Page 58 of Puck Your Bunny

The tension spikes in the quiet room. Simon reaches out and frames my face with both hands. His thumbs stroke my cheekbones.

"I don't regret anything." His thumb traces my lower lip. "Meeting you fulfilled me. No matter how long it takes for you to realize we aren't going anywhere, I'll keep waiting."

He leans forward and captures my mouth. The kiss starts slow. His tongue sweeps past my teeth. He tastes like mint and musk.

I twist my body, swinging my legs over his lap to straddle his thighs.

Simon groans low in his throat. He catches my hips in his large hands, pulling me flush against his chest.

I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck to fist my hands in his hair. We kiss for a long time, our tongues tangling together in a hot, demanding rhythm. His hands slide up from my hips, slipping underneath the hem of my sleep shirt. He drags his palms up my bare ribs and cups my breasts. His callused thumbs flick across my nipples. A jolt shoots straight down to my center.

I break the kiss to gasp for air. I grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head to toss it onto the coffee table. I stand up and hook my fingers into the waistband of my sweats and underwear, sliding the fabrics down my legs to step out of them.

Simon tracks the movement. His pupils dilate. He grips the waistband of his boxers, shoving them down his thighs and kicking them aside. His cock springs free, thick and rigid against his stomach.

I straddle his thighs again. Simon catches my hips. He holds me in place above his lap. He slips his right hand between our bodies.

His index and middle fingers brush over my swollen center. A gasp rips from my throat. He strokes the sensitive spot, spreading the slick gathering between my thighs.

"So wet." Simon watches my face.

He pushes both fingers inside my opening. He curls them upward. He hits the sensitive spot that makes my hips buck against his knuckles. He slides his fingers in and out of my core a few times, drawing the hot slick down to coat my tight entrance and make sure I can take him.

I brace my hands on his shoulders. My head falls back. The friction builds a hot coil of tension in my stomach.

Simon leans forward. He nips at the sensitive skin of my neck, right over my unclaimed scent gland. He laves the mark with his tongue.

"You smell perfect." He withdraws his fingers. He drags his hands back down to my hips. "You smell like ours."

He aligns his hips, guiding the thick head of his cock against my slick, swollen entrance. He pushes upward, sliding inside me with a slow, tight drag of friction. He fills me to the knot.

I throw my head back. A hushed moan escapes my lips. The stretching fullness replaces all the chaotic thoughts in my head.

Simon sets a slow, grinding pace. The knot at the base of his cock swells as the tension builds. He withdraws until a fraction remains inside, then drives upward, stopping right before the thick ridge of his swelling knot forces its way inside. He repeats the motion, creating a steady, rhythmic pressure.

The thick base nudges against my slick opening every time I come down. He keeps it outside my body, teasing the sensitive nerves.

I dig my fingernails into his shoulders. I ride the slow thrusts as my core tightens. The tension builds in my stomach, chasing the intense friction of the knot rubbing against my entrance.

"Fuck, Vayda." Simon grips my ass and pulls me down harder onto his upward thrusts. "You feel so good."

His pace quickens. The wet slap of our bodies echoes in the quiet living room. He hits a sensitive spot deep inside me, sending a shockwave through my limbs.

I clench my thighs around his waist and bear down on his cock. The orgasm rips through my body in crashing waves. I cry out his name as my slick drips down his shaft.

Simon lets out a harsh shout. He drives upward one final time, forcing the thick, swollen knot past my tight muscles. He buries himself as deep as possible. The thick ridge pops inside me, locking us together. His hips snap against mine. His cock pulses hard, spilling his hot release within me.

I collapse against him. Simon leans back into the sofa cushions, supporting my weight. My chest heaves against his. The frantic buzz of anxiety is gone, replaced by a deep exhaustion. We rest on the couch in the dark, waiting for his knot to go down before heading back to the bedroom.

A few days blur together into a new normal. A League doctor visited the house to draw our blood. The lab rushed the compatibility tests, and the results confirmed our scent match. The team's PR department issued an official statement to validate the bond. They also negotiated a strict deal with the League executives to secure my privacy. The binding agreement bans the tabloids from printing my photo and keeps me out of the spotlight.

The media storm rages on the sports networks, but the private security detail the guys hired guards the neighborhood entrance. Locked doors and drawn blinds shield the house. The four of us settle into a quiet routine behind closed doors.

The guys hang around the kitchen island, drinking water and talking about their morning workout. The smell of roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and charred Brussels sprouts fills the air. Grabbing a knife, I carve the rested chicken on the cutting board into thick, juicy slices.

Simon leans over and steals a piece of meat from the wood. Kel nudges him out of the way and grabs a stack of plates from the cabinet to set the dining room table.

A generous portion of mashed potatoes and a few tender pieces of chicken go into the food processor next. Leaving the Brussels sprouts on the counter keeps the flavor good. After adding a scoop of thickener and a splash of chicken broth, my finger hits the blend button.