Page 21 of The Coach

For a little while, we just lay there on our sides, his warmth sinking into me, the quiet hum of the TV filling the room. But then, I shift. Just a tiny movement. Just enough to feel him against my backside.

And I don’t miss how he exhales sharply.

A slow grin spreads across my lips.

Oh.

I do it again, wiggling slightly, pretending to get comfortable, pressing against him through his briefs.

“Careful, baby.”

I turn my head, all innocent eyes. “What?”

Jackson’s hand on my hip tightens. His breath is hot against my ear. “You know what.”

I hum, rocking my hips back just a little more, feeling him grow harder. I reach behind me, and skim my hand along his length.

His groan is low, reverberating against my spine.

"Fuck," he mutters. Then his hands slide under my oversized shirt, finding my breasts, teasing my nipples until I gasp.

“You wanna tease me?” His voice is thick, heavy with need. “You wanna act like a little brat?”

I shiver. “Maybe…”

He smirks against my neck, fingers rolling my nipples before slipping lower, past my stomach, pushing beneath the waistband of my sweatpants.

"Maybe?" He chuckles, dark and amused. “Baby, I can feel how wet you are already.”

My breath stutters.

Without another word, he grips my sweatpants and yanks them down in one swift motion.

A startled gasp leaves my lips as cool air hits my bare skin.

“Shh, baby,” he rasps, his mouth hot against my ear, one big hand sliding under me and the other on the top of my hip. He flips me onto my stomach, positioning me exactly how he wants.

I whimper, my pulse skyrocketing as he grips my ass, spreading me open.

“You started this, Ivy.” Jackson teases my entrance with his fingers.

“Yes, I did,” I whisper, my voice laced with anticipation and need. “Guilty.”

His chuckle is low, dark. Dangerous.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you fall asleep without one more?” His voice feels rough and full of promise.

I shiver as he messily kicks off his briefs, his body heat wrapping around me. He reaches for the hem of my oversized shirt, slipping it over my head, leaving me completely bare beneath him.

His palms glide down my back, slow and possessive, before pressing me firmly into the couch, stomach down.

“Prone bone, baby,” he rasps. “Damn you look sexy like this. I can’t wait to feel you.”

A whimper escapes me, my body arching instinctively.

Jackson groans, gripping my hips, dragging my ass higher, spreading my legs wider beneath him. He grinds against me, slow, torturous, teasing me with every inch of his thick length without giving me what I need.

“Still starving?” he teases, his voice dark with amusement.

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