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I eyed the rumpled bed, then him.

“It’s alright, you’ll still be in control,” he purred. Then added a sly, “Mostly.”

I trusted him, and perhaps even liked the idea of him taking control, for a little while. I crawled forward and lay on my back. Cam was quick to go onto all fours. He crawled up my body, meeting me at eye level, then reached behind him, and grasped my dick.

I gasped and twitched, sensitive.

“Easy, baby . . . I’ve got you.” He knee-walked backwards, and lowered himself over me. Already slick and prepared, there was little resistance. He sank down, thighs straddling my hips, his dick erect and protruding.

If I’d thought him beautiful before, there was a new edge to it now—a smirk of mischief, his messy hair, slick, golden skin, tattoos wet with sweat and us, mingled together.

If he’d thought this position would slow me down, he was wrong.

He clutched his dick to his navel and rocked with me deep inside him. Heat and friction and the crackle of pleasure climbed through me.

“Touch yourself for me,” I told him.

The hand holding his dick grasped it instead. He caressed himself, still riding me, although his rocking had become fragmented, his body struggling to control itself now he was getting himself off too.

His blue eyes fixed on mine. He didn’t look away.

My own pleasure was climbing again, chasing the end too soon. He was too good at this, and I couldn’t get enough of him. My ice dancer, my tattooed hero, the man who had come into my life and changed it forever.

I grasped his thighs, dug my fingers in. “Slow . . .”

He slowed, but I was climbing too fast.

“You look so fucking raw, Ren, when you’re about to come. Fuck . . .” He stopped rocking altogether and pumped himself harder, faster. Then, right on the edge, he angled his dick downward and came. Warm cum dashed my lower belly.

His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t look away. He shuddered, still coming.

I was going to lose my mind and my load any second now.

He slumped forward over me, braced on one arm.

I thrust up hard and fast, hips going, diving deep. The high spilled over, and I came, emptying into him, wave after wave.

Wrecked and spent, I relaxed, letting go.

He straightened, flicking his hair back while he wore that smug, self-satisfied smile.

“So uh . . .” he croaked, voice rough. “A shower is looking real good right about now.”

“Good idea, when I can walk again.”

We both sounded ruined and undone.

He flopped forward, kissed me messily on the mouth, and climbed off, making me gasp at the sudden loss of his body. I watched him sashay toward the bathroom, bare-assed and slick with cum, wet with sweat, flushed from sex, and knew I’d never forget that view, never forget him.

As the sounds of the shower filled the apartment, I stared at the ceiling, a smile stuck to my lips that wasn’t coming off anytime soon.

He’d danced into my life, loud and chaotic, and irrevocably changed it for the better.

After the Games?

After the Games, I would make some life changes. I had to. I couldn’t go back to the way things had been. Cold, alone, empty. I couldn’t be that person again. It would cost me much to change my future. Cost me everything. But I was willing to pay it if it meant Cam would be in my life.

If he’d have me.