Page 81 of Game Changer

“Holy fuck,” she agrees.

And we move together like a well-practiced team, in perfect harmony. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure through me, making me groan, and growl, and hiss as she rides me harder and faster.

When she begins to slow, I take a hand full of tit and begin jack-rabbiting from below.

“Can’t get enough of the way you feel around me, the way your titties bounce when you ride me, the way you taste on my lips.”

“Oh Lord,” she cries, and I feel her pussy clench around my cock as we both come.

We lie there, tangled in each other’s arms, both catching our breaths and basking in the afterglow of our heat. I can’t help but smile.

“What are you smiling at?” my wife asks me.

“We just came so hard. Reminded me of the grand finale at the fireworks show on the fourth of July, and I’m smiling because this is not the finale—this is just the beginning of us. We have a lifetime of moments like this to come.”

“I was just thinking of how many points on the good side, the home team, we put on the boom board tonight.”

Grinning, I tell her, “I don’t think we put one on the bad side.”

“We need more days like this.”

“And we’ll have them,” I promise.

A few minutes later, Syd asks, “You still awake?”

“Yeah, you okay?”

“What he said out there, that I threw myself down the stairs and gave him an STD?—”

“Not that any of that would change who we are, yeah, I kind of got that he’s fucking insane.”

“I fell down the stairs trying to get away from him after I caught him in bed with another woman at our apartment. I was pregnant, and,” He body shakes in a silent sob. “I hate him Beau. I hate him so much.”

“I’m so sorry Sydney, so fucking sorry.”

“If he had an STD it wasn’t from me. You can’t give someone something you don’t have.”

“I hope his balls fall off.”

Then her body is shaking and not because she’s crying, she’s laughing.

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing, startling me out of sleep. I blindly reach for it, hoping not to wake Sydney, seeing it’s still dark out and she’s all cuddled up beside me.

My phone reads two a.m.

For a moment, I don’t want to answer it, remembering the last time my phone rang at this time—Logan telling me Lindsey had been in an accident.

The screen doesn’t read Logan’s name this time; it reads “Unknown.” Could be the hospital.

I hitacceptclear my throat to say, “This is Boone.”

“I’d apologize for waking you, but I’m not sorry,” Lindsey’s brother Mitchell says. “But you’re the first person she asked for when she woke up.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Mitchell.”

“You’re not my type, Boone.” He laughs? What the fuck? “Is there any way you could make your way here?”

“Consider me on my way.” I end the call, look at my wife, and smile.

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