Page 44 of Not My Coach

My mouth parts as I inhale sharply. Placing both hands on his chest, I murmur, “I’m yours.”

Without warning, I take off for his bedroom, running as fast as I can.

“When I get my hands on you …” He trails off, catching me right before I’m about to jump onto the bed, and he wraps his hands around my waist, hauling me back against him.

Swinging us around, he sits down on the bed, but doesn’t pull me with him. Facing him, I can’t get over how hot he is in casual wear. It’s overstimulating.

“Take your shoes off,” he orders, and I obey immediately, kicking them to the side. “God, you look so fucking good, wearing that. Give me a spin. Show me the name on the back.”

I twirl slowly, and my cheeks flush as I imagine his eyes reading the back, which says, Coach Carrington.

“Fuck,” he growls, and my pussy flutters at the gruffness.

“You like it?” I mumble, watching his eyes outline every inch of my body.

“Wear that jersey every single day. I want everyone to know who you belong to.” He grabs himself through his sweats and says, “Come here.”

I step toward him, and he stands up and switches places with me, pushing me gently onto the bed.

“Should we find out how ready you are for your boyfriend’s cock? Spread those legs for me, baby.” He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up and over his body, and my mouth waters at the sight.

Pushing my legs apart, he climbs between them, dragging his fingers up my inner thighs.

“Glad to see you weren’t wearing any shorts under my jersey. Do you have any sentimental value to these tights?” he asks me, cupping my center.

“No …” I answer, confused as to why he would?—

“Good,” he says as he rips them at the center, tearing them completely apart at the seams.

“Nate!” I scold him, bucking my hips.

His fingers slap my clit, and I yelp as his fingers wrap around my hips.

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs of them, baby,” he says while hooking his finger under my thong and tugging it to the side.

He drops onto his elbows and kisses my left hip, then the right.

“Fuck, you smell good.”

His words push my legs even further apart right before his tongue dips into my wetness.

He said he was going to fuck me until I couldn’t walk.

He makes good on his word.

* * *

My phone rings, and I roll over, slapping at the nightstand and missing it astronomically.

Where the hell am I?

My senses are flooded with Nate, and I remember I’m at his place.

Reaching for my phone, I see Brett is calling me.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice raspy with sleep.

“It’s eight a.m. Why are you still sleeping?” He scoffs. “Wake up. I need to talk to you right now.”

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