Page 42 of Net and Chill

“No, I’ve got this! Here I go…” She sucks in a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and then drops her knees to the mattress with a high-pitched squeal.

“Oh my God!”

“Fuuuuck, babe.”

“I did it!”

I might actually pass out. The grip she has on me feels so damn good, and she hasn’t started moving yet. I can barely see straight. Not because of the concussion, because my eyes are so hooded. Okay, maybe a little because of the concussion—but fuck the concussion. I force my eyes open so I can watch my beautiful woman raise her head, eyes closed, hands on my lower abs, and she starts to circle her hips. Tiny circles. So slow.

“You good?” she purrs.

“So good.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“The best fucking day of my life.”

She grins, raises her left hand to massage her tit. Moves her right hand to stroke her clit. Hips moving in bigger circles. Holding my blurry gaze the whole time. Then her head drops back, and she rocks her hips back and forth, back and forth. Easing into it, taking her time like a fucking goddess.

I’ve never seen her like this before. So confident. It’s because she knows I’m hers. But she needs a reminder. “I’m all yours, baby—you know that?”

There it is.

Bridget rolls her neck, sways her head back and forth, squeezes around me even tighter, and then picks up the pace. “I love you so much, Craig.”

“God, I wish I could squeeze your ass right now. I love you so much too.”

She folds forward so her nipples brush against my skin. My head instinctively raises, mouth straining to meet hers. She gives me the briefest, fieriest kiss and then arches her neck, gripping my legs with her hands and leaning back, rocking her hips in a staccato rhythm. And then she sits up straight and she is bouncing on my cock. All of her. Bouncing.

It flashes through my mind that I might have died when that puck hit my head or possibly when I was licking her bare pussy earlier, and now I’m in heaven.

“Fuck. I’m gonna come, baby.”

“I want you to. I want you to come inside me.”

“You’re gonna be full of my cum because you’re mine.”

“Yes! Yes!” She’s spasming around me, and that’s it.

The explosion.

I empty myself into her, disappear, come back to myself and bring her with me.

I’m so fucking mad that I’m too tired to watch her climb off of me. I want to watch my cum pour out of her. I want to clean her up, but I can’t. I don’t have hands, and I don’t have the energy. All I have is love for Bridget and a mild pressure in my head.

When I wake up, I have hands again. There are a lot of pillows behind me, and I’m sitting upright.

“Drink the water,” Bridget says, holding my sixty-four-ounce stainless-steel water bottle up in front of me. “I added electrolytes.”

“Such a girlfriend move,” I say, reaching for the bottle.

She’s put on jeans and a T-shirt and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, which I look forward to tugging on later. Probably need to give myself a fewhours to recover first, but I’ll get back in the game tonight.

“We are not having sex again until tomorrow,” she informs me.

“What? That can’t be right. I think you mean tonight.”

“Your season is at stake, mister. And I’m in charge of your well-being.”