by K. Webster
She huffs and her mouth is fucking cute when she pouts. “Fine but…ahhh!”
Her legs collapse when she stands and I barely catch her before she tumbles to the floor. I gather her slick naked body into my arms. My erection is hard as stone between us.
“What am I going to do with you?” I demand, frustration seeping into my tone.
“Carry me to the shower?” she jokes back. The stress in her voice has me scooping her into my arms. I shouldn’t have run her so hard. She can barely walk.
“Do all your students get this extra special treatment?” she teases as I stride to the dark shower room, bypassing the light switch.
I glare at her. “Just you. A big thorn in my side.”
Her bottom lip juts out again and it takes everything in me not to bite it. This girl is going to get my ass fired.
“All this didn’t happen,” I utter with a hiss as I walk her into a shower stall. “You naked. Me carrying you. It looks and sounds worse than it is.”
“Taking a shower with my coach in the dark. Didn’t happen. Gotcha,” she smarts off.
I twist the knob and take delight in her squeal when the icy water rains down on the both of us. I sure as hell need it to calm my dick down.
“You ass!”
Laughing, I set her to her feet but don’t let go in case she falls again. “I’ve been called worse.”
“You’re soaking through your clothes,” she says as she clings to my wet shirt.
The light from the infirmary just outside the shower room casts an eerie glow on her pretty face. Water runs down overhead and I become fixated on her parted lips. I’m in the shower with my naked teenage student. Fuck…this is bad.
And things go from bad to worse.
I cup her cheek and run my thumb over her bottom lip. I’m contemplating kissing her. How fucking psychotic is that? She stops gripping my shirt and slides her palms up over my shoulders to link her fingers behind my neck. This feels too intimate. I’m hanging on by a thread here.
“What would you do if I kissed you?” she murmurs, her eyes hooded as she looks up at me.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Please kiss you?”
“No.”
And the dirty little girl disobeys. Her perfect lips fuse to mine in a sweet kiss. So fucking innocent. The thread snaps and I change the rules. Hell, I break them. I devour that innocence and push my tongue into her delicious mouth. The little vixen climbs me like a tree. Sore muscles, my ass. Our tongues dance together and I confirm that she, in fact, has a tongue ring. Her muscular legs hook around my waist and my palms find her smooth bottom.
“Everett,” she moans against my mouth.
I groan and walk her to the wall. She cries out in pleasure when my cock rubs against her pussy; the only thing separating us is my track pants. I kiss her hard as I grind against her. I’m lost in this careless moment with her, oblivious to the consequences. All I want is her right now.
“River,” I snarl. “This isn’t happening.”
She sucks on my bottom lip. “Nope. All a dream.”
“Just this one time,” I tell her. “I’ll kiss you and then it’s over.”
Her body shudders with the promise of an orgasm. I want my fingers inside her but they’re still covered in athletic cream. Plus, that would be wrong. Coaches don’t finger their sexy students. But this one sure as hell wants to.
“A kiss and an orgasm,” she moans. “Agreed.”
I make a garbled sound but don’t deny her. I thrust my hips against her and nearly black out with pleasure at how I can feel her hot pussy through my thin pants. God, what I wouldn’t give to pull them down and impale her tight cunt.
“Do you like that, Emo?” I groan as I find a rhythm that has her clawing at my neck. “You want Coach’s throbbing cock inside of you?”
“Yesss!”
“No, beautiful,” I admonish and suck on her lip. “The answer is no.”
She cries out. “Please!”
“No, baby. As much as I want to fuck your pretty cunt, I can’t. I’ll get fired. I’m stealing this moment with you and then we have to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“But it feels so good,” she argues. Her entire body starts to quake.
“I know. It would feel so much better if my cock was stretching you out,” I rumble. “I would hurt you, baby. I would hurt you so good.”
Her body seems to explode in my arms. She screams my name and goddamn if I don’t love that sound on her lips. I’m about to nut in my pants so the moment she stops shaking, I set her to her feet.
“River…” I trail off. I want tell her how beautiful she is. How dangerous she is to my career and reputation because I won’t be able to quit her now that I’ve had a taste. So much I want to say to the young woman in my arms. And yet, I can’t bring myself to finish.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Shower, Emo,” I mutter, not saying any of those sentiments on the tip of my tongue. “Then I’ll take you home.”
“I’m starving,” she complains from the passenger seat. “Want to grab dinner?”
I steal a glance at her. After her shower, she dressed in her tiny shorts she’d worn to school earlier but didn’t put the leggings back on underneath. There’s no way in hell I’m taking her to a restaurant when she looks good enough to be on the menu.
“Eat at home,” I suggest, my eyes rolling in irritation.
“Cereal again,” she mutters.
“No,” I instruct, “after that workout, you need protein.”
“Tell that to my mother.”
“I will as soon as I meet her,” I challenge.
“Cooking isn’t exactly her thing.” She shrugs. “Besides, she won’t be home anyway. They never are.”
Guilt sluices through me. I recognize the loneliness in her tone. I know lonely. Against my better judgment, I change directions and head toward my house. She’s quiet as we drive, her gaze out the dark window. I can’t take my eyes off of her. I’m still in denial that I seduced my student. Fuck. Without her eye makeup and her hair messy, she somehow looks hotter. And younger.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
And now I’m taking her to my house.
Too many fucks to count.
“Cute house,” she observes when I pull into my driveway.
“Thanks. We’ll eat and then I’ll take you home.”
Thankfully she doesn’t argue. She sits at my bar while I set to cooking some chicken and vegetables. We chat about where she came from. Her dad took a job here in town so they moved from out of state. Both of her parents are social butterflies and leave her to her own devices. She’s an only child and I still don’t know how old she is.
“Here,” I grunt as I slide a plate across the bar to her.
She flashes me a flirty grin that has my cock waking back up. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Stop,” I warn. “Just stop.”
Her laugh is cute as she starts devouring her dinner. I take my place beside her and eat. It’s amicable and comfortable. When we finish, she even helps me clean. I’ve enjoyed her company today. A little too much.
“I don’t want to go home,” she says. “Our new house is empty and lonely. I hate it.”
“What do you want to do?” I can’t believe I’m entertaining this idea.
“Watch a movie?”
I can do that.
“Fine.”
“Can I borrow something more comfortable to wear?”
My eyes rake over her nipples. I can see through her tank and down her bare creamy thighs. “That’s a good idea,” I agree.
She follows me into the bedroom. I rummage around my drawers until I find the least sexy thing I own. A baggy T-shirt and some sweatpants. When I toss them on the bed, she starts pulling off her tank top.
“Have you no modesty, Emo?”
“Don’t be such a prude,” she says with a laugh. “You’ve seen me naked and you made me come. We’re past that, Coach.”
I snort
but don’t take my stare from her as she peels away her clothes. She eventually puts my shirt on but bypasses the pants. I’m about to argue but she crawls into my bed like she owns the damn place.
“River.”
Her vulnerable pale blue eyes meet mine. Whatever words I had fall short. I grab the remote and flip through the channels before landing on an old Game of Thrones episode. After darkening the bedroom, I tug off my shirt out of habit and lie down next to her on the bed. She snuggles up against my side and I’ll be damned if I don’t like her there. My heart is thundering in my chest. As many times as Julie was in my bed, I never felt like my body was on fire.
Her palm settles on my hard abs and I suck in a breath. She’s such a sweet goddamned temptation. It takes everything in me not to roll her over, yank her panties down her thighs, and shove my dick inside her. Every ounce of control.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I grit out through clenched teeth.
She skates her palm up to my pectoral muscle and pinches my nipple. “It’s me, Coach. Not you.”
My fingers find her still damp hair and I tangle my fingers in it. “I’m the one that can’t seem to be a responsible adult here.”
“But men can’t help themselves around me,” she whispers, her lips pressing to my chest as her hand starts trailing south toward my aching cock.
“River…”
“It’s why we moved, Everett.” She bites at my flesh and I close my eyes. If I keep them closed, I can pretend she’s older. Much older. I can pretend she’s mine—some cute girl I picked up at a club and brought home. Her fingertips dip beneath the band of my sweatpants.
“Why did you move?” I whisper.
Her hand slips past my underwear and she grips my raging hard-on. “I slept with my dad’s boss.” Hurt taints her voice. “He was fifty-three and married.”
I yank at her hair to pull her hot breath from my chest and glare at her. “What?”
“Before that, it was our neighbor. He fucked me in our kitchen.”
“Lies,” I snarl.
She slowly strokes my cock and her voice is barely audible. “I had to go to therapy after my neighbor. My parents thought I was a victim. But I have a problem. I see older men and I want them. I need them.”
I should be running so far away from this girl. Apparently, she fucks with people’s lives. She’s admitted this and yet I’m letting her jack me off. I’m fucked up too.
“My therapist, Joey, was firm with me at first,” she whispers. “He wanted me to get better. But then he was like the rest of them. Couldn’t keep his eyes off my tits or thighs. When I lifted my skirt and showed him my pussy, he didn’t tell me no. He set down his notebook and crawled on his knees to me. He didn’t say a word before he ate me out. It was my first time and I loved it. Every session after that, he would touch me. We didn’t fuck until I was fifteen.”
I grip her wrist and yank it from my cock. “This is bullshit. Some lie to turn me on?”
She bites her supple lip and shakes her head. “Joey was probably your age. He had sex with me and then one day, it was over. His girlfriend was pregnant. He told me we couldn’t happen ever again because it was wrong.” She frowns. “Didn’t stop him from one last fuck on his leather couch.”
“You’re some kind of sex addict?” I demand in disbelief.
She shrugs and reaches for my cock again but I bat her hand away. “And your father’s boss? Is that all?”
Shame crosses over her features and she sighs. “A few others in between.”
“How old are you?”
“Just turned eighteen.”
I scrub my face in frustration. A small miracle at least. “So you’re just fucking with me like you fucked with them?”
“I’m not fucking with you, Coach. I like you.”
“Because I’m older and you have goddamned issues. Got it, Emo.” I jerk myself out of the bed and start throwing clothes on. “Get dressed.”
“Why?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Because this little game is over.”
It’s been almost three weeks since I told Everett about my past. I’ve been thinking about his words ever since. You have goddamned issues. It stung hearing it from him but it resonated with me. I do have issues. I want what I shouldn’t have. My desire for my coach has turned into a full-blown obsession. Every thought goes back to that one perfect night where he touched me. To the night we kissed as two lovers—not a teacher and student. He’d made me orgasm and it was beautiful.
But then I ruined it all with my big mouth.
What I didn’t tell him was that I glorified the details a bit. My neighbor was a pervert. Looking back, I realize he was preying on me. I truly was a victim there. He’d played on my innocence and said all the right things to make me feel desired. I loved it. But then he fucked me. Left his used condom right there on the top of the trash pile in the bin for my mother to find.
They put me in therapy, where I developed a crush on Joey. While it wasn’t as glamorous as I told Everett it was, Joey did succumb to my shameless flirting. I remember feeling powerful when he broke and went against his code of ethics. We didn’t actually have sex but he did hug me a lot behind closed doors. He always found reasons to touch me. I’d come to think of him as my secret boyfriend. He’d ask me about my sexual fantasies while staring at my tits and I’d watch as he discretely rubbed at his cock through his slacks. It was dirty but mild compared to what I fibbed to Everett about.
Cannon, my dad’s old boss, though, that was real. Their office was on my way home from school. Every day, I’d pop in there and visit my father. But often he was in meetings, so I’d go see Cannon instead. James Cannon was gruff on the outside but I always got to see him smile. I knew he loved Skittles so I’d bring him a package every day. He’d let me sit in his office all afternoon and work on my homework. And sometimes, when he was on the phone with a client, he’d shut us inside with the door closed.
One day he was Cannon, my dad’s boss. And before I knew it, he was fucking me on his desk. This went on for months. I was so in love with him. He loved me too, so I thought. Then one day, he was bored with me. Told me to leave and to never come back. It wasn’t until I’d seen the new receptionist with the giant tits that I understood. I threw a raging tantrum in his office, slinging papers and furniture around. Security escorted me out and Dad was forced to step down from his job. Everyone figured out we’d been sleeping together but nobody did anything. Nobody cared that he broke my heart.
My parents were horrified and embarrassed. I’d like to think they were worried about my wellbeing, which is why they moved us out of state. But here I am in a new place and they’re still absent as ever. Sometimes I think they only care when I’m in trouble.
“There’s a party tonight at my friend Jake’s,” Caleb says, jerking me from my inner thoughts. “Everyone will be there. You should come.” He flashes me a flirty grin. Caleb is the kind of guy I should date. But stupid me gets her panties wet whenever she sees her coach.
“I don’t know,” I tell him absently. “Maybe.”
He pulls me to him and hugs me. I’m frozen by his sudden display of affection.
“Detention,” a familiar voice barks from behind me, sending shivers of want quaking through my body. I have problems. Major problems. The moment I hear his voice, I go crazy with desire. What is wrong with me?
“Why?” Caleb asks, sounding shocked.
A strong hand grips my bicep and I’m tugged out of Caleb’s arms. “PDA is against the rules. You know better.” He’s talking to Caleb but glaring down at me. I get caught up in his brown eyes that only stare coldly at me these days.
“I’m sorry,” I peep out.
Everett clenches his jaw. Then he releases me. “Get to class before the bell rings and I’ll see both of you after school.” He storms away and I stare after him with my mouth open. Today he’s dressed nicely, in a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. The fabric hugs his muscled ass in the mo
st delicious way.
“River—” Caleb starts, but I cut him off.
“I need to see the guidance counselor,” I clip out.
He frowns but nods. “See you after school.”
I skip out on going to Everett’s class that’s too easy anyway and head straight for the office. I don’t have to wait long before Mr. Polk calls me in.
“Have a seat, Miss Banks,” he says with a warm smile and waves a hand to a chair in front of his desk. He closes the door behind him and then takes a seat across from me. “What can I help you with?”
I chew on my lip and let my gaze roam over the pictures behind his desk. They’re all of him and a pretty blonde woman. Must be his wife or girlfriend. He waits patiently for me to speak. I look down at my lap and tug at the hem of my short pleated skirt. It’s funky and looks cute with my Doc Martens. When I look up at Mr. Polk, he’s looking at my thighs.
“I think I should change my schedule.”
He frowns. “Are you struggling in one of your classes?”
“AP Pre-Calc.”
Irritation flickers in his eyes. “Coach Long,” he utters, a hint of disgust in his tone. “Are you already failing? It’s hardly been a month.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m acing it. I just don’t like it there.”
“Is Coach being rude to you? I heard through some students he called you a stripper. That true?”
My mouth pops open in shock. I’m embarrassed about Everett and how I behaved, but I don’t want him to get into trouble. “No,” I lie.
He must sense that I’m protecting Everett because he stands and glares at me. “Miss Banks, that skirt seems awfully short for school. Does that have anything to do with your problems in his class? Has he…you know…touched you?”
Heat paints my neck and I feel my cheeks go bright red. “No. Ew, Mr. Polk.” I can barely keep the shaking out of my voice. “I just…do you have anyone I can talk to about my problems? Is there someone you can refer me to?”
He walks around the side of his desk and glances at my thighs again. “What sort of problems?”
I chew on my lip and shrug.
His gaze softens. “Sweetheart,” he urges, “I’m your guidance counselor. I can help you with these things but you need to talk to me. What happens in here, stays in here. Understand? Don’t be afraid to open up to me. I need to know what sort of problems.”
