Chapter Twenty-Two
Leo
I’m going straight to the Bad Place for this. We know better than to fool around here.
But we’re past the point of pretending we can stay away from each other. I am, at least.
I train, I hurt, I think of her. It’s my routine, my rhythm. I can’t do anything about it. Hockey used to be the only thing that mattered, but she’s changing the game.
That’d be less confusing if she weren’t also tied up in hockey.
I’ve fallen for her in a way that puts everything at risk, but I won’t be able to live with myself if this hurts her in the end.
Stopping, though, is no longer an option.
Our only choice?
Don’t get caught.
I set to work on my most important job. She’s never done this. Even if she hadn’t admitted it out loud, it’d be obvious from the way she’s acting. Needy little thing.
“No one knew how to take care of you properly, did they?” I kiss her where she’s desperate as my fingers pump in and out of her, soaked. “Idiots. All of them. Otherwise they never would’ve let you go.”
Her moan is stifled by her own palm, but as I rear back to look at her, I see a flash of something in her eyes as she shakes her head.
Curiosity gets the better of me. “No?”
She lowers her hand just an inch so she can speak. “No one let me go. There was one guy a long time ago, and I’m the one who ended it.” Her voice holds no regret, but there’s emotion there. “Hockey came first.”
Hockey first. Hockey over everything. Over a relationship, a family, a life.
Yeah. I’m all too familiar with that mindset.
But I’ve never felt like I was missing those things until I laid eyes and hands on her.
“If you can walk away from someone, or they can walk away from you, then they aren’t the one,” I say. “And you know what? I’m a selfish bastard, because I’m glad he wasn’t.”
Her face is impossibly sweet as she nods again.
“Good. We agree. I’m a selfish bastard. I’m going to put my mouth on you again, Sadie. And this time, you’ll ride my face until you’re finished.”
I slide her hand over her mouth again before she can disagree.
My cock hangs heavy between my legs as I kneel, quick to remind me of how little attention I’ve given it. It’s aching and stiff, getting its own ideas of the things we can’t do in here.
But those things are on the forefront of my mind.
Bending her over the desk, spreading her legs, and breaching her in one rough stroke, for starters.
God, to have her like that, to feel her desperately writhing on my shaft with nothing between us.
To take away that barrier while so many others stand in our way. But we can’t.
Not can’t—shouldn’t. We’re more than capable, which makes the idea all the harder to resist.
She was asking for it a second ago, wasn’t she? Her angelic eyes fixed on mine, spouting her devilish promise, I’ll be so quiet, as she shoved her panties aside and bared herself to me.
I’m throbbing.
“I want you so bad,” she moans, dropping her hand.
I groan into her clit. She nearly shoots off the desk.
She’s close. I give her everything, every trick, pouring myself into the act until she tenses, beautifully still.
And then her body contracts as her legs tremble. She half hugs me, holds on to me as she rides it out, her bee-stung lips popping open on a gasp. I don’t relent until she pulls at my good shoulder, begging me to stand up and kiss her.
Our mouths meet again. Her tongue strokes against mine as I gather her close, hands on her ass, pulling her to the edge of the desk to keep her flush against where I’m achingly hard for her. We can’t do much, but I need the contact. The heat.
She teases me with a roll of her hips. This woman is dancing on the thin thread of my resolve. I move my hips, grinding against her.
Her fingers hook inside the waistband of my shorts again.
I don’t stop her. I can’t.
The sound she makes when she takes me in her palm makes me leak—like she needs it. Needs me. She swipes her thumb through the bead of liquid, spreading it, overpowering all two hundred and thirty-five pounds of me with the gentlest bit of friction.
She leans back, supporting herself with one palm on the desk and gripping me with the other. When she lines us up, I surround her hand with mine. If it’s a mistake to fuck her here, it’s a mistake we’ll control together.
“You’re sure?” I guide the head of my cock up and down, my sense of sanity slipping through my fingers. So warm.
“Now,” she whispers. She moves her hips, seeking, worked up past the point of all reason. “I can’t wait.”
Nothing feels like this—like this first, perfect slide. Hot, wet, tight perfection. “I’m already so fucking close, just from tasting you.”
“That’s too bad. I need a few hours of this.” She places the other palm on the desk, letting her head fall back.
I glide my hand up the center of her chest, over her beating heart, resting my thumb at the hollow of her throat to feel her pulse rage for me. “You had to wear a black dress today, didn’t you? It’s like you want me to ruin it.”
“Nope.” Her gaze is cast down, her eyelashes flirting with her cheeks as she watches me slide in, and out, and back in slow, blissful drags as I go to war with my resistance.
My stamina is threadbare after too many days without her.
“I can’t walk out of here stained, Leo. You don’t want everyone to know you defiled your coach, do you? ”
Jesus. Christ.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I pull out, take her by the waist, and flip her over. She watches over her shoulder as I ruck up her dress, getting it as far out of the way as possible. I snap her panties in my haste to take them off before teasing her pussy from behind.
Then I drive inside in one hard stroke, leaning over her to get my mouth as close to her ear as I can. “I want everyone to know you couldn’t wait another second for it. So needy you fucked me bare right on your desk. Isn’t that right, Sadie?”
She nods, face tilted to watch me. Her gaze is stormy with need, like there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for me right now.
“You try so hard to be good all the time, but you don’t want to be good today, do you? Begging me to fuck you in your office.” I slam into her, kneading her perfect, round ass with one hand as sparks dance in my periphery.
Fuck, the way she feels. If I want to stave off the end, I need to slow down.
But I can’t when she’s looking at me like that. With those perfect lips parted as she pants. I’m possessed.
“I don’t.” The words ride out on her sharp exhale. “I don’t want to be good.”
“Good. Because you aren’t.” Whatever she’s going through right now, whatever got in her head today, this is what she needs—and I’m more than happy to give it to her.
“You’re so fucking bad. Teasing me within an inch of my sanity with your little ‘good night Leo’ texts, knowing damn well I’m three hotel rooms down, or one short drive away, fucking my fist, thinking of you.
And you get off on that, don’t you? Knowing we shouldn’t but tempting me anyway because you know I can’t resist you. ”
She nods in confession and arches her back, spurring me on.
“Thought so, Coach.” I pick up the pace, my thrusts growing fast and erratic as I lose myself in her. To her. The sound of her breathing when she’s desperate for more, for me, permanently etches itself into my brain.
I find her fevered clit and work my fingers at a pace that makes her hand fly to her mouth just in time to muffle her own cry.
“That’s right. It feels good to be bad, doesn’t it?” I swat her ass just hard enough to shock her, pulling a yes from her lips. “To let your dirty secret bend you over the same desk where you sit all prim and proper, day in and day out? It feels so good, you’re dripping with it.”
She reaches an arm behind her as if to comfort me, nearly breathless. “You’re not—not just—”
“I know. We both know.” I pin her hand against the desk and lean close to her ear.
She pants harder, as though this firm handling is pushing her even closer to the edge.
“But out there, you have to be good for everybody else.” My hips snap against her perky ass, the room ceasing to exist except for where we’re joined.
“Go ahead and give them their perfect coach while I get the real you behind closed doors. Save your worst for me.”
She stifles a moan the best she can, but I still hear it.
It sounds like surrender.
A tell-tale warmth build at the base of my spine. This is too much, too good. I’m going to break.
I release her hands. “Touch yourself.” I lift her hips off the desk, giving her room to work. She’s so damn tight. Wet. Hot. My orgasm closes in, dangerously close. “C’mon, Sadie. Come on this bare cock you begged me for. Strangle every last fucking drop from me so you can get back to work.”
Her shiver breaks into a tremble, and then her whole body tightens. I barely have enough time to register that she’s coming before I’m surging inside her, consumed by her heat, the feel of her release.
Most of the time I can’t think straight as I orgasm, or for a few minutes after. But today, one thought is clear and demanding. So much so that it won’t leave my mind—not when I kiss her warm neck and back and smooth her hair out of her face as we ride out the last waves of sensation.
Or when I slowly pull out and catch our mixed release with a stack of soft tissues from her desk.
Or when she laughs and sprawls on the desk to catch her breath.
Or when I steal her computer chair and rub her calves for a minute as we come back to ourselves.
Not even when I eventually put the pens back in a cup I don’t remember knocking over and make my exit a few minutes before her in the name of discretion.
Even after all that, the thought still burns bright in my mind: this could end badly, but I can’t fathom it ending at all. Ever.
And that scares the shit out of me.