Page 91 of Coach's Temptation

His mouth captures mine, fierce and possessive as my back presses against the old desk. Stacks of paper tumble to the floor as his hips grind against me, his thick erection straining through his jeans, igniting a fiery need deep in my core.

"Fuck, Natalie," he growls against my lips, hands already tugging at my jeans, pushing them down my hips.

My fingers fumble with his belt buckle, desperate to free him, to feel him, to have him inside me again.

He spins me swiftly, chest pressed against my back, his breath hot on my neck. Hunter’s palm slides up beneath my sweater, cupping my breast possessively, his thumb dragging roughly across my peaked nipple.

“I need you,” I gasp, arching back against his muscular frame.

His hand pushes on my spine, bending my over the desk as his breath shudders out, his cock suddenly right there, nudging at my entrance.

"You're fucking mine," he grunts, pushing inside with one powerful thrust that has the desk shifting on the floor beneath me.

He fills me completely, stretching my pussy until I cry out his name, reaching behind just to feel him, feel his warmth, his body, his hands. Anything. I just needhim.

His hips move faster, my moans echoing through the room. The ancient desk creaks and groans, but it's no match for the passion we share with each other. Pleasure coils tight, my vision blurring as Hunter thrusts deeper, harder, driving us both to the edge.

Pleasure shatters through me in a violent rush, my body tightening around him, gripping him hard as I cry out, my nails clawing desperately at the desk beneath us.

“Oh god, Hunter!”

He groans, hips driving forward one final, deep thrust, burying himself fully as his release crashes through him. His powerful body shudders behind me, strong arms wrapping around my waist, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe.

“Fuck,” he rasps against my neck, his breath ragged and hot, heart pounding in perfect sync with mine.

We remain locked together, breathing heavily, bodies trembling from the intensity of our passion. Hunter slowly pulls away, turning me gently to face him. His thumb brushes tenderly across my flushed cheek, eyes darkening with fierce, undeniable affection.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers, the honesty raw and beautiful in his voice.

My heart thuds violently against my ribs, warmth spreading through my chest. I lean forward, capturing his lips in a tender,lingering kiss, pouring every emotion I can't quite speak into this perfect, stolen moment.

Just as we reluctantly break apart, Hunter’s phone buzzes loudly from his pocket, jolting us back to reality.

He sighs, pulling it out, his expression instantly shifting to concern.

“Shit,” he mutters, brow furrowing. “It’s Wes."

I adjust my jeans and raise a brow. "And Wes is?"

Hunter doesn't even look up. "Wes Callahan. Coach of Vegas. He's called five times.”

An uneasy chill whispers down my spine. “Is something wrong?”

Hunter swallows, tension radiating from every line of his body as he dials Wes back.

“Hey,” he says quickly, voice sharp with urgency. “Wes, what’s going—”

He stops abruptly, expression darkening. His gaze meets mine, eyes flashing with shock and fear.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hunter

The morning sunshine filters gently through the bustling luxury of Newbury Street in downtown Boston, reflecting off polished storefront windows and designer boutiques.

Natalie walks beside me, eyes sparkling with excitement, completely oblivious to the chaos swirling inside my head. Her white sundress has a neckline that dips just low enough to give me an eyeful of the good stuff.

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