Page 97 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter
Bullshit.
“I’m doing this because of you,” he said at the time.
So kind of him.
We’ve always gotten along well. He’s more family than my blood relatives, that’s for sure, and it only took spending one holiday alone—Thanksgiving last year—for his family to invite me along.
Honorary Ruiz.
Still, I was tempted to deck him.
He wanted Sydney to give up secrets to them—he wanted to prove she was untrustworthy.
I know she’s the opposite.
When he finally gave up and agreed for me to come in and get her, we found… Bear. Her skin was almost blue in the face, her eyes wild. I’ll never forget the way she looked, and the visceral panic that claimed her as soon as I got the knot undone.
His dick wasn’t out.
That, I think, is the only reason Oliver didn’t murder him. Not that either of us have committed murder. But for her? I’m leaning toward that being a viable fucking option.
She shifts onto her back, her head rolling to the side. There’s a new little nick on her neck, a scabbed-over cut…
I hover over her, and regardless of what’s been done to her, my cock is already fucking dripping for her. I tug her panties aside and stroke her clit until she squirms.
I push inside slow enough that my muscles tremble. This is an exercise in patience. Once I’m fully seated inside her, I exhale. My body aches from the fight, but I put it out of my mind and lower myself down.
My weight settles on hers. I’ve been experimenting with how much she can take without waking, and the answer is—a lot. My girl is a deep fucking sleeper. Before, I was hesitant to touch her more than necessary. But now, I know I can settle my hips against hers and lower myself so we’re chest to chest.
She moves less when I fuck her like this.
Eventually, we’ll do this when she’s awake. I shift my hips, my movements miniscule. It sends little zaps of pleasure up my cock and along the base of my spine. My lips touch her bruised throat, but her breathing remains even.
The first time I did this, I couldn’t believe she stayed asleep. I kept expecting her to wake up halfway through, for her eyes to open confused and switch to fear or surprise.
I’ve never met anyone who sleeps this deeply. And unlike when she’s awake, her face is free of worry or stress. I didn’t realize how much tension she holds in her face until I saw her without it.
Unconscious.
I move faster, my forearms braced on either side of her head, until the racing pleasure shoots down my spine and down my dick. I close my eyes and clench my teeth. I stay inside her for a moment, moving to feel more. To plug her up for just one more minute.
When my cock softens, I pull out. I adjust her panties back into place and lower her shirt. I touch the pendant around her neck, smiling to myself. This part is more of a ritual than anything. I cover her with the blankets, clean my cock on something in her hamper. Put my clothes back on.
Sometimes I check her apartment. Other times, I just leave the way I came.
And when I get home, I sleep like a fucking baby.
Tonight, I decide to do a walk-through.
Tonight I slip out of her room and come face-to-face with her stalker.
He stands in the center of the living room with his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully blank. It must be work for him to keep it that way and not show me his cards. Ollie gets like that sometimes, too. He strives to be a closed book and ends up looking constipated.
“What a surprise.” I mirror his stance. “Carter Masters. I didn’t hear you come in.”
He clenches his jaw. “I have a key.”
“A stolen key?”