Page 49 of Match Penalty

“Better than okay,” I whisper, my arms wrapping around his neck as I pull him closer. My legs tighten around his waist, urging him on. “Move, JP. Please.”

He does, but slowly, his hips rolling in deliberate, unhurried strokes that send waves of pleasure rippling through me. His gaze locks on mine, intense and unyielding, and I feel completely exposed under the weight of it. I dig my nails into his back, dragging them lightly down his skin, and his response is instant—a guttural growl that has my name tangled in it.

“You feel incredible,” he rasps, his voice rough with raw emotion. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me. What it feels like to be inside you. Jesus Christ, Cammy, I never want to pull out.”

I know how he feels. I don't want him to ever leave either, but my heart is built for another fall from him. My heart and my pride can't take it again. Tonight has to be the last time.

I tilt my hips, seeking more, desperate for the slow burn to ignite into something I can’t control. “Don’t stop,” I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promises, his lips brushing against the corner of my mouth before capturing mine in a kiss. “I’ve got you. And you'll always have me.”

The rhythm shifts as he picks up the pace, his thrusts deeper, stronger, dragging me closer to the edge. His body feels like it was made for mine, the way every movement fits together perfectly. The tension coils tighter and tighter, a live wire sparking through me with every stroke.

His thick cock brushes against that devastatingly sensitive spot inside me, the one he’s already worked into a needy bundle of nerves. Over and over, he finds it, relentless, precise. He knows exactly where to push, exactly how to drive me wild, and he’s doing it on purpose.

I can feel my earlier release amplifying everything—every touch, every brush of his skin against mine. My body trembles beneath him, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

I whimper his name, my nails digging into his back as my body tingling with pleasure.

JP groans, his voice dark with satisfaction. “That’s it, mon ange… I can feel how close you are.” His grip tightens on my thigh, lifting it higher, spreading me wider, and the change in angle makes me cry out. He drives in deep, his thick length stretching me so perfectly it borders on too much, but I don’t want him to stop. I need more.

“Oh God,” I gasp, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.

His lips find my jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin, his breath warm and frayed with restraint. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need. “Just let go. Let that sweet pink pussy grip me when you come all over my cock, pulsating around me. Soak me, Cammy.”

His filthy words unravel something inside me, his lips wrapping around my hard nipple into his mouth and sucks down, a strangled moan slips from my lips as the pleasure crests, sharp and all-consuming. My body locks around him, spasming in tight, rhythmic pulses as the orgasm slams into me. I cry out, and he swallows it with a kiss, as a tidal wave of pleasure drags me underwater, leaving me gasping, shaking, and clinging to him.

JP groans, a raw, needy sound that vibrates against my skin. He thrusts deeper, chasing his own release, my walls clenching around him, milking him as he follows me over the edge. He buries himself to the hilt, his grip bruising on my hips as his cock pulses inside me, his rhythm faltering as he follows me over the edge giving into his own release, his cock twitching deep inside of me as his cum fills the condom. He groans out my name into the crook of my neck as the aftershocks ripple through his body.

We collapse together, tangled in each other, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. JP presses soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, my lips, murmuring words of praise and affection in French. Words he refuses to translate because he claims that the English translation won't do them justice.

For a fleeting moment, I let myself believe this could be more than a night. That maybe, somehow, I can forget San Diego and forget that he’s keeping a secret from me with a woman who is still in his life.

But the thought doesn't last, because I’ve been there. My mother lied to me for fourteen years of my life. My entire family kept the truth from me for their own selfish reasons.

My mother kept the secret to keep Eli.

Eli kept the secret to keep me from Seven.

My grandmother kept the secret so my mother wouldn't withhold me from her.

What I can’t help but wonder is what JP’s motives are for keeping what happened that night a secret.

After JP pulls out carefully, and we each take a moment to clean up in the bathroom, we end up back in bed together.

His hand lazily makes swirls around my back—over my shoulder and around my hip bone, as I lay my head against his chest.

“I know you said one last time, but I need to know something,” he starts.

I pier up at him from my spot, tucked carefully against his side and under his arm. “What do you want to know?”

He stares up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts.

“Hypothetically speaking, let’s say I find a way to earn back your trust, to convince you to give me a second chance, to show you that you're all I’ve ever wanted and still are… Your father will never approve of me,” he says, his eyes glancing back down at me. “Could you choose to be with me, even against his wishes?”

Surprise settles over me. This isn’t what I thought he was going to ask, and the question lingers over us like a heavy cloud.

“How do you know that he doesn’t approve of you?” It's a silly question—one that we both know the answer to. My dad has made it clear that he doesn’t trust JP.

---