Page 3 of De Vil

She shivers and jolts as I touch her. Gooseflesh spreads across her body as she gasps. “Just feel the aches go away as I move my hands along your skin.”

We are closing in on territory that is far beyondcoach and player. I should stop what I’m doing and let this girl go. But not today.

My hands knead the toned muscles of Tia’s right leg. She squirms as I move to her calves and feel the tightness in them. “You haven’t been stretching properly. Warming up is vital to keeping your body loose for running.”

“Whatever.” She smarts off to me, and before I stop myself, my hand comes down on her thigh in a harsh slap.

I don’t regret it one bit. Her skin turns red, and she jumps, pulling away from me. “What the fuck?”

“Pipe down, Tia. Get back on your stomach. Your muscles are tight and need to be worked on. The reason they are like this is because you obviously don’t follow instructions.”

“You hit me.” She doesn’t turn and get on her stomach, even though I just instructed her to do it. Little brat.

Pushing her back down onto her stomach, I keep my tone of voice firm, but reassuring. “No. I smacked your thigh to teach you a lesson. One you desperately need.” Gently rubbing the spot I smacked, I feel her relaxing under me. “Tia, I’m not sure how things worked in your high school, but here, what I say is final. If I tell you to stretch five times a day, you do it. Do you understand me?”

We are locked in a staring match for so long, I can see the specks of blue in her eyes. I could easily drown within them, but I must toe the line for now.

“Yes, ma’am.” The words are barely whispered, but I hear them.

“That’s my good girl. Now lie back down and let me get these knots worked out of you.”

Tia does as she’s told and pride swells in me.Fuck.The urge to take care of her and to show her where her place is war within me. For now, though, I choose to take care of her.

Laura’s hands flow along my body, melting my reservations. For once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m being hurt or taken advantage of. It’s almost as if she’s put me in a trance with the way she rubs and digs into my flesh.

My mind, though, isn’t through processing the fact that my coach spanked me. My thigh still tingles, and if I’m honest, so does my pussy. I can’t get over the way she called me “princess.” It almost makes me cry, thinking that I will never be anyone’s princess. Anyone who wants me always leaves.

Ignoring that nagging thought, I give in to the touch of my coach and enjoy the way it feels to be taken care of. My body is relaxed, and I don’t feel the stress of my muscles always hurting.

“Can you do this daily?”

“I could, but someone would have to earn that.” Her tone is teasing but I can’t help but shake the nervous gut feeling there’s more to her words.

“Cool. I’ll ask someone else to massage me then.” I’m stirring the pot, and it’s not a good idea. Coach stops massaging me, and I look back at her.

There’s a look in her eyes that I don’t understand, but I’m worried if I keep pushing, she’ll throw me off the team.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Tia?” Coach’s tone is huskier than her normal speaking voice. Her fists clench and unclench several times as she watches me.

“No.” I’m not sure why it matters to her.

“Good. Keep it that way. You don’t need the distraction.” Laura’s hands move along my back, up toward my neck. I’ll give it to her—she knows how to massage, that’s for sure.

Somehow though, I want her warning to be about possessiveness. That’s the stupidest thing. No one will ever be possessive over me. I almost laugh as she runs those skilled hands along my arms, and my mind wanders off to doing a show tonight.

“Practice starts at seven in the morning. Be there, Tia, or you will be going through more than just warmups.”

Her heat leaves me, and a chill runs down my body as the door closes. She’s left me in a terrible state. My pussy throbs and I don’t know why. I’m conflicted because I’ve never been turned on by anyone, really. Sure, there are aspects I like and enjoy when I’m on the phone with a man, but there’s something about Coach. God, I’m so damn confused.

* * *

My phone buzzes as I drive. It’s not safe to text and drive but only a few people know this number. I ponder on whether to pick up my phone. It doesn’t buzz again so I keep driving.

As I come to a red light, I stop and look at the text.

Jazz:Hey, where are you?

Me:Driving back to the apartment.

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