Page 14 of The Coach

Leave, my mind screamed.This is a mistake. You shouldn’t do this.

I shut the door behind me and stepped into his world.

He watched me for a long moment, then stood up and went toward the worn leather gurney placed in the corner of his office. “I borrowed this from the health center,” he said. “In case we might need it.”

So, he had anticipated this? Did he suspect I was going to use the situation to get close to him? Maybe my plan wasn’t as clever or original as I thought. Or maybe… Maybe he wanted this, too.

He set up the gurney into a makeshift massage bed, saying, “Strip down to your underwear and lie face-down on the stretcher.”

Oh, shoot. When I left my room freeballing this morning, I didn’t intend for Blake to see me like that. Going commando was just habit. I had planned to put on my jockstrap in the locker room before coming to see him, but in the haze of lust and anticipation, I completely forgot about it.

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” I said.

He looked at me, startled, then swallowed and nodded. “Fine.”

Pulling my sneakers off, I yanked down my sweatpants and stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor. Blake kept his eyes on me, as I stood in my hoodie and socks, my lower half completely exposed. His gaze on me felt thrilling, and my cock started to chub up, so I hopped up onto the gurney before I got fully hard. I lay on my stomach, the cool leather pressing against my skin, anticipation coiling in my gut as I tried to keep my face neutral.

I felt his hand close around my calf, firm and warm, kneading through the muscle with a careful pressure that drew out the soreness. I closed my eyes, letting the heat of his touch sink into my skin, feeling his hands move up, slow and steady, his thumbs pressing into the ache. The pain began to loosen, slipping into something closer to relief, even pleasure. My cock stiffened underneath me, hidden from his view.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice floating above me, low, a sound that thrummed along my spine. It held that quiet command, the one I’d grown used to, the one I started to like a little too much. He could have told me to do anything, and I would’ve done it.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, melting into the bed beneath me. His hand had reached the back of my knee now, moving ever higher, his fingers careful, attentive. I felt his breath on my bare butt, closer than before, and every nerve in me woke up, sparked to life. I had to wiggle tomake room for my cock, now completely hard, trapped between my stomach and the stretcher, and each movement made the shaft rub against the leather, slick with my precum. Blake couldn’t see it, but something told me he knew what I was doing. He paused, hesitating, and I sensed him teetering at the edge, as if he were trying to decide just how far he’d go.

Then, without warning, his hand slipped higher, his thumb tracing a line over my hamstring, lingering in a way that felt nothing like therapy. My whole body went still, wanting, needing, waiting, afraid to move or speak, afraid to break the fragile thread that had stretched between us.

Those paws of his roamed further up, settling on my ass at last, a touch that was careful but insistent, the pressure deepening, his fingertips pressing into my skin. His touch grew bolder, and I could feel his breath now, short and quick, his control unraveling just as fast as mine was. His fingers slid along my cleft, like the last time, and I felt his weight shift closer, the heat of his body grazing mine. I tilted my head, enough to catch a glimpse of his face, his jaw clenched, a flush climbing up his cheeks, his eyes dark and focused on me in a way I’d only dreamed of. There was a giant bulge in his pants, an unmistakable proof that I didn’t imagine all this, that he felt it too.

My pulse hammered as I felt his big hands tremble slightly, his breath coming in harsh, uneven bursts. I spread my legs further apart, inviting his touch, allowinghim full access. And then, as if some line had snapped in him, he leaned down, his lips brushing against my buttcheek, a whisper of heat that shot through me like fire. His mouth lingered, his breath hot against my skin, and I felt myself arch, pushing my ass up, barely able to keep still.

Kneading my buttocks, he spread them apart and dove for my hole. Face buried inside my crack, I felt his beard tickling my skin, his mouth lapping at the tight ring like it was the sweetest dessert and he hadn’t eaten in ages. Having his tongue there, wet and hot, felt like I was being probed by a fire poker. He was rimming me, slurping, loud, shameless. My whole body shuddered as if I was being electrocuted, a moan escaping my lips sounding almost like a cry.

“Oh God… Oh God, Blake,” I whimpered, helpless, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. His name in my mouth felt like a secret brought to life, something I shouldn’t have said but couldn’t take back.

The sound of my voice made something in him shift, his whole body tensing as if he’d been burned. He pulled back abruptly, his hands leaving my ass. I felt the cold air rush in, filling the space where he’d been, his saliva still trickling from my hole to my balls. I turned to look at him, confused, aching, unable to understand the sudden change in his eyes.

“You need to go,” he said, his voice rough, angry, though this time I could tell it wasn’t aimed at me. Itwas something deeper, rawer, something that he hadn’t wanted to feel. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond me, as if he could ignore the whole thing if he just didn’t look at me.

“What?” I pushed myself up, still feeling the heat of his touch, lingering, insistent, like an echo that wouldn’t fade. “Blake, I—”

“No.” His voice was hard now, final, and I could see his hands clench into fists at his sides. “This can’t happen. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

I stood, trying to keep my expression steady, though frustration and hurt bubbled up inside me. My erection throbbed mockingly, refusing to go down. “Why not? Because you don’t want it to happen, or because you’re scared of what it means?”

He turned his face to me then, his look sharp, his mouth a thin, hard line. “I said you need to go.Now.”

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it, a sound too piercing, too desperate. “But it doesn’t bother you with Professor Richards, right? Then it’s okay?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He glared at me.

“I saw you with her earlier. The way you talked. The way you smiled at each other. She almost climbed you like a tree right there in the hallway!” And then, as a final blow, I added, “I wonder how your wife would feel about that?”

I regretted my words the moment they left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back. Blake’s face darkened, and he glowered at me with such wrath that I took a step back. For a moment, I thought he might punch me. But then, something cracked in his expression, a bare fissure in his tough-guy facade. He shook his head, his broad shoulders tight with tension, and I knew he wouldn’t let himself give in. Not now, maybe not ever. “My wife is dead.”

I gaped at him, dumbfounded, embarrassment creeping up my cheeks, the ache in my chest growing. An ache that matched the one in my leg, a kind of hollow hurt that went deeper than anything physical.Dead? Blake was a widower? “But… but you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

“Yeah, so what?” He was getting defensive. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing! I just thought—”

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