Page 158 of The Coach

His jaw clenches.

“Fuck, Ivy,” he groans. “Look at you. So pretty.”

I shudder as I stroke myself, circling my clit.

“God, I wish you were here,” I whisper.

Jackson’s breath comes heavier, his body tense. “I do too, baby. But for now? Let mewatchyou come for me. I want to watch your face get all red as you orgasm.”

And just like that—his voice, his filthy words, the intensity in his gaze—it sends me spiraling.

"I want to see you," I moan. "I want to see your big dick."

Jackson groans, low and rough. “You wanna see how hard you make me, baby?”

“Yes,” I breathe, my thighs squeezing together, desperate for relief.

“Then be a good girl and keep your eyes on the screen.”

I barely have time to process before his phone shifts, the camera angling down.

Oh.Oh my God.

His thick cock is gripped tight in his fist, flushed and glistening, veins running up the length like he was made for this—forme. He strokes himself slow, teasing, dragging his thumb over the leaking tip.

“You see what you do to me, Ivy, baby?” His voice is strained, breath ragged. “I’ve been like this since you sent me that picture. Been thinking about peeling that tiny little thong off your body with my teeth.”

A soft whimper escapes my lips. My free hand glides down my stomach, slipping between my legs, finding myself already soaking wet.

Jackson groans. “That’s it, baby. Show me.”

I tilt the camera, letting him see exactly what I’m doing, how I’m touching myself just for him.

“Damn,” he growls. “You’re so wet. You’re making a goddamn mess, aren’t you?”

I nod, barely able to form words.

“Say it,” he commands, his grip tightening around his cock.

“Yes,” I whimper. “It’s all for you, Jackson. Just you.”

He groans, his strokes getting rougher, faster. “Play with your clit, baby. Nice and slow. Just how you like it.”

I obey, gasping as pleasure shoots through me.

“That’s it. You’re such a good girl for me.” His eyes are locked onto the screen, his jaw tight, his muscles flexing with every movement.

My legs start to shake. “You like that?”

“Yeah, baby. You gonna come for me?”

I nod frantically, my breath catching, my body winding tighter and tighter.

“Then let go,” he rasps. “Come for me, Ivy. Let me hear you.”

I shatter. I drop the phone and my body arches, a strangled moan ripping from my throat as I fall apart, pleasure crashing over me in waves.

Jackson curses, his body tensing.

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