Page 42 of Dirty Pucking Player

“Don’t look so shocked, Coach.” He shifts his hand to rub his fingers along my wet slit. “You know it’s true.”

It is.

As much as I’d love to brag that I’m immune to Bash Fury’s charms, ever since he walked into my office in nothing but that towel, my imagination has run wild. Even though I was pissed at him. Even though I wanted him gone. I also wanted to see what was beneath that soft, fluffy fabric.

The man just oozes the kind of energy that says he will give you the dirtiest and most satisfying sex of your life.

And God, could I use that right now.

He slips a finger under the fabric of my thong and drags it through the wetness there. I groan and shift against him, urging him to slide inside me and tightening my grip on his shoulders. Instead, he pulls it away, and I jerk my head up and watch him.

“You’re not coming on my hand, Coach.” He pushes down his sweatpants slowly, taunting me with the leisurely exposure of his smooth, hard skin until his huge cock springs free between his muscled thighs.

Good God.

He wraps his hand around the base of the shaft and strokes slowly. “I want you coming in my mouth and then on my cock.”

Sweet Lord above.

I could come just from the words tumbling from this man’s mouth, but after seeing what he’s packing, I can’t even bring myself to look him in the eye. I can’t drag my focus off his cock.

He releases his dick long enough to tug his shirt up and off and kick off his pants.

Bash Fury…in all his natural glory.

Hard, rippling muscles. Blazes of vibrant ink across his legs, chest, and ribs. I want to explore those, learn all their curves and lines. Trace every word with my tongue. My mouth waters just thinking about it. I lick my lips and shift against the window.

He steps forward and grasps the hem of my shirt. Fingertips play at my belly, making me suck in a sharp breath. He grins and pulls it over my head, then unhooks my bra and lazily drags the straps down my arms in the same torturous way he did my pants.

Goose bumps pebble in the wake of his touch, and he leans down and presses a slow, languid kiss to my lips as he lets my bra fall to the floor. His fingers brush along the sensitive skin just above my thong, then he slips them in and pulls it down my legs and off.

Naked with Bash Fury.

I’m NAKED with Bash Fury.

But instead of bringing me to the bed, he drops to the floor.

“Bash, what are you—”

His hot breath flutters over my wet pussy, and I squirm, knowing he’s assessing every exposed inch of my body. One of his large hands flattens across my stomach, and the other slides under my ass and squeezes before he drags it over his shoulder.

“Every bite of food I took tonight, I thought about what you would taste like.” He leans forward and drags his tongue through my wetness.

“Oh, God!” I rock forward, angling myself open to give him better access.

“Fucking incredible, Coach.” He flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue, sending my hips bucking up. His hand presses me back against the glass and holds me steady while he proceeds to explore every inch between my legs.

And when I say explore…I mean a fucking expedition.

He covers every single centimeter, licking at me with his talented tongue that usually only says things that piss me off and now drives me insane in a completely new way.

Because he doesn’t give me what I really want. What I really need to come.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders. “Please, Bash.”

His eyes lift to meet mine, and he shakes his head, determination filling his heated gaze.

“Come on, Bash”—my words come out breathy and heavy with need—“now you’re just playing dirty.”

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