Chapter 5
It starts with a dare, because of course it does, because we’re drunk—or I’m drunk, and Damian’s just tipsy and trying to wrangle me like he always is—and the moon is bright, the stars are out, and the infinity pool is right there, glowing blue like a goddamn dream.
We’ve got no neighbors close enough to care, no witnesses but the night and whatever bad ideas are already forming in my head, so really, this was inevitable.
So I strip.
Like—strip strip. I kick off my shorts, toss them over the balcony railing with a dramatic flourish, and shout, “CATCH OF THE DAY!” before launching myself forward and cannonballing into the water like the menace I am.
It crashes around me, cold and clean and fizzy against my skin, and when I surface I’m laughing hard, hair plastered to my forehead, lungs burning, heart hammering like a drum solo that’s gone completely off the rails.
I twist in the water and grin up at him. “Coach Kade,” I slur, voice sing-song. “You gonna join me or just stand there with your arms crossed looking like a really hot bodyguard in a mafia porno?”
Damian raises a brow. He’s still fully dressed, leaning against the railing with a glass of something expensive in his hand, smirking like he’s above it all.
“Water’s fine,” I call, kicking back and floating on my back. “Cold enough to sober me up but not so cold I can’t make questionable decisions.”
“You are a questionable decision,” he mutters, but he sets the glass down.
I catch the movement—his hand going to the hem of his shirt—and I swear to god, it’s like watching porn in real-time.
The shirt goes up, revealing that stretch of muscle and ink and scars I’d recognize blind, and then the shorts drop and I let out a high-pitched, “WOO!” like I’m at a concert for the hottest bastard alive.
He walks to the edge of the pool, naked and gleaming in the low light. The moon outlines every inch of him in silver.
I doggy-paddle toward the deep end, water lapping at my chest, my voice dropping low and hungry as I call to him. “Come on, Cap. Make a splash.”
He doesn’t cannonball. He dives—clean and sharp and effortless, slicing into the water like a blade and barely making a sound, like the pool wanted him, like it opened up and said yes, please, wreck me.
I’m still blinking, still processing, when he surfaces beside me, hair slicked back, water streaming down his face in a way that looks obscene and holy all at once, like a sin-drenched soap ad built entirely out of my worst daydreams.
I just stare at him, stunned. “You’re so hot it makes me angry.”
Damian smirks and swims closer, calm as ever. “You’re so drunk you’re quoting Cole.”
I splash him without thinking. “Take it back.”
He catches my wrist mid-motion, grip firm and unyielding. “No.”
Our bodies brush in the water. Skin on skin, warm despite the chill. I float closer until my legs tangle with his, my chest pressed to his in the soft glow of pool lights and starlight and want. “You ever skinny dipped before?” I whisper, voice low against his ear.
He huffs, unimpressed. “Not unless the locker room showers count.”
“Oh my god, what a virgin—”
He bites my shoulder.
I shriek, sharp and startled, and I don’t even register that I’m moving until I’ve already got him backed up against the far edge of the pool, warm tile pressing into his back while the water closes around us.
I crowd in close, the weight of my body pinning him there without force, all pressure and intent instead of speed.
I cage him in, palms braced on either side of his head, water rippling between us as I lean closer and let the grin curl slow and dangerous across my mouth. “Coach…”
His gaze drops to my lips, then snaps back up like he’s warning himself. “Pup.”
But I see it anyway—the twitch he can’t stop, the brief flutter of his lashes, the subtle shift of his hips like he’s already bracing for whatever I’m about to do next.
My fingers trail down between us, smooth and slow under the water. I find him hard—already. Or still. Fuck if I know. Doesn’t matter. I wrap my hand around his cock and smirk when he groans. “I was wondering…” I murmur, voice syrupy and low, “…what the penalty is for manhandling the captain.”
Damian huffs out a breath. “You are the captain now.”
“Exactly.” My grip tightens just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. “Means I get to handle whoever I want.”
“You are so drunk,” he grits out, but his voice is starting to break. His head tips back against the edge of the pool. Moonlight spills across his throat and his hands twitch at his sides.
I drag my thumb over the head of his cock, feel the way he shudders. “Maybe I’ll just call this a training session.”
“Training for what?”
“How to make my husband come so hard he sees God.”
He moans low and helpless. And I lean in close, lips brushing his jaw. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
His breath catches. “…Don’t.”
The second I hear that don’t, I sink. Literally.
I let go of the tile behind him, let the water take me, slide down his chest in a ripple of warmth and hunger.
He watches, breathing ragged, jaw tight, head tipped back against the pool edge like he knows exactly what’s coming and is already losing the fight to hold himself still.
I disappear beneath the surface. The water blurs the lights, the sky, even the heat rolling off his skin—but it doesn’t blur him. Not where I find him again, hard and leaking, hips tense as I press my lips around the head and sink lower.
His body jerks.
I hum around him. And fuck, the way he twitches—every muscle tightening, every inch of him trying to resist thrusting into my mouth—I feel it through the water. Every suppressed groan. Every inch of self-control cracking.
My fingers curl around his hips, anchoring me. And I suck harder, deeper. Water muffles the sounds but not the sensation. Not the weight of him on my tongue. Not the way he pulses when I moan low and start to bob my head in time with the soft swirl of my tongue.
He’s shaking above me now. His hands finally move, one gripping the tile behind him so hard I swear it might crack, the other burying in my hair even underwater, like he needs to feel me there.
I come up for air gasping, curls sticking to my face, and look up at him.
His eyes are gone. Blown out, fixed on me like I’m salvation and sin wrapped in one dripping mouthful of worship. I grin, blow him a kiss, then sink again.
This time, he groans my name so low and dark I feel it in my spine. He’s getting close. I know his body too well—every twitch, every breath, every warning. I flatten my tongue, suck him deep, and slip one hand between his thighs to gently cup him just right.
His fingers tighten in my curls. “Fuck, Elias—” His hips stutter once, then twice. His breath chokes off. His body goes rigid against the edge of the pool and his cock spills down my throat, and I take it. All of it. Swallow and surface with a smug little smirk and water running down my face.
Damian is wrecked but still glaring at me like he wants to drag me out of the pool and fuck me into the stone.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Still the best mouth on the team,” I chirp.
“Pup.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I hope you’re sober enough to run.”
“Oh no.”
I try to bolt. I laugh, shove off the wall, try to kick away and swim for the steps—but I barely make it three strokes before something grabs my ankle underwater. I yelp. “Damian—!”
He yanks me back and I get slammed up against the pool’s edge. My arms splay out over the stone, chest pressed to the warm tile, and I feel him behind me, hot and heavy, pressing his body into mine.
“Fucking brat,” Damian growls against my neck, voice dark. “You think you can just suck me off like that and run?”
I’m panting. “I—”
He bites my ass. Deadass. Just leans in and sinks his teeth into one cheek hard enough to make me moan and thrash and laugh at the same time.
“Shit—Cap—”
“Uh-uh.” He pushes my legs farther apart, and one big hand grabs my hip, steadying me against the pool wall. The other? It disappears underwater again, slick with nothing but memory, and then—
“Oh fuck—fuck—” I groan, head thunking against my arm as his fingers push inside me, slow and deep.
“Quiet,” he murmurs, biting a path up my spine. “You didn’t want to make a scene earlier, remember?”
He starts to work me open, slow and deliberate—one finger, then two—twisting and curling with practiced patience until my body goes loose and tight all at once, head spinning, knees threatening to give out against the water.
I gasp, breath breaking as sensation floods me, and his voice follows, low and steady in my ear. “You like being bent over for me, pup?”
“Y-yeah—”
“You like being used after running that smart little mouth?”
“Yes, fuck, yes—” I can barely breathe. My thighs are shaking. The edge of the pool is digging into my ribs, but I don’t care, because he’s crooning filth in my ear while stretching me wide enough to make me ache and I’m fucking begging for more.
“You’re such a mess,” he murmurs. “One minute on your knees, the next running your mouth like a goddamn menace. What am I supposed to do with you?”
“Ruin me,” I gasp.
He doesn’t warn me. Just that sharp inhale, that second of coiled restraint, and then his hands tighten on my hips and he pushes in—slow, inch by inch until I swear the whole world tilts sideways and all I can do is scream.
Except I can’t. Because Damian’s hand claps over my mouth a heartbeat later, smothering the ragged moan I let loose as he bottoms out inside me, hips flush to my ass, water sloshing against the edge of the pool.
My back arches and my legs tremble.
“Easy,” he murmurs behind me, voice all gravel and reverence. “Take it.”
I try, but it’s too much too fast and I’m already raw from the blowjob and the chase and the fucking look in his eyes when he caught me.
He pulls back and thrusts again—hard. It sends me forward on the tile, cheek pressing to my own arm, knuckles white against the edge.
Water spills and I sob into his hand because he’s everywhere. Caging me. Filling me. Dragging me back against his cock with steady, merciless rhythm like he doesn’t care we’re in a public pool in a very expensive resort.
And then I glance up and I see some tourist on the beach, probably drunk, probably high, probably just out for a fucking walk—and now he’s standing there, eyes wide, frozen, watching as I get fucked into the wall by my husband.
I whine—a high, desperate little noise—and bury my face deeper into my arm, whole body flushing red under the moonlight.
Damian chuckles behind me. “You see him?”
I nod, miserable.
“Good,” he grunts, thrusting deeper. “Let him watch.”
“Cap—”
He shushes me. “You’re mine. That’s what he’s seeing. That’s what he gets to remember when he jerks off later—my husband bent over, stuffed full, taking it like he was made for it.”
I moan, raw and wrecked. My legs are shaking so hard they barely hold me up anymore.
He keeps driving into me, one hand still over my mouth, the other steady on my hip, dragging me back again and again until the water’s slapping, the tile is slick with sweat and splashes, and I’m unraveling so fast I can barely think.
His voice drops, rough and reverent. “Come for me, Elias. Be good.”
I shatter—violently, silent except for the broken little sounds caught behind his hand as it hits, vision blowing white, knees giving out as my body folds forward onto the stone, shaking so badly I can’t hold myself up.
He’s there instantly, holding me together when I can’t, arms locked around me as I come apart completely, breath stuttering, muscles trembling through the aftershocks.
He keeps me upright. Finishes inside me. And through all of it he never stops touching me for a single second.