Page 43 of The Coach

Lifting me, he positions me how he wants me and then slips back in like nothing happened. Holy crap, he’s in some serious shape.

I’m about to pass out from exhaustion already, and he’s going at it like we just got started.

I was going to have to pay him back for this at some point.

My face rests on the mattress, and he keeps moving, nearing his own release, but not before he smacks me hard across the ass.

“Tanner!” I yelp, not expecting him to do that. Then again, I should have.

“What did you call me?”

I freeze when he stops moving, and I roll my eyes into the mattress, a grin tugging at my lips. “I called you Tanner.”

He tsks at me and says, “Naughty, Mick. That’s just asking for it.” He spanks me again, harder this time, and I yelp. “What’s my name, Mick?”

Gah, I can’t help but want to torture him right back. Plus… this is working for me somehow. “Tanner.”

Almost angrily, he pulls my hips back into him again, hitting my G-spot harder and harder with each thrust, to where I’m nearing my third—yes, third—orgasm. I start to gasp, and he stops.

“Say my name, Mick.” He growls into my ear, and I gasp at the tickling sensation. When I don’t reply, he spanks me again in the same spot, making it tender enough that I finally break. “Coach!”

“About fucking time,” he mutters and starts thrusting into me, wringing out my orgasm with record speed, and stills inside of me as he finally comes. “Fuck!”

I feel him give out on top of me, and I let my legs fall to the mattress, sagging there. My arms are so tired now, and I’m grateful when he quickly releases them, rubbing gently at my wrists and laying down, pulling me on top of him.

“You’re an angel,” he says into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

I laugh at him and keep my eyes closed, too tired to do anything but just lay here. “You are… something else.”

He moves until he can see my eyes. “Are you really okay? I know that was kind of intense.”

I melt at the worry and concern on his face. “Well, I’ve definitely never done that before. But it was…hot.” I kind of whisper the last word, and his eyes heat again.

“Yeah, it fucking was. You were perfect.”

“Is that what you need?” I ask, wondering if every encounter from here on out will be like that. I’m not complaining.

“Not all the time,” he assures me, his words hurried, showing me he’s concerned how I’m going to react. “But… I appreciate exploring with you.”

“Just with me, then?” I ask his chest, unable to hold his gaze as I wonder if I’m the only one he wants to do that with. What if this extends beyond just needing to tie me up? What if he needs more than—

“Mick, look at me.” His stern tone turns my head, and his eyes, hot and serious and somehow kind at the same time, drill into mine. “Only you. I swear to you.” He licks his lips and lets out a breath. “Since the moment I met you, it’s been only you.”

I smile at him, and he leans down, brushing his lips against mine in a gentle kiss.

“Now, let’s shower. I have a dinner to cook for you.”

He carries me to the shower, setting my feet on the ground and letting me lean against the counter. My arms are sore, but otherwise I feel good.

When we are in the shower, he massages me. My shoulders, my arms, my wrists, and all the way down to my ankles. When I think he’s going to take it a step further, he gets the soap and cleans me thoroughly before cleaning himself.

He helps me out of the shower and then wraps me in a thick fluffy robe before getting himself dry and back into boxers. Then he deposits me on the couch and tells me to relax.

Flicking on the fire, he runs into the kitchen and quickly returns with a glass of wine.

I smile at him. “You don’t have to cater to me.”

He gets a funny look on his face and leans down. “You’re the only one I’ll ever cater to. I’m taking care of you. Now…” He kisses me quickly, and I nearly melt right into the leather sofa. “Relax.”

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