Page 99 of Saddle Storm

I push down my panties and he curses.

“Spread your legs.”

I pull my legs apart slightly, whimpering, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

His fingers slide in and out of me. “Fuck, I wish I had more time with you right now.”

I’m silently grateful we don’t, and push against him.

Moving his hand to my front, he scrunches up the hem of the oversized jersey and holds it in front of me. “Bite down on this.”

I’m quick to comply because I can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t plan on being gentle. And I’m not about to give him a reason to be.

“Good girl.”

I’m so wet that he slides into me with one thick thrust, leaving me biting down hard with a groan.

His left hand presses against the wall as he continues to own me with his cock. Pushing and filling me in a way that feels too much but not enough. Because any less would leave me empty, deprived, cheated.

My breathing is hard, my cries muffled.

He slides in and out of me, fucking me, praising me with hot whispers against the back of my neck. I’ve never felt so powerless and powerful at the same time.

“You’re mine, Storm. Just as much as I’m yours. I’ll only ever belong to you. You’re the only one I want wearing my name, my number, my fucking soul.” He pounds into me and I’m so close, I shudder.

Like he can feel it, he moves in exactly the rhythm I need. Pulse after pulse, beat for beat, he’s claiming me the way I’ve claimed him tonight. Gripping my ass tight enough to leave a mark. And I let him. I’m reveling in it.

“Yes . . .” the words come off muffled through the fabric in my mouth, “God, yes.”

I come hard, gripping the wall, but needing more support as I feel my knees weaken. Silas bites down on my shoulder, no doubt marking me as he releases inside me, shuddering and panting.

We’re both quiet and still for a moment until he slides out, flipping me to his chest, holding me like I’m a treasure. Priceless. And only his.

We step into the warm cottage an hour later. I haven’t had an ounce of alcohol tonight and I’m feeling high on something. It’s lightweight and heavy at the same time. A pull in my chest, a longing for something I’m not sure how to express. Not even to myself.

Is it for Silas to spend the night?

To tell Max that Silas is a little more than a friend to Mommy now?

Whatever it is, it’s not a conversation for right now. It’s close to midnight and this kid is up way past his bedtime. Not to mention, Silas walked us into the house, which—against my better judgement—I wouldn’t have had any other way. And it’s not something I’d want to discuss with him here.

Adrenaline burned off somewhere between the car ride and the front door, the night settling into something softer, calmer. Max kicks off his shoes and chatters about all the fun he had after the game with all the kids, the swag they let him take home. Silas and I quietly listen, exchanging glances like this is our normal. Like we’re all settling in after a big night and he’s not about to leave.

And it was a big night.

The night I saw how much he loves hockey, how much he belongs in that world. And how . . . this thing with us might actually work. With everything and everyone surrounding him—and there was plenty of it. His focus and energy was on me. I even caught the wink he gave Max a few times from where he stood.

I trust him.

I love him.

And more than anything, I want him to have what he loves. I just hope that tonight’s proof that we can fit into it.

I pour myself a glass of water while Silas settles Max onto the couch, whispering low about how much he loved having him there tonight.

“I can’t wait to see you play again,” Max beams, still wildly awake. “When is that?”

Silas drags fingers through his hair. “Not sure. But it’s looking good.”