Page 60 of Glitz & Goals

“Viv,” I say, my thumb brushing her jaw as I feel her melt under my touch, “you’re so used to being the one calling the shots. But not right now. Not with me.” I lean closer, letting the heat of my breath ghost over her ear. “Tonight, you let go. Be a good girl for me, or I’ll use even more pleasure to punish you.”

Her eyes lock with mine. “Okay,Daddy.”

That single word hits me like a freight train straight to the chest. Straight to my crotch.Daddy.My brain flatlines. Nothing exists but her, sitting on my cock, looking up at me like I’m her whole damn world. Heat surges through me, sharp and primal, and any thought of holding back goes out the window.

My strokes become erratic as I pound into her over and over. Vivian collapses against me, unable to move, as I wrap both arms around her and rut up into her. Her head is on my shoulder, her breath hot against my ear. All I can hear is her new chant, “Yes, yes, yes, right theeeeere…”

My orgasm, when it comes, is so intense that it’s almost painful. Long pulses of cum jet out of me, filling her beautiful cunt until it starts leaking out around my dick. I cling to her, breathing hard, until I feel solid enough to guide her back onto the mattress without dropping her.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I ask, barely catching my breath, smoothing the sweaty hair away from her face.

Viv only nods. Her cheeks are bright red, and her eyes are closed. Her smile is otherworldly.

As much as I want to cuddle up against her, I know I need to get these ropes off before she gets uncomfortable. With shaking hands, I undo the knots holding her arms in place. I pause with one hand resting between her breasts on the logo of my jersey.

Being here with her, every part of me feels raw and exposed, like she’s stripped away all the layers I’ve spent years building to keep the world out. We fit together so perfectly that it hurts—a sweet, aching kind of pain I didn’t think I’d feel again. My fingers trace lazy patterns on her skin, but my mind won’t stop racing. She’s everything I didn’t know I was waiting for, and the thought of her slipping through my fingers feels unbearable. I don’t deserve this, don’t deserve her, but I know I’d fight to keep her anyway. There’s a knot in my chest, tight and insistent, and I realize it’s because I’ve been holding back words that won’t stay hidden anymore.

“I love you,” I say. “I love you so much, Viv. I wish you could have been my wife back then. Back when… well, whatever. When I lost my hockey career. But this right now? I never, ever, want it to end.”

She doesn’t answer, probably because she’s half asleep after everything we just did. That’s a good thing, I guess. I wouldn’t have said those words aloud if I wasn’t an addled, post-orgasmic mess.

Thought them, yes. Said them? No way.

I hope I won’t regret it.

I reach for the next set of knots and focus on freeing her legs. Working carefully, my fingers are methodical despite the adrenaline still humming through me. The last thing I want is to rush this and ruin the moment. The ropes slide free one by one, leaving faint impressions on her skin, a map of where we’ve been tonight. I gently trace the marks with my fingers, treasuring the intimacy we’ve shared. My chest tightens at the sight. She trusted me with this, with herself, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that trust.

When the last tie falls away, I gently scoop her into my arms, her body warm and pliant against mine. She murmurs something I can’t quite catch, her head lolling onto my shoulder, and I smile. “Shh, I’ve got you,” I whisper.

I prepared for this—water, a blanket, and even a couple of chocolates she might roll her eyes at later. Setting her down, I grab the bottle and twist off the cap, holding it to her lips. “Drink, sweetheart,” I murmur. She stirs just enough to take a few sips before sighing contentedly.

My hand finds her waist, my thumb brushing over the soft curve of her hip. “You were so amazing for me tonight,” I say quietly, though I’m not sure she hears me. Doesn’t matter. She’s here, she’s safe, and for now, that’s all I need.

Chapter Eighteen

Vivian

In theory, I should be feeling amazing. The guy I’m not-quite-dating just gave me a near-continuous string of orgasms and then fucked me into next week. I got to try out a kink that I’ve been interested in for years but have been too chickenshit to try with an actual human, and it was so goddamn hot. I feel like I just emerged from a sex-based spa, with every one of my chronically tense muscles finally relaxed for once.

And then he had to go and ruin it.

I love you. I love you so much, Viv.

Ugh, major cringe. That’s not the kind of thing you spring on a person after a mind-blowing sexcapade. I suppose I can forgive him since he’s probably feeling as satisfied as I am. People say all kinds of shit after sex. You’re feeling good, and something silly just slips out.

“I wish you could have been my wife back then.”

I play possum, because what. The. Fuck. What the fuck! My warm fuzzy feelings are blown away in one fell swoop. I’m suddenly, painfully, aware that I’m lying in the bed of a man I barely know, who is currently untying my legs and whose dick was just inside me. We’re not even dating. We’re not at the “I love you” stage yet. We are one thousand percent never going to be in the “I wish I could go back in time and marry you earlier.” Um, hello, age gap? When the fuck did he get married?

Three sentences, and my night of debauchery and bliss is ruined. I need to get out of here.

There’s just one problem: I have just come approximately eleventy-billion times, and all my body wants to do is curl upinto a little shrimp shape and pass out. Also, more water. I’m undoubtedly dehydrated.

My opossum act turns into an actual snooze between Grady’s unwelcome confession and the last knot being untied. I’m distantly aware of him leaving the room and a faucet turning on in the bathroom.

Time to make a break for it, I think, but this pillow is so soft, and these sheets are really nice. Next thing I know, Grady’s carrying me to the bathroom where the tub is full of steaming water and bath salts that smell like lemongrass.

He removes my rumpled, sweaty jersey and lowers me into the tub, then climbs in after me, facing me even though there’s not quite enough room for two. He takes one arm and massages my wrist, then works his way up my forearm.

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