“I’ve never wanted to screw you more,” I tell him honestly.
He chuckles. “All right. Well that can be arranged. You don’t mind if I have a shower first?”
I frown. “Are you actually serious about having sex with me?”
“Love, I am always serious about having sex with you. And yeah. Maybe a locker room shag has always been a fantasy of mine.”
Fuck. Sign me up. As if I wasn’t already turned on watching him get all sweaty on the field, asserting his dominance, now he’s staring at me with a gaze that can only be described as molten.
“What about your teammates? I’m not that much of an exhibitionist.”
“Glad to hear that,” he says. “There’s another room for the opposing team. It’s probably open.” He reaches down and grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet. “By the way, tonight, Thierry, my good mate on the team, invited us to a pub. He wants to meet you. That all right?”
I’m totally flattered that his teammates even know about me. “Sure.”
“Good,” he says, kissing me softly on the lips and letting out an agreeable noise. “I want to show you off to everyone I’ve ever known and ever met,” he whispers against my mouth.
I practically melt and kiss him back eagerly, our lips and tongues hot, wanting him to feel just how he makes me feel. I’m not even sure how to describe just how he does me in.
He leads me down the stairs and across the field, toward the tunnel on the opposite end. I pause in the middle, looking around me, imagining what it would be like to be Lachlan, to step out here among thousands of fans staring down at me, cheering me on. I don’t know how he does it, he must get into some kind of zone.
I think he does that with me sometimes. It’s like he sees me and nothing else, like I’m his whole world, the only thing in his existence.
Even now, the way he’s glancing at me as he takes me into the darkened tunnel, I feel enslaved by his intensity. Fuck it. I’m enslaved by everything about him. His beauty, his darkness. His cock. Definitely his cock.
And definitely now.
He takes me toward a door and tries the knob but it won’t budge. He pushes me back a bit, looks both ways up and down the tunnel, then kicks the door in.
“Wow, are you sure this –” I start to say but the look in his eyes shuts me up and he practically throws me in the room. He closes the door behind him and flicks on the lights.
It looks pretty much like any locker room I’ve ever seen. Lockers, benches, showers at the end. And, thankfully, empty. I look back at Lachlan and he’s already peeling off his sweaty shirt and tossing it to the cement floor. His shoes, socks, shorts go next. Totally commando.
“I, uh, thought you always wore your underwear when you played,” I say to him, my eyes drawn to his massive erection that he’s holding in his fist, stroking it slowly, up and down and burning into me with dangerous eyes. “You know. Because of the shorts being pulled down thing...”
But my words are trailing off because the sight of him in the locker room, his rugby kit discarded on the floor beside him, all his gorgeous tattoos and primed muscles on full display, makes me stupid. God, the fact that I just saw all that his body can do on the field, and now he’s going to show me all he can do to me in here…I’m practically panting for it, and I know I’m wet as sin already.
“I like to mix it up,” he says unapologetically.
I unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my hips in front of him, about to step out.
“No,” he says hoarsely, a gleam in his eyes. “Leave them around your ankles.”
I tilt my head and blink at him. Just what does he have in mind?
His strides past me, cock in hand and goes all the way to the showers. He turns one of them on and steps in, letting the water stream over his massive body. His stroking increases and I watch, tantalized, as his fist slides from the thick base to his purple, swollen tip.
“Just watch,” he says through a groan, his head back, the beads of water pouring down his throat, down between the hard mounds of his chest, following the carved path of his stomach. “I want you to beg for it.”
“I am begging for it,” I tell him, feeling slightly ridiculous that I’m standing here, with my jeans and underwear around my feet, watching him jerk off in the shower. I want more than anything to get down on my knees, put that delicious dick in my mouth, let the water cascade over me. I don’t care if I get wet. I want to make him come. Preferably in my mouth, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Get on the bench, right there,” he commands, opening his eyes as the water runs over his head, flattening his hair, his mouth open with that puffy bottom lip just asking for trouble. The look on his face is absolutely hedonistic.
I do as he says, getting on my knees. It’s such a fucking turn-on when he’s bossy. This whole scenario is like a porno waiting to happen.
“Turn around,” he says, turning off the shower. “Face the other way.”
“I’d rather look at you,” I tell him. “Have you seen you?”
A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “Do as I say.”
I glare at him. “Can’t we both win?”
“Aye. You’ll win. Now turn around.” He storms toward me, his dick bobbing with each stride, menace in his eyes.
I obey but only because I know it will pay off.
I wait, ass in the air, the top half of me still clothed, balancing precariously on the bench.
I hear him come up behind me, feel his presence. His shadows looms over me and I instinctively grip the edges.
Seconds pass and I’m dying from the anticipation. I feel like I’m blindfolded, every part of me on alert and waiting for what sinful thing is going to come.
I open my mouth to beg when suddenly –
CRACK
– his large, strong, wet hand spanks my ass with so much force I nearly fall off the bench.
I yelp, loudly.
It stings.
Oh god, it stings and my eyes are watering.
But then the pain starts to fade as quickly as it came on and I’m breathing hard, chest heaving, waiting for more.
“Did you like that?” he asks, voice so gruff and low, it relays every single dirty thought he has in his head.
I catch my breath. “Yes.”
CRACK.
He spanks me again, the other cheek.
My back arches and I cry out. “Fuck!” My head feels hot, like it’s going to burst and my ass is tingling from the strikes, but I’ve never felt more dirty, more sexed up in all my life. This doesn’t feel like playing, this feels excitingly real.
He places his hand on my hip and flinch from his touch, expecting more. He holds onto me, then I feel the head of his cock slide over my sensitive, raw skin where he spanked me, still damp from the shower.
If he’s trying to soothe me with his penis though, it’s not working. This just riles me up. I want him deep, deep inside until I can’t see straight.
I tell him so and it brings out a thick grunt from his throat.
He steps back from me and smacks my ass again, harder than before.
“Holy shit!” I scream but then before I can even process the pain, his tongue is on my ass, licking over every welt, with soft, smooth strokes. He moans into me and I’m so fucking gone. The push pull of pain and pleasure is making it hard to control myself and I jerk my hips up and back, wanting him in.
He gets the right idea.
He grips my waist with both his hands, nearly reaching all the way around, that’s how large he is compared to me.
I’m so damn wet that all he has to do is inch forward and he slips inside.
It feels.
Too.
Fucking.
Good.
The angle is everything. He pushes himself in to the hilt and I feel myself expand around his thickness, his cock dragging over every wild nerve inside me.
A long, aching groan pours out of my mouth.
“You like that too, aye,” he growls. “Your greedy little noises and your greedy little cunt.”