Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  I chuckle as the memories return to me. “That was five years ago. How can you possibly remember that?”

  He reaches over to cup my cheek in his big hand. His eyes are as soft as his words. “I remember everything about you. I’ve loved you since before I knew what to do with that emotion.”

  I turn my head to press a kiss to his palm. “I love you, too. You don’t have to practice anymore. I’m yours, just as you are mine.”

  He pulls his hand away only to gaze down at our daughter in his arms as he chuckles. “Wow. Daddy is blowing this, baby girl.” He glances back up at me with a wide grin, then taps Layla’s right fist that’s curled against her chest. “Pick this one.”

  “Pick…?”

  “Open her hand,” he commands softly.

  I gently uncurl her fingers, one by one. Nestled in her small palm is a diamond ring big enough to have left marks in her skin. I gasp.

  Alex winces when he sees the indents in her hand. “Maybe I should have practiced. I was so worried about her swallowing it that I didn’t think she’d cut herself on it.”

  I pull the ring out of its hiding place then smooth my fingertips over Layla’s skin. “She is fine. It is not bleeding.”

  “I wanted her to be involved, too,” Alex admits on a whisper as he leans over to press a kiss to my lips. “We’re a family.”

  “We are a family,” I breathe. It’s not the storybook perfect kind that I lusted after in my childhood, but it’s full of all the love and devotion that I dared to hope for anyway. I return Alex’s kiss then stare at the beautiful ring.

  “Is that a yes?” he prompts.

  I slide the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit, just like Alex is for me.

  “Yes.”

  He smiles. “One last choice to make, then.”

  “I already told you I’d be Dr. Fossoway.” I laugh as joy spreads through me.

  “You also told me how much you hate big weddings,” he says, raising his eyebrow. “So, you can introduce yourself as my fiancée or as my wife at the charity ball. Your pick.”

  “How…” The ball is only two weeks away. We just got engaged. “Our families live on the other side of the country. They’ll be so angry and hurt if they are not included.”

  He wraps his hand around my neck and tugs me closer to him. “This would be for us, not for anyone else. If you want to get married tomorrow, then I have a justice of the peace ready and waiting. If you want to have a big wedding with our families, then we can do that, too. Just tell me what you want, Amira, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Tomorrow.” I wrap my arms around the man I love—and our daughter. “Let’s get married tomorrow.”

  I can’t think of anything better than a lifetime more of tomorrows with my family.

  “Ssh,” I whisper against her lips as I increase the pressure of my fingers around her throat. “You’ll wake everyone up.”

  She moans louder. That’s what I get for tightening my grip. It’s not a punishment if she likes it.

  With every ounce of willpower I possess, I stop thrusting into her tight, wet heat. Then, I mentally pat myself on the back. This was actually a great idea. If I’m not moving, then I can’t blow my wad before she does. And I’m close. Too close.

  Amira whimpers then licks her lips. “Please. I’ll be a good girl.”

  My cock throbs inside her. Those words falling from those lips paired with those black eyes still do things to me. Things I never imagined I’d fall for.

  She has every bit as much power over me as she likes me to use over her.

  She knows it.

  She uses it to our family’s advantage every day.

  Time to reclaim a little bit of that power for myself.

  I grin at her. “That’s what Daddy likes to hear.”

  The fire in her eyes dims to a low smolder that will help us both last longer. “Still no. Before Layla was born, it was hot. Now, it’s…”

  “Weird? Pervy. Cringeworthy. Smacks of pedophilia?” I shudder. Okay, that was going too far. The goal is to prolong the enjoyment, not kill the mood.

  Amira’s expression curdles before she rolls her shoulders against the wall I’ve been using for extra leverage. “Might I suggest some adaptations to our games?”

  “You’re the expert, Dr. Fossoway.” I lick into her mouth before pulling back. “Suggest away.”

  “I will no longer refer to myself as a good girl. I’m a grown woman, and I don’t want to be compared to our daughter. I will refer to you as Sir because Daddy is…no. It’s just no. Consider it a hard limit.”

  “I agree to these new rules.” Is there anything else I want to add? This seems like a good opportunity, but my dick is still inside her pussy. Her thighs are wrapped around my waist. Her tits are crushed against my chest. My hands are full of the warm, smooth, soft skin of her ass and her throat. Squeezing only makes me lose my mind more. She even broke out the sacred veils tonight. How am I supposed to think straight under these conditions? I’ll agree to anything at this point. “What am I going to call if you not good girl?”

  She smiles before kissing me. “How about wife? Your good little wife who always swallows every last drop.”

  I shudder against her. Even on her knees, she’s always got me right where she wants me. Because it’s where I want to be, too. “You’re not playing fair. I know there are things I want to add to this rule book, but I can’t right now.”

  “Whips and chains?” she suggests with an evil smile.

  I shudder again. “No. You know my rules about actual pain.”

  She grazes her teeth lightly along my neck. “Those rules are…bendable.”

  That’s not a lie, but she always practices first before adding another rule to our playbook. We talk. We communicate. We add things we both enjoy or throw away ones that only one of us—or neither of us—does.

  We’ve experimented with hot wax, ice cubes, and light bondage. Nipple clamps ended up being a horrible idea because of nursing. A little teeth action against my neck or my nips are hot. On my twig and berries? Absolutely not.

  “Anal?” she suggests again with an innocent batting of her black eyelashes against her black eyes.

  “No.” I shake my head and press harder against her. “I feel like there’s more prep work for that than we realistically have time for. That’s not fair to you.”

  She bites her lip to hide a grin. “I was actually thinking of pegging you, but I can see your point about lack of time for adequate preparations.”

  I shake her a little with my hand still wrapped around her throat. “Hey. You want an orgasm tonight or not?”

  She chuckles that low, throaty, deep sound that I used to covet, but now it’s mine all the time. Her muscles flutter against the palm of my hand. “Would you like your good little wife to try prostate massage, perhaps? It’s supposedly the best orgasm a man can experience.”

  I’m not opposed to the best orgasms I can experience. I don’t like the idea of not being able to offer her the best orgasms she can experience. “What’s the female equivalent? I already know exactly where your G-spot is.”

  Her entire body heaves against me. The movement pulls my dick deeper into her pussy. She moans again. Loudly. My lips tingle as she drags her fingertip across my mouth. “Two years ago, I spent a month second-guessing my decision to apply for a job that I was well-qualified for. I arranged a one-night stand to convince myself I wouldn’t fall under your spell again when I moved to Orlando. That backfired in so many ways that it’s tragically comedic. I spent the next several months in various stages of denial that a woman as educated and driven as me could possibly be faced with all the no-win life choices I was up against. You never batted an eyelash. You gave me a soft place to land and a hard chest to cry on. You opened your home, your heart, your life to not only me but to our daughter. And you never questioned any of it. Not once. You have given me everything I ever wanted and more. I only want to provide you with everything you’ve already gi
ven me, but I know that’s an impossible task. This is not a competition, my love.”

  The hell it isn’t. Guys all over the internet lust after my wife. If I don’t always bring my A-game, she could exchange me for a newer, better model. I’m not sharing Amira—or our daughter—with anyone. They’re mine. “Tell me what you want, Brain. I’ll always give it to you.”

  She hums. The vibrations travel south and blur my ability to think straight a little more. “Give me my orgasm, Sir, then we’ll discuss further.”

  “Yes, Wife.”

  I drag my cock out of her wet heat then slam it in as hard as I can. She throws her head back against the wall and moans loud enough to wake the entire house. We’re blurring the lines between the power exchange we want and the power exchange that is, but it doesn’t matter.

  The end goal is always the same.

  Me and her. Together. Messy, perfect, and everything in between.

  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Yes. Oh, God. Yes, Sir. Please. More.”

  “Call me by my name,” I pant as my balls tighten. I’ve never felt the way I feel when I’m inside her without anything between us. My fingers, my cock, my tongue—it doesn’t matter. She’s my end zone. Forever.

  “Alex,” she groans as she bites into my shoulder. No pain could ever be sweeter. “I love you.” She pants. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Amira,” I groan into the crook of her neck before I give up the fight. I empty myself into the deepest place of her with an ecstasy that borders on pain. My spent cock is so sensitive, but I welcome the pulses of her pussy that pull me in deeper. It’s always this way with us. It’s always this way in life. There’s no pleasure without pain.

  She recovers a little too quickly for my liking. My brains and muscles feel like mashed potatoes, but she grins at me. “Put me down. I have a surprise for you.”

  I prefer when she’s as mindless as I am after, but I’m also a fan of surprises. The best surprise of my life is sleeping in the room next to ours. I lower Amira’s feet to the floor and grudgingly slide out of her.

  “This better be good, Wife.” I kiss her lips even though she’s already pulling away. “I was looking forward to a full night’s sleep next.”

  Her brow furrows. I don’t like the lack of confidence in her expression. She doesn’t even try to hide her anxiety. “I just wanted one last time of hard and fast before you freak out. Stay here. I’ll be right back. I hope it will make you happy. I don’t want you to think of this as bad news.”

  She flits away toward the en suite bathroom in this monstrosity of a beach house we’ve rented for the next two weeks during the offseason.

  “What?” I yell after her a few heartbeats too late. Sue me. I’m working on post-orgasm time. I forgot about being quiet in this house full of other people.

  Sure enough, the doorknob jiggles seconds later. At least I know how to lock a bedroom door unlike some people.

  I’m having a legit panic attack, so I unlock the door. I need backup.

  Mike is the first into the room. He’s holding one of the twins. I have no idea which one. He and Tori refuse to color code them. “What’s wrong? I heard shouting.”

  I’m panicking, but I have limits. “A shout. You heard a single shout.”

  Evie’s next in. She’s holding a baseball bat. “What happened?”

  “You’re married to a football player,” I say, taking a healthy step back from swinging range. “Why do you have a baseball bat?”

  She points it at me. “I will never be unprepared again, but I draw the line at sleeping with a loaded firearm beneath my pillow with kids in the house. What happened? I heard shouting.”

  “A shout,” I repeat. “You heard a single shout!”

  A groan in the hallway filters to my ears next. “This better be good.”

  That’s what I said, but I don’t think Rob has the same ideas running rampant through his mind when he steps into the room. He’s holding my kid.

  I make a grab for her seconds before she reaches for me.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl,” I whisper against her soft cheek. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Daddy’s here.”

  She whimpers before snuggling into the crook of my neck and falling back asleep.

  “Fossoway, so help me God.” Tori steps into the room, rubbing her forehead while holding the other twin. “If this isn’t important, I’m going to kill you.”

  “It’s important,” I hiss, gesturing for them to all calm down before they wake up Layla even though I’m obviously the only one panicked. “Amira said she has a surprise for me, and I don’t know what that means!”

  “Nope.” Tori says with a straight face. “Not worth it. I love you, Alex, but I’m going back to bed.” She kisses Mike on the cheek. “Tell me what happened in the morning.”

  “Why do I have to stay awake for this?” Mike whispers to her retreating back.

  “Because you are my brother, and if it wasn’t for me, you might not even be married to your wife right now,” I hiss again.

  He shrugs. He can’t deny it. “Fine.” The asshole has the nerve to trudge to my bed and lay down with his twin on top of his chest. “Wake me when it happens.”

  “This is all your fault,” I say to Evie, who’s still clutching her baseball bat like she expects to need it. “If you didn’t suggest we all vacation together, none of this would be happening right now.”

  She steps up to me and slaps me on my cheek. Just like her grandmother would. “Get a grip, Fossoway. What did she say?”

  Rob and I both take a healthy step back. He shakes his head at me.

  What am I supposed to do? Lie? I already woke everyone up.

  “She said she has a surprise for me, and she hopes I won’t be too mad,” I admit.

  Rob blinks. “You woke us up for that? Jesus. I’m out. I don’t want to catch an eyeful of Amira’s lingerie.”

  He follows Tori’s trail back down the hallway.

  “Falls,” I plead to Evie. “You gotta help me. I’m having worst-case scenarios up here.” I tap my temple with the free hand that isn’t holding onto Layla for dear life.

  “Fossoway,” she mocks. “Whatever she has in store for you, take it like a man. You’re married to the woman. How bad can it possibly be?”

  I blink at her. “Are you kidding me right now? This is Amira. All she ever does is throw me curveballs.”

  “Here you go.” Evie thrusts the bat toward me. “Good luck.”

  By the time the only sound in the room is Mike’s snoring, I’m full-on sweating while I wait for the bathroom door to open.

  It does. Eventually.

  Amira emerges, clad in the silk robe I bought her specifically for this trip. I might be willing to share my panic with my fam, but I’m not sharing my wife’s naked body with anyone. She blinks at me. “What the hell?”

  “Nothing.” I drop the bat to the ground. It makes a clattering noise that ricochets around the room.

  Mike snorts, bur rolls over on the bed with his kid still in his arms.

  “Ignore him. What’s the big surprise?”

  Amira doesn’t look convinced, but she approaches me anyway. She checks on Layla in my arms before holding up the prizes in her hand. “I did another just to be sure, but it turned out the same as the first.” She smiles. “Surprise. We’re pregnant.”

  “That’s what you were so worried to tell me?” I hiss. “I’ve been having a panic attack for the past twenty minutes.”

  “This one will be born in the middle of the season,” Amira defends. “We didn’t plan. I hoped you wouldn’t be upset.”

  I haul her to me and kiss her forehead. “Are you kidding? This means we’re in the lead!”

  “I had twins,” Mike mumbles from our bed. “If anything, this means we’re tied.”

  “Shut up,” I tell him before returning my attention to my wife. “Are we having twins, too?”

  She squints at me. “How could I possibly know that f
rom an at-home pregnancy test? Also, I hope not.”

  “That’s fine.” I kiss her again. “We have plenty of time to catch up.”

  I have a lifetime of babies to make with this woman. Layla is going to have her hands full with all the brothers and sisters I want to give her. Anything for my princess. And my queen.

  Titles by Kata

  Moving the Chains Series

  First and Goal

  Second Down

  Third and Long

  Fourth and Inches

  Holding

  The Rules

  Personal Foul

  Standalone Novels

  Revenge Love

  Keep the Beat

  Homebound

  A Bird in the Oven

  About the Author

  Kata Čuić lives in Pittsburgh, PA with her husband and three teens. No one told her life was gonna be this way. She holds a degree in Linguistics with a minor in Religious Studies from the University of Pittsburgh. Her plans of becoming a pediatric neurosurgeon were foiled by OChem 1. Fortunately, she’d been making up stories in her head since the days of her imaginary friend, Choosy. Putting pen to paper, er…fingers to the keyboard…came surprisingly naturally after her aforementioned teens decided it was time for them to cut their respective cords.

  Kata writes everything from angst-filled NA series to standalone rom-coms and has been known to dabble in a bit of paranormal on the free stories section of her website. She believes nice guys shouldn’t have to finish last (except in the bedroom where she prefers an alpha between the sheets but a gentleman in the streets), and that the surest way to a woman’s heart is through laughter and food.

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