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His hands are everywhere but he’s not rushing. In fact, he’s taking his sweet time. He’s tugging on my nipples, which he knows is one of my favorite things, and I melt against his strong torso.

Most guys I’ve dated have either asked about or commented on the scars on my breasts from the augmentation I had. Cash never has. One time, when we were in the middle of things, he said something like, “Are they still sensitive?” I told him they were and that was the only conversation we ever had.

I’ve learned not to volunteer the information because men—and women—can be judgmental. Cash only seems to care about using them to pleasure me. Like he’s doing now. Lips and fingers working me into a frenzy long before his cock comes anywhere near me. Well, it’s nearby but he’s still in the foreplay stage, which is one of my favorite parts.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling me toward the steps. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap, even as the force of the water tries to make me float above him. It’s no match for Cash’s resolve, though, and he grips my hips. “Use your hand,” he instructs quietly.

I reach between us and find his erection. I guide it toward my entrance and—oh, God, that feels good. He glides into me with one firm thrust and I whimper.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is warm, sultry, filled with need.

That’s one thing that never gets old, his obvious need for me.

I’ve been fucked. I know what it is and how to discern the difference between the basics of the act and something meaningful. This moved into meaningful territory quickly. In fact, that first night we were together bordered on something that went beyond a casual fuck. One of many reasons I got the hell out of there in the morning.

Now that we’ve been together a while, I feel it in everything we do. His touch, the way he treats me, the things he says—I’m so far gone for this guy, no matter how many times I tell myself it’s happening too fast. My heart doesn’t care about that. All it cares about is him.

And now he’s inside me, moving slowly but deliberately. The water is hot as it laps against my skin and it’s a delicious complement to the warmth between my legs. It’s hard to find a rhythm, though, and I know it’s his sheer strength keeping us from drifting apart.

“How’re you doing, baby?” he whispers. Like he knows it’s a different sensation doing it this way.

“I need…harder,” I murmur.

He chuckles. “I know. I’m trying.” His grip on my hips tightens, and he slams up with enough force to almost dislodge me.

I gasp and giggle at the same time. “Oops.”

He grunts. “How about I bend you over the edge and give you what you need?”

“Yes, please.” I gasp as he scoops me up, moves me to the lip of the hot tub, and gently presses me down. Then he stands on the bottom step and goes right back to fucking me. Hard. Fast. Powerful.

“Cash…” His name leaves my lips as a breathless hiss. I have nothing to hold on to, my fingers are splayed against the hard concrete of the patio, but I couldn’t move now if I wanted to.

“That’s my girl—just lay there and take it.”

“Oh, fuck!” I cry out as he picks up the pace. At some point, I peel my lids apart and see that Jamie and Viggo are watching. Not in a creepy way, because Jamie’s hand is around his husband’s cock, stroking slowly and purposefully, as if they’re as turned on by what we’re doing as we are.

I want to ask Cash if this is okay, if it will somehow impact his career or relationship with his head coach, but I’m too blissed out.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please.”

He knows exactly what I’m begging for and he gives it to me in the most passionately punishing way ever. And when I come, my cries echo across the patio. I feel him jerk inside me, a loud groan leaving him, and then there’s nothing but the faint sound of the music coming from inside.

“The concrete is hurting my stomach,” I whisper after a beat.

Cash immediately pulls away and gently lifts me. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. It was just scratching me.”

“We can’t have that.” He pulls me into his arms and settles me on his lap on the top step of the hot tub. There’s a chill in the air despite how warm it was earlier, and I shiver.

“You cold, babe?”

I nod.

He lifts to his feet with me still in his arms and grabs a towel someone left behind. He wraps it around me and puts me on a nearby lounge chair as he goes to collect our abandoned clothes. My thong and his boxers came off in the water, so they’re soaked, sitting on the ledge, and our costumes seem flimsy now.

“There are robes,” Jamie calls out, pointing to where there’s a stack of them folded on a chair. I never noticed them but Cash nods and grabs one, putting it on before bringing one to me. I pull it on gratefully and realize I’m suddenly exhausted.