Page 77 of One Pucking Secret
I slow down my pace, entering her depths before withdrawing slowly.
“Oh!” she cries, biting her lip as she indulges in my fullness. “Yes, Wyatt. Just like that.”
I fight off the urge to orgasm right here, right now. Instead, my focus remains on Chloe. I observe her facial expressions, the way her hands tense around my oblique muscles. When she comes again, I will let go.
On the next thrust, Chloe throws her head back. I’m so turned on. It’s torturous, but in the best kind of way.
“Damnit, Wyatt. That’s so good. I’m—” is the last thing she manages to get out. I thrust again, and this time, I can feel it. She’s about to lose control.
I speed up, thrusting into her harder and faster. Her lips part, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Oh, God. Yes, yes!” she moans, and that’s when it happens. Her climax reaches its peak, and she comes undone.
Her walls clench my cock, and all I need is one more stroke before I release myself into her.
And then I’m there, spilling into her with a shudder that pulses through every inch ofme, leaving me breathless. My hands grip her shoulders, anchoring me as wave after wave of release sweeps over me. I lower my forehead to hers, our breaths mingling in the aftermath, holding onto each other as the last tremors fade.
“God, I love you, Chloe.” The words spill from my lips, unbidden.
She peers up at me, surprise etched across her features. “You do?”
A soft laugh escapes me, a mix of disbelief and relief. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but yeah… I do.”
I sink down beside her, the cool sheets a clear disparity to the warmth we’ve generated between us.
I turn to her, meeting her eyes. “I love you, Chloe. The way you fight like a lioness for your family. For Jasper, for me. Your sweetness with our son, how much harder you love.” My hand cups her cheek, thumb caressing her skin. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, inside and out.”
Her presence is a balm, her touch a lifeline in my messy world. And in this moment,ensconced in the quiet aftermath of our lovemaking, I know every word is true.
Chloe’s hand comes up to rest over my pounding heart. Her smile, a light in our dim bedroom, lifts the corners of her lips. “I love you too, Wyatt Banks. Every part of you.”
Her words sear into me, branding me with a sense of belonging I’ve craved for so long. I’m grinning now, a rare and genuine curve of my mouth that she alone inspires. My lips press to her forehead, a silent thank you etched into the kiss.
But the moment shatters with the impatient rapping of small knuckles against wood. “Mommy! Dad!” The muffled voice of Jasper bleeds through the door, eager and bright.
“Okay, okay, we’re coming,” Chloe calls back, laughter in her voice as if this is the most natural interruption in the world.
We scramble to our feet, a dance of limbs and hurried modesty as we slip into robes. The tie of my robe becomes a stubborn knot under my fumbling fingers, but finally, it’s secure.
Chloe opens the door to Jasper—his hair a wild testament to sleep and his eyes sparking with the boundless energy of youth. “Pancakes!” he demands with the authority of a king to his court.
“Coming right up, kiddo,” I say, the chuckle in my throat echoing Chloe’s amusement. Jasper’spresence, pure and untainted, casts away the shadows of the past and fills the room with a new day’s promise.
“With chocolate chips?” His hopeful gaze bounces between us.
“Is there any other way to make pancakes?” Chloe teases as she moves past him, leading the charge to the kitchen.
“Best mom ever!” Jasper shouts, darting after her with the kind of energy only a seven-year-old on a Saturday morning can have.
I follow behind, taking it all in—Chloe’s robe swaying as she moves, their laughter filling the air. It’s a slice of life I never knew I wanted until them, until now. With each step, I lock this moment in my mind: my family, right here, right now.
Epilogue
Wyatt
Six Months Later
I skate out ontothe slick ice, the roar of the crowd vibrating through the stadium. It’s electric, the kind of atmosphere that pricks at your skin, raising goosebumps under the layers of my jersey and pads. My blades carve into the rink to the soundtrack of cheers that fill the air. The final game of the playoffs, our shot at the Stanley Cup—it’s not just a dream anymore; it’s right here, within reach.
I’ve never felt more alive, my muscles tensing with anticipation as I circle our half of the rink. This season has been my renaissance. Each play sharper, each decision quicker. I can see it in the banners, hear it in the chants—my name, echoed back in a thunderous hymn. They believe in me, and after everything, thatfeels like its own kind of victory. Since Alec’s departure from the team, it seems everything started falling into place for the Knights, and we excelled like it was nobody’s business.
