Page 12 of Not My Coach

Does he not know how hard it is to keep my focus when I look at him?

His dick is filling my mouth as I force my eyes open and look up at him, feeling my mascara run down the sides of my cheeks.

He scoffs and bites his lip. “You are so fucking beautiful on your knees, Evie.”

Lifting my hand, I cup his balls and knead them gently, and my tongue works over his tip and shaft. It’s clear that no one has ever really focused on him from the way he’s reacting.

“Oh, fuck. Jesus, God,” he grunts and moans as my panties continue to grow wetter from bringing him pleasure.

I want this to be the best blow job he’s ever had.

With parted lips and bated breath, he rests his hands on the couch behind him.

Sucking him intensely, I flick my tongue along him as I release him from my mouth, soaking it with my spit.

Wrapping my hand as best I can around him, I fist him feverishly. Lifting his length up, I continue to pump him as I suck both of his balls into my mouth.

A high-pitched, “Fuuuck,” leaves his lips.

I want him to remember me after tonight. If he’s setting new standards for me, then I can do the same for him.

“Come here,” he growls as he grabs my shoulders and hauls me to my feet.

His mouth is on mine before I can even take a breath, gentle at first, then gaining hunger with every brush of my lips against his. His soft tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I happily grant him any and all access.

His warm tongue flicks against mine, and they start a dance of their own, finding a rhythm that our bodies soon follow, my hips grinding with his.

His hands are rough and greedy as they find the straps of my dress and yank them off of my shoulders, freeing my breasts. He pulls away from our kiss in time to watch them jiggle as he continues to rip the dress down, leaving it at my ankles.

“God, I fucking need you,” he whimpers and grabs my hips.

“Oh my God!” I giggle as he hauls me up and over his shoulder without any effort.

He carries me, draped over him, as we pass through the kitchen and into a new room.

“Ahh!” I yelp as he brings his hand down hard on my butt cheek, the sound radiating through the room like a gunshot.

God, that hurt.

He kneads the same spot with his big hand as the pain morphs into intense pleasure, rushing straight to my core.

Taking two fingers, he swipes my center, and I hear him suck his fingers. Suddenly, I’m flying through the air, and landing on my back, I bounce on a soft and plush bed.

“Evie, do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?” he mutters as he slowly shimmies his jacket off of his shoulders and tosses it onto a chair in the corner of the room.

Looking up at him, surrounded by everything he selectively chose for the most private room in his house, is intoxicating.

What are the fucking odds that this man would be at the bar during my date with Brad?

The room is decorated in black, gray, and white decor, not a splash of color in sight.

His gaze is consuming my body, inch by inch, as he undoes every button on his white shirt, exposing a firm chest and an even more toned torso. But what grabs my attention more than anything are his arms, sculpted and molded to perfection by obvious hours of work. Veins snake down his forearms.

He grabs hold of his thick, swollen, and ready cock, pumping himself once, twice, three times before walking to the end of the bed and grabbing my hips.

Pulling me, he doesn’t stop until I’m at the edge of the bed, and his thickness bounces against my clit, sending a bolt of electricity through me. He smiles, and this time, he slaps my pussy with his cock, and I gasp at the sensation.

He runs his tip over my dripping entrance and pushes against me like he’s finally going to fuck me, but then he pulls away, chuckling darkly.

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