Page 58 of Dirty Pucking Player

Greer has spent too much of her life fighting—against expectations, against limitations, against everyone wanting her to fail. And even though she’s given in to this thing between us, she’s still holding back. Still wound too tightly.

If she keeps living like this, she’s going to break in a way that she won’t be able to put herself back together again.

Lila moves from the lap dance up onto the small stage in front of us with a sultry grin, and I shift my hand to slide it into the thin fabric of Greer’s leggings and down between her thighs.

“Open up for me, Coach.” Instead of following my command, she clamps her legs around my hand, trying to stop the intrusion, and I chuckle against her ear. “Don’t be embarrassed, Greer. Lila doesn’t care that I’m touching you. I bet she likes watching…”

I nip at her ear, and it has the desired effect. She gasps and opens her legs for me on a little needy moan and digs her fingernails into my forearm sticking out from her pants.

Lila wraps herself around the pole, dangling in my peripheral vision. Greer’s gaze stays locked on her but mine is focused solely on the woman who is my fantasy come to life.

I slip my fingers beneath her thong.

Fuck.

Just as I suspected…wet and ready. My cock twitches in my jeans, straining against the restrictive fabric.

Christ, I wish I were inside her right now.

If we were anywhere but here, I would be.

I slide my middle finger through Greer’s arousal. She groans and arches into my hand. Lila peers over at us with a grin as she continues to dance. I glide up and around Greer’s clit, applying light pressure, just enough to leave her needing more. She mewls and rocks against my palm while she watches Lila wrap herself around the pole like she’s fucking it the way Greer is trying to my hand.

The sexy bass-heavy music pumping around us sets my pace, and I work Greer up, slowly and methodically, until she’s practically vibrating in my arms. Slipping a finger in. Dragging it out. Glancing over her clit. Probing and retreating. All of it designed to bring her to the brink of insanity.

She fidgets on the leather seat, trying to direct me to where she wants me to get the friction she needs. I tighten my hand on her hip to keep her from shifting and slip two fingers inside her. She moans, and her eyes roll back. Her cunt tightens around my fingers, and I adjust my hand to roll her clit with my thumb while I thrust into her.

Her hips buck and move in time with the music and my hand while Lila gyrates on the stage, her breasts swaying and her ass gleaming in the overhead lighting.

There’s no denying that Lila is a beautiful woman, but she’s nowhere near as beautiful as Greer is right now on the cusp of coming undone in my hands. I press my lips to her neck and kiss my way up to that spot behind her ear. I lick and suck there then pull her earlobe between my teeth.

She whimpers and shakes. “I’m gonna come.”

“Good. Come for me, Coach. I want to feel your cunt strangling my fingers.”

It only takes a few more seconds before she explodes, squeezing around them so tightly that it feels like she might break them while she bucks against my hand.

“Oh, God…Bash!”

My name falling from her lips on the wave of her orgasm almost has me blowing my load in my pants. Only years of practiced restraint keeps me from doing just that.

Who would have thought the woman who hated me so much only a few weeks ago would let me finger-fuck her in a strip club?

Or that it would matter to me so damn much that she’s happy?

Because it does.

More than I ever thought possible.

Greer Waterson has ruined my ability to remain ambivalent. She’s stripped away the things I thought I had established. The rules I’ve followed about keeping people at arm’s length.

Now, I crave having her close. I long for her when she’s away. I despise having to pretend there’s nothing but animosity between us when we’re with the team and in public. It precisely the kind of thing I’ve avoided my entire life. The kind of emotions that ultimately lead to all sorts of heartbreak.

This was never meant to be anything more than a release of tension, a way to allow us to continue to work together without tearing out each other’s throats. A way to make our professional relationship easier. But it’s become so much more than that so fucking fast.

The brilliant blond coming on my hand brings out so many conflicting emotions.

Anger. Lust. Fear. Desire.

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