Page 147 of Coach
Slivers of light sneaking through slits in the blinds were the only light in the room.
“You’re going to fuck me right here, on my desk,” Mateo growled as he turned the lock on his door.
“Uh, babe.” My mind warred with my now-pulsing cock. “We’re in your office . . . at school.”
He didn’t hesitate, just yanked his polo over his head and threw it against the far wall.
“And you’re going to fuck the life out of me. Right here. Right now.”
I blinked. Then blinked again.
He bent down and tore off one shoe, then the other, then his socks.
A second later, his pants landedbeside his shirt.
Then his underwear.
I’d barely braced myself against his metal teacher’s desk before the glory that was naked Mateo stood before me. His chest and shoulders shimmered, still slick with sweat from the humid gym. His hair was mussed from all the well-wishes of the boys and parents, and his cock . . . fuck me runnin’ . . . he was already harder than I was. When had that happened?
“You. Naked. Now.”
Time wound backward, and I was in high school again. Mateo was the coach barking orders at me, orders I dared not disobey. No, I’d never been propositioned or molested by a coach or teacher, but the whole naughty school boy fantasy had followed me into adulthood.
And we were about to play it out.
My chest vibrated with excitement.
I wanted this man so badly.
He reached out and unbuttoned my top button. Then the next. Then down the line until my shirt hung open, baring skin covered in a dusting of hair. Mateo reached up and ran his fingers through that hair, across my skin. A shiver raced up my spine.
Gently, he pulled my shirt over my shoulders and tossed it aside.
Then he leaned in and licked my right nipple.
So gently.
Barely a graze.
Before be clamped down with his teeth so hard I saw stars.
“Oh, fuck, babe!”
His lips replaced his teeth. Then his tongue swirled and soothed. Then his teeth, gentler this time, nibbled and released, nibbled and released.
“I’ve never been sensitive there until . . . oh . . . damn . . .”
His hands found my belt, undid the buckle, and slid it out.
Then my pants were around my ankles, dick flopping freely. His hand was on it before it could slap my stomach, stroking and teasing, swirling leakage across the tip where every sensation ever felt lived.
I tried not to twitch, to shiver again, but he rubbed me in the perfect way, sending waves of pleasure with each flick of his thumb.
Still, he kissed me, deep and full, his tongue marrying with my own until I could barely tell where he ended and I began.
He gripped my waist with his hands and moved me around so his back was to his desk, his butt leaned against the metallic edge. While we kissed, one of his hands slid down, opened a drawer, and retrieved a small bottle.
I pulled back and looked down. “You keep lube inyour office?”
