Page 95 of The Thing About My Rival

“I’m desperate for you, Wilcox.” I wet my middle finger and reach around for her clit. “And I want you so desperate for me that you can’t breathe.”

The second I make contact with her engorged nub, I ease inside her.

Her back arches on a loud snatch of breath.

“Such a beautiful sight,” I say.

“Are you looking at your view of the park?” she asks.

“I’m looking at my view of you.”

And then I’m buried inside her, balls deep in fiery, talented, football-loving Wilcox. And she’s writhing on my finger, pressing her hands harder against the window to push back against my crotch, her breathing getting faster, more urgent, with every circle of my finger on her clit.

“I want you to come so fucking hard I can feel you squeeze me.”

“I’m about to,” she says. “Oh, God.”

And she breaks, her body undulating, ass pumping against me, the side of her fist pounding the window. I’m making Wilcox pound my window.

The sights and sounds of her pleasure crank me over the edge and I allow myself to thrust into her clenching channel, give myself to the body-rocking pleasure of what it feels like to be allowed inside her.

My eyes drift shut, but the stars appearing in the evening sky remain behind my eyelids.

Wilcox releases one long cry and her body goes limp, her pulses easing.

Knowing that she’s done, spent, I let myself go.

The stars explode, bursting, breaking through every wall I’ve built up around me, shattering every conception and misconception of what it’s like to be with a woman that I’ve ever had.

I’m vaguely aware of Wilcox’s hand on my ass as I empty myself inside her, pour everything I have into her, the whole frustrating last year of my life with its pain and futility and thinking no one would ever want me. But here I am, inside an incredible woman who has welcomed me, over a view of the city that has welcomed me into its treasured soccer team.

As I catch my breath and my thrusts slow, I don’t havea single doubt that I’m the luckiest man in the world right now.

“Fuck me, Wilcox.” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her upright against my chest.

“I think I just did.” She looks at me over her shoulder with a devilish smirk.

“And I think I’m addicted to it.” I turn her a little farther, just enough to get my lips on hers and sink into the sensation of our mouths joined together in perfect teamwork.

I slide my hand down the smooth skin of her outer thigh. “You feel chilly.”

“Maybe a little.” She brushes the backs of her fingers over my cheek.

“I know a great way to solve that.”

I ease myself out of her, whip off the condom and drop it on top of the wrapper. “I’ll deal with that later.”

She starts to hitch up her pants.

“Oh, no. That’s not what I have in mind at all,” I tell her. “Take them off. Take everything off.”

She stops with her pants just about to cover that glorious blond mound. “I thought I was supposed to be getting warmer, not colder.”

“You are.” I yank off the rest of my clothes and shoes in three seconds flat. “But just like in training, it’s short-term pain for long-term gain.”

She looks at me standing there fully naked in front of her like I’ve lost my mind.

“Trust me,” I say.

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