Page 27 of The Coach

“Tanner,” he nods and comes to take a seat in front of my desk. I glance at the clock. Fuck. About thirty minutes before practice, the coaching staff meets in my office to go over what we need to work on at practice.

I haven’t been paying attention, obviously, and now Mick is stuck until practice starts. The locker room suddenly becomes loud as the guys filter into it, music starts playing to get them pumped and ready for practice, and Lee and Ed, our director, file into my office, taking various seats.

Mick pinches my leg, and I try not to flinch. My left hand goes under the desk, reaches for her, and comes to rest on her jaw like it had been right before I kissed her again. She bites my thumb, and I hide a grin.

She was going to pay for that.

Our athletic trainer drops in to ask for a list of whom to work on before practice, and Lee hands it over. Once she’s gone, the meeting begins.

I let the other three talk most, sitting back and trying like hell to pay attention to what’s being said, but under my desk, a hand is rubbing up and down the back of my calf in a loving gesture.

It’s sweet, but it’s making me rock hard, and there’s not much I can do to tell her to stop.

Her hand slips beneath the fabric of my athletic pants, and the skin-on-skin contact, just on my fucking calf, has me dying to yank her out, bend of over my desk, and spank the shit out of her before I thrust into her.

Hmm, maybe there was a way to—

“No,” Kevin barks, unnecessarily, yanking me back to the meeting. “We don’t need Bedford on that line. We need Thatcher.”

They argue over whatever he was talking about, and I catch up, putting in my two cents, and redirecting the meeting so Kevin will stop barking orders. Ed gives me an appreciative nod, and I notice Jeff had entered my office. When did he do that?

I scoot closer to the desk, and it’s the wrong—or right—move, depending on how you’re looking at it.

Mick moves under the desk silently, and her hands grasp at my thighs, squeezing and rubbing, and I’m about to reach down and give her hair a tug when her hand rubs over me through my pants.

I let out a slow breath and grab a pen off of my desk. I clench it tightly, focusing on the pain of the pen digging into my palm.

This woman…

The coaches continue to talk, asking for my opinion here and there, probably wondering why I’m not taking the lead in this conversation like I normally would, but I just keep a wooden smile on my face and nod, allowing them to keep going.

A hand finds its way to my waistband, and she pulls me out of my shorts. I adjust in my seat, keeping my eyes pinned on the handle of my office door so I don’t look anyone in the eyes as Mick rubs my length up and down.

I’m grasping for breath when she pulls me into her mouth, her tongue hot and slick against me, and fuck, her hand holds me at the base, moving in sync with her mouth and making me wish I could reach down, pull her up onto my lap, and thrust myself inside of her.

Hell, this woman was going to fucking kill me.

I couldn’t wait to die this way.

Her mouth doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop until she feels me tense, about to come, and right then, the coaches wrap up the meeting. She slows down, sensing their departure, and when the door slams shut, and the only way to see into my office is through the slits of the blinds on the one window, I lean back, and she takes me deeper.

I groan loudly, and reach down, tangling my fingers in her hair and tugging hard. She continues until I’ve come, and she swallows every last drop, tucking me away neatly and then smiling up at me from beneath the desk.

“I don’t know whether you’re the devil or a saint,” I rasp, my fingers still cradling her head, now caressing her hair instead of tugging on the beautiful strands.

“Saint,” she quips, “definitely a saint.”

I drop my head back on my chair, still catching my breath. “Fuck.”

She stays on the ground but repositions herself so she’s leaning against the desk. I want to pull her up to me, to kiss the fuck out of her, but if someone barges in again, I could risk it all.

She’s worth the risk.

Yes, for me, she was worth the risk. But I wouldn’t jeopardize her college career for my neanderthal need to claim her or to hurt her by informing her brother what we were doing.

It was best to keep it quiet.

Just until May.

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