Page 77 of The Retreat

“Like that, husband?”

“Of course I do.” His answer surprises me.

I know he enjoys when I suck his cock, because I’m sure he likes getting off, but I didn’t think he enjoyed my dick like I do his. Bluntly, I slip my hand inside my sweats, adjusting myself, giving him a better show. I’m basically jacking off.

“Hey now,” he says. “How’s that fair?”

“What is fair in love and marriage?”

He growls, and I feel it in my toes.

“Now that’s not fair! How am I going to fight when all my bloods in my cock?”

“Good luck.” He comes off the line at me, catching me by surprise.

I barely get my sabre up in time to deflect his blow. I manage to fight him back toward the center.

“That’s it,” he says, and our blades cross. He shoves me back with an unbelievable force, and I stumble. Almost tripping over my feet.

He’s changed. The gym is working. He’s not the same fighter he was last season, and he was good then.

He’s really into this national team thing. Like he just needed fuel for all the pent-up energy he carries around on a daily basis. He comes at me again. I can’t seem to find my footing. Finally, I fall backward, landing hard on my ass with his sabre tip at my throat. “Take off your shirt.”

I groan and lift my arms. “Take it off for me.”

He’s hard, the way he stands over me I can see his cock partly out of his cup.

He tosses his sabre and helmet to the ground and drops to his knees straddling me. Fingers nip under the edge of my tee, as he carefully takes ahold of the hem, but he doesn’t tear it off of me like I expect. He takes his time lifting the shirt, skimming calloused hands over my rib cage, and it’s more erotic than I’ve ever been touched before.

His dark blue eyes meet mine, and I don’t dare touch him because I don’t want to break the moment. My stomach is in my throat as his thumbs brush over my nipples. A shiver runs down my spine, and my head falls back.

He carefully moves the soft cotton over my face, touching it like I’m made of porcelain. I’ve never been so hard in my life, and he’s barely touching me. His head dips, finding the hollow in my collarbone with his tongue. He flicks it over my skin.

“I’m all sweaty. You shouldn’t do that,” I say in a gasp.

“I like the way you taste.” His words shock me to my core.

He gets back to his feet far too soon, still standing over me. His hand goes inside his pants, touching what I want so fucking badly.

“Give it to me,” I say.

“I’ll feed it to you when you’ve earned it.”

I’ve never wanted to earn something so bad in my life. I whine a little but press forward before he can move to rub my face against his thigh. He groans. And each sound he makes is like a little victory. I never thought earning something as simple as a groan or a moan would get to me the way it does with him.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair, which only makes me harder. My cock is so hard it’s pushing my cup out. I retrieve my sabre and reset. He’s looking at me, and I notice he’s taken off the protective pants. I’ve never been above taking things I didn’t earn, so I don’t mind at all.

“Want your cock in my mouth that badly you’re giving me extra points?”

“Or using your distraction to my benefit.”

I want to argue, but he gets two more points quickly. The frustration makes me more determined. Not to mention I no longer have my gear to protect me and being hit with a sabre hurts.

We reset at the line, and I feint attack. This time he stumbles, just a little, but I see it and push my luck with a lunge to keep him off balance. Owen steps back, but because I’m starting to learn how his mind works, I anticipate his next attack, swinging under him for the touch.

We’re panting as he peels off a sock and tosses it aside. Not my first choice, but there’s not much left anyway.

“Water,” he tells me, and I grab a bottle from the small fridge he has in here. Removing my mask, I chug the cold water and wipe the sweat from my face with a towel.

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