Page 53 of Sexting the Coach
“Come for me,” he says, pressing his lips against my ear, and the sound of him breathing, the feeling of his heavy body braced over mine, the way I can feel him just barely pulling back, the shaking of his hands, how he squeezes at my chest—it sends me over the edge.
I come long and hard, and he doesn’t slow, doesn’t let up, riding through the entirety of my orgasm, even when I’m sobbing as the pleasure overwhelms me. In fact, Weston keepsfucking me, follows the thread of pleasure through to a second orgasm I didn’t even know I was capable of.
When we’re done, he rolls away, gathers me up, tucks me into his arms like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I cuddle into him, and he breathes me in, and for a second, I think that it could actually be like this with us.
That I could spend my life coming down with him. Together.
It’s obvious that things have shifted between us. That we’re going to have to talk about what this means. I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to agree on one thing—we shoulddefinitelydo this again.
I hold onto that feeling, closing my eyes, and turning my head so I can press a gentle kiss to the soft, fuzzy skin of his chest. Maybe he’ll be able to read in the kiss what I’m feeling, but just can’t articulate right now.
Three words that buzz through my head, begging to get out.
Chapter 22
Weston
“Weston.”
I startle, looking up to find Elsie standing in the door to my office. Today she’s wearing her Squids polo and a pair of black slacks. I can’t stop thinking about her in my shorts, my shirt.
In fact, I can’t stop thinking about her, period.
The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of me and her. The holidays came and went, with Elsie brushing off my questions about her going home to spend time with her family. It was all the same, because I wasn’t planning on going home to Boston, either.
Having a few days of break from games and practice gave us plenty of time to spend together at my place. According to her, Mabel and Hattie went home for the holidays, and she didn’t want to go back to her apartment alone.
Over the past few weeks, she’s completely given up the pretense of sleeping in the guest room. In the evenings, we watch movies together in the living room, and I’ve been treating her to a home-cooked meal every night.
Then, this morning, she woke me up cheekily, with her ass in my lap again, and I had the errant thought that I haven’t been this happy in a long, long time.
After that first morning, we were in the shower together. That’s when we quietly unfussily agreed to a friends-with-benefits situation. Or a fake-dating-with-benefits situation, I suppose. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about the details. I was thinking about the logistics of fucking her in my shower, which she turned down for “safety reasons.”
This morning, after our shared shower, we stepped out and started to dry off when Elsie got a call from Mabel. According to her, their apartment is no longer surrounded by the press. The news cycle moved on, just like I knew it would.
Elsie disappeared into the guest room, and when she came out, she had her duffel packed up. I wanted to grab the strap, tell her to stay with me, but with the paparazzi gone, there was no reason to.
This is the first time I’ve seen her since we parted ways this morning, and it takes all my control not to stand up, cross the room. Do something I very much shouldnotbe doing in this office with her. Even though we’ve spent the entire week together, it’s like I can’t get enough.
“What’s up?” I ask, clearing my throat and trying to force my mind back into the moment, trying to ignore the thoughts of taking her in my arms, bending her over this desk right now.
It’s not really working.
“The doors are locked,” she says, and for the first time, I take a second to examine her expression. Slightly panicked, breathless. It whisks away some of the lust building up inside me, makes it a little easier for me to concentrate on what she’s saying.
“Yeah,” I say, brow wrinkling. “They always lock after six. Don’t you have your key card?—?”
“No,” she shakes her head and jerks her thumb behind her, in the general direction of the nearest employee exit. “They’re locked from the inside. Like, I can’t get them open. To leave.”
I stand, eyebrows still drawn down low. Although we’d agreed that sex is very much on the table between us, we hadn’t gone much further than that in the confines of what this relationship means.
“You shouldn’t leave without me,” I mutter, darting a glance at her as we walk down the half-lit hallway toward the exit. “Or at least without someone to walk you to your car.”
“I rode with Mabel,” Elsie says, raising an eyebrow at me. “I was just going outside to get some air.”
My cheeks grow a touch hot, though I’m not entirely sure why. Any man wouldn’t want her walking around outside by herself. It’s not like I’m declaring my intentions or something.
We walk wordlessly the rest of the way to the employee exit, where a dull red light flashes lazily every couple of seconds. It looks the same as it does every night, and I push against the exit bar, fully expecting the door to open.
