Page 82 of Game Misconduct

Nick actually rolls his eyes. The audacity of this man!

“Trust me, Bex Marie.” In the bottom drawer lies a box of polyurethane condoms—unopened.

My jaw drops. I can’t decide where to look, at the box, or at his sheepish expression.

“Bought these after we came back from the Caribbean,” he continues. He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks tinted pink. “Didn’t think I’d have a chance to use them, seeing as I thought you were dating someone else, but I’ve kept them around ever since. Just in case.”

Launching myself across the mattress, I crash-tackle him in a hug. The velocity of my attack shoves him backward—directly into the headboard. His head collides with the wood with a thunk.

“Ow,” he mutters, his arms coming up to hold me close. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens around me. “Caught you. Not letting you go now.”

“Don’t want you to.”

As I cling to him, my cheek to his chest, the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart echoes through me, my heartbeat slowing to match his. He’s as steady as an old oak tree, never yielding, never faltering.

Oh, fuck this.

I lean up and pull him into a heady, drugging kiss. His smile meets mine, again and again and again. It’s not a battle; he’s not trying to one-up me or take control when I’m not ready to yield it. We meet as equals. As partners.

My hands don’t stop moving: mapping his shoulders, his pecs, his cut abs, and down to his thick cock, shiny with precum. His length is like steel wrapped in velvet, sticky smooth and hot as hell.

He’s not passive, but he lets me explore. Lets me take my time. Catalog how he groans when I stroke him, how his cock leaks when I twist my grip over the head. How his muscles strain when I cup his balls, and the cords in his neck pop when I tweak his nipple. I learn his body, memorizing his sounds, loving his reactions.

And through it all, he encourages me, his hands stroking over my hair, murmuring praises. I bask in his approval, my entire body tightening.

Breathing hard, Nick rears back. He removes my hand from around his cock, kissing my sticky palm.

“We’ve got to stop,” he pants.

“You don’t want to fuck me?” My natural inclination is to hide the hurt in my voice, even though I know we need to be open and honest with each other. I need to be honest.

“Bex Marie, if you want me to fuck you, I need you to stop touching me.” He brings my hand to his heart, which is pounding rapid-fire. “I’m this close to the edge already, and I’m not even inside you.”

“Well, let’s change that.”

He kisses my smile, quick, before easing back and reaching for that box of condoms. With desperate movements, he rips open the shrink-wrap and tears into the cardboard, half demolishing it. It’s not like we need the box for anything.

He produces a foil square, making quick work of opening it and rolling the polyurethane protection over his length.

I roll onto my back, pulling him with me and wrapping my legs around his waist. Call me a hopeless romantic, but after all the different ways we’ve been together, what I want most is to gaze into his eyes while he fucks me, see the emotions on his face as we move together.

And I get my wish.

Nick inches inside me, giving me time to adjust to his thick cock. When I nod, ready, he drops a quick kiss to my lips before fucking me in even strokes. He feels so good inside me. Even though I had him this morning—rushed and frantic as it was—it can’t possibly compare to this.

I’ve missed this. Missed him.

“Nick, I—” My voice chokes off on a gasp, and I claw at his back, my nails digging into his powerful muscles.

“I know, Bex Marie. I know,” he coos, brushing the back of his knuckles across my cheek. “It’s the same for me.”

The air thickens with the scent of sex, of sweat, of him and me and us. He drops kiss after kiss on my neck as he moves inside me, taking his time. Taking care of me.

“What do you need, honey? What can I give you?”

“Just give me you.”

He grinds in deep, his cock throbbing inside me. “I don’t know if I can hold out.”