Page 15 of Yes, Coach

"We'll see." He releases my hair and steps back, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. "Come on. I’ll show you around. I want you comfortable, baby."

He gives me a tour of the house, and I try to pay attention, but all I can focus on is the way his hand rests on the small of my back as he guides me from room to room. The kitchen is in warm gray and white, neat as a pin with gleaming appliances and a cool refrigerator with glass doors, so I see inside how everything is perfectly lined up.

Half-gallon of milk, label forward. A few Powerades standing in a line like good soldiers. A bowl of what looks like dark cherries and a few bottles of craft bear on a lower shelf.

The guest bathroom he shows me in the hall has fluffy white towels and expensive-looking liquid soap with some French name on the label. Then there’s an office with a huge dark wood desk and bookshelves filled with books, photos of his career, trophies and yes, plants.

"This is my room," he says, pushing open the last door at the end of the hallway. The air conditioning hums above, but it’s doing nothing to cool the fire racing over my skin.

It's clearly the primary bedroom, dominated by a king-size bed with a dark wood headboard. The comforter is deep blue, and there are actual adult touches like matching nightstands and a dresser that doesn't look like it came from a college dorm room.

"It's nice," I manage, though it comes out a little more envious than I intended.

"Taryn." He turns me to face him, the weight of his enormous hands settling on my shoulders, grounding me. "Before we go any further, I need you to understand something. What we're about to do... it's not just sex. It's about trust and control and giving yourself to someone completely. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"I've been ready for months."

"Have you?" His eyes search mine. "Because once I have you, really have you, I'm not going to want to let you go. You'll be mine in every way that matters. Do you understand what that means?"

"Tell me."

"It means I'm going to know your body better than you do. Your mind as well, and eventually, your heart. It means I'm going to take care of you in ways no one else ever has. It means when you come apart for me, whether it’s from my tongue, my hands, my dick, my voice or whatever other object I choose to use, it's going to be because I made you feel safe enough to let go completely."

The words send heat spiraling through me and to my shock, my chin starts to quiver. "That's what I want, Daddy."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Okay, baby girl. Then let's start slow." He guides me over the cream-colored rug, lowers himself onto the edge of the bed and pats his lap. "Come here."

I shift into his magnetic orbit, and he guides me to sit sideways across his thighs. One of his arms comes around my back to support me, and the other rests on my knee.

"How does this feel?"

"Good. Safe."

"Good." His hand on my knee starts to move, just slightly, his thumb tracing small circles on my exposed skin. "I want you totell me if anything doesn't feel right, okay? This is about you feeling good, not about me taking what I want."

"What if what you want is what I want too?"

"Then we're going to get along just fine." He smiles, and for a moment he looks younger, less intense. "But first, I need to know some things about you. Have you ever been with anyone before?"

Heat floods my cheeks. "Not... not really. I mean, I've kissed people, but nothing serious."

"What about touching? Have you ever let anyone touch you the way I touched you yesterday?"

"No, Daddy."

His eyes darken at that. "What about yourself? Do you touch yourself when you think about me?"

The question makes me squirm in his lap, but something about the way he asks it, gentle but commanding, makes me want to answer honestly.

"Yes."

"Good girl. I want you to always be honest with me, even when it's embarrassing." His hand slides a little higher on my thigh. His palm is rough, fingertips adding a little squeeze as he finishes. "What do you think about when you touch yourself?"

"You. Always you." The confession tumbles out before I can stop it. "I think about your hands on me, your voice telling me what to do. I think about what it would feel like to have you inside me."

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