I cry out, unraveling and unraveling until I fear there’s nothing left of me but hot blood and instinct.
He moans as I pulse around him and his pace quickens. He’s driving himself inside me, so hard and thorough and punishing, as if he’s punishing me again and again. And I’m still riding my orgasm, each brutal thrust keeping me going on the wave, like I’ll keep coming for as long as he’s in deep. I’m up so high, high, high and I can’t come down, even if I tried.
It’s pure, primal bliss.
“You fucking ruin me, love,” he growls, so savage and frantic in his rhythm, and then he slows with one, heavy push. His fingers dig into my skin, hard enough to leave bruises and his loud, wild groan fill the room, tangling with my own.
“Fuck,” he gasps roughly. “You ruin me.”
He stills against me, drops of sweat falling on my back, our heavy breathing in unison, and it feels like he has to pry his fingers away from my hips, he was gripping them so hard.
Eventually he pulls out and I feel his cum spill down my leg. He puts his hand up my thigh, wiping it away and then leans forward, placing soft kisses down my spine.
“Thank you,” he says softly, voice beyond husky, as if he drank a gallon of gasoline. “I won’t forget this.”
Getting spanked and fucked in the locker room of a rugby star? Yeah. I’m not going to forget this either.
***
I’m excited for the first real pub night with Lachlan and his friends, even though I’m a bit on edge with what Lachlan revealed last night. I won’t bring it up because I don’t want him to think I’m watching him, and I also know what he told me in Napa, about his relationship with alcohol. I just have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. He’d told me that it was all over and done with, that he wouldn’t backslide, and I just have to have faith that he’s right.
I spend some time trying to select the outfit that’s just right for the girlfriend of a rugby star. Not that I’m his girlfriend but…fuck. I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to be.
“Are you ready?” Lachlan asks while I try on a white lace tank top for the millionth time. I settle on skinny jeans and high heels, but I still feel it’s not enough.
“Ugh,” I say, making a face at myself in the mirror. “I don’t know.” I turn to face him as he leans against the bathroom door. “Do I look okay?”
He raises a brow. “Are you taking the piss?”
“No, I am not taking the piss, though I’m still not sure what that means.”
He shakes his head, walking over to me. He studies my face, blinking in almost disbelief, before brushing my hair off my shoulders. My eyes close, surrendering briefly to his touch.
“It means you’re insane if you think you don’t look okay,” he says in a growly voice. “And that I’ll never think you’re anything other than beautiful.”
“You know how to say all the right things,” I tell him, and he plants a few kisses down my neck, making me shiver.
“Because I’m with the right girl,” he says against my skin.
I swallow at that, trying to find the courage to speak. “About that,” I say softly. “Am I your girl?”
He pauses and pulls back to observe me, brows pinched together. “What are you on about?”
“Am I your girl? I mean, we’ve never really discussed our actual relationship, what we are with each other, and so…I don’t want to be presumptuous and assume I’m more to you than I am. So I just wanted to know, so I could be clear, you know…how you feel.”