1. Riley #2
Riley’s mouth tipped toward his again, and his hands stayed tangled in her hair as the promise hung between them.
Graham kissed her once more. His hands slid from her hair to her waist, and she barely had time to drop her arms from his neck before he lifted her away from the wall. His shoulder bumped the bench as he turned, sending two rolls of tape skittering across the wood.
“Your organization is incredible,” Riley said.
“You’re welcome to file a complaint.”
“With who?”
“Management.”
“Murph would throw both of us into the street.”
Graham shoved the remaining tape aside with his hip and set her on the bench. The wood had absorbed hours of the room’s cold, and the chill went straight through her clothes. Riley flinched and caught his shoulders.
“Jesus, Graham.”
His mouth curved. “Cold?”
“You know it’s cold.”
“I can fix that.”
“You’d better.”
He opened her coat and pushed it from her shoulders, pausing long enough to free one sleeve before the other.
Riley helped rather than making him wrestle with it, dropping the coat beside her as he stepped between her knees.
The heater offered little from across the room. Whatever warmth she had came from him.
Soot still marked the neckline of her shirt. Graham brushed his thumb near the stain and looked at it with the same interest he had shown against the wall.
“You missed another spot.”
“I was working.”
“I noticed.”
“You planning to give me a full inspection now?”
“That depends how cooperative you are.”
Riley caught the front of his Henley and pulled him in until his mouth met hers.
The familiar taste of him was still there, mixed now with the salt of his rink sweat.
His hands worked at the rest of her layers, shoving her pants and underwear down her legs while she shifted on the bench, helping where fabric caught and cursing when her bare thighs touched the freezing wood.
The bitter rink air cut at her exposed pussy, making her shiver.
This bench is going to kill me.
Graham broke the kiss and moved lower, his pace turning slow and deliberate.
He parted her thighs, and Riley’s grip tightened on the edge of the bench when he knelt in front of her.
The shock of his hot, wet tongue lapping over her clit stole her breath.
He refused to rush despite her impatience, tasting her wetness and slipping two fingers into her slick heat to stretch her open while his mouth relentlessly worked her.
“Graham.”
He looked up, his chin shining with her juices.
“The bench is freezing.”
“I gathered that.”
“Then quit enjoying yourself.”
“That seems unreasonable.”
She gave him a warning look. Graham only smiled and bent closer again, taking his time tasting her until Riley had to brace one hand behind her to keep from sliding forward.
The empty locker room made every movement louder than it should have been. The heater sputtered. Somewhere beyond the open doorway, the building settled into its after-hours quiet. None of it mattered enough to drag her attention away from him and the slick, wet sounds of his mouth devouring her.
“Graham,” she said again, his name carrying more warning this time.
He paused, close enough that his breath warmed the skin the room had chilled. Riley reached for his hair and made him look up at her.
“Quit dragging this out.”
His expression changed at the command, amusement giving way to the same focused intensity he carried onto the ice.
“I dictate the pace,” he said. “You’re going to stop trying to rush me.”
Riley twisted her fingers deeper into his hair, half challenge and half invitation.
He held her gaze as if he intended to make her wait.
Graham rose in front of her, and Riley fisted her hand in his Henley before he could put any distance between them.
The bench had become unbearable beneath her bare ass, its chill cutting through what little warmth he had managed to give back.
He glanced toward the narrow doorway to the back office.
“Finally making a tactical retreat?” she asked.
“From that bench? Absolutely.”
“You’re the one who put me there.”
“And now I’m correcting the mistake.”
He gripped her waist, and Riley let him pull her to her feet. She caught his shoulders as he turned, keeping close while he carried her the few steps into the office. The room was cramped enough that his elbow brushed the doorframe, and the worn physio table took up most of the available space.
“That thing looks worse than the bench,” Riley said.
“At least it’s padded.”
“That vinyl has probably seen three decades of questionable decisions.”
“Then we’ll fit right in.”
A laugh escaped her before he set her onto the edge. The padding gave beneath her weight with a tired squeak, and Riley shifted once, testing whether the table intended to collapse under them. Graham planted a hand beside her and leaned in, kissing her before she could make another complaint.
The last of her irritation dissolved into the kiss.
This is what I wanted.
His hands moved with more urgency now, stripping away the outer layers, the work clothes, and everything that made the locker room feel like a place meant for labor instead of this.
Riley fought the stubborn layers, pushing at his shirt when it got in the way and dragging him closer the moment there was nothing left between them but heat and bare skin.
Graham shoved his own pants down, freeing his thick, heavy cock, the shaft jutting hard, a bead of precum shining at the tip.
He stepped between her spread thighs, lining up the broad head with her dripping core.
The first push of him sinking into her wet pussy drew a sharp gasp.
He stretched her completely, burying his heavy length to the hilt.
The table squeaked again when his weight shifted, driving his hips forward in deep, relentless thrusts that slapped wetly against her thighs.
“You break this thing, Murph is taking it out of our rent money,” she murmured, gasping as he hit her deep inside.
“Worth it.”
“You say that because you don’t handle the budget.”
“I haul lumber. That counts.”
“Barely.”
Graham kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, cutting off the rest of the argument. Whatever teasing had ruled the bench disappeared. His attention narrowed to her, and Riley met it without hesitation, holding onto his shoulders as the thick, hard glide of his cock anchored them together.
The office was still cold. The heater in the other room sputtered somewhere beyond the doorway, useless against the draft, while the cheap table complained beneath every hard smack of their bodies. None of it managed to compete with Graham.
He looked down at her. “You have any idea what you do to me? How tight you are around my cock?”
Riley pulled him closer. “Then stop acting like you’re scared to prove it.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Good. Don’t hold back.”
Something in his expression sharpened at that, and he drove his cock impossibly deeper, but his touch stayed careful and steady.
Riley kept him close, refusing to let the cold office or the bills waiting at home intrude on the moment.
Their bank account could be nearly empty.
The apartment could stay freezing. Tomorrow could bring another shift, another stack of skates, another meal calculated down to the dollar.
Here, there was nothing uncertain about him.
Graham’s voice dropped. “I want you remembering exactly who was here when we had nothing.”
Her hands tightened on his shoulders.
“I already know.”
“I belong to you, Riley. Every part that matters.”
His forehead dropped toward hers, and Riley held him there as the table creaked wildly beneath them.
Graham pulled back and sat on the edge of the physio table.
His thick cock slid almost completely out of her, but Riley moved with him before he could take control again, planting one knee beside his hip and then the other to straddle his lap.
She sank back down onto his hard shaft, taking him all the way to the root.
The vinyl squeaked beneath the change in weight, protesting the strain, but she barely noticed the deep, tight stretch.
“Easy,” Graham said, his rough hands settling on her bare ass.
“I’ve got it.”
His mouth curved. “I know.”
Riley set the pace herself, riding his cock with long, deliberate strokes.
The change mattered more than she expected. After minutes of making her wait, his hands now supported her bare cheeks without steering, kneading her flesh to the wet rhythm she chose. She ground her sensitive clit hard against his pelvis, her tight heat milking his shaft with every movement.
My turn.