Chapter 19: Amber's Morning Ride
The house was still dark when I slipped out of bed, the floorboards cool against my bare feet. I'd barely slept. My body felt like it had been plugged into an outlet all night, buzzing with that pre-season electricity that always made me useless at resting. The pyramid formation Coach had sketched on the whiteboard yesterday was still dancing behind my eyelids, all those angles and heights, the timing of it, the way Stacey's girls and mine would have to move as one unit or eat the mat.
I padded down the hallway in the grey pre-dawn, past Blossom's door, past Lola's, and stopped outside Stacey's. She'd moved in three days ago and we still hadn't given her a proper home-warming. The door was cracked open an inch. I pushed it gently and slipped inside.
The room smelled like lavender and clean linen and that particular Stacey smell I was already addicted to, warm skin and something athletic, like the air after a hard practice. Her gear was everywhere. A field hockey stick leaned against the wall, mud still caked on the blade. Trophies crowded the windowsill catching the first weak light. A sports bra hung off the bedpost.
Stacey was a long, dark shape in the bed, one arm thrown over her head, the sheet pooled at her waist. Her skin looked soft in the dimness, brown against the white cotton. I crept closer and knelt on the floor beside the bed, my heart doing its little excited thump.
I pulled the sheet down slowly, revealing her stomach, the dark trail of hair below her navel, then her cock lying soft against her thigh. Even at rest it was beautiful. I leaned in and pressed my lips to the inside of her hip, then trailed my mouth along the length of her, feeling her twitch against my lips before I'd even taken her in.
"Mmm." She stirred, her voice thick with sleep. "Amber?"
"Good morning," I whispered, wrapping my hand around her, already feeling her thicken and grow. "I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the new formation."
"You're thinking about cheerleading right now?" She laughed, the sound rumbling through her chest, her cock swelling fully in my grip as I pumped her slow.
"I'm always thinking about cheerleading." I ducked my head and took her into my mouth, letting her slide across my tongue. She tasted like morning and musk and I hummed around her, working my way down her shaft. "Mm, it's going to be amazing. Coach wants to try a three-tier pyramid, which is insane because last season we could barely hold a two-tier during warmups."
Stacey groaned, her hips pushing up gently into my mouth. Her fingers threaded into my curls, not guiding, just holding on. "Three-tier. That's ambitious."
"I know, right?" I pulled off her just long enough to gasp before swallowing her again, taking her deeper. I loved the weight of her on my tongue, the way she thickened at the base as I pushed myself down. "But Stacey and I were talking, we think the vault line can handle it. The new timing is so much better than last year's. Everyone's where they need to be."
"Who's Stacey?" She was laughing now, one hand stroking my cheek.
"You." I came off her with a wet pop. "You're Stacey. This is so confusing. You're the new girl in my life AND the new formation. Anyway." I took her back into my mouth, bobbing faster now, my free hand cupping her balls. "There's this new girl trying out for the squad, Sophie, and she cannot do a back handspring to save her life. It's tragic. She's got the spirit, she's got the smile, but honey, her form is a disaster."
Stacey's breathing was getting ragged, her hips moving with more purpose. "Maybe you should get on top before I come in your mouth and miss the whole story about Sophie."
I grinned around her cock and let her go, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Fair point." I swung my leg over her body, straddling her hips. My cunt was already slick, had been since I'd walked through the door. I reached down and guided her cock to my entrance, held her there for one delicious second, then sank down.
"Oh, fuck." Stacey's hands flew to my hips, gripping tight enough to bruise. "Amber, that's..."
"Good?" I rolled my hips experimentally, taking her deeper. She filled me perfectly, that beautiful thick length pressing against every spot I needed. I braced my hands on her stomach and started to ride her, finding my rhythm fast.
"Sophie," I continued, breathless now, "tried to do a back handspring at tryouts yesterday. Just, you know, off the top of her head. No warning. And she went over, arms wobbling, legs like a newborn deer, and then she just, WHAM, landed flat on her back in front of everyone. Coach stared at her for a solid ten seconds and then wrote something in his little notebook with this face like he was writing her eulogy."
Stacey laughed under me, the sound punching out of her chest, and the motion made her cock shift inside me in a way that made me gasp. "Poor Sophie."
"Poor Sophie nothing. She got up and tried again. Two more times. Same result. I almost felt bad for her but also, girl, read the room. Back handsprings are not happening for you."
I rode her harder, my thighs burning deliciously, my ass slapping against her hips with each downstroke. Her hands slid up my torso, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I arched into her touch, letting her thumb the hard peaks of my nipples.
"So then," I said, voice pitching higher as the rhythm took over, "we get the new schedule and guess who's in my stunt group. SOPHIE. I'm going to be holding her ankles above my head while she flails around like a fish. Coach said I'm 'the anchor' and it's 'my responsibility to bring her up to standard.' Stacey, this is going to be a disaster."
"Amber." Stacey sat up, wrapping an arm around my back, and suddenly she was inside me at a new angle, deeper, and I cried out. "Are you going to coach her?"
"I'm going to try." I bounced on her, my cunt gripping her tight. "But also I might accidentally drop her. And I'm not saying I would do it on purpose. But I'm also not saying I wouldn't."
Stacey laughed and kissed me, deep and slow, swallowing my moan. Her hips started to piston up into me, meeting my downward strokes, and I lost the thread of my sentence completely. The cheer talk dissolved into breathless sounds, into the wet slap of our bodies meeting, into the ache of her cock inside me, exactly where I needed her.
"Fuck, Stacey, right there, don't stop."
She didn't stop. She drove into me with those long, powerful thrusts, and I clung to her shoulders and rode it out, my head thrown back, my hair bouncing against my spine. The pyramid formation could wait. Sophie's back handspring could wait. Everything could wait except this.
I came with a sharp cry, my walls rippling around her, and Stacey groaned and buried her face in my neck, pumping into me until she followed, hot and deep. We stayed tangled together, breathing hard, the first real light of dawn beginning to creep through her curtains.
I nestled against her chest, warm and boneless, and smiled against her skin. "Okay. So about that new pyramid."
Stacey groaned, her hand landing flat on my face and pushing me back down onto the pillow. "Amber. It is not even seven in the morning. The pyramid can wait."
"But the pyramid is important," I mumbled into her palm.
"The pyramid can wait until I've had coffee." She rolled out of bed, gloriously naked, and I watched the flex of her back muscles as she stretched. "I'll make breakfast. You go get your head in the game."
I grunted and burrowed into her pillow, inhaling her scent. The post-orgasm haze was already wearing off, that electric buzz returning to my limbs. Tryouts were in three days. The first home game in two weeks. Sophie needed to learn a back handspring before she got us all killed.
By the time I dragged myself downstairs, Stacey had coffee going and Lola was at the counter in her silk robe, watching the pot drip with the patience of a woman who had not yet spoken a single word this morning. I grabbed a mug and bounced on my heels while Stacey scrambled eggs. Blossom wandered in naked, her long blonde hair loose around her shoulders, and snagged a piece of toast from the stack.
"I'm running drills with Stacey's team today," I said through a mouthful of eggs. "Coach wants to merge our pyramid routines for the season opener. The vault line has this new approach I've been dying to try."
Lola raised one eyebrow over her cup. "Please don't die."
"No promises."
Practice was brutal. Two hours on the mats, running the same approach over and over until my calves screamed and my shoulders burned and I could feel every inch of my body in a way that made me feel gloriously, incredibly alive. Sophie showed up to observe, took notes, and did not attempt any spontaneous back handsprings, which I counted as a victory.
Then the gym. Weights, plyometrics, the rowing machine until my thighs trembled. Stacey spotted me on the bench press, and I pushed through the last three reps on pure stubbornness. By the time we finished, my sports bra was soaked through and my ponytail was plastered to my neck.
"I'm going to run home," I told her, stretching out my hamstrings. "Clear my head."
She looked at me sideways. "You're running three miles like that?"
"That's the point."
The run was glorious in its agony. The sun had climbed high by then, burning off the morning cool, and every footfall sent a jolt through my tired muscles. My legs felt like rubber and steel at the same time. My lungs burned. Sweat dripped down my back and between my breasts. My music pounded in my ears, drowning out everything except the rhythm of my own body pushing against its limits.
I was high on it. That workout endorphin rush, that post-exercise clarity where everything felt sharp and possible and my body was a machine I'd just pushed to its absolute edge.
The house came into view and I sprinted the last block, burst through the front door, and skidded to a stop in the living room.
Alex was on the couch. He looked up from his laptop, surprise flickering across his face. "Amber, you look..."
"I know." I was panting, dripping, my tank top clinging to me like a second skin. "I just ran three miles and did two hours of practice and a full lifting session." My legs trembled as I walked toward him. "My muscles are on fire. Every part of me is screaming."
"Okay." He was watching me cautiously, like I might spontaneously combust. "Do you need water? A shower?"
"I need to feel the same level of soreness somewhere else."
He blinked. "Where else?"
I dropped to my knees on the rug in front of the couch, grabbing the hem of my tank top and dragging it over my head. My breasts bounced free, slick with sweat, and I tossed the wet fabric aside. "Stacey wore me out this morning. Then practice wore me out. Then the gym wore me out. But I've got this buzz in my veins and I cannot come down until you fuck me until I can't feel my legs from a different kind of soreness."
Alex's eyes went dark. Understanding flashed across his face, and then something hungrier. "You want rough?"
"I want you to make me hurt in ways that have nothing to do with my quads." I started working the button of my shorts, wet fingers fumbling. "I want my pussy to be as wrecked as my hamstrings. I want to be sore in the best way when I finally collapse. Please."
He was already moving, closing his laptop and setting it aside, reaching for me. "Get those off."
I shimmied out of my running shorts and panties in one desperate motion, then climbed onto the couch. My legs screamed from the motion, but I didn't care. Alex's hands found my hips, pulling me up to straddle him, his mouth crashing into mine. I tasted salt and need and let him lick into my mouth while I ground against his lap.
"I'm filthy," I panted against his lips.
"I don't care."
His hands were rough on my skin, gripping my sweat-slick waist, sliding up to cup my breasts and squeeze. I arched into him, my nipples already hard. He dipped his head and caught one in his mouth, sucking hard, and I cried out at the sharp spike of pleasure-pain. My cunt was already dripping, wet enough that when his fingers found it, he slid two inside me without resistance.
"Fuck, that's my sore thigh doing the work," I babbled, grinding down on his fingers. "I can't even feel it anymore, all I can feel is your hand inside me."
He pulled his fingers out and shoved his shorts down, his cock springing free and hard. I didn't wait. I grabbed the base and guided him to my entrance, holding my breath, then dropped down onto him in one heavy motion.
"Yes," I gasped, the stretch of him filling me perfectly. "Fuck, Alex, yes."
"Move," he ordered, his hands biting into my hips.
I moved. I rode him hard and fast, throwing my whole body into it. The pain in my thighs was nothing against the building pleasure in my cunt, the way his cock hit that spot inside me with every downstroke. Sweat dripped from my chest onto his, our bodies sliding together.
"Is this what you needed?" he growled, slamming up into me.
"This is exactly what I needed. Don't you dare slow down."
He didn't. He grabbed my hips and started fucking up into me, brutal and relentless, setting a pace that had me screaming within seconds. I bounced on his cock, my hair whipping around my face, my sore muscles a distant ache beneath the overwhelming need building in my core.
"Please," I begged. "Don't stop. I'm so close, I'm going to come around your cock, I'm going to ruin you with it."
He grunted, driving harder, and I shattered. My whole body clamped down on him, my orgasm ripping through me in a wave that stole my breath and my thoughts and everything except the feeling of his cock buried inside me. He followed a moment later, his fingers digging into my ass as he pumped into me, groaning through his release.
I collapsed onto his chest, drenched and shaking, my muscles quivering with exhaustion. My legs were rubber. My cunt ached in the most glorious way. The endorphin buzz was finally starting to settle.
"That," I mumbled into his skin, "was exactly what I needed."
"That," I mumbled into his skin, "was exactly what I needed."
For a long moment I just lay there, my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow beneath my ear. The buzz was settling, that sharp electric edge softening into something warm and diffuse. But my body was still humming, still restless in that post-victory way. I was a machine that had just been pushed to its limit, and the operator in my head wasn't ready to power down yet.
I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked down at him, my hair falling in damp ropes around my face. "Okay. Now you're going to clean me up."
Alex blinked up at me, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth. "I just did."
"No." I shook my head, already shifting off his lap, feeling his cock slide out of me with a wetness that made my thighs sticky. I flopped onto my back on the couch, spreading my legs wide. "You came inside me. That's not clean. That's the opposite of clean. And I ran three miles and did two hours of practice and you don't think I want to feel fresh? Come on. You started this. You finish it."
He laughed, low and rough, and pushed himself up. "You want me to—"
"I want you to get your mouth on my pussy and lick every drop of your cum out of me. And then I want you to carry me to the shower and wash me like I'm made of something precious. And then." I pointed at the ceiling, toward the massage room. "You're going to take me to that table of yours and you're going to work every single knot out of my body until I fall asleep. That's the plan. That's the whole plan. Get to work."
He was already sliding down the couch, settling between my thighs. "Yes, ma'am."
The first stroke of his tongue against my slick, swollen flesh made me gasp. My hips bucked up instinctively, but his hands clamped down on my thighs, holding me open for him. He lapped at me slowly, deliberately, gathering the mixture of his cum and my own arousal on his tongue, and I watched him through half-lidded eyes as he swallowed.
"Good boy," I breathed. "Keep going. I want it spotless in there."
He worked me with a dedication that made my toes curl. His tongue pushed inside me, scooping out the mess he'd left, lapping at my walls until I was trembling with oversensitivity. Every pass of his mouth sent little aftershocks rippling through my exhausted body, and I clutched at the couch cushions, my fingers digging into the fabric.
"Fuck, that's good," I moaned, letting my thighs fall further apart. "You missed a spot. Right there. Deeper."
He groaned against me, the vibration making me shudder, and pushed his tongue deeper, curling it inside me. I arched my back, my cunt clenching around his tongue even as my muscles screamed in protest. The pleasure was sharp and sweet, almost too much after the brutal fucking I'd just taken.
"Okay," I managed, breathless, after several more minutes of his thorough attention. "Okay, I think you got it all."
He pulled back, his chin glistening, his eyes dark and satisfied. "Clean enough?"
"Clean enough." I grinned and reached for him. "Now carry me."
He laughed, but he didn't argue. He got to his feet and bent down, sliding one arm under my knees and the other around my back, lifting me off the couch like I weighed nothing. I looped my arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his jaw as he carried me down the hall.
"You know," he said, "most people would just take a shower themselves."
"I'm not most people." I nuzzled into his neck. "I'm a high-performance athlete. I have people for this."
He snorted. "I'm your people?"
"You're my favorite people." I kissed his throat. "Now stop talking and get me wet."
The bathroom was warm and steamy by the time he got the water running. He set me down on the edge of the tub and helped me stand, guiding me under the spray. I sighed as the hot water hit my skin, washing away the sweat and the salt and the evidence of our morning. Alex stepped in behind me, soaping up his hands, and started working the suds over my shoulders.
His hands were gentle now, methodical, working out the tension that had been knotted in my muscles since before dawn. He washed my back, my arms, my breasts. He knelt and washed my legs, my aching calves, my sore feet. He even washed my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp until my eyes rolled back in my head.
"I could fall asleep right here," I murmured, leaning back against his chest.
"Not yet," he said, rinsing the last of the soap from my hair. "You said massage table. And I'm not done with you."
My stomach fluttered. He turned off the water and wrapped me in a towel, drying me with the same care he'd used to wash me, patting each limb dry before lifting me again. This time I didn't say anything. My body was already softening, the aggression of the morning melting away under his attention.
He carried me down the hall to the massage room, the air smelling of sandalwood oil and clean cotton. The table was set up with fresh towels, and he laid me down on my stomach with a gentleness that made me ache somewhere deep and tender.
"Just relax," he murmured, pouring oil into his hands. "I've got you."
The first press of his palms against my back was heaven. He worked in slow, deliberate strokes, finding every knot, every tight spot, every place where the morning's exertions had lodged themselves. His thumbs dug into the muscles along my spine, and I felt something release inside me, something I hadn't even known I was holding.
"Fuck," I breathed into the towel. "Where did you learn to do this?"
"You told Lola I had a gift." His hands moved to my shoulders, pressing out the tension from two hours on the mats. "I've been practicing."
"Keep practicing." My voice was already slurring with exhaustion. "You're doing so good."
He worked his way down my body, from my neck to my lower back, from my hips to my hamstrings, the very muscles that had been screaming all morning slowly going quiet under his hands. By the time he reached my calves, I was a boneless puddle of warmth and satisfaction, barely conscious.
"I think she's gone," I heard him murmur, and I felt him drape something soft over me.
I was aware of him moving around me, cleaning up, the soft click of the door. And then there was nothing but warmth and the lingering scent of sandalwood and the deep, dreamless pull of sleep, pulling me under like a tide.