Page 30 of Not My Coach

She screams into the pillow as her body quivers and shakes on my cock. The sensations and vibrations of her body send me into my own spiral of fucking pleasure, and I pull out, coming all over her swollen, reddened ass.

“Fuuuck,” I ground out, fighting to keep my groans down.

She keeps her head buried in the pillow as her back rises and falls rapidly from coming so hard.

Grabbing my clean gym towel from my desk, I wipe her off before crouching down and placing gentle kisses all over her backside.

Standing up, I untie her wrists, and she straightens up next to me, meeting me with a bashful smile.

“Are you okay?” I ask her genuinely.

I know I like to be rough with her, but I never want to hurt her.

“Better than okay now.” She purses her lips together.

Lifting her chin up, I kiss her right cheek, then her left, then her nose.

“Good.”

I know I need to tell her to leave, that we already crossed way too many lines tonight.

But I can’t bring myself to form those words.

She rubs her butt cheek, and I ask her, “Does it sting?”

She nods, and I reach around and knead her soreness with my hand, massaging it gently.

“Maybe you’ll remember that next time you want to be a brat.”

A menacing gleam flashes in her eyes. “Maybe I like being a brat.”

“I know you do,” I say, walking over to gather her clothes.

Guilt rakes down my chest. The first time we had sex, neither of us knew who we were, so fucking her was innocent. But this time? This time, I took her on my desk when I knew she was one of my player’s sisters. That is unforgivable.

I’m the head coach. I can’t let my emotions decide my actions. But I can’t help myself around her. She’s quickly becoming my goddamn weakness in this world.

“This can’t happen again, Evie. You know that too.”

I hand over her clothes, and she quickly gets dressed.

“Yes, Coach Carrington,” she snarks.

My dick twitches, and I want to take her again, make her come until she can’t take it anymore and then make her give me one more. But at least this time, it’s my brain that overrides my emotions and has me acting rationally.

We remain in silence as I pull my boxers and trousers up, and I grab a fresh white shirt from my closet, buttoning it up hastily.

Once she’s dressed, she takes a sticky note and pen from my desk and starts writing on it.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, confused.

She holds the pad out to me with a straight face before smiling up at me. “When you change your mind, this is how you’ll get ahold of me.”

I chuckle, and my heart skips a beat as I take the sticky note from her. “You think I’ll just give in and call you?”

She smirks. “Sooner or later, yes.”

She grabs the two bags of Nighthawks merch she dropped behind my desk when she got in here and walks over to the door, my eyes tracking her every step of the way.

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