Page 148 of Beyond the Stroke

“My turn.” Summer reaches between us to hook her fingers inside the waistband of my joggers, but then she looks up to find me watching her.

I see the moment her hands fumble with hesitation, like she wants to take control, but she’s not sure she’s allowed to.

Reaching up, I tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Hey. You don’t have to be careful with me.”

Her eyes search mine before they drop to my lips. I lean forward to cup her face in my hands, then kiss her.

“I want you.” I lift her hand to press a kiss to her palm before placing it against my hammering heart. “So bad, Wildflower. I can’t think straight when you look at me like that.”

Something shifts in her. Like my words soothe away the uncertainty. Her shoulders visibly relax, while her fingers trail down my torso to find themselves at my waistband again.

Keeping my shit together while watching Summer come undone around a paintbrush handle was no small feat. But now, the look she’s giving me as she crawls over me with renewed confidence, tells me I’m fucking done for.

She slides her hand inside my joggers and beneath my boxer briefs. Her hand, soft, yet firm, wraps around my cock.

“I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

My hips lift, chasing her hand, but she pulls back just enough to leave me wanting more.

“I need these off.” She releases me to start pulling at the waistband of my joggers.

I need her hand back on my cock, so I lift my ass and help her tug my joggers and boxer briefs off in one quick motion.

From above me, Summer’s lips curve into a smile, a smug little smile as her nails drag down my thighs.

She shifts, moving to slide between my legs, her mouth following the trail her fingertips have carved out.

The second her mouth is on me, I’m a goner.

I’ve thought about this moment countless times since I met Summer. Since I put a ring on her finger. None of my fantasies have done this moment justice.

She’s so beautiful. All rosy cheeks and wild hair, with the look of fierce devotion in her eyes as her perfect, wet lips surround me so stunningly.

A needy sound, soft and strangled, tears out of me, and my cheeks flush. But I can’t even care. I’m too far gone. Too wound tight from the way she’s touching me, like I’m hers to enjoy. To study. Tokeep.

“Summer,” I rasp, voice raw and barely tethered. “I—fuck—I’m close already.”

She slows her strokes, but the way her thumb drags across the head of my cock makes my stomach clench. My breathing turns to shallow pants.

I’m hers.

There’s no need to pretend otherwise.

“I thought Olympic swimmers would have more stamina.”

Her hands wrap around my base, pumping me slow and steady.

“Relax,” she coos, and I realize now I’ve married a fucking siren.

I blow out a breath to do what she says.

“Good boy,” she whispers against my skin, her lips parting to suck me back into her mouth.

Those two words do something to me. They unlock a part of me I never knew existed—a part that craves something deeper than just praise for achievements. It’s the desire to be recognized, not for what I’ve accomplished, but for who I am when I’m with her. The man I am when I'm with Summer isn’t the swimmer, the competitor, or the guy everyone expects me to be. With her, I’m just me—vulnerable, exposed, and completely hers. It’s a feeling that digs deeper into my chest, unraveling the walls I’ve built up. I didn’t realize how much I needed this until she gave it to me.

I rock my hips faster, and Summer takes more of me down her throat.

I reach down, fingers threading through her hair, tugging her gently. She looks up at me, eyes heavy with a mix of mischief and something deeper, something tender.

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