THE AWAY GAME #2
"Julian," Elara whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his damp, dark hair. She held him as tightly as she possibly could, absorbing the residual adrenaline still humming in his veins. "You were incredible tonight. That final goal..."
"I didn't care about the goal," Julian rasped, his voice muffled against her skin.
He slowly lowered her until her bare feet touched the carpet, but he kept her pinned securely against the glass of the window, his large body caging her in.
"I only cared that you were watching. I spent the entire third period terrified that the crowd was going to scare you away."
Elara pulled back just enough to look at his face. She framed his jaw with her hands, her thumbs brushing over the dark, heavy scruff on his cheeks.
"They couldn't scare me away, Julian," she said fiercely, her whisky eyes completely clear. "Nothing is going to scare me away. Not the press, not the crowds, and certainly not Declan. I am right here."
Julian’s eyes darkened, the stormy gray turning into a heavy, turbulent charcoal. The absolute, unwavering loyalty in her voice was the final key unlocking the darkest, most feral parts of his devotion.
"You're in my city," Julian whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips. "Two years ago, I watched you walk out of a hotel down the street, and I thought I had missed the only chance I was ever going to get. I am not missing it tonight."
He didn't wait for permission. Julian’s mouth crashed down onto hers with a desperate, blistering heat that instantly set her blood on fire.
There was no hesitation. The physical need that had been building since the plane ride exploded into absolute urgency. Julian kissed her like he was starving, his tongue sweeping past her parted lips, claiming every inch of her mouth. He tasted of mint, adrenaline, and raw, unapologetic desire.
Elara moaned softly into his mouth, her hands frantically pulling at the lapels of his suit jacket, pushing the heavy fabric off his broad shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
Julian’s hands were everywhere. He gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her up again.
Elara instinctively wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, her back pressing flat against the cool glass of the window.
They were suspended thirty stories above the glittering streets of Manhattan, entirely exposed to the skyline, and neither of them cared.
"Julian," she gasped, breaking the kiss to drag oxygen into her burning lungs.
"You are so damn beautiful," Julian growled, his lips blazing a scorching trail down her jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of her neck. His hands slid up her sides, gripping the hem of her silk camisole and pulling it swiftly over her head.
He broke away just long enough to look at her. The ambient light of the city illuminated the pale, flawless skin of her chest and the dark lace of her bra. The raw, unfiltered worship in his eyes was staggering. He looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
He carried her away from the window, crossing the suite to the massive king-sized bed. He laid her down gently in the center of the dark linens, following her down immediately.
Julian shed the rest of his clothes with frantic efficiency, his movements sharp and desperate. When he was finally bare, the sheer, imposing size of him hovering over her was a breathtaking sight. His muscles were corded and tense, the dark ink on his ribs expanding with his heavy breaths.
"Tell me what you want," Julian rasped, his hands framing her face, his thumbs tracing her flushed cheekbones. He was completely at her mercy, willing to give her anything she demanded.
"I want you," Elara pleaded, her hands sliding down the heavy muscles of his chest to grip his hips. "Only you. Now."
Julian didn't need to be told twice.
When he finally pushed into her, the sensation was so profound, so intensely deep, that Elara cried out, her back arching off the mattress. Julian groaned, a harsh, guttural sound that vibrated straight through his chest, burying his face in her dark hair as he filled her completely.
He held perfectly still for a moment, letting her body adjust to the overwhelming size and heat of him. His heart hammered a violent, frantic rhythm against hers.
"Look at me," Julian commanded softly, his voice shaking with the monumental effort of his restraint.
Elara opened her eyes, meeting his turbulent, stormy gaze.
"I love you, Elara," Julian swore, his voice a fierce, absolute vow in the quiet room. "I will never let anyone hurt you again. I am yours. Every single piece of me."
"I love you," she sobbed softly, completely shattered by the sheer weight of his devotion. "Please, Julian."
He began to move.
It was a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm that completely unspooled her mind. There was no PR contract. There were no cameras. There was only the heavy, driving force of the man she loved, anchoring her to the bed and taking her completely apart.
Julian learned the exact cadence that made her breath hitch.
He shifted his angle, driving deeper, his large hands gripping her hips to hold her steady against the relentless, punishing rhythm of his body.
Elara was entirely untethered, lost in a haze of pure, blinding ecstasy.
She dragged her nails down the heavy muscles of his back, her husky voice broken into soft, desperate whimpers that drove Julian completely over the edge.
"Elara," he gritted out, the pace turning frantic, desperate.
The dual friction shattered her entirely. A beautiful, broken cry tore from her throat as a wave of intense, blinding pleasure ripped through her body. She clung to his broad shoulders, completely consumed.
Julian felt her walls clench around him, the exquisite sensation shattering the last remnants of his iron-clad control. He let out a harsh, guttural roar, driving into her one final, impossibly deep time before his own body bowed rigidly, entirely overcome by his release.
He collapsed against her, carefully shifting his massive weight so he didn't crush her, burying his face in her tangled dark hair.
The silence of the penthouse slowly returned, broken only by the sound of their heavy, synchronized breathing.
Julian didn't pull away. He gathered her completely into his arms, rolling onto his side and taking her with him. He pulled the heavy white duvet over them, tucking her flush against his chest, his large hand resting protectively over her heart.
"Mine," Julian murmured sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Yours," Elara agreed, closing her eyes as a profound, heavy peace settled into her bones.
The away game was over. They had won. And as Elara drifted to sleep in the arms of the captain of the Portland Pioneers, she knew that the greatest victory wasn't on the ice or in the headlines. It was right here, in the dark.