Page 73 of Ruck Me Harder

Grabbing hold of his hand, I lace our fingers together. Somehow, it feels even more intimate than his bare cock moving inside of me. He squeezes my hand like he’s afraid to let go.

“Vivienne,” he whispers, before he buries his face in my neck.

I cup the back of his head, my hands sifting through the fine strands. His rhythm falters.

“Please,” he says. “I can’t hold back. I need you to come.”

It’s not like I can control it. I’d like to come too.

“Roll over,” I tell him.

He slides out of me, moving onto his back. I straddle him and then sink onto his cock, the familiar fullness sending electricity down my spine.

Tony’s hands settle on my hips, his thumb skating over my clit. Mine land on his abs as I fuck myself on his cock, taking what I need from him. He does his best to keep up with me, thrusting up into me.

He leans forward, catching my breast in his grasp and sucking my nipple into his mouth. All it takes is a scrape of his teeth against the sensitive bud before the orgasm hits me. I clench around him, my pussy throbbing around his cock, and when I throw my head back to ride the waves of pleasure, he groans and jerks beneath me.

The flood of his release inside of me is a new sensation. I collapse onto his chest, his arms coming up to hold me close. As his cock starts to soften and slip out of me, I can feel his cum leaking, too. I… I think I like it. His mark is branded deep within me now. He’s claimed me in a way nobody else ever has—or ever will.

Breathing heavily, Tony kisses my temple, his arms tight around me.

“I love you,” he murmurs, like he’s afraid I’ve forgotten.

I haven’t. I never will. How could I possibly forget the best thing to ever happen to me?

“I love you too.”

thirty

. . .

Tony

When they put the team silver medal around my neck, I have to clench my jaw before I start crying like a baby. I’m not ashamed of crying. But once I start crying, I won’t stop, and nobody needs to take photographs for the international press with my face all blotchy and my eyes swollen. I’ll save that for the team party in a few hours.

With the fancy podium lights, I can’t see her, but I know Viv is in the crowd cheering me on.

I’ve placed into the event finals for my two best events. After a day off for rest, I’ll have the vault final competition, and then two days later will be the floor finals. However I do, wherever I place, I’ll have done my best.

All of this has reignited my fire for gymnastics. I thought I was done. I’m ready to move on to the next phase of my life. But I don’t think gymnastics is quite done with me.

I’m going to make a solid run at the Olympic team. If I don’t make it, I’ll walk away with my head held high. But if I make it… I’ll finish my fifteen years of elite competitive gymnastics at the pinnacle of my sport.

I’ve had a storybook career. Two—now three—World Championships team medals. Two World silver medals on vault and a bronze on floor. An Olympic bronze team medal. Not to mention the fistfuls of medals I’ve won over the years.

Athletes fight through adversity. It’s what we do. We do what we have to do. I like to think I’ve proven it to be true. Through working my ass off at my three jobs, taking care of my siblings, and generally figuring out who I am and what I stand for, I’ve been able to consistently perform with the best in the world. I’ve made it to the upper echelon.

After the official medal ceremony is over, the team gathers in our conference room at the hotel. The women’s gymnastics team is here as well—their team competition is tomorrow, and they’re poised to win gold for the umpteenth time in a row, but the Russians and Canadians are pulling close in qualification scores and Brazil and Romania aren’t far behind. It’ll be a good meet to watch, that’s for sure.

I make a beeline for Viv, who immediately wraps me in a hug.

“I love you,” I whisper in her ear. “Thank you for being here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says.

She won’t always be able to be at all of my meets, just like I won’t be able to make it to all of her matches. Our schedules won’t always line up perfectly. I’ve already looked ahead at the calendar—her first match of the season is the same weekend as the Winter Cup, the men’s start of season competition.

But wherever we can, however we can, we’ll be there for each other. We’ll support each other.