Page 49 of Whistle

“Coach.”

“Emmett,” he countered.

“Em,” I settled on. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, more.”

A hint of hesitation tinged the air, and I panicked. Grabbing his prickly jaw, I squeezed. “I need you.”

His growl reverberated through his office, and my back hit his desk. Pens, papers, and God knew what else stabbed into my back and shoulders, but I barely noticed because of the way his eyes blazed with want.

No one had ever looked at me this way. As if I were the only thing to exist.

He tried to pull back, but I kept my thighs locked around his waist. Amusement flashed in his stare, and he rose enough to plant his palms on either side of my body and looked down.

Lust flared in his eyes as he swept that hot gaze over my naked skin, and then he was on me again, kissing me senseless, dragging his scruff over my jaw, and kissing down my neck. I arched up, offering every inch, and he licked and nipped before sucking the soft spot where my neck met my shoulder deep into his mouth. Pain spiked and then bloomed into this warm rush, and I sagged, boneless, across his desk.

I mewled and panted while he availed himself of my flesh, sucking until I knew there would be a stamp of ownership and something that would ache the rest of the day.

My dick throbbed between us, almost to the point of pain. I wanted to demand release, to rub against him until I exploded, but I couldn’t. My body was too languid, his presence far too domineering.

All I could do was find him with my eyes and plead.

His palm flattened on my shoulder, pinning me to the desk. I wanted to tell him it was unnecessary; I was already putty in his hands.

But then he swallowed my dick.

A strangled cry flew from my lips, and my shoulders shot up off the wood. He pushed me back down and held me there while he drew my dick so deep into his warm, wet mouth that my weeping tip hit the back of his throat. I expected him to gag, but he swallowed instead, sucking me that much deeper into the tight fit of his body.

My eyes crossed, and I think I might have prayed. No one had ever sucked me so deep, been so enthusiastic about swallowing me whole.

He held me there for long moments, strangling my cock with so much pleasure I started to shake. Right before I literally dumped down his throat, he pulled back, sucking up my shaft like I was candy and he loved sugar. His lips locked around the base of my head, and I moaned. The vacuum seal he created made my hips bow toward his mouth.

Releasing me, he wrapped his fist around my length and held tight while pushing the tip of his tongue into my slit. I shouted, legs wrapping around his head, and he did it again.

Lightning shot down my spine, lighting me up so forcefully that bright spots swam in my vision. My whole body went taut, and the warm sleeve of his mouth slid over me again.

I burst, my dick pulsing and jerking against his tongue as pleasure poured out of me and down his throat. Every time he swallowed, another jolt of pleasure would electrify me until I was weak and empty and his saliva pooled at the base of my cock.

Spent, I lay back against the desk, chest heaving. He gave me one last suck before swiping the whole of his tongue over my tip and pulling away.

I caught the sleeve of his windbreaker, fingertips keeping him from going far. I barely had the strength to cling, but desperation made it possible.

Shifting, he stared down at me, eyes molten and heavy. His thumb swiped over his lower lip, and he sucked it into his mouth. I stared at him, unable to look anywhere else.

“Just as I imagined. So beautiful it hurts.”

I swallowed. “You imagined me?”

His eyes shuttered, and it felt like someone slammed a door in my face. Panicked, I scrambled up, worried he was already pulling away.

My limbs were still unsteady, and my palm slid on a stack of papers. I fell back, but he caught me, winding an arm under my body and pulling me into his chest. “Easy, sweetheart.”

My stomach somersaulted.

“Stay for another minute,” I begged, not caring if I sounded needy and weak. I wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. I wasn’t ready to let go. “Please.”

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