Our first time together had felt sloppy and rushed, like we’d been play-wrestling, only naked. That’d been our outlet for easing the tension that’d all but possessed us that night.
His hands slipped forward and clamped around my throat, not tightly enough to choke me, but with sufficient pressure to cut off some air.
Zane didn’t announce that he would soon come. His labored breathing and the breakneck pace at which he fucked me told the story. I felt tension mount below my own waist and realized that my own orgasm stood much closer than the horizon.
As I clamped a hand onto my own cock, jerking it hard, Zane rammed me with each throb of orgasm that pulsed through him. His groans were music to my ears. I felt his hot come spurt inside of me, the last straw triggering my own climax.
Zane’s cock remained inside my ass as he leaned over me. I felt his chiseled, sweaty body pressing against my back as he kissed my neck, anchoring me to a world of ecstasy for a few moments longer.
When Zane withdrew from me, I rolled over and laid flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. The sex had distracted me from my constant thought since the last game. As you might’ve guessed, my teammates, Zane, and the mayhem that’d broken loose dominated those thoughts.
To say that I felt conflicted would’ve been an understatement, but the truth was so complicated. Since the Riptides’ victory over us (God, I hate saying that), the problem had only compounded itself and had turned into another elephant in the room.
I needed to discuss this with Zane but didn’t know how. Now seemed as good a moment as any, maybe because we’d both gotten what we’d wanted.
Normally, I would’ve rolled out of bed and stepped into the shower the moment climax had ended—if I’d been banging one of my old girlfriends. Sex with Zane was different. Okay, that’s obvious. The aftermath also proved very different.
You know what I mean.
He rolled over, propping his head up with a fist. I smiled at him, wishing to live in that moment forever. I stroked my fingerup and down the crease in the middle of his chest and then leaned in to kiss his lips.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Oh yeah…”
He said nothing more. Honestly, I didn’t know if he was seeking reassurance. It seemed more like he wanted to ask me something but didn’t know how.
My eyes fell shut for a moment. I wanted him to know the sex had been great but wouldn’t make the fact that he’d taken a few rounds out of me too apparent. I didn’t need him getting a big head—no pun intended.
“You’ve got something on your mind.” He didn’t need to command a response, at least not directly.
He was right, but I didn’t plan to spill any tea.
“I do need to ask you something, though,” he said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Why did you pull Levi Dunn off of me?”
“Because he was going to hurt you, that’s why.”
When he paused, I knew damn well what he was thinking. It was more than him hating the idea of another man worrying about someone rearranging their sweet baby’s adorable face, though I figured that must’ve come into play. I hated to see a fist driven through a face as fine as Zane’s; that was true. Though I’d already learned to read Zane like a book, I couldn’t figure out the missing piece.
Something was going on here, but what?
“There’s got to be more to it than that,” he said.
“Well, there isn’t. I thought Levi’s hit on you was bullshit and I wanted to keep shit from getting worse.”
“But you didn’t need to step in, Jakob. You could’ve just let us play the game.”
“If I’d just let you play the game, shit would’ve gotten out of hand.”
“Shitdidget out of hand, so it wouldn’t have made much difference if you’d pulled him off or not.”
“Sorry for caring, Zane. Excuseme! I had good intentions, and don’t tell me about how the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
He said nothing because he knew damn well that sentence had nearly sprung from his lips.
