Filthy Coach: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance

by Amy Brent

  I heard him tell a buddy once that the only time he was truly happy was when he was on the football field. I used to hate him for saying that, then I came to understand. Football was in our blood. We had to be in the game in some capacity or we would go mad.

  Dad was in Chicago now, working as the offensive coordinator for the Blaze. He was in his sixties. He smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish. He popped Viagra like Tic Tacs and screwed any woman that would have him. And he had no intention of every retiring.

  “I’ll die on the sidelines,” he told me. “I just hope they wait until after the game to haul me away.”

  “More coffee, dear?”

  My mother refilled my cup without waiting for me to answer. I looked up with a sleepy smile and said thanks. She set the pot on the stove and took the chair across from me. She frowned at my half-eaten breakfast plate.

  “You didn’t eat much,” she said.

  “I ate enough,” I said with a smile. “You know, mom, I’m not eighteen anymore. I can’t eat a dozen eggs all by myself.”

  “You have to feed the machine,” she said with a smile. Her eyes sparkled behind the cat-eye glasses she wore. “Isn’t that what you used to say when I’d catch you and your football buddies cleaning out my fridge?”

  “Well, the machine can’t eat the way it used to,” I said with a sigh. I leaned back and rubbed my belly. “And this machine will get fat as a pig if you keep feeding it like that.”

  She picked up her cup and held it between her hands. She gave me the same concerned look I’d been getting since suddenly showing up on her doorstep three weeks before. “So, what’s on your to-do list today?”

  I shrugged and scratched my chin, which was covered in a week’s worth of stubble. “I don’t really have a to-do list,” I said. “Is there anything I can help you with here?”

  She took a slow sip of coffee and licked her lips. “No, dear, I think you have fixed everything that needed fixing. You can feed the chickens if you like. The feed is in the bin in the barn. And gather the eggs while you’re out there.”

  “I can do that,” I said. “Feed the chickens, gather the eggs.”

  She smiled for a moment, then let the smile fade from her lips. “What’s your plan for going back to work?”

  I blinked at her. “I don’t have a plan,” I said with a shrug. “I’m rich, mom, I don’t have to work.”

  “You’re also a lot like your father,” she said, although I wasn’t sure she meant it in a good way. “Football is in your blood, Sammy. You will never be satisfied to just watch it on TV.”

  She reached a hand across the table to pat my arm. “Don’t let what happened in Atlanta keep you from doing what you love, dear. You’re still a young man. There are lots of things you can do to keep your hand in the game. I always loved watching you on ESPN. So handsome in your little suit and tie.”

  “I know, mom,” I said, rolling my eyes. My mom will always see me as ten years old. “I just need a little break, that’s all.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m thrilled to have you home. Stay as long as you like.”

  “Thanks, mom,” I said. She got up and started clearing the dishes. She set the dishes in the sink and turned on the faucet, then glanced out the window as she waited for the water to warm. “Who could that be this early in the morning?”

  I finished the coffee and carried the cup to the sink. I followed her gaze out the window. There was a car coming down the mile-long dirt driveway from the main road. The sun was glaring off the windshield, so we couldn’t tell who was in the car.

  “I don’t recognize the car,” mom said.

  “I’ll see who it is,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  I licked the coffee from my lips and went out the front door. I leaned against one of the columns next to the front porch steps and watched the car approach. The car was a black Chevy. It had an Avis Rental Car tag on the front. The driver pulled to the end of the drive and shut off the engine. The door opened and a woman wearing khaki shorts and a blue crop-top stepped out.

  It was Allie Winston.

  “Hi,” she said, walking toward me with a timid smile on her face. “I’ve been trying to call you, but keep getting a message that the call won’t go through.”

  “There’s no cell service here,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a blank look. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you,” she said. She came to stand at the bottom of the three steps. Her long hair was pulled back and clipped above her ears. Her face was radiant, rosy. Her lower lip quivered, as if she were fighting to hold back tears.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Your dad told me you were here,” she said. “Can we talk?”

  “You wasted a trip,” I said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Sam, please, you have to understand…”

  “Who is this?” My mom came out the screen door, drying her hands on a dish towel. She looked at Allie and smiled. “Hi, I’m Evelyn. Are you a friend of Sam’s?”

  “Not really,” I said. I nodded at Allie. “This is Ben Winston’s daughter, Allie.”

  Allie tried to smile.

  Mom didn’t.

  “Your father is a horrible man,” mom said, wagging her finger at Allie. “To do what he did to my son. Who treats people like that? He should be ashamed of himself.”

  “That’s exactly what I told him, Mrs. Carson,” Allie said, her head bobbing in agreement. “My father is a good man, but he can do some pretty despicable things.”

  “Are you here to apologize for him?” mom asked. She folded her arms over her chest, mimicking me, and stood next to me on the porch, a united front.

  “No,” Allie said, looking at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m here to apologize for myself.”

  Allie asked again if we could talk.

  I said no and told her to leave.

  My mom sensed that there was something more going on between Allie and me. She glanced at me for a moment. She had been married to a football man for four decades. She knew what hard-headed schmucks we could be.

  “Don’t be rude, Sam,” mom said, bumping me with her elbow. “She seems like a very nice young lady. You should hear her out.”

  “Yes, Sam, please,” Allie said. “Just give me five minutes.”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I went down the steps and nodded toward barn where mom kept two milk cows and a coop full of chickens.

  “Fine. Come on. You can talk while I feed the chickens. Then you can go.”

  Allie

  My heart literally skipped a beat when I got out of the car and saw Sam standing on the porch. I wasn’t sure how I expected him to react.

  Would he take me in his arms and forgive me for what I’d done? Or would he turn me away and say that he never wanted to see me again.

  I wouldn’t blame him if he turned me away.

  I wasn’t sure I would forgive me, if I were in his shoes.

  I followed Sam to the barn and watched as he scooped ground corn from a bin, then leaned over a fence to scatter the feed on the ground. A dozen chickens flew down from their roosts in the rafters and attacked the feed. It reminded me of watching the gannets dive for fish off the coast of Hilton Head. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago…

  “Okay,” Sam said, dusting the feed off his hands. “You have five minutes. Let’s hear it.”

  I took a deep breath and gave him the speech I had been practicing in the rental car for the past hour. “Sam, I think what my father did was awful. And I’m sorry if I played any part in it.”

  “If?” He scoffed and shook his head. “That’s your apology?”

  “Okay, fine. When I found out what he had planned, I should have told you, but you have to understand, I was caught in the middle. He’s my father and you… well, I didn’t really know you at all. He asked me to set up the interview and that’s a
ll I did. Honestly, I hoped the interview would convince him that you were the better choice. I didn’t think Dan Bradford would actually sign.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Are you going to waste your five minutes feeding me bullshit, Allie? Or are you going to tell me the truth?”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” I said desperately.

  “When did you find out what he had planned?”

  I blinked at him. “When?”

  “You just said that he wanted you to set up the interview. You mentioned that to me before we ever slept together.”

  “I did?”

  He widened his eyes and gave me a slow nod. “You knew what he had planned. That’s why you slept with me.” He put his hands to his head. “Oh my god, you fucked me to keep me pacified till your daddy could get Bradford signed!”

  “What? No, that’s not the way it happened.”

  “Daddy told you to keep me happy, so you fucked me all weekend, did the interview, then got out of his way. I’ll be a son of a bitch.”

  My mouth moved, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say. He was right about the way the events played out, but not about my motives to be with him.

  “You’re wrong,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “I slept with you because I wanted to. It had nothing to do with my father.”

  “Bullshit,” he said, waving his hands at me. “You’re as big of a liar as your old man.” He turned away from me and shook his head. “Just fucking leave me alone, Allie. I took your dad’s payoff and I got to fuck his daughter. Not a bad payday really. So just get in your fucking car and leave. You don’t have to pretend to like me anymore.”

  “I’m not pretending, you fucking idiot!” My voice cracked and filled with tears. “Dammit, Sam, would I come all this way if I didn’t…”

  He turned to face me. “If you didn’t what?”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand. “Would I come all this way if I didn’t love you?”

  He gave me a look of disbelief. “You love me?”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand, why are you telling me this?”

  “I’m telling you because it’s true,” I said, moving closer to him. “I know it sounds insane, but the weekend I spent with you… the things we did… I can’t get you out of my mind, Sam. And yes, I think I love you.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes and let them go around my face. His eyes settled on my lips.

  “You did a really shitty thing,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “I’m still mad at you,” he said.

  “I know.”

  He gazed into my eyes. “You really love me?”

  I smiled. “I really think so.”

  He held out his hands. “Show me.”

  I melted into his arms. I stood on my tiptoes to press my lips to his. I inhaled deeply as our tongues danced. I was immediately overcome with his scent. Aramis. I could smell it on his clothes and on his skin.

  “Up there,” he said, breaking the kiss long enough to lead me to a ladder that rose into the hay loft above us. I scurried up the ladder with Sam close at my heels.

  He pushed me onto a bed of soft hay and tugged his t-shirt over his head. He shimmied out his jeans and underwear. I sighed when I saw his cock, stiff and ready, waiting for me.

  “What about your mom?” I asked as he tugged the shirt over my head. I shrugged off the bra, then slid the khaki shorts and panties down my legs and leaned back with my thighs spread.

  “She’s allergic to hay,” Sam said with a smile, lowering himself on top of me. He kissed my lips with abandon as his hands kneaded my tits and his fingers rolled my nipples. I moaned into his mouth and reached for his cock. God, it felt so good in my hands: hard, long, throbbing. I pumped him for a moment, then pulled him toward my wet pussy.

  “God, you feel so good,” I sighed as the head of his cock slid into me. I reached around to cup his ass in my hands and pulled him fully into me. I gasped and wrapped my legs around him.

  “I missed you,” he said, panting in my ear. He braced his palms next to me and started moving his hips in and out, in and out. I could feel him filling me completely. My pussy engulfed him, clung to him, milked him for his hot seed.

  I brought my hands to my tits and squeezed until it hurt. My nipples were hard as rocks between my fingers. Sam pummeled into me. His cock impaling me fully, driving the breath from my lungs, making my breasts bounce in my hands.

  “I’m… cumming… Allie…” he moaned.

  I laced my fingers around the back of his neck.

  “Fuck me hard… Sam… Make me cum…

  Sam took the challenge. His thrusts grew faster and deeper. I could feel the orgasm tearing through my body, ripping across my breasts and shooting out of my pussy like an erupting volcano.

  Sam thrust into me and held it there, every muscle in his body tense. We came together and didn’t let go of one another until our bodies told us we could relax.

  Sam lowered his lips to mine and kissed me gently.

  “I think I love you, too,” he said. He gazed into my eyes. “Let’s make a deal.”

  I brushed hair from his forehead and sighed. “Name it.”

  “You try to be nothing like your father and I’ll do the same.”

  I smiled at him. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

  EPILOGUE: Allie

  Six months later…

  If you had ever told me that I would be happy as the wife of a high school football coach in Tipton, Nebraska, I would have called you insane.

  After growing up and working in Atlanta, Tipton seemed like a whole other world to me. There were no crowds or traffic jams, no one trying to rob you or jack your car, the air was fresh and clean, and life seemed to move at a slower pace.

  And that was just fine with me.

  I wanted my life with Sam to last a very long time, the slower the pace, the better.

  I was sitting on the bleachers on a cool, fall Friday night, watching Sam coach his team to a victory over Somerville High.

  I loved watching him work. It was clear that he loved his players and they loved him.

  As I watched him, my mind wondered back over everything that had happened over the last few months.

  Sam asked me to marry him and I said yes.

  He asked if I would give life in Tipton a chance and I said yes.

  He offered to coach the small high school team for free and they said yes.

  He asked if I would live in the farmhouse he grew up in with his mother until he could have us a house built on the property.

  I said yes, if it was okay with his mom.

  She said yes.

  We were as happy as two people could be.

  As I watched Sam on the sidelines, I slipped the handkerchief I’d doused with Aramis from my purse and held it to my nose. I took a long whiff.

  My water works started to flow.

  I couldn’t wait to get Sam home.

  Aramis smelled wonderful on a handkerchief.

  It smelled even better on the neck of the man I loved.

  THE END

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  Filthy Billionaire Romance Series

  The Billionaire’s Surrogate

  Camille

  The atmosphere in the casino was electric. All around me, faces were watching the game, sharing in my success, living vicariously. Through me. If you've ever been the center of attention, the one person in the room no one can keep their eyes off of, you know how addictive it is.

  I wasn't addicted to gambling. I'd done it a couple of times and I'd won and lost. Nothing prolific, nothing to urge me to go the
re again.

  But this, this was different. I was breathing my success; it had replaced the oxygen in the air. A downer of a night at a friend's party had driven us here. Sharon had left at midnight. One more round of Blackjack, I'd told myself, and I was leaving, too.

  Everything changed, then. I started winning. Winning big. Winning big is addictive. The gasps and the cheers and the fan base you build when you're winning and winning and winning again are addictive. I never understood people who gave up everything for gambling. I still don't. I wasn't giving everything up, I was making the Casino cough up the dough.

  A cute guy sat across from me and he made eye contact. Cerulean blue eyes. Flawless skin. A smile that made me weak at the knees. He was going to ask for my number after the game. Or ask for me to join him in his hotel room. Maybe we would have a couple of drinks before undressed me. Maybe he would dive between my legs without waiting, leading me to a different kind of climax than what I was running on now.

  I was aware of my dress against my skin, my low neckline and what he saw. Caramel skin. Big curly hair. The swells of my breasts rising and falling with my breathing. My lips, full and plump and glossy. The money in front of me, making me worth it.

  I played another hand. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

  He was looking at my cleavage when I looked at him again and I liked it. I wanted him to stare. After tonight, when I'd won my money back more than fivefold, I was going to make sure that he knew all about winning, too. The look in his eyes said it all. He wanted me.

  "You should cash in," a woman said behind me and when I looked over my shoulder I frowned. She looked like the motherly type. Maybe even the grandmotherly. She still wore a mink stole the way they used to back in the day. Wrinkles on her face suggested she was too old to understand that I was building my own future here. I ignored her. I was on a roll.