Page 124 of The Coach

“You liked it,” I mutter.

“Damn right I did. You’re fucking gorgeous, and I love how dirty you are. It’s like you were made for me. You see how wrecked you are? How bad you need me?”

“I need you so bad,” I somehow manage to answer.

I can barely think.

“Do you see how bad I need you?”

He teases me, rubbing his tip over my entrance.

I whimper, my nails tapping into the glass. “Wait, baby. Something’s not right,” I say.

Jackson drags his cock slowly along my soaked entrance, his thick head teasing me, pressing inside just an inch?—

Then pulling back. “What?”

A hot, wicked tease.

“I’m naked, and you’re still dressed.”

Jackson’s gaze darkens, his lips curving into that slow, devastating smirk that makes my knees weak.

"Yeah?" His voice is a low, husky rasp, teasing, knowing. "You wanna fix that, baby?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry as he reaches for the first button of his shirt.

And then—he takes his time.

He pops open one button. Then another.

Every movement is deliberate. Predatory. His abs flex, the carved lines of muscle revealed inch by inch as he shrugs out of his shirt and lets it fall to the floor in a careless heap.

I swear I stop breathing.

His eyes stay locked on mine the entire time, like he’s daring me to look away. Like he wants me to feel every single second of this.

He undoes his belt next, the clink of the buckle sending a fresh pulse of heat straight between my thighs.

I watch, utterly transfixed, as he takes off his shoes and socks, then unzips his pants, pushing them down in one smooth motion, his briefs straining against the hard, thick evidence of his need for me.

God, I’m so gone.

His fingers hook into the waistband, and my breath catches as he finally shoves them down, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip.

“Better?” He grins.

“Much better.”

I lick my lips, heat pooling low in my belly, my thighs pressing together at the sheer devastation of this man standing before me.

Jackson steps closer, his big hands framing my waist, his warmth wrapping around me.

And then—he kisses me.

Soft. Slow. Like he has all the time in the world.

Like he’s revering me. Like he’s claiming me.

---