Page 126 of The Coach

Lets me feel it.

Feel all of him, heavy and thick inside me, before he pulls back again.

I let out a frustrated, choked sound.

Jackson just grins.

Then, he gives me everything.

Deep.

So fucking deep.

I cry out, my forehead hitting the glass, my breasts pressing against it, nipples pebbling against the cold surface while my core heats from the inside out.

Jackson growls low in his throat, gripping my hips tighter.

“Jesus Christ, Ivy. You feel like fucking heaven.”

His hand snaps up, gripping my throat, tilting my head to the side so our eyes meet in the reflection.

His jaw? Clenched.

His eyes? Blazing.

And his cock?

Stretching me so perfectly I can feel every single inch.

He pulls back—then slams into me again.

And again.

Fucking me deep. Raw. Like he’s claiming me.

The window rattles with every brutal thrust.

I claw at the glass, my moans turning to desperate, breathless gasps between the sound of his hips slapping against the skin of my ass.

“Yeah, baby? You like that?” His teeth graze my ear, his breath hot. “You like feeling me this fucking deep?”

I nod frantically, legs shaking, body going weak.

He snaps his hips harder.

I scream his name.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans. “Scream for me. Let the whole damn city hear how good I make you feel.”

One of his hands slides down my stomach, between my legs, his fingers finding that spot?—

And when he rubs me just right—just perfectly?—

I explode.

Deep. Shattering.

Like he’s just pressed a button inside me, triggering a tidal wave, dragging me under.

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