“You’re going to cheer for me, win or lose?” Nic felt the tears pricking his eyes.
“I’m going to cheer for you, period.” Her cat eyes were brimming with tears, too. “I might be even convinced to wear a cheerleader outfit with the right kind of persuasion,” the minx teased.
Images of Lexie in a short skirt and tight top, her hair in pigtails bouncing around, executing somersaults and splits, made him hard and tight again. He groaned. He couldn’t help it.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes scanned his body in a frantic search and skittered to a stop on the exact spot that was giving him the utmost trouble. “Oh,” she uttered blankly, then her eyes grew wide. “Oh!” she exclaimed with more feeling.
Nic gave a pained laugh at the embarrassed expression on her face.
“Is it very uncomfortable?”
“Not really,” he lied.
She looked at him steadily, but Nic could see the wheels turning in her mind. “The nurse said we can’t have you getting too excited,” she wondered out loud, “but is there anything,” she cleared her throat, “I could do to help?” She glanced again at the body part in question. “Maybe kissing it to make it better?”
Nic grew even harder and bigger than was possible. “I’m fine,” he ground out, sounding like he was being strangled.
“Hhmm,” she said, rising from the chair and heading towards the door. She grasped the doorknob and locked it with a firm, metallic click. She then stalked towards him with a determined glint in her hazel eyes. “This may hurt a little, but it will help you relax after.”
There was a rustle of sheets and a draft of air on his thighs. “Lexie, I don’t think it’s a good idea−gah!” was all he could articulate as her lips descended on him and he was enveloped by her warm, moist mouth. Several expletives and ragged breathing was all he could manage as he raked his good hand through her hair while she gave him pleasure. Nearing his peak, he cupped her jaw to meet his eyes. The love shining in them broke his control, and he came with such force he swore he blacked out for a few seconds.
She cleaned him up, kissed him on the forehead, and whispered, “How was it?”
He gave her a sated, sleepy smile. “Now it’s all better. Te quiero mucho”
“Yes, Nic. From this day on, I know it will all be better.” She patted him gently on the cheek. “Rest now, my love. Te quiero mucho. “
He had drifted off to sleep even before she had finished her sentence.
Epilogue
The 40,000-strong crowd that attended the Argentine Open in Palermo cheered wildly when the commentator announced the name of the player streaking across the field for the pre-match line-up roll call. Clad in a Black Cavalier jersey with the number 3 emblazoned on it, he waved his mallet to acknowledge the fans as he took his place beside his team. Argentina’s--and in all likelihood the world’s−greatest polo player was back.
There was an almost palpable excitement in the stands. The circus-like and festive atmosphere in and out of the stadium never got old. Players and horses alike were subjected to this collective, energizing rush.
“Nervous?” A dark blond eyebrow belonging to player number two coolly rose in query.
As hell, Nic thought, but not for the reason the man beside him suspected. He just flashed his arrogant teammate and new patron his most superior stare.
Another deafening cheer erupted in the stadium and prevented him from making a stinging comeback. Craning his neck, he searched for the source of the crowd’s adulation.
Player number two cocked his head imperially at the direction of the giant screen across the field. “Your number one fan is cheering for you,” Walkden said, mildly amused.
And though he wanted to play it cool in front of the arrogant Duke, an involuntary grin escaped his lips as he caught sight of the hottest WAG in the whole tournament, fuck, even the whole universe, up on the VIP stands, wearing a sea green dress, wildly applauding. Realizing she was on the screen, she gave a small, self-conscious start of surprise but recovered beautifully by smiling and waving merrily. She then blew a kiss in the general direction of the Black Cavalier line-up, and a hearty roar of approval boomed from the predominantly romantic Argentine crowd.