by Hamel, B. B.
He cups my breasts, pulls my hair, kisses my lips. I grab at his belt, fumbling with it, but manage to unhook it, sliding it off. He grunts and unhooks my bra.
It’s a frenzy, like we’re racing to see who can strip who faster. In the end, he’s standing in front of me, shirtless and wearing just his boxer briefs. My breasts are bare, his hands cupping them, his lips against my chest. My panties are still intact, but ruined.
I don’t care. I run my hands down his chest, his muscles incredibly sculpted and hard under my fingers. He smirks, kisses me, bites my lip.
“This is what we can do about it,” he whispers as he slides a hand down my panties. He teases my pussy, rubs my clit, and I groan.
“I’m glad I can help,” I whisper, smirking.
He pulls my hair back, tipping my chin up. He pulls tight, holding me there, pressing his fingers deep inside.
“Oh, shit,” I gasp. It hurts and it feels incredible, and I hear him laugh faintly.
“I thought you’d like that,” he says. “A little pleasure, a little pain.”
“You really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“I manage,” he says, biting a nipple, sliding his fingers deeper. He starts to move them in and out, driving me wild.
But it doesn’t last long. He pulls me off the counter, turns me around.
“Bend over, little Leah,” he says.
I look over my shoulder at him, spreading my legs, bending over. He looks at my round ass, spanks me. I gasp, biting my lip.
“What are you going to do with me, Coach?”
His eyes flash. “No, don’t call me coach.”
I blink. “Sorry.”
His eyes soften. “Call me something else.” He steps closer, grabbing my hips. I feel his hard cock pressed against my ass. “Do you want to know what I like to be called?”
I nod and moan as his fingers find my pussy again, reaching around my hips. “Tell me,” I whisper.
“If I tell you, you’re going to have to let me fuck your little pussy until you can’t stop screaming it. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, please,” I gasp.
“I don’t think you can.”
“Please, I can handle it.”
“Mmm, I don’t know.” He plunges his fingers inside of me. “This tight pussy. I’m not sure.”
“Please,” I groan, wiggling my hips.
I feel his lips against my ear. “I want you to call me Daddy.”
I groan, my whole body loosening. “Daddy,” I repeat.
“That’s right.” His fingers pull back. I watch him over my shoulder as he takes off his boxer briefs and kicks them aside. His cock is long and hard as he slowly strokes himself. “Call me Daddy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say. “You can fuck me however you want, Daddy.”
His eyes flash desire. He spanks me again, grabs my hips. “Don’t tempt me.”
“God,” I groan as his fingers tease my clit again. He presses himself against my pussy and I have a moment of fear, wondering if I can take him.
But the moment passes as he slides himself deep between my legs.
“Oh, fuck,” I grunt. “Shit, Daddy. Slow.”
He laughs softly, moving nice and slow. “But you’re so wet. It slides in so easily.”
“You’re big.”
“I warned you.”
“I know, but…”
“I told you, you couldn’t handle me.”
“Fuck,” I groan. His cock fills me, every inch of him, or at least it feels like every inch. I wiggle my hips, pleasure and pain. He grabs my hair, leaning over me.
“Relax, little Leah. Let your Daddy take care of you.”
I groan again as he slowly moves his hips. Softly, slowly at first, getting me used to his amazing girth. I’ve never felt anything like him before, long and thick, hard as a goddamn iron rod.
He fucks me faster, moving a little deeper with each thrust. I didn’t even know I could fit something like that inside of me.
But he works me. Experienced, that’s what he said. I’m glad he’s experienced, or else he’d tear me apart.
He moves faster, kissing my neck, hands teasing my breasts and nipples. He pulls my hair, grinding into my pussy, stretching me out.
And as it starts to feel incredible, he reaches around my hip and starts to rub my clit. “You can’t take much more, can you?” he whispers in my ear.
Pure bliss.
“I don’t know,” I groan.
He works my clit, fucking me in and out, moving fast but not too fast, grinding inside of me in just that right way that’s driving me insane.
“I can feel your pussy clenching down. I can feel your muscles getting tight. You want to come on this big, fat cock, don’t you?”
“Oh, fuck, yes, Daddy,” I groan, eyes rolling back, practically out of my mind.
“I know you do, little Leah. You want to cover this big hard cock with your cum. Go ahead, little girl. Come for me.”
“Fuck,” I gasp. “Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me faster now.” I start to move my hips, bucking back against him.
He reacts exactly how I want. His cock thrusts faster, pushing deeper. I grunt, groan, ride him, let him fill me. I need it so badly, I can’t breathe.
My whole body tenses. The pleasure keeps me right on the edge, waiting to tip over. His fingers work my clit, and I feel it build.
The orgasm rocks through me. I come hard, my whole body bearing down, my pussy clenching. “Fuck, Daddy,” I say, the only words I can think of as the orgasm tears through my body.
His hands are hard on my skin, holding me tight, fucking me through the orgasm. As I slowly start to regain myself, I feel him pumping deeper and deeper. I manage to work my ass for him just as he pulls himself free.
I turn to watch him stroke his monstrous cock. He comes all over my pussy and my ass, covering me. I groan, grinning, laughing a little bit. Relief, pleasure, joy, it all floods through my body at once.
He grins at me, finishing. I’ve never seen a man come that much before. He grabs a towel and cleans me off before cleaning himself and tossing it into the laundry bin.
“I have to wash that, you know,” I say, turning to face him.
He grins. “I’ll give you a raise.”
“Sounds like favoritism to me.”
“Fine then. I’ll dock your pay.”
“I don’t think that’s legal.”
He grins and kisses me. We stay like that for a second, him holding me tight, lips against mine.
“I’ve been waiting for that,” I whisper.
“Me too,” he admits. “For longer than I should’ve.”
We’re silent for a moment. He steps back and gets dressed. I watch for a second before following suit.
Once we have our clothes on, he kisses me again. “I have to get back to work.”
“I know,” I say, still flushed and smiling. “Call me when your leg hurts, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, sighing a little bit. “Whatever you say.”
“Good.” I get up on my tiptoes, kiss his cheek. “Daddy,” I whisper in his ear.
He grins at me, shakes his head, and walks back to the door. “You’re going to ruin me,” he says as he leaves.
I collapse against one of the tubs, laughing, buzzing with joy and pleasure, not sure what the hell to make of any of this, but not caring at all.
8
Cole
We’re winning at halftime.
As the boys take the field again, I can feel my blood strumming tight in my veins.
We’re up by a touchdown. Sean drives the ball down the field, passing brilliantly. As we reach the end zone, I glance over to my left, and I catch sight of Leah.
She looks perfect. She’s standing off to the side, alone in the crowd, her clipboard held tight against her chest. She looks concerned, staring out at the guys on the field.
I get a flash of Leah’s body against mine, how fucking good she feels. I know it’s dangerous
to even look at her right now, but I can’t help it. There are a hundred cameras all over the place.
I raise my play-calling card up over my mouth, call the next play. I tear my eyes from Leah and watch as it unfolds on the field: Sean throws a zinger to our tight end in the back of the end zone, touchdown.
The crowd goes insane but I don’t find myself celebrating with the rest of them. I look over at Leah, and this time, she looks back at me.
I smile a little. She smiles back and nods. I feel a swell of pride rush through me.
I tear myself away and watch the rest of the game. I try not to look at her again, and I get through most of it without giving in to the temptation. But that temptation is always there.
Leah, just a few feet away. It’s crazy how I look to her now. I should be turning to my players, my coaches, hell, even the fans. I should look for my validation from any one of them.
Instead, Leah’s opinion is the only one that matters.
I want her to be proud of me. I know she’s not really a huge football fan exactly, just a sports medicine geek in general. I still want her to think I’m incredible.
It’s a scary feeling. But also an exciting one.
The game ends, the time slowly dragging past. We rely on the running game to eat up the clock while our defense plays great, holding the Dallas Cowboys to only a single field goal, nowhere near enough to catch up. We walk away from the game with our first win of the season.
My first win as a professional coach.
* * *
“Congratulations, motherfuckers!”
Felix pops the cork from the champagne bottle and it sprays all over the guys. They laugh as he takes a long chug and passes it along.
More bottles pop open. I’m shaking hands, grinning madly. There are reporters in here somewhere, and a few cameras still running, but I can barely see any of it.
“Well done today, Coach,” Robby says to me.
I shrug. “Team effort. You know that.”
He grins. “Sure. Team effort.”
“Although I guess I am the team.”
He grins even wider. “You and you alone.”
I laugh and decline a bottle one of the third string tackles offers me.
“How are our chances for the rest of the season?” I ask Robby quietly. “We have a few tough road games coming up.”
“Yes, we do,” he agrees. “But after today, I think we’re looking okay. If we can win next weekend, I think we’ll have a sixty percent chance of making the playoffs.”
I let out a breath. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Nothing’s sure, Coach. Just math and probabilities.”
“Well, I think we’ll probably break even.”
“You’re not wrong.”
I grin at my assistant. “Go have some fun, okay?”
“I’ll try.” He walks off, joining some of the other position coaches huddled to the side of the room.
I drift away from the celebration. Some of the reporters ask me questions but I brush them off. “Press conference,” I tell them. I head down the long hallway, back toward my office.
It’s quieter back here. I’ve never been the kind of man to celebrate my victories too much.
They’re fleeting. A win is a win, but it only matters if that win is followed by another. I celebrate the big victories, the championships, the new records. I celebrate the future.
Let the players have their fun, though. I know they need it. They need to relax a little, get their mind off the game. They’ll have some time tonight, and a little extra time in the morning.
But after that, it’s back to work. Every week, work and more work. Little victories turn into big ones, but only if we stay on it.
I take a breath and let it out. It’s okay to celebrate a little. But it’s always time to work again.
I go to head into my office when someone steps out of a nearby training room. I half turn, my heart leaping.
Leah steps toward me. She smiles, cocks her head. We’re alone.
“Good win today,” she says.
“I thought so.”
“Good job.” She walks over and stops nearby, looking up at me. “Your players are all beat up, though.”
I grin a little. “Get used to it.”
“I will. I just hope they can keep it together.”
“They can. This is what football’s all about. We push and push until either we break or we win.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“There’s no other way.”
She crosses her arms. “How come you’re not out there with the guys?”
“I’d rather start planning for next week. Every second counts.”
She cocks her head. “I guess I’m not surprised. You’re always so serious.”
I grin at her, step closer. “I’m not that serious.”
“Sure you are. Yelling at the guys, walking around like something’s wrong all the time.”
“I have to exude confidence.”
“You exude annoyance.”
I laugh softly. “I’m not annoyed with you.”
She hesitates. “No, I guess not.”
“And I don’t think I’m too serious with you, either.”
“Maybe,” she allows again. “But that’s a special case.”
“Why?” I ask her softly, coming closer. I know this is dangerous. There are reporters just in the other room. I know we’re not doing anything inappropriate but if one of them got a whiff of blood, they’d never, ever let it go.
“That’s because you want to fuck me.”
I laugh softly. I love hearing that kind of talk come from her pretty little mouth. “You seem too innocent to say something like that.”
“What, fuck?” She grins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You want me to suck your dick. You want your big fat dick deep in my pussy.”
I feel my heart beating harder. I know she’s joking around but my cock’s getting half hard. “Careful now,” I say.
“Oh, yeah?” She cocks an eyebrow. “What are you gonna do?”
“I might pull you into this office and show you just how innocent you really are.”
She laughs, tossing her hair to one side. “Go ahead.”
I step toward her, but stop myself. Someone’s coming down the hall toward us. I clear my throat and put a hand on her shoulder, gently steering her aside, as Atlas Gage walks right up.
“Coach, good game today,” he says.
Leah looks surprised, her face slightly red. “Thanks,” I say to him. “First win of the franchise. A historic day.”
“Just keep it up and you’ll get some kind of statue.”
“I bet I will.” I gesture at my office. “Are you here to talk?”
He hesitates. “Actually, I am, but not with you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“I was wondering if I could borrow Leah here for just a second.”
We stand there in stunned silence for a beat before I get myself together. “Uh, yeah, of course. Go ahead.”
Leah looks at me and I turn away from them. I can’t let Atlas see the expression on my face.
They walk away together, and all I want to do is chase after them. I can’t let him go after her, I can’t let him anywhere near her. He’s just some rich kid, some asshole with too much money.
Sure, they’re closer in age. Maybe they even share more than that. He has more money than I do, more cars, better clothes.
But he’s a clown. He’s a boy playing at being a man.
I clench my fists for a second before stepping into my office. I don’t look back.
I don’t trust myself to keep my anger under control.
9
Leah
Atlas leads me away from Cole and I wish I could turn back to him, mouth something, make a face, do anything to let him know that I’m not into this.
Instead, he just heads into his office and shuts the door.
My heart’s beating fast as Atlas leads me ba
ck into the empty training room. He’s wearing a tight, slim suit, no tie over his crisp white shirt.
He’s not exactly a bad-looking man. Actually, I think a lot of people would find him attractive. His facial hair is unkempt, although he has a tight haircut. He looks like a hipster lumberjack, which he basically is, I guess. Except he’s also rich as all hell.
I’ve never spoken to Atlas before. Most people haven’t. He’s the owner of the team and he more or less only speaks with Cole.
We all know about him, of course. There are a million rumors about Atlas. About how he owns a hundred cars, has an island in the Bahamas, fills his bathtub with champagne, that sort of stuff.
He’s also a dorky computer guy, although I think he’s working pretty hard to distance himself from that image.
I don’t know what to think as he faces me, a little serious smile on his lips. I glance at the door and wonder if anyone’s going to walk in. I’m not afraid of Atlas, I don’t think he’d do anything inappropriate, but I am worried.
I don’t know what he wants, and he’s my boss. Well, my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss. Just talking to him makes me nervous, even if I haven’t done anything wrong.
Well, nothing wrong that he knows about.
Unless he knows about Cole…
“Hi, Leah,” he says to me, looking almost bashful.
“Hi, Mr. Gage.”
He grins. “Please, call me Atlas.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat, cross my arms. “What can I do for you, Atlas?”
“I was hoping I could talk to you.” He cocks his head. “Well, ask you something.”
“What is it?” I clench my jaw nervously.
“I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner with me sometime.”
I stare at him, my whole world coming to a halt.
“Like… a date?”
He grins bigger. “Exactly like that.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Wow.”
“What do you think?”
“I, uh, yes. Okay. Sure.”
I don’t know why I say it. I guess I’m just afraid and nervous and freaking out a little bit. This is the team owner. He could kick me out, ban me, make sure I never work for the league. I might never see Cole again.