Page 88 of Back Outside Edge

I'm complete, once he’s fully inside me. The burning gives way almost instantly to pleasure, even before I’ve moved on him. Just having him inside me is so fucking amazing it takes my breath away. Every single time.

He pulls my head down for a kiss, and I respond, wanting it as much as he does. And when I start to move, pumping myself up and down his length, neither of us is as quiet as we should be, considering the wall. But then, our neighbor was the furthest thing from silent last night, so maybe he deserves it.

Evan's hand, lubed without my noticing, wraps around my cock, between us, and the rhythm of his pumping matches my movements over him. I use it to guide my speed, until I’m bouncing on top of him as quickly and as hard as I can. Pleasure so electric it burns me from the inside builds up, and up, and up. With his free hand, he reaches up to pinch one of my nipples, a burst of pain shooting through me, almost sending me over.

And then, finally, he tightens his grip with both hands, a clear signal that it's time. I let myself go, cresting over that hill, sparks shooting across my eyelids, body constricting around him. Pleasure so intense I white out for a moment. He groans, then follows my lead. I collapse over him, and his arms wrap around me, holding me as close as possible.

Once our breathing has leveled out, he strokes up my back, tangling his hand in my hair again. It’s not the precursor to anything, not this time. It’s just his favorite place to rest his fingers.

I reward him with a kiss on his collarbone. “That was nice.”

His chest heaves with a stifled laugh. “If that’s the best feedback you’ve got, maybe I should try again.”

I grin, unrepentant. “Promise?”

The hand in my hair tightens threateningly, and his other hand pinches my ass. “Maybe I won’t be so nice next time.”

When I lift my head to look into his eyes, his are sparkling with that same stifled laughter. “Promise?”

He finally lets the laugh loose. “Not before you win gold, baby. I can’t mark you up and then parade you in front of the world when you're in costume.”

“It would make it really obvious that I’m yours,” I cajole, only half teasing. Neither of this year’s costumes is that revealing. As long as he left my head and neck out of it, nobody would ever know. And if they did? The idea is hot enough that if I hadn't just come, I'd be getting hard again.

Though I’m not sure how well I’d skate if I couldn’t walk straight, so maybe he has a point.

“I think they’ve got the idea.” He pulls my head back to his and we kiss again. “The last set of pictures that fan posted weren’t subtle.”

“They were great, weren’t they?” I’m inordinately proud of that set of pictures. Even if, for a minute, I was worried they’d be ground for a public indecency charge. It hasn't been easy, going through the media roller-coaster of coming out to the public. Of confirming that Evan is my boyfriend. But the fans that stuck with me are all in on our relationship.

“Publicity whore.” He kisses me again.

“You know it.” I roll off him, snuggling into his side. “Oh, and we do have plans tonight.”

“Hmm?” He sounds sleepy, as if, without my weight on him, his body has collapsed back into recovery mode.

“We’re having dinner with friends.”

“Oh?” He doesn’t sound upset that I’ve made plans. He knows he doesn’t have to go with me if he’s not feeling up for company. I know he will.

“Mhm. Jacques and a few people from both our teams. Luc and Leanna. Teresa. Maybe some others.”

“Ok.” He kisses my forehead. “You know, I used to think that the Olympics were, like, serious. All these hard-core athletes hanging out in the gym all day focusing on their sport.”

I snort into his shoulder. “And now?”

“Well, it’s still a lot of hard-core athletes.”

“And their coaches.” I tickle his ribs, and he slaps my hand away. His usual response to tickling. Sometimes I can surprise a laugh out of him, though, so I keep trying. “Which reminds me. Jacques wants to hire you as a choreography consultant.

Chapter 34

Evan

“Awhat?” I’m baffled by this announcement. “I’m not a choreographer. That’s your thing.”

“Which is why he doesn’t want to hire you as a choreographer,” Stefan answers, and something about his voice makes me suspicious. He’s trying too hard to sound nonchalant. It’s always a bad sign when Stefan is trying to be nonchalant. “But he does want to hire you to help him refine his choreography, give it that special Evan Marquez twist.”

Interesting. I’m not sure what the twist is supposed to be, but after days spent working with Stefan and his father, and months with my university team, I have an idea.