24. Dax #3
Her eyes glisten as she blinks down at the binder, then back up at me.
For a second, the noise of the city, the echoes of the win, even the champagne waiting on ice—all of it disappears.
It’s just us. Her hand trembles when she closes the cover, clutching it to her chest like it’s worth more than the Cup itself.
She exhales shakily, then laughs—a soft, stunned sound. “God, Dax… what am I supposed to do with you?”
I grin, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone. “Anything you want. I’m yours.”
That breaks the heaviness, loosens the knot in her chest. She sets the binder gently on the nightstand, picks up her champagne, and sinks onto the edge of the bed with a wry smile.
"So," she says, lifting the glass, "how does it feel to be vindicated on national television?"
"Like I want to fuck my wife until she screams my name loud enough for the entire hotel to hear."
"Jesus, Dax." Her cheeks flush pink, but she's smiling. "Is that what victory does to you? Makes you absolutely filthy?"
"Victory makes me grateful. You make me filthy." I move closer, backing her toward the center of the bed. "Do you have any idea how incredible you looked up there tonight? Taking notes, being brilliant, watching me prove that choosing you was the best decision of my life?"
"Tell me," she breathes, setting down her champagne with trembling fingers.
"You looked like a woman who knows exactly how good she is at her job.
Like a woman who's about to get thoroughly fucked by her husband because he's so goddamn proud of everything we've accomplished together.
" I lean down, my mouth inches from her ear.
"Strip for me, Tessa. Show me what's under that victory dress. "
She pushes me back gently, standing up with that confident smile that means she's about to destroy me in the best possible way.
"You want a show, Captain Kingston?" she asks, her hands already moving to the zipper at her back. "Then sit down and watch your wife celebrate."
The dress pools at her feet like liquid silk, revealing black lace that makes my mouth go dry and my cock throb painfully against my dress pants.
She's fucking magnificent—all curves and confidence and pure feminine power.
The bra barely contains her breasts, and the matching panties sit low on her hips, framing the gentle curve of her stomach.
"Dance for me," I growl, settling back against the headboard. "Show me how victory feels."
She moves to the music in her head, swaying her hips in a rhythm that's hypnotic and sensual and completely mesmerizing.
Her hands trail over her own body—up her thighs, across her stomach, cupping her breasts through the lace.
When she reaches behind her back to unhook her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her perfect pink nipples already hard with arousal, I nearly lose it.
"Fuck, baby. You're so beautiful. Touch yourself for me."
"Like this?" she whispers, her hands sliding up to cup her bare breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples in a way that makes her gasp.
"Just like that. Show me how wet you are."
Her hand slides down her stomach, slipping beneath the lace of her panties. She moans softly as her fingers find her clit, her eyes fluttering closed.
"God, Dax. I'm soaking. Watching you out there tonight, leading the team, being everything I knew you could be..." She circles her fingers slowly, teasingly. "It made me so fucking wet."
"Take them off," I command, my voice rougher than I intended. "I want to see all of you."
She slides the panties down her legs, kicking them aside, and I can see how aroused she is—her sex glistening with wetness, her folds swollen and pink. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
She climbs onto the bed, straddling my lap while I'm still fully clothed, her hands already working on my shirt buttons with desperate efficiency.
"I love you," she whispers against my mouth, her naked body pressing against me. "I love your strength, your heart, your absolute refusal to choose between what you want and what you need."
"Show me," I demand, my hands gripping her bare hips, feeling the heat of her center hovering just above my straining cock. "Show me how much you love me."
She makes quick work of my shirt, her hands exploring the muscles of my chest and shoulders while she grinds against me through my pants. When she reaches for my belt, I catch her wrists.
"Not yet," I growl, flipping us over so she's beneath me. "First, I want to taste how sweet victory is."
I kiss my way down her body, taking my time with her breasts, sucking each nipple until she's writhing beneath me and begging for more. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I spread her legs wider, exposing her completely to my hungry gaze.
"So fucking perfect," I murmur, breathing against her wetness. "So ready for me."
The first touch of my tongue to her clit makes her arch off the bed with a broken cry. She tastes like honey and arousal and everything I've ever wanted. I work her slowly, deliberately, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her most sensitive spots.
"Oh God, Dax," she gasps, her hands tangling in my hair. "Right there. Don't stop."
I slide two fingers deep inside her, feeling how tight and wet she is, how her walls clench around me when I curl them just right. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hips rolling against my mouth as I bring her closer and closer to the edge.
"Come for me, baby," I growl against her. "Let me taste how good victory feels."
She shatters with my name on her lips, her body pulsing around my fingers as waves of pleasure crash over her. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down from the high.
When I kiss my way back up her body, she's already reaching for my belt again, this time with more urgency.
"Need you inside me," she pants, fumbling with the buckle. "Need to feel you."
I help her with my pants, kicking them aside along with my boxers. My cock springs free, already hard and aching, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. She wraps her hand around me, stroking slowly from base to tip.
"Fuck, Tessa," I groan, my hips bucking into her touch.
"I want to ride you," she whispers, pushing me back against the pillows. "I want to take you so deep that you forget everything except how good I feel around your cock."
She straddles me again, positioning herself above me, then slowly sinks down onto my length. We both moan at the sensation—she's so tight and hot and perfect, taking me inch by inch until I'm buried completely inside her.
"Jesus Christ," I breathe, my hands gripping her hips. "You feel incredible."
She starts to move, rising and falling in a rhythm that has me seeing stars. Her breasts bounce with each movement, her head thrown back in pleasure, and I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
"We did it," she gasps as she rides me. "We proved everyone wrong. We showed them that love doesn't make you weak—it makes you unstoppable."
"That's right," I growl, thrusting up to meet her. "We're fucking unstoppable together."
She leans forward, changing the angle, and I hit that spot inside her that makes her cry out. Her pace becomes more urgent, more desperate, and I can feel her getting close again.
"Touch yourself," I command. "I want to feel you come around my cock."
Her hand slides between us, fingers finding her clit, and the sight of her pleasuring herself while riding me nearly sends me over the edge. Her walls start to flutter around me, and I know she's close.
"Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock while I'm buried deep inside you."
She climaxes with a scream of my name, her body clenching around me so tightly it's almost painful. The sensation triggers my own release, and I flip us over, taking her hard and fast as I chase my orgasm.
"Tessa," I groan, my hips snapping against hers. "Fuck, I'm going to come."
"Yes," she gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper. "Come inside me. Fill me up."
I bury myself to the hilt and let go, my release pulsing deep inside her as I collapse against her, both of us breathing hard and covered in sweat.
"I love you," I gasp against her neck. "I love you so fucking much."
"Always," she breathes, her arms tightening around me. "Forever. No matter what comes next."
We stay tangled together for long minutes, letting our heartbeats slow, savoring the aftermath of victory and love and the knowledge that we've fought for something real and won.
Later, lying in the aftermath with her head on my chest, my phone buzzes with news that makes me smile.
"What is it?" she asks sleepily.
"Our story inspired legislation proposals for workplace equity in professional sports," I tell her, reading the message. "We're actually changing things, Tessa."
She lifts her head, eyes bright with tears. "We did it. We actually did it."
But before I can respond, another message appears that makes my blood run cold.
"What now?" Tessa asks, noticing my expression.
"Harrison's writing a competing book," I say grimly. "His version of events."
Tessa sits up, instantly alert. "Well then. I guess our fight isn't over yet."
"Are you ready for round two, Mrs. Kingston?"
She grins, fierce and beautiful and absolutely unstoppable. "Bring it on."