Page 131 of The Coach

“Good girl. You take me so fucking well. Squeezing my cock like you never want me to stop.”

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

I can only feel.

My orgasm is building again, rising fast, spiraling out of control.

Jackson knows it. He can feel it.

His fingers slide down between us, finding my clit, stroking it, working it, pushing me toward the edge.

“Come for me again, baby. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you lose it.”

I scream, my body snapping, the pleasure exploding, flooding through me, consuming me whole.

Jackson groans, pulling out of me suddenly, grabbing me by the waist, and flipping me over onto my stomach.

His hand slides into my hair, tugging my head back.

“On your hands and knees, baby.”

I obey instantly, my body still trembling, still dripping wet, still desperate for more.

Jackson positions himself behind me, one hand gripping my hip, the other sliding over my ass.

“Goddamn, Ivy. Look at you. Bent over for me like my perfect little slut.”

I whimper, my pulse hammering, my core clenching at his filthy words.

His cock drags through my soaked folds, teasing, torturing.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

I push back against him, begging without words.

But he doesn’t move.

He just grips my hips harder, tighter.

“Use your words, baby. I want to hear you say it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my face burning.

I’ve never begged for a man in my life.

But I’ve also never needed one this badly.

“Jackson, please, fuck me.”

His growl is pure sin.

I cry out, back arching, body stretching around him as he buries himself deep inside.

“Fuuuck,” he groans. He grips my hips, holding me still, letting me feel every thick, hard inch of him inside me.

“So fucking tight. So goddamn wet. You feel even better than I remember.”

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