to the other. Jon stood against the wall, arms crossed, and an assessing look across his face. His gaze narrowed at my words, silently pressing into me like screws before I admitted to Ethan, ‘But the real pain hits when I pivot on the court.’

Ethan crouched down to his knees, so he was in line with my legs. ‘Alright. Show me a quick pivot to the right, like you would during a match. Let’s see what’s going on there.’

I let out a heavy breath, almost dreading doing the movements after gritting though it on the court, but I relented, showing Ethan the action, using my sore leg in the front, and pivoting through as if I was returning a shot.

Ethan hummed as he watched me. ‘“Okay, now try a few lateral movements, side to side.’

I did as he said, moving my weight from side to side. ‘It’s stable, but there’s a bit of discomfort.’

He nodded again, before explaining, ‘The stress is likely aggravating the knee. We might need to adjust your movement patterns on the court. Try incorporating a wider stance during lateral movements; it should reduce the strain on the knee.’

I mimicked his movement, pushing my feet apart to widen the stance. Pain shot up my leg, albeit duller than before. ‘Feels a bit awkward, but I’ll give it a shot.’

Anything to make this easier.

‘Great. And for now, let’s limit the excessive sliding on the court. That can be harsh on your knee. And if the pain persists or intensifies, come back.’

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