Page 79 of Major Penalty

I don’t elaborate; I just glance over at her with a twitch of my lips.

Because if she thinks this ends here and just her panties, she hasn’t learned a damn thing about me yet.

As soon as we hit the marble floor of the lobby, it’s chaos. We took the back door, avoiding paparazzi and press. I spot Coach Brown the second we step inside, moving toward us like a bulldozer, determination written across his face. My pulse quickens, not from fear, but from a sick kind of amusement. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. I’ve been going back and forth between drowning in guilt and finding sick thrill in all of this.

Irene stiffens beside me. I can see the blush creeping up her neck and the way her shoulders tighten. She refuses to meet my eyes, and I can feel the unease simmer in my chest.

Brown walks up to us,

“Black,” he says, nodding. “You two talking about his injury?” He glances at Irene, who’s redder than a tomato.

“Yes,” she says a little too quickly. “About the upcoming scans we need to do.”

Actually, I took your daughter to my beach house and fucked her brains out.

Brown nods before turning back to me.

“How’s the pain?” he asks, nodding at my hip.

“Irene’s already on it,” I answer, my voice low and steady. “She’ll make sure it gets treated properly once we’re back.” I glance at Irene as I say it. She’s burning, knowing exactly what I’m implying. She’s already treating me, just in a different way than her daddy thinks.

“You sure you’re on top of it?” Coach turns his focus on Irene now, and she opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

More like under it. Wrapped around it. Coming on it.

“I’m on it, Coach.” She nods, but she won’t meet his eyes.

Coach.She’s still trying to hide this from me. Did he make her lie? Or was this her idea?

“She’s been brilliant, Coach,” I add, my voice a little too casual, even though everything inside me is anything but. “She really knows what she’s doing.”

Irene nods too quickly. “Just helping with mobility and stretch protocols,” she says, eyes glued to the floor like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.

She’s trying not to meet Coach’s gaze, trying to keep her secrets buried while my heart is bleeding out all over the floor.

Coach seems satisfied with the answers, but I see the way his eyes flicker between us, like he’s trying to piece something together. I almost wish he would.

Some twisted part of me wants to see the moment it hits him.

I want to see him realize it, even as I sit here playing my part in front of him. And this isn’t normal. I’m fully aware of it. The rational part of me, the guilty one that knows how much I messed up, gnaws at me. But the other part is sharp and dark, and I know I won’t let guilt keep me from what’s mine.

I glance at Irene again, noticing how she bites her lip and takes a small step back, clearly trying to hide the way she’s struggling with everything.

“I’m in good hands, Coach,” I assure him once again, more than truthfully. Both figuratively and literally. I still feel them on me, nails digging into my skin as I pounded into her, watching her fall apart on my dick. And now? I’m watching her fall apart in my mind with her father standing in front of us.

“Alright, son. We’re ready to leave soon.” Brown pats me on the shoulder and turns his back on us, completely unaware that his daughter’s panties are in my back pocket.

The guilt is there, swirling in my gut, but it’s like a wave, coming and going. One moment, it’s crashing over me, drowning me in regret for what I’m doing. The fact that I’m here with her, this girl, the daughter of the man who saved my life, and I’ve had her like no one else has.

I should stop. I should step back, rip myself away from her, and try to find a way to make up for it all. But I can’t. I don’t want to. I’ve never been this consumed by someone, never let anyone have this much of a hold over me.

I don’t say anything; I just turn to her. Irene’s beet red and still avoiding my eyes. Like she didn’t squirm and moan under my mouth while hiding the fact that her last name is the same one stitched into the jacket of the man standing ten feet in front of us.

He’s turned away, talking to a few rookies, completely unaware of what’s happening between us.

And she’s still hiding it, still pretending that Brown is just a colleague. So, I give her something to think about.

I lean down, lips brushing her ear while I slowly slide my hand up her thigh and under her dress.

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