Page 8 of Stalked By the Coach

My body is thrumming. I'm trembling. And then...

His lips crush mine, devouring, conquering, as his hands grip my waist and pull me against him. I moan into his mouth, drowning in the taste of him, as he groans and presses his hard body into mine.

It's everything I dreamed of and more.

Forbidden.

Wrong.

I don't care.

I cling to him, lost in the searing heat of his kiss, and I know I can never go back from this.

My heart and body belong to him now.

I break away, panting. He grips my arms, holding me in place. His chest heaves against mine.

"Coach," I begin, but he shushes me with a finger on my lips.

"Burke," he corrects me.

My heart does a flip.

"Burke," I try his name on for size. His pupils dilate, and he stifles a curse.

"Fuck, Lydia, hearing you say my name like that..."

My heart is beating out of my chest, but I shake my head.

"We can't," I whisper. "This is wrong."

"I don't care." His eyes blaze. "I want you, Lydia.Here.Now."

A wave of heat floods my core at his words. I ache for him with a desperation that steals my breath. Is this really happening?

All of my protests die on my lips as Burke crushes his mouth to mine again, devouring me with a hunger that matches my own. His hands slide under my shirt, fingers splaying across my back, igniting my skin. I moan, lost in sensation, forgetting everything but this moment.

He lifts me, urging my legs around his waist, and carries me across the field, through the locker room and into his office.

I feel the cool tile against my back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pinning me in place. One hand slides up my thigh, fingers teasing the edge of my shorts.

"Tell me to stop," he rasps, "and I will. But if you want this as much as I do...God help me, Lydia, but I can't fight this any longer. Jacking off to thoughts of you every night only does so much. All it takes is one look at you in the morning and I'm hard as a rock again. Do you know how hard it is for me to focus on coaching when I'm walking around with a permanent hard-on for you in my pants?"

Something about his crude admission drives me wild. I crush my mouth to his, answering without words. He growls low in his throat, hand sliding under my shorts to grip my bare skin. The feel of his rough, callused palm against my flesh sends a jolt of pleasure through me. I rock my hips, urging him on, silently begging for more.

Burke tears his lips from mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. His fingers slide between my legs, finding my center, stroking and teasing until I cry out. The tension coiling within me reaches a breaking point. I come apart in his arms, clinging to him as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me.

"Good girl. That's it, baby. Come for Daddy."

I spasm again. As if our relationship isn't taboo enough, hearing Burke call himself my daddy is so forbidden, so naughty, that I come again.

He muffles my scream with his mouth, kissing me through my orgasm until my cries die down into whimpers.

"Burke," I whisper, but he shakes his head.

"Don't worry about me, baby. Just seeing you fall apart in my arms is enough for now. The first time I take you it's going to be in a bed like you deserve."

A rush of gratitude fills me.

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