Page 23 of Game Changer
"Fuck," he whispers, forehead pressed against mine as he holds still, letting me adjust. "You feel amazing."
He starts to move, slow at first, then with increasing intensity. His forearms flex on either side of my head as he thrusts, his eyes locked on mine as promised. One hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing my lower lip before he kisses me again, deep and passionate as his hips maintain their steady rhythm.
The couch creaks beneath us, the leather sticking to my sweaty back, but I couldn't care less. All that matters is the feeling of fullness, of connection, of David moving inside me like he was made for this—for me.
But I want more. I want control. I tap his shoulder, and he immediately stills, concern flashing across his face.
"I want to be on top," I tell him. "I want to look down at you while I ride you."
His eyes darken further. "Fuck yes."
He flips us, hands on my hips to help me straddle him. I sink down onto him slowly, savoring the stretch, the way he fills me completely. His hands move to my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples as I begin to rock against him.
"You're so beautiful," he says, eyes roaming over my body. "So fucking perfect."
Chapter 9 - David
This is happening.
Mia is on top of me, her body moving in perfect rhythm with mine, and I can't believe this is real. Why did I waste so much time drowning myself in bourbon when this—when she—was what I really needed? When a family was what I needed?
It still sounds strange in my head—family. Me, a father. Possibly a boyfriend again. Maybe even a husband someday. But for the first time, I realize that even if my surgery fails, even if I never play professional football again, my life isn't over. It's just beginning in a different form.
Mia rides me like she was made for this, her ass bouncing against my thighs as she takes me deeper with each stroke. I grab her ass, helping guide her movements, increasing our pace together. We're a team, working in unison toward the same goal. That's something I've learned with age.
Sex is better when it's truly collaborative, when both people are fully present and engaged.
I place my hand on her back and pull her down to me, wanting to feel more of her, needing her closer. Now she's lying on my chest, her perfect breasts rubbing against me, beads of sweat from her hair dripping onto my skin. She's still riding me, but now I'm thrusting up to meet her, our bodies colliding halfway in a perfect dance.
It feels so fucking good I can barely stand it. My knee is starting to ache from the exertion, but I don't care. Her pussy feels incredible around me, hot and tight and slick, draining every ounce of strength I have.
"I'm close," I warn her, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine.
"Me too," she gasps, her movements growing more erratic.
I lean up, whispering directly into her ear: "Cum for me, Mia. Let me feel you."
She smirks, then throws her head back as her orgasm hits, and holy shit. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Not touchdowns, not championship trophies, nothing compares to this woman lost in pleasure above me. Her hair wild around her face, lips parted, completely uninhibited and free.
She moans, her inner walls clenching around me in throbbing pulses that push me over the edge. I grip her hips hard enough to leave marks as I thrust up one final time, emptying everything I have into her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep inside me.
We stay joined for several seconds, both of us panting, sweaty, and completely spent. Finally, I help her lift off me, and she immediately grimaces.
"Bathroom?" she asks, laughing a little. "I'm kind of... leaking."
I chuckle and point her toward the bathroom. "Through there."
She rushes off, and I lie back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling more content than I have in longer than I can remember. When she returns a few minutes later, she looks gorgeously disheveled. Hair mussed, cheeks flushed, wearing nothing but my discarded t-shirt.
"That was incredible," she says, settling beside me on the couch, laying her head on my chest. I can feel her ear pressed against my still-pounding heart.
I stroke her cheek gently with my thumb, gazing out at the city skyline visible through the windows. I've always loved this view,this reminder of the life I built for myself through talent and hard work. But now I'm seeing it differently. Now I'm seeing the emptiness of it all without someone to share it with.
"I want more than just being Tyler's dad," I whisper, still looking at the view rather than at her, afraid if I meet her eyes I'll lose my nerve. "I want to be a constant presence in his life. And in yours, if you'll let me. I'm not going anywhere now, Mia. I'll get better. Stronger. And even if the surgery goes well and I can play again, I'm staying with you both. Because I've realized that none of it matters if I have no one standing beside me when the game is over."
I feel wetness on my chest and look down to see tears streaming down Mia's cheeks.
"Are you sure?" she asks, her voice small and vulnerable. "Because I'm ready to believe you, David. I'm ready to trust you again."
