Page 12 of Her Nebraska Touchdown Daddy

“What’s your color now, sweetheart?”

I love all the little nicknames he has for me. Even when he calls me little lush, because it reminds me of my hazy memories the night we met.

“Green, but…” I don’t know how to ask for what I want. Don’t know if I’m allowed to want anything after I’ve been punished.

“But what? You can tell Daddy anything.” He promises.

“But my… my…” I can’t make myself say the word, the high from being spanked colliding with the arousal throbbing between my legs sending my thoughts spinning. I wave a hand over my lap, the explanation failing me. “It aches, Sir.”

Deke’s expression turns wicked. His eyes drop to the folds of my hoodie that have settled over my bare upper thighs.

“Does your wet little pussy need attention? Horny girl, getting turned on when her Daddy spanks her naughty backside.” He means the words to embarrass me, and they do. I feel like a bad girl, desperate for whatever sensations he’ll give me next.

“Please, yes. Please.” I hope he knows what I’m asking for, because the words aren’t wording for me.

Deke lifts me into the air and stands, his muscles flexing even though it seems like no effort at all for him to maneuver me until I’m laid back against the pillows at the head of his bed. He leans over me and takes my mouth with his in a kiss so consuming it’s obvious that despite having spanked me like an errant little girl, there’s nothing childlike in the way he sees me.

“You took your punishment like such a good girl, Windy. Now you can choose a reward. Do you want to come on my fingers or my mouth?”

That’s an impossible choice. Deke’s got hands big enough to make a football look like a child’s toy. His thick fingers would feel amazing splitting me wide and filling me so good. But his mouth… oh man, his mouth. The way he eats at mine sayseverything I need to know about how incredible it would be to have him do the same thing down there.

“Greedy girl. You want both, don’t you? I can read you like a book.”

The words chastise, but the look on his face is all lusty approval. I nod.

“Don’t think you’re always going to get your way, little lush. But for this time, I’m going to give you everything you want.” Deke moves down my body, kissing and licking along the way with such purpose it steals my breath.

I’m so focused on the sensations he’s igniting all over my body I forget to answer him. That’s probably for the best though. Because if I told him everything I want, he’d know I want it all.

CHAPTER 15

Deke

My jobas head coach takes me through the men’s locker room on a near-constant basis. Still, I try to give my players as much privacy and autonomy in here as possible. They’re grown men, and don’t need me hovering or eavesdropping on their conversations. Hearing some discussions is unavoidable though, particularly when I spot a handful of red-shirt freshman huddled together just outside my office.

There are two ways into the head coach’s office. Most of the time visitors come through the door from the main hall, but there’s also a doorway directly into the locker room itself. I think sometimes players forget it’s there. These guys are red shirts though, which means they’re not only the youngest on the team, but also the newest. They may not even realize I can hear every word.

“What are you gonna tell him when he asks if you took it?” one of them whisper-shouts.

“Dunno, man. What should I say?” The second kid sounds a heartbeat away from a panic attack.

“I’d tell him shove that shit up his ass. I’m not getting cut for doping during season,” a third claims.

“You cappin’. You know you ain’t got the balls to tell the whole-ass athletic director shit.” Now the second boy is pissed, and I can hear the scuffle of them shoving at each other.

“Bruh, are you twelve? ‘You cappin’ like it’s junior high and you a tough guy.” The first one mocks the second and the sound of roughhousing gets louder.

That’s not what has my attention though. All the coaches have been hearing gossip about a performance-enhancing drug making the rounds among players. If these boys are to be believed, AD Franklin might be involved. If that’s true, then the problem would reach a critical level.

An athletic director involved in illegal drug use could strip a school of every title it’s had during the AD’s tenure, cost millions and millions of dollars, and lead to a decade or more of suspension from competition. Without athletic programs, an entire institution could crumble.

As casually as I can, I roll my chair closer to the open doorway so I can hear more clearly. The young men finish squabbling and return to brainstorming the problem, none the wiser of my presence.

“What if, like, we talked to Coach about like, a pact or something, where we could voluntarily submit to drug testing so there’s a record that we ain’t using. Then if AD tries to get us to take it…” one of them suggests.

It’s not a bad idea, and in my head I’m already thinking of ways it could work. I could get my team captains to spearhead a campaign that could be adopted by the other teams, too. Unfortunately for the smart-thinking red-shirt freshman who came up with the idea, he doesn’t have enough clout with the team yet to be a leader on such a plan. Doesn’t mean I’m not sneakily craning my head close enough to the doorway to spotwhich young player it is. He may be too young for leadership today, but smart-thinking team players are the ones I want to encourage in my program. I want to make sure I keep my eyes on this trio because they’re all showing integrity and gamesmanship.

With that under-the-radar chaos managed for now, I send a text to the seniors on my roster who actually are team captains as well as to the team physician. Before I bring up the idea of a no-doping pledge program, I need to ensure the players I want leading it are clean. I mean, I expect they are because they’re the guys who have risen to the top of the top amongst their teammates, but it’s best to be sure.

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