Chapter 44
Miriam
There is no such thing as “good luck pussy,” but I’m bouncing on Antonio like my coochie will get him to the playoffs.
“You’re going to be late,” I heave, out of breath from using leg muscles I never use.
Less than two weeks was all we needed to christen every surface and corner in both of our houses.
I’m pretty sure we did it in a day and a half.
Engineers are curious by nature. It’s a foundational trait I’ve put to good use.
I understand the process of sex, but the beauty is in the complexities I’ve been soaking up, along with my sheets.
Continuous learning has been my foreplay, and I’m going for straight A’s.
“I’ll leave right after,” Antonio says through clenched teeth. “Just like that, Doe. Shit.” His hands grip my hips to guide me up and down his length, which is slicked with my juices. His head lifts to lap a nipple before he pulls it into his mouth. I press my hands into his chest and grind down.
Cowgirl has quickly become a top-three position, second to missionary and my thighs spread for backshots. I lean back to cup his balls.
“Fuck, I love you, girl!” Playing with his testicles is a tip I read about, and it’s paying off.
I love watching Antonio and his reaction to my body. The way his lips widen and his penetrating stares. How he’s tuned into my needs, studying me for my pleasure.
“You feel so good,” I moan, my back arched and hips steadied over his steel as I make it disappear.
Today’s leg power is sponsored by yours truly. Antonio is happy to be along for the ride so he doesn’t cramp before today’s first home game. I swear he mentioned no physical activity the day of or before, but we broke that rule. It’s a miracle we haven’t broken his headboard.
Speaking of the headboard.
I grab the top of the wooden frame and lift to my feet. Just enough to swivel my hips over his mushroom tip before swallowing him whole.
“Fuck!” Antonio’s grip tightens. He bites my nipple.
“Ahh!”
Sex with him has been a discovery of self.
I’ve discovered that I, Miriam Beckford, the second of her house, love intercourse.
I made up for five years in the almost two weeks our relationship turned physical.
The sensation of his dick, how it stretches my walls and hits spots no toy can activate, brings out a side of me I never knew existed.
I love being completely naked, feeding my arousal to him like an elixir, and riding him until his toes curl.
We were already in tune with each other, but this takes us to the clouds. Our hearts beat in sync every time our bodies become one.
My hands fly to Antonio’s shoulders as the pressure of another orgasm explodes.
“Uhh!”
“Gah—Doe!” He comes in three rapid thrusts. Every muscle in his stomach coils at his release.
I giggle through gasps of air. “Why are you sweating? I did all the work.”
“That last part was all me.”
“Mister Three Seconds.” I squeal at the pinch to my nipples.
“It takes Jedi concentration to not shoot into this sweet pussy, Doe.” His lips press to my collarbone. “I’ve never felt this before, baby.”
We kiss until it’s time for him to go to the field with the team. I hop in the shower—well, walk, with fatigued thighs from mounting a rugby player—and get ready for the home opener.
Folding chairs line the manicured pitch under a bright blue sky. The weather is deceptively cool, but not cold enough for a full winter coat for Buffalo natives and transplants alike.
I text Marcela my location and adjust my knitted hat to keep my curls from blowing away with the wind. There may still be a chill in the air, but you wouldn’t know it looking at the Steel in their short-sleeved shirts and shorter shorts.
“They better win on the strength of home-field advantage.” Marcela tightens her jacket and reaches down to hug me. “Hey, girl. This me?” She points to the empty chair next to mine.
I nod. “Careful.”
“Eep!”
“It rocks.”
Her arms and legs flail, but she catches herself and eases into the concept of a gliding folding chair. “Where did you get this?”
“Antonio bought them.”
His eyes land on me from across the field. He winks and runs off with Shins. A small smile plays on my lips at the all-black uniform molded to every inch of muscle. His thighs are out, his back is corded, and his biceps are on full display.
“Somebody is glowing,” Marcela teases. “Would this have anything to do with your disappearance?”
“I did not disappear.” I push up my glasses and swallow my tongue as the Steel warm up. “I was occupied.”
Tied up.
Facedown.
In the air.
Against the wall.
Over a sofa arm.
Bent on the steps.
Miriam was busy.
My sister smirks. Her cropped haircut accentuates her cheekbones. Her vibe today is an ode to the ’90s. Loose-fitting jeans over high-tops and a black windbreaker. Minus her jacket, we’re matching.
“What’s the matter, Antonio got your pussy?”
“Don’t say ‘pussy’ out loud!” I whisper-yell.
She grins. “Since when do you say that word, Dr. Baby?”
I bite my lip. “Since he’s been making mine purr.”
“I knew it.”
“Keep it down,” I plead, pulling at my coat collar, now overheated. “I’d rather not talk about my recent expeditions.”
“Alright.” She nods. “I’ll leave it and your newfound glow alone. Just one question.” She pinches her thumb and pointer finger together.
Here she goes.
“Go ahead,” I sigh.
“How are you still walking after all of that?”
Marcela motions to the Steel. They’re on the ground in stretches that simulate a mating ritual with the grass.
My eyes lock on Antonio. His mouthguard hangs from the side of his mouth as he rolls through a downward-facing dog.
His forearms flex, and he straightens his leg into a side stretch.
The mobility in his hips, the shift in his weight to activate his quads, which have pistoned into me on more than one occasion, is a testament to his flexibility. And my, is the man flexible.
“I’m small in height, but I’m a big girl,” I say, my gaze trained on the mass of his legs as they widen into a child’s pose. I never thought of myself as an ass person, but I shift in my seat at his back-and-forth movements.
“My sister is in love, and getting that back cracked!” Marcela cheers.
“I do love him,” I say proudly.
“You and everyone else.” Lisa drops her chair next to Marcela. Her stare lingers on Antonio, who’s bending into a squat and touching his toes. “He is flexible.” The snide remark leaves no room for interpretation about her history with my man.
Marcela whips her head in her direction. “I know I didn’t call you to come over here and start shit. Matter of fact, I didn’t call you at all.”
Lisa purses her lips. “I come to every home game. I don’t mind sharing with you, Miriam. Antonio has plenty of fans. There goes another one now.”
Kenya marches onto the field with full glam and confidence.
Heads from both teams turn to the woman in high-waisted pants that model her long legs and a blouse underneath her corduroy vest. Her outfit isn’t screaming for attention, unlike Lisa’s crop top and apple bottoms from Rainbow.
Kenya is all business, and she grins harder when she reaches Antonio.
His eyes drift over her head to me before he nods at something she says.
“Like I said, he has lots of fans. You’ll learn to share. We all did.”
“Hey, Lisa?” I face her.
“Yes?”
“I know for a fact he hasn’t called or seen you in months.
The last time you tried to show up to his house unannounced, you were sent right back out.
Antonio and I are together now—officially and in every way.
If you want to test the theory that your tired antics will take him from me, by all means, give it a try.
But I promise that your feelings won’t be the only thing that gets hurt. ”
She grabs her chair and leaves.
“You dropped your dignity!” Marcela shouts at her former friend.
She smiles at a family who says hello like she’s not out here causing chaos.
“Do not let that bitch see you sweat. None of them,” she whispers to me.
“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.
There’s always someone who will try to play in your face if you let them.
Matter of fact”—she scans down the sideline for Lisa—“I owe her years’ worth of ass whoopings.
The nerve of her in that barely glued lace front… ” Her voice softens. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I snicker. “I know Antonio has a past. I just didn’t expect it to come at me that way. I’m not used to being with anyone, much less someone who had a friendly dick.”
It’s not that I lack confidence. I know my worth, and I don’t need it validated like parking.
That doesn’t mean I’m welcoming members of the I Fucked Antonio Fan Club into my space with stickers.
I don’t want or need any reminders of how other women writhed and sucked him.
The thought of tackling Kenya and Lisa has crossed my mind, and I’ve only had the dick for two weeks!
Antonio only talks to Kenya because of work. Does it make me happy? No, but I trust him. He doesn’t give her access to his personal cell and coordinates any interviews through the team’s media manager.
“As long as he’s not giving them a reason to think there’s hope, sit high on your throne, Queen. You’re the only one who could, and did, take him off the market.”
“Thank you, sis.” I smile.
The game kicks off at three, with screams and cheers from Steel fans in black and gray. I’m on my feet anytime Antonio has the ball or makes a tackle, proudly displaying his number six jersey. He scores twice before the last whistle blows, and the Steel earns their fifth consecutive win.
News cameras follow reporters who shuffle onto the field, vying for statements from the team that’s projected to win this year’s championship. Proud is an understatement. This team works so hard, and they deserve all of the coverage they’re receiving.
“I don’t know what the hell I watched. I was nervous and a little turned on from all those hits.” Marcela grabs her chest to catch her breath. “They play at home next week?”
I laugh. “Yes. Post those pictures you took on social.”
“I will. Looks like they have a shot at going to the championship. I’ll speak with some people about possible funding.”
“Any plans to talk to a certain senator?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. He’s still on punishment from Valentine’s Day. It might be the end of the road with that one.”
Marcela never discusses her romantic partners, but that sneaky link lasted longer than anyone else. Two years is a long time to not catch feelings.
Her lashes fall as she clasps her hands. “Love is,” she chuckles, “not for everybody.”
“Are you okay?”
“I always am. Who is that?”
I follow her gaze and smile. Julian Brooke never fails to make an entrance or cause neck pain within a fifty-yard vicinity. All eyes follow the former playboy turned family man. His low fade matches a trimmed goatee, and his chocolate skin is tucked into a suit and long coat.
We’ve never said more than a few words in passing.
Kierra had a crush on him for the longest, one that turned into a one-night stand and her binging every British show after he went back to London for work.
He’s ’90s-leading-man fine, but there’s no way I would ever stay under a blanket boo-hooing over someone who sent one-word texts after we shared bodily fluids.
It’s part of the reason I never wanted to be the casualty of a hookup, especially with a known bachelor.
“Hi.” I stand up to give him a hug.
“It’s good to see you, Miriam.” Julian greets me with a knowing smile. “I’m happy for you two.” He squeezes me.
“Thank you.” I blush.
His eyes lift to my sister. “Hi. I’m Julian, Antonio’s friend.”
“Marcela, this one’s sister,” she says, doing her best not to get lost in his rich baritone.
“And city councilmember.” Don’t ask me why I mention it. The man is married with three kids. I hate small talk. “How’s Ella and the family?”
A smile crinkles his brown eyes when I mention the woman who did the impossible and made him fall in love. It’s written all over his face, and the wedding band adorning his ring finger.
“Real good,” he beams. “Jackson is about to video call me to catch the post-game press conference. You coming down for the rematch next month? We’d love to have you over.”
“Oh. We haven’t made any plans.”
He grins. “I’m sure it will come up. Antonio always comes through whenever he’s in DC. I’m gonna head in and call my son, but I wanted to say hi.” He offers a parting hug. “I’m glad you gave him a chance,” he whispers before turning to Marcela. “Councilmember, a pleasure.”
“That’s Antonio’s friend?” Marcela’s eyes are still on Julian as he cuts left to the field house.
“Since they were little. He’s happily married with kids.” If she didn’t know that he was married, she’d kidnap him and keep him for herself.
“Damn. The best ones are always taken.”
“You should know.”
Her head flies in my direction. “Bitch!” I get a playful shove. “Are we following? And not because I’m trying to stuff him in my bra.”
“How about dinner?” I start packing up the chairs.
“Did you forget your man is a professional rugby player who’s in there interviewing with national networks?”
“I didn’t. I was trying to forget the press, the networks, and all those rowdy fans stuffed into a small room.” I’m getting better with crowds, but millions of viewers tuning in is asking a lot. “I’ll wait in the car.”
Marcela frowns. “Didn’t you drive separately?”
“Exactly.”
She cackles and grabs my arm. “Bring your scary ass.”