Page 52 of Sexting the Coach
When I wake up, Weston’s cock is pressing against my ass. We’re spooning, not a breath of space between us at any point from shoulder to calf. His bicep is firm under my head, like a pillow, and his other hand grazes up and down the side of my body, from my hip to the tip of my shoulder, back down again.
I expected to be hungover when I woke up. To emerge into a painful, pounding headache. Instead, the only thing I can feel—the only thing I can pay attention to—is the throbbing between my legs, the heat pooling in my stomach, the urge to get Weston as close as physically possible.
My mind feels a little loose, thoughts a little difficult to catch, but I get the feeling that I said more than I wanted to last night. I can’t think about it right now.
When I move, pressing my hips against him, he hisses between his teeth and stops with the gentle, grazing movements, instead sliding his hand up and under the t-shirt I’m wearing—hist-shirt—to cup one of my breasts. I gasp, and he drops his mouth to my neck, hot and needy as he kisses along the sensitive skin there, biting gently.
“Weston,” I whisper, because I’m not in control of my body right now. The want floods over me, making my skin hot and feverish. My hips press back into him, my ass flush against his lap, and he moans against my skin.
His hands leaves my breast and travels down, his finger marking a path down from my chest, over my stomach, and to the waistband of my shorts.Hisshorts. Of course, I’m completely dressed in Weston Wolfe’s clothes. Drowning in his scent.
Before he can do anything else—before he can come to his senses and stop this—I reach down and grab the waistband of the too-big bottoms, pulling them down and kicking them off my feet. Weston breaths hard, sliding his hand around to the front of me, his long, strong arm like a seatbelt over my body. It seems impossible, but I get even closer to him as he slides his hand between my legs.
I’m not going to let this be another one-sided venture. Grasping, I reach back the best I can and catch the band of his boxers with one hand, trying to tug them down.
I want his cock. I’ve waited long enough.
Getting the message, he pulls his hand away from me just long enough to shirk the boxers, then returns, and I gasp at the feeling of his cock against my ass, hard and hot, ready for me.
His hand returns to the slick between my legs, and I reach back to wrap my hand around his cock, full-body shuddering at the sound that comes from the bottom of his throat when I pump once, twice?—
Weston growls, sliding his hand down the inside of my thigh and hiking my leg up so my knee is nearly on top of his, the tip of his cock notching just inside my entrance. Everything is moving fast, at a feverish pitch, and I let myself get swept away in it.
Gasping and breathing hard, little black dots swim in my vision when he shifts his arm under my head, positioning me how he wants. His hand flattens over my chest, anchoring me to him.
“Fuck, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he rasps, his voice ragged with need, but firm. My entire body ispulsing. I’ve never felt like this before—he could ask me foranythingand I would go along with it, as long as it meant getting his skin on mine, his cock inside me.
“I think I do, actually,” I whisper, closing my eyes, all my attention narrowing on the spot where his cock presses against me, insistent. I haven’t even gotten to see it yet. But that will have to wait until after this, after my body gets what it’s begging for. “If you remember, I’m the one who texted you.”
He laughs against my ear, and the hot breath just makes my heart skip faster. Desperate to make this happen, I grind backwards against him.
“Elsie,” he says, “do you remember what you said to me last night?”
I take a breath, mind running through the memory of the night before, coming up with nothing. I hardly remember coming home, let alone saying anything to him.
But then it comes back to me—I told him that I was sorry for falling asleep last time. He thought the reason I saidoh Godwas because I regretted what happened between us, and not because I felt like I hadn’t given as much as I got.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Weston says, moving his hip steadily, so his cock slides against me, but conveniently—and maddeningly—doesn’t provide relief in the spot I want it. “You never have to worry about reciprocating with me, Elsie. I’ll fuck you over and over with nothing in return if it means I just get to touch you.”
Breath leaves me all at once, and I arch back against him. Why is the sound of that so fucking hot? How can his words be turning me on even more than him touching me.
“Okay,” I breathe, shifting my hips, catching the tip of his cock in my entrance so he hisses between his teeth. “Prove it.”
Weston shifts again, turning me so my face presses into the pillow, and he’s bracing himself over me, his leg hiked up overmine. When he slides inside me, I’m so wet and so ready that he’s seated inside me fully on the first thrust.
“Fucking Christ,” he mutters, reaching up and pulling my hair away from my neck. “You’re so fucking tight for me.”
I moan into the pillow. I can’t come up with a coherent thought, not when he pulls his cock out and slides back into me. Not when my hips are pinned against the bed, not when his fingers are tangled in my hair and his other hand loosely palms my breast between me and the mattress.
Everything is hot, my skin damp against his, my breath fast and timed to the thrusts of his hips. Weston paces himself, going slow and even for so long I let out a desperate, wanting cry into the pillow.
“What is it?” he says, amused and breathless. “What’s wrong.”
“Faster,” I plead, and when I lift my body slightly, he accommodates me so I can slide my hand under myself, find my clit. The second I apply pressure to that spot, I feel my climax speed toward me like that famous dolly zoom in Vertigo. “Harder,” I add as an afterthought, and with that, it’s like Weston releases whatever control he was maintaining.
I feel him adjust above me, and the next time he slams into me, his cock hits deep enough that hemustbe hitting my g-spot. That’s never happened to me before, not during sex with a man.
Of course, Weston is unlocking firsts with me.
