But my words are trailing off because the sight of him in the locker room, his rugby kit discarded on the floor beside him, all his gorgeous tattoos and primed muscles on full display, makes me stupid. God, the fact that I just saw all that his body can do on the field, and now he’s going to show me all he can do to me in here…I’m practically panting for it, and I know I’m wet as sin already.

“I like to mix it up,” he says unapologetically.

I unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my hips in front of him, about to step out.

“No,” he says hoarsely, a gleam in his eyes. “Leave them around your ankles.”

I tilt my head and blink at him. Just what does he have in mind?

His strides past me, cock in hand and goes all the way to the showers. He turns one of them on and steps in, letting the water stream over his massive body. His stroking increases and I watch, tantalized, as his fist slides from the thick base to his purple, swollen tip.

“Just watch,” he says through a groan, his head back, the beads of water pouring down his throat, down between the hard mounds of his chest, following the carved path of his stomach. “I want you to beg for it.”

“I am begging for it,” I tell him, feeling slightly ridiculous that I’m standing here, with my jeans and underwear around my feet, watching him jerk off in the shower. I want more than anything to get down on my knees, put that delicious dick in my mouth, let the water cascade over me. I don’t care if I get wet. I want to make him come. Preferably in my mouth, but I’ll take what I can get.

“Get on the bench, right there,” he commands, opening his eyes as the water runs over his head, flattening his hair, his mouth open with that puffy bottom lip just asking for trouble. The look on his face is absolutely hedonistic.

I do as he says, getting on my knees. It’s such a fucking turn-on when he’s bossy. This whole scenario is like a porno waiting to happen.

“Turn around,” he says, turning off the shower. “Face the other way.”

“I’d rather look at you,” I tell him. “Have you seen you?”

A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “Do as I say.”

I glare at him. “Can’t we both win?”

“Aye. You’ll win. Now turn around.” He storms toward me, his dick bobbing with each stride, menace in his eyes.

I obey but only because I know it will pay off.

I wait, ass in the air, the top half of me still clothed, balancing precariously on the bench.

I hear him come up behind me, feel his presence. His shadows looms over me and I instinctively grip the edges.

Seconds pass and I’m dying from the anticipation. I feel like I’m blindfolded, every part of me on alert and waiting for what sinful thing is going to come.

I open my mouth to beg when suddenly –

CRACK

– his large, strong, wet hand spanks my ass with so much force I nearly fall off the bench.

I yelp, loudly.

It stings.

Oh god, it stings and my eyes are watering.

But then the pain starts to fade as quickly as it came on and I’m breathing hard, chest heaving, waiting for more.

“Did you like that?” he asks, voice so gruff and low, it relays every single dirty thought he has in his head.

I catch my breath. “Yes.”

CRACK.

He spanks me again, the other cheek.

My back arches and I cry out. “Fuck!” My head feels hot, like it’s going to burst and my ass is tingling from the strikes, but I’ve never felt more dirty, more sexed up in all my life. This doesn’t feel like playing, this feels excitingly real.

He places his hand on my hip and flinch from his touch, expecting more. He holds onto me, then I feel the head of his cock slide over my sensitive, raw skin where he spanked me, still damp from the shower.

If he’s trying to soothe me with his penis though, it’s not working. This just riles me up. I want him deep, deep inside until I can’t see straight.

I tell him so and it brings out a thick grunt from his throat.

He steps back from me and smacks my ass again, harder than before.

“Holy shit!” I scream but then before I can even process the pain, his tongue is on my ass, licking over every welt, with soft, smooth strokes. He moans into me and I’m so fucking gone. The push pull of pain and pleasure is making it hard to control myself and I jerk my hips up and back, wanting him in.

He gets the right idea.

He grips my waist with both his hands, nearly reaching all the way around, that’s how large he is compared to me.

I’m so damn wet that all he has to do is inch forward and he slips inside.

It feels.

Too.

Fucking.

Good.

The angle is everything. He pushes himself in to the hilt and I feel myself expand around his thickness, his cock dragging over every wild nerve inside me.

A long, aching groan pours out of my mouth.

“You like that too, aye,” he growls. “Your greedy little noises and your greedy little cunt.”

I gasp, gripping the edges of the bench harder but my hands are so sweaty that I can barely hang on. If he lets go of my waist, I will go flying because my limbs are loose and I’m so full from him inside me, stretched like silk, that nothing else matters to me now except coming fast and coming hard.

He slams into me, his hips circling quickly, hitting the right spot every time and the feeling in my core grows and builds and tightens until I feel like I might pass out. Our skin slaps loudly against each other, a frenzied soundtrack to our animalistic fucking.

With one smooth movement he pulls my hips up higher, angling himself down in a long, powerful thrust and he’s hitting my G-spot with the perfect hot grind.

All the tension snaps, a wire pulled too taught.

I cry out, unraveling and unraveling until I fear there’s nothing left of me but hot blood and instinct.

He moans as I pulse around him and his pace quickens. He’s driving himself inside me, so hard and thorough and punishing, as if he’s punishing me again and again. And I’m still riding my orgasm, each brutal thrust keeping me going on the wave, like I’ll keep coming for as long as he’s in deep. I’m up so high, high, high and I can’t come down, even if I tried.

It’s pure, primal bliss.

“You fucking ruin me, love,” he growls, so savage and frantic in his rhythm, and then he slows with one, heavy push. His fingers dig into my skin, hard enough to leave bruises and his loud, wild groan fill the room, tangling with my own.

“Fuck,” he gasps roughly. “You ruin me.”

He stills against me, drops of sweat falling on my back, our heavy breathing in unison, and it feels like he has to pry his fingers away from my hips, he was gripping them so hard.

Eventually he pulls out and I feel his cum spill down my leg. He puts his hand up my thigh, wiping it away and then leans forward, placing soft kisses down my spine.

“Thank you,” he says softly, voice beyond husky, as if he drank a gallon of gasoline. “I won’t forget this.”

Getting spanked and fucked in the locker room of a rugby star? Yeah. I’m not going to forget this either.

***

I’m excited for the first real pub night with Lachlan and his friends, even though I’m a bit on edge with what Lachlan revealed last night. I won’t bring it up because I don’t want him to think I’m watching him, and I also know what he told me in Napa, about his relationship with alcohol. I just have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. He’d told me that it was all over and done with, that he wouldn’t backslide, and I just have to have faith that he’s right.

I spend some time trying to select the outfit that’s just right for the girlfriend of a rugby star. Not that I’m his girlfriend but…fuck. I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to be.

“Are you ready?” Lachlan asks while I try on a white lace tank top for the millionth time. I settle on skinny jeans and high heels, but I still feel it’s not enough.