Page 17 of The Coach

“Yeah, baby?” I watch her through hooded eyes, completely wrecked by the way she looks at me—needy, desperate, lips parted and swollen from my kisses.

She swallows hard, hips arching against me, pressing into my cock as she strokes me harder. “I want that. All of it.”

“Fuck.” My control snaps.

I grip her chin, tilting her face up, devouring her mouth with mine as I slide my hand between her thighs. She gasps into me, and I groan, feeling just how wet she is—so fucking ready for me.

“Then let’s make that happen right now,” I rasp.

I flex in her grip, barely holding on to my restraint.

“That’s it, baby,” I rasp, my hips instinctively rocking into her touch. “You’re fucking killing me.”

She squeezes just a little tighter, dragging her thumb over my tip, smearing the pre-cum leaking there.

I need to be inside her. Need to feel her wrapped around me.

I grin, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. I let my eyes roam over her, taking in the way her chest rises and falls, the way her lips part slightly, like she’s already anticipating my answer. “I want to rip off your dress. And then I want to go down on you until you’re so wet you’re begging me to be inside you. Then, I want to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

Her breath catches, and her mouth opens slightly. “Fuuuck,” she mutters, her voice thick with want. “Yes, please. All of that.”

Without hesitation, her hands fly to the hem of her dress, gripping the fabric with an urgency that sets my blood on fire. In one swift motion, she pulls it up over her head, the emerald fabric slipping from her fingers and tumbling to the floor. For a split second, all I can do is stare.

She’s laying on her bed there in nothing but her lacy black bra and matching panties, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows that dance along the curves of her body. Her skin looks impossibly smooth, her breasts glorious and her legs long and toned. The swell of her hips makes me lose any shred of composure I might’ve had left.

“You’re fucking stunning,” I say, my voice rough. “Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined this?” she teases, though there’s a slight shake to her voice, like my reaction has left her feeling as breathless as I feel.

“More times than I’m willing to admit while we were chatting,” I confess, stepping closer. My hands find her waist, my fingers brushing the bare skin just above her panties, and she shivers under my touch. “But it doesn’t come close to this.”

She exhales shakily as I kiss her again, this time slower, deeper, my hands trailing up her sides, my thumbs brushing the curve of her ribs. Her hands slide to my chest, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, her urgency building again. “This shirt is in my way,” she mutters, her voice low and frustrated.

“Patience, Emerald Girl,” I tease. She makes quick work of the buttons on my shirt, tugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. My undershirt follows, and her hands explore my chest, her touch igniting every nerve in my body.

Her fingers move to the waistband of my pants, but I stop her this time, my hands wrapping around hers. “Not yet,” I say, my voice low as I press a kiss to her wrist. “I want to take my time with you.”

She groans softly, but there’s no protest in her eyes—just desire. I let her go long enough to kick off my pants and socks, stepping out of them until I’m left in just my briefs. Her eyes flick down, and the way she bites her lip as her gaze lingers makes me grin.

“Like what you see?” I ask, stepping closer until my body presses against hers.

“Uhhh yeah,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation. “You stay in shape, Coach.”

“Hey, if you want to pump my ego up, I’ll take it.”

Her gaze drops again, heat simmering in her eyes. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs, sliding them down and kicking them aside. Her breath catches, a soft, helpless sound that makes my pulse thrum. But there’s no protest in her eyes—just desire.

The sparse light in the room washes over her, highlighting every curve, every inch of her that’s driving me out of my mind. She reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra and letting it slip down her arms, revealing herself completely.

The sight steals my breath. Her skin glows in the dim light, her breasts full and perfect, her nipples tight from the cool air. My eyes trail down her body, to the slight curve of her stomach, the dip of her waist, the delicate lace still clinging to her hips.

“Jesus Christ, Ivy.” My voice is hoarse. “You’re unreal.”

She shifts slightly, her thighs pressing together, and I can tell she’s feeling the weight of my gaze. “Say something else,” she whispers, her voice shy but teasing. “You’re making me nervous.”

I kneel beside the bed, running my hands up her legs until I reach her hips, my thumbs hooking into the waistband of her panties. “Don’t be nervous,” I say softly, pressing a kiss to her stomach. “Just get on the bed so we can get this party started.”

Her breath catches, and I feel her relax under my touch. I slide her panties down slowly, savoring every second as I reveal more of her, every inch of her skin making my pulse race. When she’s fully bare before me, I trail my lips up her thigh, stopping just short of where I know she wants me.

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