Page 26 of Not My Coach

This is a mistake. Everything about this is wrong. When I turned and saw her behind the bench, I walked away with the full intent of not doing this.

Yet here I am, fucking everything up.

Fuck, her scent is like a collar wrapping around my throat that drags me to her. The second I walked into my office to grab my things, I was frozen when I inhaled that sweet apple smell.

I was a goner right then and there. I tried to maintain a distance behind my desk. But we see how fucking well that went.

She was goading me—I know that. I’m ashamed to admit that I happily fell for it. Now, I’m going to fuck her until her bratty mouth apologizes for telling me I didn’t make her come before.

Screw everything else. I don’t care if someone walks in on us while I’m buried inside of her. She wanted to push me to the edge; now, she’s going to get exactly what she wanted.

With her pulsing throat still tight in my grip, I guide her to my desk and push her down until she’s on her knees in front of me. She sets two bags of shit by my chair.

Before I bend her over my desk, she’s going to take me down her fucking throat.

Unzipping my trousers, I unbutton them and pull out my aching, throbbing cock, and I smack her cheek with it.

She giggles, and I catch her jaw, stopping the sweet sounds.

“Did I say you could laugh?”

Her lips part, and I know she loves this dynamic as much as I do.

“Open your fucking mouth,” I order her, and she sticks her tongue out, lips parted as far as they can go. “Beg me for it.”

The slightest squint squeezes her eyes. I know she wants to be feisty right now—she’s always feisty—but I also know she wants this as badly as me.

“Please,” she whispers.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I just don’t know if I believe you. Try again,” I tell her, fisting my cock in my hand and brushing the tip over her bottom lip.

She darts her tongue out and steals a lick.

“Nate, I want to taste you. Please.” This time, her voice is laced with need.

The way her lips form my name has me wanting to take her in here every single day. It has me wanting to do a hell of a lot of things that I shouldn’t want at all.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Fuck,” I grit my teeth.

Maybe this is a sign for us to stop.

“Get under my desk and keep your mouth shut, Evie. Now,” I command, and she scrambles beneath my desk, tucking herself away from the world.

Sitting down in my chair, I scoot partly under my desk to box her in and hide my pulsing cock.

“Come in,” I call out, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

Dainty fingers wrap around my shaft, and I jerk in my seat.

“Fuuuckk,” I whisper as she starts pumping me from base to tip.

“Hey, Coach. Do you have a second?” Costello asks as he pokes his head inside my office.

No. Tell him no. Make him leave so you can do everything you fucking want to the girl who’s testing your patience under the desk.

Unfortunately, I have to say yes. I would rather get this over with than worry about him coming back to my office later.

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