Chapter 24

Coach ison the phone when I seek him out, so I backtrack to the locker room.

A couple of guys are already showered and getting dressed. We’re talking about their plans tonight, making bullshit excuses for why I’m not heading out.

Apparently, they’re the only players who don’t know I plan to fuck my husband tonight.

Which I absolutely plan to do. Several times, if possible.

Not that I’ve told them that.

Waking up without a headache yesterday confused the hell out of me. It took me longer than it should have to work out what was different. And this morning. I’d almost wept in relief when, while my head was a little foggy, there was no headache in sight.

Best morning ever.

“… next week, yeah,” I say, telling them about joining practice. “It finally feels like I have—” The John Wick theme tune blasts out, cutting me off. “Let me just see who it is.”

I leave the guys to jog over to Sammy’s locker. His phone’s out, the theme tune still playing. I smile as I pick up. The music always makes me smirk. I get it, though. Keanu Reeves is a total badass.

Unknown.

Frowning, I hit Answer. Before I can speak, there’s silence and a quiet click of what I’m sure is about to be a voice recording. I roll my eyes, fed up with scam calls like this. As I go to hit End, the voice recording starts.

“You are receiving a call from Trevin Houston at Westhaven Penitentiary. This call is subject to monitoring and recording. To accept this call, please press one. To refuse this call, please hang up now. If you would like to block any future calls from this facility, please press two. Thank you for using Westhaven Penitentiary communications.”

Fuck. I pull the phone away and stare at it, my heart pounding. I hit the number one.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why the hell did I hit one?

Shit.

Sweat breaks out on my brow. I need to hang up. Sammy’s going to lose his shit and?—

“Sammy. That you, boy?”

I put the phone back to my ear and take a shaky breath. It’s not too late. I can just end the call. “No, it’s Bentley.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and turn away from the room, facing Sammy’s locker.

A raspy chuckle that somehow manages to sound cruel, though that could be my imagination, travels down the line.

It makes my skin crawl. It also makes me stand up straighter.

Sammy might lose his shit, and I suspect I’ll have a big apology to make, but Trevin also needs to go fuck himself.

I weave steel into my tone when I ask, “Why are you calling?”

More to the point, why hasn’t Sammy blocked his calls? Number two expels all the shits, apparently.

“The infamous son-in-law.” I can practically hear his sneer. “Now, is that any way to speak to your father-in-law?”

I refuse to buy into what he’s attempting, repeating, “Why are you calling?”

At the sound of him sucking his teeth, my eye twitches. Everything inside me is screaming at me to cut him off. I should. But this is the piece of shit who hurt Sammy so badly that eight years later, he continues to struggle to move on with his life.

“Just checking there’s a welcome home party planned when I make early parole in a couple of days.” A gruff laugh makes me shudder.

My temper is a boiling volcano, red-hot and so close to exploding that my voice shakes as I say, “Whatever you think is going to happen is beyond crazy. You’re not coming within ten miles of Sammy.”

I take a surreptitious glance around the room, remembering where I am. A couple more guys are back, but there’s no one close to me.

“Now, now, son, there’s no need to get defensive. I’m just making sure that boy of mine’s grateful for what I did for him.”

What. The. Fuck?“Did for him?” My voice is too loud, too out of control. I drop it instantly. “You really are fucking insane.”

“Mind your words, boy. Sammy’s lucky I stopped when I did. Owes me his life. When I get out, he needs to repay that in kind.”

I see red. Anger poisons my veins as I recall what Sammy told me about that night. What Trevin did to him. “Let me make myself crystal fucking clear. You’re not to come anywhere near Sammy. You don’t call. You don’t send any cards through the mail. You forget his name and that he ever even existed.” I can’t stop. I barely take a breath. “You’re the biggest piece of shit, and you need to rot in fucking jail.”

With a shaky finger, I hit End. I clench my fist, so tempted to throw Sammy’s phone, but stop myself before I do anything else foolish.

Fuck, fuck, fu?—

“Bentley?”

For the love of fucks….

I turn, facing Sammy, dreading to see his reaction. My eyes widen, realizing that Tyron is next to him, his face a mask of concern. But beneath Tyron’s worry, I see the flicker of readiness. He’s ready to throw down should I need him to.

Snapping my gaze back to Sammy, who’s barely ten feet away, I cringe at his neutral expression. Except his eyes. There’s a hell of a lot of emotion swirling in their depths, so much that it’s a struggle to figure out exactly what he’s thinking.

“I’m so sorry.” I flick a glance at a couple of the younger guys on our team, noticing their curious expressions.

Fuck. Just how loud was I?

Shame sits heavily on my shoulders. I loosen my grip on Sammy’s phone and stare down at it. It’s a surprise to see it, which makes no sense. But that whole conversation feels unreal.

I look up when Sammy’s bare feet come into view. A towel is around his waist, and a few waterdrops still glisten on his broad shoulders, and fuck, what have I done?

His hand moving startles me, and I realize he’s taking his phone out of my hand. I release it immediately, making eye contact.

“I thought it was a scam call. Then when I realized, I…. I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry.” I stop short of blurting out the whole story. This is not the time or the place for this conversation, but it’s hard to think through the ringing in my ears. A dull throb starts, and I wince, pressing the heel of my hand against my temple.

Not now.

“Does your head hurt?”

Why does he sound so calm and together?

I remove my hand and manage not to wince. “I’m fine.”

The muscle in his cheek tenses, his eyes narrowing.

“A little. Just a two.”

The barest flicker of a smile teases his lips, but it disappears before it properly forms. “Let me dress, and then we’ll head home.”

I have a feeling it’s not for the sexy times we planned. God, I’m a dickhead.

But fuck, it felt good to tell Trevin what a piece of shit he is. Let him know there’s no way in hell he’ll get to Sammy.

It’s best I swallow that feeling down. Not sure it’s the right time to share that particular reaction with Sammy. One day, maybe.

It feels odd just standing here while the guys are dressing. “I’ll… uhm… just wait outside.”

Once Sammy nods, I walk out, not daring to look at anyone, especially not Tyron.

I should be talking to Coach, but I don’t have it in me. Not right now. I’ll do so later when I’m calmer.

While I wait, I take a couple painkillers with a can of Coke I grab from the vending machine. It’s the first time I’ve had caffeine in weeks. Hopefully, it’ll give me the energy boost I need for when Sammy and I are back home.

After making quick work of my soda, I throw it in the recycling bin just as Sammy exits. A tentative smile plays on my lips while his own is tight.

Silently, we head out. There are still plenty of people around campus. Several students are already well on their way to partying. Plenty of hollers reach us, calling our names, mainly those telling Sammy, “Good game.”

He accepts each one with an up-nod and a barely there smile. The farther we walk away, especially from the on-site accommodation, the quieter it gets. Streetlamps guide our way, giving us enough light that the white clouds from our warm breaths float before us.

“You think it might snow?” The question is lame, and I wince, but the quiet is eating at me. To be fair, it’s cold—definitely the coldest night this season.

“Maybe.”

My gut drops when that’s all he offers.

Seeing our house up ahead, lit up by the single lamp on the porch, my heart stumbles. Not knowing what Sammy’s thinking is messing with me. He has every right to be mad, but he’s not going to be mad mad, right?

When we reach the door, he unlocks it and lets me pass before he closes the door behind us.

And I just stand here, having no clue what to say or do.

“How’s your head?” he asks as he unzips his coat.

Right, coat and shoes off. That I can do.

“Okay. I took a painkiller,” I admit. “My head’s not bad, but I wanted to nip it in the bud before it got worse.”

He nods and walks past me into the kitchen. I follow him like a lost lamb, my nerves shot. I’m so not good at dealing with this weird tension thing between us.

Standing in the doorway, I watch as he opens the fridge and grabs an armful of snacks and two bottles of water. Apparently done, he knocks the door closed with his hip, then walks past me again.

The second his foot plants down on the first step, he glances my way. “Coming?”

My nod is fast, my feet swift as I follow him up.

What I could be doing is telling him what happened, apologizing again—because I am legit so sorry, ashamed even, especially doing that, saying that in the locker room. In public.

But something keeps me quiet. Maybe a little worry, since I can’t read him. But also, there’s something about the set of his shoulders, his composure that tells me he needs me to let him take the lead on this.

As soon as we’re in our room, Sammy sits on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Fresh nerves spring to life in my stomach. He surprises me by passing me one of the water bottles.

“Drink this and come sit.”

I do so, taking a position opposite him, the weird combination of snacks spread out between us. He’s always hungry after a game, so the food’s not a surprise. What is a surprise is that he’s not yet tucking in. Instead, his gaze is on me.

“What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, I launch into telling him as precisely as possible what happened and what was said. Sammy listens attentively, flashes of emotion occasionally appearing before he dons a more neutral expression.

“… I fucked up when I lost it.” I shake my head. “Saying all that in the locker room where people can hear…. Sammy, I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is break your trust.”

“Drink some water.”

“Huh?” Okay, I’m confused.

“You need to hydrate, so please drink some water.”

I have no idea what’s going on or why he’s so insistent about my H2O needs, but okay…. I take a healthy swig and gulp the contents. The cool liquid soothes my dry throat. Apparently, I was thirsty, and I have done a lot of talking. A lot more than normal.

When I’m done, I throw the bottle into the trash can. It sinks in, but my usual lip twitch doesn’t come. My shoulders sag a little with relief that I’ve told Sammy the truth and apologized.

I don’t recall a time I’ve ever been so worked up before. So fucking angry.

A shaky breath later, and I peer over at Sammy. His gaze is on me, assessing and still quiet.

“So….” I trail off, not knowing where to go next or what to say. All I’m certain of is that his silence is freaking me out.

One arched eyebrow is the first real reaction I get. It’s a total Sammy move.

“Are you still under a three?”

What the…?

He dips his head pointedly, indicating he wants an answer.

“Yeah.” I nod, wings taking flight in my stomach and having a grand old time while I’m wondering if he’s serious.

“Take off your clothes, sweetheart.”

Holy fuck.That’s a yes, then.

There’s zero finesse as I strip. My cock throbs as I stand naked before him. He eyes me lazily before he moves off the bed, taking the snacks with him and dumping them on the desk.

I jump when he touches my back. Firm, warm fingers travel down my spine. Sweet kisses follow. With a needy whimper, I drop my head back, finding purchase on his shoulder.

“Do you forgive me?” I whisper.

In answer, he steps closer to my body, his covered groin rubbing against my ass, hard and big. Next, he sweeps his hands over my chest, trailing fingers up to my neck. Taking hold of my face, he angles me, lifting it and moving me slightly. His lips descend on mine.

Slow, hot kisses, scorching enough to burn, press against me. We kiss until I struggle for air, still so painfully, deliciously slow as our lips glide, tongues tangling.

It’s wet, messy, and so possessive, I feel owned.

The sensation ripples through me with the ferocity of wildfire with a strong wind, thickening my cock and making my knees weak.

It’s no good. I need air.

I pull away, gasping for breath. Wrecked. Sammy’s wrecking me so completely, and God, I want him to do that so throughly that everything but us… together… at this moment… turns to cinders.

“Get on the bed, on your back.”

Holy fuck.

The gravel in his voice gets me moving. In bed, Sammy’s never like this. Needy for sure, but I tend to take control, delighting in unraveling and taming his mind from his millions of thoughts.

God, I am so here for this moment.

Once again, he arches that sexy eyebrow at me. It’s all a challenge, and I realize I’m still a panting, trembling mess.

“Right, on the bed, on my back. Got it.”

His lips twitch. The movement is subtle, but it’s all it takes for the stranglehold on my heart to release.

We’re going to be okay.

The certainty and relief have me moving. With my back down and cock rigid, my fingers twitch to do… something. Anything. My dick’s right there, weeping and desperate.

“Don’t you dare.”

My hand freezes, and a shaky breath punches out of me.

Jesus, Sammy’s good at this.

Our eye contact remains steady and intense as he undresses. It continues when he pulls out the lube.

My breath hitches when he climbs on top and straddles me. His skin is warm, dark, fucking beautiful. Gripping his waist, I allow the feel of him to settle over me.

Firm and smooth. Strong and silky soft. I’m so caught up in sensation, his “Give me your hand” startles me.

I hold out my left hand and shiver when he drips lube over my fingers. A drop of the cool liquid falls on my stomach as he rises, saying, “Get me ready, sweetheart.”

Oh, fuck.

A pulse of my cock, and I grab the base quickly. My hold’s firm, my breaths sawing out of me with a speed that makes my head spin.

Sammy’s eyes flare. Yeah, I totally almost blew while getting my fingers slick, ready to fingerfuck my husband. Heat blooms in my chest, catching his attention.

“You good, or do you need me to do it?” Amusement colors his tone, a reassuring balm to my soul.

It’s oh so tempting to sit back and watch him prepare himself. Is it more likely that I’ll blow with him doing it or me? I don’t have time to debate. Instead, I take action.

Still gripping my cock to attempt to keep myself in check, I encourage him to scoot forward and lift up for me. My slick fingers find his hole immediately, one of them sliding in with an ease that has me biting my lip and looking at him in contemplation.

“Did you put fingers in yourself when you showered?” Gravel coats my words, the visual close to fucking me over and making me come.

He bears down on my finger as I work it in and out of him. Clamping down on his bottom lip, he nods before releasing the pink flesh, saying, “Yeah. I think you can slip three right on in there before I fuck your fat dick.”

“Jesus.” My hips jerk.

My mind pores over his words and the visuals, wondering when he got such a dirty mouth on him, even as I do exactly what he says. Three fingers slip inside, past his ring of muscle. I go slow, continuing to ease inside as he grunts and drops his head, hands pressing against my chest.

“Fuck, okay, quick. I need your cock.”

I dip in and out, twisting, reaching out with my middle finger to brush against his prostate. His cock jerks, his eyes closing, and a deep, guttural moan flies free as I do it again and again.

“Fuck, okay, stop.”

I freeze immediately and ease out when he pulls away. A second later, he knocks away my hand, takes hold of my cock, positions it at his entrance, and eases down on me.

Fighting to keep my eyes open, I gasp at the sensation of being wrapped in his hot channel. With parted lips, he looks so desperate and hot. A whimper escapes as he bottoms out and stills.

It takes everything not to fuck into him. But we both need to reset. Me especially, as the tingle in my balls is going to be my undoing far too quickly.

We’re breathing heavily and remain still until Sammy opens his eyes and stares down at me. When his palms return to my chest, he rises slowly before easing down with a wisp of a moan. He does it again and again.

Fucking me.

Owning me.

“You went to battle for me.” The words are choppy as he speaks, sinking down on me, strangling my dick with a perfect grip.

Surprise that he’s speaking about this, now of all times, slams into me. But I’m quick to respond. “Yeah. Always.”

“That’s so fucking hot.” A slow lift up, and he gently swirls his hips before his ass touches my balls.

“Fuck,” I groan. “It is?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

I grab hold of his shoulder and drag him close, capturing his lips with a gravelly groan. The kiss is hungry, almost sloppy, with the desperation urging me to fuck him, climb into his body, and never leave.

Unable to take any more, my control snaps, crumbling away like brittle leaves in the grip of an unforgiving wind. I grasp his hips and thrust into him in earnest.

He rasps out my name. “Bentley, fuck… yes. I’ve needed you so fucking badly.”

I’m almost brutal, picking up a punching pace as loud, earth-shattering moans free-fall from his parted lips.

“I need you to come,” I demand, so close to losing control completely. I need him to spill. Need the evidence of his passion to soak my skin.

A hoarse cry escapes Sammy when I grip his cock and stroke him. The movements are fast and tight with a small twist at the end. Just how he likes it. Exactly what he needs to fly.

A ribbon of cum flies free, landing in a splash on my stomach. His groan is feral as his body shakes, gripping my cock so tightly, I gasp.

Another strip paints my chest. I slow my hand, milking every last drop, and I follow him over. My orgasm punches out of me, taking me by surprise with its speed and ferocity.

A low growl tears past my lips from deep in my chest.

Tensing, I drive into him, Sammy’s soft gasps in sync with each shot of my cum coating his walls.

“Fuck.” I push up, wrapping my arms around him, clinging to Sammy as a final shudder ripples through my wrecked body.

Tightening his arms around me, Sammy kisses me. It’s sweet and lingering as we struggle to take full breaths, but we don’t stop as we mold against each other, each stroke of our tongues drugging.

We slow, easing back in short bursts, not quite ready to part, my cock still nestled inside him.

“Thank you for loving me.” The tenderness in Sammy’s voice takes me by surprise.

Leaning back to properly see his face, I cup his cheek. “You never need to thank me for that. I’ll love you forever.”

He swallows hard, emotion playing out on his face.

“Do you forgive me?”

“You never need to ask me to forgive you when you’re trying to protect me,” he says, turning my words back on me.

Relief unfurls fully in my chest. It settles there like a warm embrace.

“Did you know, when you were knocked unconscious, I was this close”—he holds his thumb and pointer finger an inch apart—”to kicking that twat’s ass?”

Wide-eyed, I stare at Sammy, my heartbeat quickening. “I didn’t know that.”

My dick twitches, and I drag my lips between my teeth to stop smirking.

That doesn’t stop Sammy, though. “You like that, huh?” Amusement twinkles in his eyes, spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, the sound playful, carefree. His grin widens, infectious in its warmth. “Yeah, it’s probably fucked-up that when I heard what you were saying, my dick got hard.”

A startled laugh escapes me.

“Don’t get me wrong, it threw me for a loop… and Ty was right there.”

I wince. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” It’s what I suspected. Having it confirmed is like a brick dropping in my gut.

“It’s okay. It happened.” He shifts on my lap, discomfort morphing his features.

I ease back carefully as he lifts up. A groan passes his lips, my already thickening cock not helping at all. Once off me, Sammy all but falls to my side. Unable to resist when he’s peering up at me so blissed out, I kiss him. It’s soft and lazy, not working up to anything.

After a few tender presses of my lips to his, I ease away. “Let me grab the wet wipes.”

I make quick work of pulling them out of the drawer next to our bed, then wipe Sammy’s ass and cock carefully. He lets me with a soft smile and heat in his cheeks. Once I clean my dick and stomach, I throw the wipes in the trash can and scoot down beside him, tugging the rumpled covers over us.

“I had all the plans for you tonight,” he says.

We’re face-to-face, heads on just one pillow.

“I know.” I brush my finger over his bottom lip. “I’m more than satisfied.”

Tonight’s been a lot. Emotionally, I think we’re both wrecked.

“How’s your head?”

There’s no throbbing, but I’m tired. The physical exertion has worn me down. “Okay.” A yawn breaks free, and I’m quick to cover my mouth.

“Let me get the light, and we’ll sleep.”

My eyes have already slipped closed as exhaustion presses down on me. I think I nod and feel him move before sleep takes me.