Chapter 48
Miriam
Antonio has lost his mind. Not a fraction. Not half. His entire mind.
I toss my car into park. The door slams, and I march up the concrete steps to the indoor practice facility, careful not to slip on any remaining patches of ice.
Shadows cloak the field at rest. The faint glow of light down the hall illuminates my path to the man who’s about to throw away his entire career for me.
I never asked Antonio to visit Kieran. That man is a coward who lies and steals. I wouldn’t put it past him to say Antonio dangled him out of a window, and I don’t want him attached to any controversy. I know he wants to protect me. I want to protect me too, and I want to do more than cry.
Like punch Kieran in the face.
Kick him in the dick.
Set his degree on fire.
Something!
I’m tired of feeling so helpless and used. Every time the reality of a multimillion-dollar company patenting my idea sinks in, I want to scream. Actually, I did, and it scared my neighbor’s dog. He won’t pee or walk within ten feet of my house.
I still question why I didn’t see the signs—why I didn’t do a better job of erasing my digital footprint before I left the lab I regret ever stepping foot in.
I love Antonio, and I appreciate his fearlessness in his desire to do what’s right.
But missing Saturday’s home game for the second week in a row will guarantee his end in the league once the Steel’s owner paints him as aggressive and hostile.
The press is already in a frenzy because of his absence, filling in the gaps with their own speculation.
There will be more ideas to protect, but there’s only one RLA, and there’s only so many years left before Antonio hangs it up for good.
Kendrick Lamar’s “DNA” explodes from the iron paradise of free weights, cable machines, and squat racks. Antonio is in the corner at the pull-up bar, shirtless and covered in sweat.
The muscles in his back contract as his biceps uncurl on his slow descent to the ground.
His feet never touch, his waist anchored in a weight belt that’s connected to a metal chain and heavy plates.
Every inch of my guts would be on the floor if I attempted to pull my chin to the bar, much less with weights dangling between my legs.
But he has no trouble slicing through the air.
Up, down, the man is a machine with an endurance I enjoy on the regular.
With an ass like that, maybe he can perform miracles.
“I smell you, Doe.” He startles me out of a flashback involving him, his stamina, and my feet touching the shower wall. His shower, not mine.
He dismounts from the bar and detaches the weight belt over his basketball shorts. I’m supposed to be mad, but it’s hard to concentrate when his chest is out and his dick is making its presence known against his thigh.
“Come here,” he summons from a stretch to touch his toes. His eyes lift, and off I go between workout benches and toward the scent of his cologne doused in the grit of his exertion.
“Was anyone out front when you got here?”
I crane my neck and accept a kiss on the lips. “No.”
He frowns and reaches for the remote to lower the music. “I don’t want you walking from the parking lot by yourself.”
“You make it really hard to yell at you when you get all protective.”
His brow crinkles. “Is that so?”
Don’t look at his chest. “Yes. I’m not happy with you.”
“Really?” He steps forward.
I step back. “Yes.”
“Because I won’t let anyone mess with you? Disrespect you? Hurt you?” He steps closer. “You think I could look at myself in the mirror and play for a team whose owner is complicit in the theft of your work?”
When he says it like that…
“There has to be another way,” I protest. “Your absence is stirring up rumors you’re becoming a problem.”
“I’ll be that.”
I shudder when his arms slip up my back to pull me closer. “The team needs their captain.”
“And I need to do what’s right. You asked me not to go off publicly. I’m doing that. But don’t expect me to sit by and do nothing. I’m coming behind you every time.” His nose nudges my head back for a kiss that lifts me out my shoes. A growl slips out to smother my rebuttal.
The world falls away whenever we’re together. Every fear, every care, gets pushed aside. Common sense too, because never have I ever humped a man in a gym.
“I didn’t come here for this,” I say through a deep breath and step out of reach. The tingling in my lips is grounds alone for a visit to my doctor to check my circulation.
Antonio lifts both hands to an overhead bar. The broad expanse of his pecs contracts, daring me to lick off the sweat. “My apologies, Doe. Do you want to yell at me some more?”
Idiot.
“No.” I smile.
“Wanna spot me?”
“What?”
He motions to a weight bench. “I need to lift before I leave. Come spot me.”
I choke back a laugh. “I can’t save you in an emergency. I can barely lift three grocery bags with one arm.”
“Indulge me,” he says with a wink.
“I know what you’re doing,” I mutter, removing the flimsy coat I threw on before leaving the house.
“Finishing my workout? Quite observant, you are.” Antonio slides under an empty barbell. He positions his grip, his legs spread wide to tease the heavy print that’s summoning my heaux to come out and play. “You spotting or what?”
“Fine,” I sigh. “Where’s the weights?”
“Sit,” he says low, his eyes on me.
There’s no question the barbell can handle me. I’ve seen him bench-press well over three hundred pounds. The bar isn’t the problem. Putting my kitty inches from his face is.
“Doe. I’m not asking twice.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Fine. How do you want me?”
A foolish question that earns a grin.
Antonio eyes my flannel shirt and black leggings. “Take off your pants so you don’t slide off.”
“For safety?” I deadpan.
He nods with his lip between his teeth.
“If someone walks in here and sees me with my ass out, I’m choking you with the bar.”
“So violent!” He licks his lips and sniffs the air when he sees my black panties. “Yeah. I smell you. Climb up. Spread your legs, and hold on to the rack.”
“This is a bad idea,” I grumble, but I follow directions.
The cold metal prickles my bare skin. I shift my weight and grip the rack for balance. My thighs spread like peanut butter, inviting heat from the air to press into the seat of the thin fabric soaked in my desire.
“You know I got you, right?” Antonio asks, his voice husky. “I always will.”
“I know,” I whisper down to his stare. “Thank you for the distraction.”
All thirty-two of his teeth show. “Thank you for the snack.” I moan at the first swipe of his tongue over my seam when he lowers the bar.
“Spread for me,” he mumbles from between my legs. “Yeah, she’s ready for me. Hold on, baby.”
Antonio pushes up and lowers me to his chest without effort. The flex of his muscles and the sensation of the slow glide of his tongue over my underwear hardens my nipples. He’s laser focused, his gaze locked and mouth latched.
We get to twelve reps before he racks the bar, and his lips are on me again. This time, he pulls my panties to the side to pull my clit into his mouth.
“Make a mess for me, Dr. Beckford.”
Shit, say less.
The angle of his head and the power of his jaw crack my toes. My breath skips, and my thighs tremble. I curl into the fast strokes of his tongue and whimper.
“I don’t like you wound up like you gotta carry this shit by yourself. Let it out.”
A moan rattles his throat. I grip the barbell and cry out to the ceiling when he sucks harder.
The release is sharp, demanding every ounce of air in my lungs.
He holds me in place as I rock into him and slows his pace to lazy licks.
My shoulders slump, and for the first time since Marcela called, I feel calm. Balanced.
Sex won’t change my circumstances—or Antonio’s hardheaded efforts—but his love and affection soothe the wounds. It also doesn’t hurt that his tongue has magic. I can fly home as high as I am.
He helps me off the barbell and sweeps me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist as he guides us to a flat bench.
There are no words. Only a slow kiss that starts at my mouth and slides down the valley of my breasts with every button he undoes.
He pushes my shirt open to palm my breasts, then frees them from the front clasp on my bra.
My clit pulses at the drag of his fingers that dip between my legs.
His tongue runs laps around my nipples as he cups me with his hand.
The force strangles my breath and restarts my engine.
Thick fingers spread inside me, and I ride the wave of another orgasm using his palm as a surfboard.
“I need you,” I pant, reaching for Antonio’s mouth to bring to mine.
“You always have me.” He steps back and hooks his thumbs in his basketball shorts.
His dick bobs free at a tug, hard and glistening with pre-cum.
I wrap my hands around his length and guide him into my mouth.
My tongue outlines his tip, salty from his sweat, as I breathe through my nose to take him deeper.
“Shit, Doe.” The muscles in his quads flex through the slow pump of his hips. He cups my face and pushes in deeper.
Taking him to the back of my throat is still a work in progress.
What I can fit in my mouth, I slurp and jerk with a hand, hollowing my cheeks while caressing his balls.
My face burn from the stretch, my mouth wetter with the saliva running down my lips he swipes with a finger.
He jerks at the flick of my tongue on the underside of his head.
“You look good with me in your mouth. Fuck,” he hisses. His nostrils flare, and his eyes snap shut. He staggers back to catch his breath. “Shit. Should I send your mama a fruit basket?”
“Shut up!” I snort at him holding his dick in awe.
My laughter dies once he straddles the bench. He bends my knee and eases into me. Every inch is a slow burn until he’s fully seated. My lips part at his tongue as he holds my other leg firm against his chest and pumps into me.
Antonio would bruise my cervix if it caused no pain and came with a speedy recovery. He’s a mechanical bull who can hold a mean squat. His thighs are tight, his aim steady on the target.
I reach for the edge of the bench above my head to ride out each thrust. Two games’ worth of unused energy pummel my walls.
“I love you, Miriam. I won’t apologize for fighting for you,” he says, his eyes low, focused on me.
He thrusts faster, his balls smacking into my pussy.
“She’s singing to me,” he grunts, rolling his hips to thrust deeper.
“Eyes on me. Give me all of you.” Grunt.
“Your worries.” Grunt. “Your fears.” Grunt.
“There’s nothing I won’t do for you, Doe. ”
Time loses its importance. My body shakes and my toes cramp. His release comes through his declaration to love and protect me.
I follow Antonio back to Steel House, where I wake up in his arms. Safe, well-rested, and thoroughly satisfied.