Page 8 of Her Nebraska Touchdown Daddy

My words turn her eyes into saucers.

‘Wh-What kind of consequences, Coach McCree? I mean, Deke. Sir?” There she goes again with that ‘Sir’ label. It ignites me nearly as much as I’ll feel when I finally get her to call me Daddy.

“We’ll discuss what those consequences would look like when I see you next. Along with some more rules I’ll have for you. Okay?”

“When, um, when do you think that will be, Sir?” Tiny white teeth pull her lower lip into her mouth to nibble nervously, and blood thumps through me, triumphant that she wants to see me again, soon.

“I have practice with the team this afternoon, then a coaching staff meeting over the dinner hour, followed by coffee with some boosters later this evening. So I won’t be able to see you tonight. Sadly, tomorrow looks to be just as busy, but I will definitely see you on Wednesday. Come by the football office once you’re done with soccer practice. But I expect you to discuss those injurieswith Coach Vanderman, and take it easy until they’re healed up a bit. Do I make myself clear, little girl?”

Windy seems to be finally accepting that I intend to spend my time with her, and that I’ll definitely be seeing her on an ongoing basis. Her head nods so eagerly the thick braid of her long brown hair flops over her shoulder to drape midway to her stomach. One day it’ll be my job, my privilege, to brush out all the mink-soft strands and French braid it for her.

Once I claim her, every aspect of caring for her will be my duty and my right. Envisioning it is enough to have arousal firing my blood, even as logic reminds me to take it slow. Windy’s so young I’m betting she has no idea what ageplay is, or what it will mean to be my Little girl. My instincts insist she’s meant to be mine.

I pay for our meal and take Windy by the hand, walking slowly to my SUV because I know her knees are probably hurting. Heads turn as I drive back to campus with her in the passenger seat. Now that the day is fully underway, there are people wandering around the commons area and trekking from building to building. A momentary pang of awareness unsettles me. Gossip will spread the news that the head football coach is spending time with a student.

It’s unavoidable, but I don’t like being at the center of the rumor mill. Several years ago, when I was new to my position as the head coach here, I dated an adjunct professor from the psych department after meeting her at the only BDSM club in town. She’d been playing in the nursery, so naturally I anticipated that she was a Little. It wasn’t until we’d been exclusively scening together and dating for three months that she admitted she’d fraudulently joined the club in hopes of researching the psychology of kinks and actually thought ageplay was unhealthy.

Aside from the sheer betrayal I’d felt at having been duped, her attempt to smear me by divulging intimate details about meto others when we broke up was humiliating. Fortunately for me, the university terminated her contract. Last I heard, she’s on a sabbatical somewhere in Europe working on her doctoral thesis. Good riddance. She didn’t break my heart, thank goodness, but she did leave me apprehensive about women.

My job as the head football coach keeps me in the public eye too much to expect much privacy while I claim Windy. In a perfect world, I’d have enough anonymity to court her privately, with time to get to know her before the world presses in on us. If nothing else, it would be fantastic if we weren’t both in the middle of our respective seasons, so our obligations didn’t interfere with spending time together. Then again, if wishes were fishes, we’d be swimming in riches.

My nana’s favorite rhyming wisdom rings truer now than it ever has, watching dozens of eyes bug out as I lead Windy into her dorm. Can’t be helped. There’s zero chance I’ll risk a future with Windy slipping by me while I wait for the timing to be right.

CHAPTER 10

Windy

Coach McCree madesure I had everything I needed to study and attend my online classes close to my bed before he tucked me into it and left to get to work. I’m super glad he took the time to get me all situated, because my knees hurt so badly I haven’t moved from my bed all day. My bladder is currently protesting that hard reality right now, and if there was ever a time I wished diapers were a socially acceptable product for grown-ups, that time is now.

I’m wrapping my head around moving from my comfy bed and hobbling to my en suite bathroom when the door of my dorm flies open and a furious Coach McCree is glaring at me. He’s so big he blocks out nearly all the light from the hallway outside my room, so I have no chance to see what’s got him so angry.

His chest lifts and drops as though he’s been running for miles and the way his lip is snarled up gives him a look like he’s ready to vanquish monsters. Shivers run through me when hisferocious eyes land on me. I’m not scared of him. I know Coach McCree would never hurt me. Still, he looks very scary.

“You’re okay!” His voice rasps like it’s being torn from the depths of his belly and it’s so intense I throw my blankets off and give myself a visual once-over to double check. The power in his presence has me completely discombobulated to the point that I don’t know whether he’s asking or stating that I’m okay. Both, maybe?

“I am? I mean, yes, I am.” I’m too flustered by his thundering stomps toward the bed to even stutter the way I usually do around him.

The way his scowl softens as his eyes sweep over my body sends my pulse soaring. I’m not sure what’s happening, but my nipples are tightening so quickly it’s nearly painful. He notices the way the twin dots poke at my t-shirt. He looms over my bed, his pupils blown wide with anger that's quickly bleeding into lust. I scissor my thighs back and forth, helplessly seeking friction against that special spot between my legs that’s growing hot and achy.

“You haven’t been answering your phone. And I got here to find your door unlocked. Anyone could have come right in here and done whatever they wanted to. Little girl, you are in so much trouble,” he growls. Each word is gritted out like nails hammered into hardwood.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Coa-um-Sir.”

There’s the missing stutter. Go figure.

“I left it unlocked so Taryn could come in later. I didn’t hear my phone, either. I must have been asleep. I’m really sorry.” I don’t like Deke being mad at me, even though my body likes the way he’s towering over me in bed just fine.

Deke’s eyes cast around my dorm room wildly, searching for danger, I guess. He snatches my phone from the table next to mybed and pushes it into my hands before grabbing my bookbag and stuffing my textbooks and laptop inside.

He catches the strap of my gym bag with his foot and drags it close enough to tear the zipper open and stuff it full of the clothes that are still folded on my desk chair. The little laugh lines along the outside of his eyes get tight and anger sparks back into those dark brown irises when he notices the mostly uneaten sandwich from the diner.

“You didn’t eat lunch. Windy, I specifically instructed you to eat. I bet you haven’t hydrated, either. Have you? Naughty, naughty girl.” When he calls me by my government name instead of little lush or babydoll, it makes my heart feel heavy. Is he so mad he’s going to stop spending time with me? But if that’s it, what’s he doing with my bags?

“I didn’t think you were going to see me until Wednesday, Sir?” Maybe if I’d known he was coming over, I would have made some effort to finally, finally see him when I’m not rocking the damsel-in-distress look. I swear, every time he’s around, I’m either accidentally inebriated, drenched in sweat and turf grime, or tumbled and bloody from a fall. It’s no wonder he worried when I didn’t answer the phone. He’s probably convinced I’m utterly hopeless at taking care of myself. Not that I’m doing a great job right now of demonstrating otherwise.

“Got worried when you didn’t answer my call. I blew off coffee with the boosters and came to check on you. Now I get here to see you didn’t eat, haven’t been drinking enough water, and your damn door wasn’t even locked in a dorm building filled with dozens and dozens of young men. Obviously, the discussion of rules cannot wait until Wednesday. You’re coming home with me. Now,” he rumbles. There’s no question or request. His voice may be calm, but his anger shimmers in the air between us.

Good thing I like that idea. A lot. At least the part about going to his place. Yeah, I like that. The rules not so much. I’ve neverbeen a bad girl, so following rules hasn’t been a problem in the past. Something tells me Coach McCree’s rules are going to be a lot different than the ones I’m used to.

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