Page 30 of The Coach

At last, he pulled back and collapsed on top of me, enveloping me in those strong arms. We kissed sloppily, our juices mixing, our kisses stretching into eternity.

* * *

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said after some time, his voice low. We stayed lying half-naked on the couch, pressed together in a firm embrace. We still had our shirts and our socks on, both bare-assed below the waist, our legs entangled. I loved the sensation of sliding my leg up and down his own, the fur providing a soft, sensual friction. The movie was still playing in the background, but neither of us cared.

“Just thinking,” I said, tracing patterns across his large forearm.

“About what?”

“About how much I like this,” I said, glancing up at him. “Being here with you. It feels… right.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Yeah.”

But that wasn’t entirely true. I tried to focus on the present and enjoy what we had here and now, yet my mind was abuzz with thoughts that wouldn’t let go. I kept remembering him at dinner, playing with his ring without knowing, and the question bubbled inside me until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Blake?”

“Hmm?”

“How did she die? Your wife. Tell me what happened.”

I felt him stiffen beside me. He was silent for so long I began to think he wouldn’t answer me. When I was all but ready to give up, he spoke at last. “It was a car crash. She… She was driving home, and she was hit by a drunk driver. Some passersby saw everything and called the ambulance. The driver’s injuries were not critical, but Jennifer was in a bad condition. Both her legs were broken, along with her pelvis and a few ribs. She had severe head trauma, her lung was punctured, and she was bleeding internally. She died on the way to the hospital.”

I don’t know what I expected to hear. Cancer, maybe, or some other fatal disease that took his wife from him in the prime of her life. I wasn’t prepared for something so random, so violent. “Oh my God, Blake. I’m so sorry.”

He stirred and sat up, turning his back to me. His next words chilled me to my core. “She was eight months pregnant. The baby—our daughter—died too. And it was all my fault.”

“Jesus!” I jumped from the couch and sat next to him, my hand on his back. “That’s horrible!”

“It was the worst day of my life.”

“God, Blake… I can’t even imagine how that must have felt like. But… it was an accident. A terrible, random accident. How is that your fault?”

“Because I was supposed to be there with her! We had a birthing class that afternoon that we were supposed to attend together. But I was helping one of my buddies paint his apartment, and we went to a bar for drinks later. I lost track of time and forgot all about the class. So Jen took her car and went by herself. And she got killed because I wasn’t there for her.”

His story left me mute. It was too awful, I couldn’t even imagine how it must have felt for him. I could only rub his back, offering what little support I was able to. “It wasn’t your fault, Blake. If anything, it was that drunken asshole’s fault. And if you had been there, maybe you would’ve been killed too.”

“You have no idea how many times I wished I was.”

I squeezed his biceps, holding back the tears. The pain in his voice was unbearable. “Please don’t say that. Please.”

“I began drinking after that,” he droned on, his expression distant, detached. It was probably the only way he could deal with the memory. “Seeking solace in alcohol. But it only made me feel worse. I lost my job, lostmy friends. And I became this lonely, angry creature that you know.”

Leaning my head on his shoulder, I hugged him tight. “But you’ve managed to turn your life around. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

He only grunted in response, but he knew I was right. If he hadn’t sought help and overcome his demons, we would’ve never met. And the thought of that made me as sad as his tragic confession. I could only hope that my presence could make him feel just a tiny bit better.

I reached up for his face, turning his head toward me just in time to see one tear roll down his cheek and disappear into his beard. “It’s okay,” I said, blinking my own tears away. “You can cry.”

“No,” he said, but he buried his face in my neck, clutching onto me. “No more crying. I’ve shed enough tears already for a lifetime.”

* * *

When he took me to his bedroom, the world narrowed to just the two of us. The light was dim, the shadows soft against the walls, and Blake’s hands were steady as they roamed over me, slow and deliberate. He removed the rest of my clothes, then his, and for a moment, we simply stood naked, looking at each other. Something was different between us this time—a new sense of intimacy hung in the air, deep and palpable, almost electric. There was reverence in the way he touched me, like he wasmemorizing every inch of my skin, and it made my heart swell in a way I didn’t think possible.

When we made love, it was unhurried, a quiet communion that felt like an unspoken promise. His mouth glided down my spine, tracing each vertebra until it slid into my cleft and landed on my hole. I loved when he ate my ass, and I loved that he loved doing it. The warmth of his lips on my rim, the flicking of his tongue as he kneaded my glutes, always made my eyes roll back in my head. But nothing could compare to the thrill of having his cock inside me, the ecstatic feeling of him breeding me, planting his seed within me, and claiming me from the inside.

“Blake,” I whimpered beneath him, my body quivering as he picked up his pace, pounding into me hard and fast. “This feels unreal… No one has ever made me feel like this.”

“You’re mine, Tyler,” he groaned into my ear, his chest sweaty on my back. “Say that you’re mine.”

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