Chapter 43
Robert
Last night went better than I could have hoped it would. The party was a roaring success, Rhiannon loved my gift, and I didn’t get murdered for lobbing a drink on her Dad’s trousers.
When we got back to my house, she let me take her to bed and make her moan my name for over an hour.
I’ve woken up before she has, and my body is heavy, contented, and the warm glow I’m feeling inside is something that’s becoming a habit around this woman.
Her hand travels the span of my chest, down across my stomach, and doesn’t stop until she curls her fingers around my already hard dick.
“I see you’re awake then.”
She hums. Her hair’s stuck to her face and my chest, and she’s got smudged eye makeup that she couldn’t remove with her wipes before bed, but she’s still the most beautiful creature in the world, maybe the whole universe. “Awake, and hungry.” She pumps my cock twice with a tight hand.
How can she still want more? I’m not complaining. I fucking love how needy she is.
She disappears under the blankets, and before I can say a word, she’s wrapped her sexy mouth around my dick, and she’s sucking me like it’s her job.
“Fuck. Rhiannon. Fuuuuck.” I stab my fingers into her hair but let her control the pace and rhythm. Her head bobs up and down, and her hand cups my balls like they’re precious gemstones she has to protect at all costs.
My cock’s still sensitive and tender from all the action last night, but the way her tongue laps against the delicate skin drives me toward a release I wasn’t expecting when I opened my eyes.
My hips jerk when she flutters her tongue, and they buck harder just as she hollows her cheeks. By the time her thumb circles my taint, I’m seeing stars and mumbling streams of curse words.
I’ve never had anyone near my ass before, but with her gentle fingers stroking the most intimate parts of my body, she’s completely in control. And I’m okay with it.
There’s no time to warn her. An orgasm hits like a fucking freight train and winds me in a matter of seconds. My muscles go taut, my limbs tingle, and even when she accidentally bumps my residual limb with her shoulder, the slice of pain doesn’t ruin this moment for me.
She kisses her way up my body, then dots soft pecks across my jaw to my earlobe, which she nibbles. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to knock you. I was trying to be careful.”
I nod. “A little, but it’s okay. It’s settling down.”
“I’m sorry.” She settles her head on my chest. “You’d think I’d have better spatial awareness.”
That draws a chuckle from me. “Ghosty will undoubtedly take knocks over the years. I can’t say I get used to it, but it doesn’t take the air from my lungs with the same force as it did when I was first learning to live with my amputation.”
She nods, tracing her finger around my nipples, down to my belly button, and back up the length of my torso.
“Can we talk about something?” It’s probably not the best time to talk about my story, but time’s ticking, and I’m so warm and fuzzy that I feel like this is a safe space.
“I love you, too.” She looks up as I look down, and my chin collides with her head. “Fuck. We need to get better at this.” She smiles.
“You don’t need to say that just because I did, you know.”
She kisses me, slow and long and lazy. “Can I say it because I mean it?”
“Of course you can.”
We fall into a contemplative silence, and I can’t stop myself from staring at her while my fingers trail along the pale skin of her shoulder.
“You want to talk about your story, don’t you?”
I nod, my chin bumping against her head. “I really think I could write a great piece about you. The woman behind the athlete. I could show everyone the Rhiannon Morrigan I know and love. The vulnerability behind the fly-half.”
She tenses in my arms.
“Vulnerability isn’t a dirty word, Rhi.” I sigh.
“We all know you’re a strong, tough, and capable woman.
You’re the conductor of the team, for fuck’s sake.
Everyone leans on the ten to beat the opposition.
As a ten, you get targeted on the pitch.
There’s no denying that. I’d be hard-pressed to find another position that even gets winded as often as you do.
” Giving her the equivalent of a sales pitch on her position feels as uncomfortable as stabbing needles in my eyes might.
“You sound like a rugby dictionary.” She snorts. “Rugby’s a physical sport, Robert. We all get our share of bumps and bruises.”
“That. That right there. The way you make everything about the team. You always play for the Raven on your chest, and not the Morrigan name on your back. The way you mentor the younger players on the pitch…”
She leans up on her elbow. “What else?”
“What?”
“What else have you noticed about my game in the time we’ve known each other?”
“Not just recently. I admit, I studied you long before we knew each other. Who has the most one-to-one sessions with the coaches? Who spends the most time watching back footage, critically assessing plays, trying to figure out where they went wrong?”
She buries her face in my chest when she realizes I’m not bullshitting. I have actually paid attention to her, to her game, her skills. Like I’ve said before, she’s hard to ignore.
“Exactly. You might be the most glorified position in terms of fame, pressure, and attention on the field. But you’re also the most hardworking behind the scenes. No matter what the internet says about you.”
Since we got together, the initial honeymoon phase of people being happy for us kind of blended into a weird mix of those thrilled at how Rhiannon is handling herself and those who want to see her fail. See us fail.
Most people are thrilled she stood up for herself against George at the altar, how she didn’t back down when the Ruck Off podcast made her look like a shark who’s out for her own ends—she gave an interview to another podcast as a “fuck you” and set the record straight like a queen.
And surprisingly, they’re all thrilled she “followed her heart,” and not her father’s loathing and started dating me.
Nearly every day, the PR manager forwards her fan mail: young girls who want to be just like her when they grow up, and mothers writing to say thank you for being a strong and good role model for their daughters.
By contrast, the haters aren’t quiet about it either. No matter where she is, what she does or wears, they all have an opinion about it, and they need to share it at all times.
They have gone back through her career and found every mistake she’s ever made, thrown it under a magnifying glass, and used the internet as an amplifier to trash her.
I never see people shredding male athletes the way they come for women.
My privilege protects me from a lot but being by Rhiannon’s side through this…
it’s not easy to watch. I’m not sure how she’s coping.
It takes its toll on her, even if she says it doesn’t. “I want to show them all of you. The you beyond running the attack, calling plays, and kicking for goal. You’re more than the hot one with a sharp tongue.” I wink at her. “Fast reflexes, and a tortured soul.”
She jerks her head up.
“You’re more than a pretty face who can run the backline like a maestro with a death wish. And I’d like the world to know that, too.”
“I don’t know that I’d agree with most of that.”
That figures. She’s hardest on herself over everyone, except maybe her father.
“I’m also not sure that I’m okay with showing my soft underbelly to everyone, Robert. You’re different. This is different. People out there, they can be so cruel.” She shudders, so I pull her tighter to me.
“Okay, but to play devil’s advocate… what about all the positive messages you’ve received from women about how brave and inspirational you were to leave George the way you did? And after your podcast? You had so many positive messages from young women wanting to go into the sport.”
“I know.” She sighs, tickling my nipple with a puff of air. “I’ll think about it.” She kisses me. “What I will say is, if anyone’s going to write a story about me, I’d rather it was you.”
I pull her onto my chest and kiss her deeply. “That made me all warm and fuzzy inside.”
She shakes her head. “You’re such a romantic.”
Nudging her nose, I nod. “It’s one of the many, many things you love about me.”
“For a man who’s never had a long-term relationship, I am a little dubious that you’re such a perfect boyfriend when you’ve no experience being one.” She’s not wrong, but it still pinches at my heart that that’s where her mind went.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” I shrug. “It’s easy to be a good partner when you’re in a relationship with such a great girlfriend.”
She rolls her eyes before falling silent, staring into my eyes for a long beat.
“What is it?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure my relationship with my dad would survive another story, Robert.”
“Sometimes a disruption can lead to a stronger relationship in the future.” I tilt my head to the side. “And you don’t want to hear this…”
“But?”
“But, not all relationships are supposed to survive.” It’s a tough lesson to learn, but I’m not wrong. “Just because he’s a blood relative doesn’t mean he can treat you like dirt. Or that you have to put up with it.”
“Ouch.” She drops her head to mine. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear that.”
“Trust in who you are and what you do. And meanwhile, I’ll start drafting a story that tells the world you wear lucky knickers at every game to remember where you’ve come from.”
She pokes my ribs. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I chuckle. “It’s going to be the headline: Getting my Wooden Spoon in Rhiannon Morrigan’s Lucky Game Knickers.”
She groans. “I only have fugly granny knickers. And I swear to God if you jinx us for the season, and we get the wooden spoon, I’ll beat you to death with it. I have to go.”
I grab her hips. “But you’re hungover, and it’s early.”
She nods. “And I’m soaking wet and ready for another round, but I have to...” She grinds her pelvis against mine, tormenting us both. “I have a gym session with the coach, and this was the only time she could slot me in.”
“No birthdays off for the fly-half?” I heave out a disappointed sigh, which makes her laugh.
“Why? You had plans for us today?”
I love when she nibbles on my jawline. “Yeah. I planned to spend the day in bed.”
“I’ll be back before lunch, and we can shower, eat together, and then prepare ourselves for Sunday dinner at my ones.”
“Ugh.” A groan I don’t mean to make slips out of my mouth. “Can I fake my own death?”
She laughs. “Afraid not, you promised my mother you’d bring her some clippings. And she takes her plants almost as seriously as you do.”
Speaking of plants, I need to give them all some TLC while Rhiannon’s at the gym. “Okay, fine. I’ll relinquish possession of you until you get back. But please note, it’s with extreme prejudice I’m letting you leave this bed.”
She wiggles her hips again, and my sleepy dick’s waking all the way up.
“Fuck. You’re going to be the death of me, Rhiannon Morrigan.”
She grins before hopping off the bed and swaying her hips as she walks her naked ass toward the bathroom. “Yeah.” She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “But what a way to fucking go!”