Page 129 of The Coach

His cock nudges against me, still so fucking hard.

"Think you can take me again?"

I nod, whimpering.

He grins, dark and devilish.

“Then ride me, baby.”

His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing my swollen lips, teasing, claiming. His other hand grips my waist, steadying me, owning me.

After kissing me, he whispers against my mouth. “Now turn around and watch yourself in the window reflection. I want you to see how fucking sexy you look when you do.”

A thrill shoots down my spine.

I turn, facing the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, my breath catching at the sight of the city stretched out before us. But it’s not the skyline that holds my gaze.

It’s us.

Jackson is sprawled out on the couch, looking like a fucking king, cock thick and waiting for me.

And me? I’m bare, flushed, panting, every curve of my body glowing in the dim light.

His hands slide down my waist, gripping my hips, his fingers curling possessively into my skin.

“See how gorgeous you are?”

I shiver.

I lower myself slowly, sinking down onto him, inch by inch, my breath shattering as he stretches me open again, filling me to the brim, pushing deep, deep, deeper.

Jackson groans, his head tipping back against the couch.

“Jesus, baby. Look at you.”

I whimper, my thighs shaking, pulsing, burning.

His grip tightens.

“You see how fucking perfect you look like this? Taking me so deep? Taking me so well? Like my princess. Oh…yes.”

I nod, my lips parting in a silent moan.

“Say it. Tell me how hot you look.”

I swallow hard, my pulse slamming. “I—oh my god—I look so fucking hot.”

His low laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Damn right you do. That’s my girl. Now ride me.”

I move.

At first, it’s slow and teasing, rolling my hips in lazy circles, savoring the way he fills me, the way his cock presses against every aching, desperate place inside me.

Jackson’s hands grip my ass, spreading me, guiding me.

“Just like that, baby. Fucking hell.”

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