“I should be more worried about you,” I hiccup, my body pliant enough now to straddle his lap, Teddy drawing me as close as he’s able, my jean skirt riding up around my waist, dripping with ocean water. “I want to warm you up, too,” I say, tremulously, scrubbing my hands up down the hard contours of his back. “You were down there l-longer than me.”
“I’m still down there, Iris. I’ll be down there forever. I’ve lost you.”
I bolt upright in his lap, absorbing the total misery on his incredible face and a strip is torn clean from my heart. “No. No, you haven’t.” I press our foreheads together. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you hear me? I’m sorry for running away and not waiting for an explanation. B-back on the beach, I believed you, but I was still hurting and feeling vulnerable, so I pushed you away. But I am the girl who marries the quarterback, if the quarterback is you, Teddy. Please, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.”
He isn’t breathing now. “You…you’re mine again? You’re coming back to me?”
Hot tears rain down my face. “Of course I am.”
His chest begins to heave. “You’ll be my wife, Iris?”
“Yes. Yes.”
I’ve barely gotten my second yes out when his mouth locks onto mine. Tears slide down our faces and blend into the wetness of our kiss. A kiss that turns heavy, consuming and frenzied. I can feel both of us realizing how differently tonight might have turned out and we rejoice in finding our way back to one another. We glory in being back together with greedy sweeps of our tongues, restless hips and seeking hands.
“I’m so proud of your win tonight,” I manage when we come up for air, cupping his face in my palms. “You were amazing out there. You won. I knew you’d win.”
He shakes his head slowly. “The real victory is getting to spend my life with you, Iris.” His eyes glitter in the darkness of the truck, his heart beating loud enough to hear. “I’ll never, ever hurt you again.”
“I know.”
Relief washes over his features, but his expression quickly grows heated. Color suffuses his cheeks, his nostrils flaring. “You’re definitely warm now. Your cunt is melting me straight through those panties.” His hands travel from my hair, down my back to my buttocks, molding my cheeks in his hands. “You need to ride my big prick?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my nipples peaking painfully, my femininity clenching. Lubricating.
Our hands knock together to push aside fabric. Down come his football pants and my underwear. We surge back together, mouths clashing, me sobbing, him whispering prayers. He fists his erection and I lift my hips, taking him inside me one inch at a time until he’s growling deep in his chest, his eyes rolled back in his head. “Jesus Christ. Going to have the tightest little wife in town, aren’t I? Show me what I’m getting,” he begs feverishly against my mouth. “Give me a preview of the rest of our lives so I stop thinking about you leaving me. Please.”
Overcome by love, lust, responsibility, adoration, I lean down and bury my teeth in his thick shoulder, my lower body circling once, twice, three times until he’s panting and then I start to buck my hips, loosening the base of my spine so I can snap back and grind forward with the right amount of force and friction, pumping him in and out of me, root to tip.
“Fuck!” Teddy shouts through his teeth, his hands on my butt, urging, urging, slapping. “You make it so perfect. You make everything perfect.”
“And you make me happy,” I whisper, our foreheads meeting, eyes locking.
“That’s all I want to do, Iris,” he rasps, his voice heavy with emotion. “Let me.”
My lips curl into a smile against his mouth, a breathy moan leaving me, hips moving faster. Faster. “This is a very good start.”
His rich laugh washes over me and then I’m being pinned onto the seat face up, my future husband looming over me. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Iris.”
The truck doesn’t stop rocking for hours.
Epilogue
Teddy
Five Years Later
Belting my robe, I walk to the bedroom window and look down at the circular driveway, grimacing when a man holding a leather briefcase climbs out of an SUV.
I am not happy about this.
I hate interviews and I don’t like people in my house around my wife and kids. I give enough energy out on the field, there is no reason journalists have to come snooping in my business when I’m off the clock. Unfortunately, Iris and I are constantly hounded by news people who want an exclusive story from us. Not about football. About our relationship. It has become a source of fascination among the public and the interest is not going away. No, it’s at a fever pitch now. Iris thinks if we lay all of our cards on the table and give an exclusive to Vanity Fair, they’ll stop calling and making their endless requests. More importantly, the paparazzi will stop following my Iris everywhere she goes.