27. Samara
Chapter twenty-seven
Samara
Sunday, July 19, 2026
K at sent me the link to the website her other bridesmaids used for their dresses. Luckily, she wasn’t picky about the style. She said I could choose whatever I wanted so long as it was satin and in the correct color.
I appreciate that more than she knows. I’ve been in more weddings than I can keep track of, and every time, the bride made me wear a dress that fit everyone other than me. I always felt so uncomfortable. My breasts were either pooling out of the top, my back fat was being strangled, my belly pooched out, or my hips were so constricted that I could hardly move, let alone dance.
It definitely eased my mind to know that I get to choose my own dress so it fits me properly.
But that doesn’t calm the warring emotions I’m feeling about having to go with Luca.
This feels wholly inappropriate.
Hell, I know it’s inappropriate, but hopefully, in the next week, the last of the paperwork will be filed, and I won’t really be his lawyer anyway.
It’ll all be fine.
I hear a knock on my door, and excitement suddenly rushes through me.
“Thank god for overnight shipping.”
A middle-aged man stands on my porch, holding my package.
“Hey, thanks so much.”
“No problem. Have a great day,” he tells me, handing me the package before heading back to his van.
I tear into the package the moment I’ve closed my door, and a little squeal of delight leaves my lungs at seeing the gorgeous illustrated cover in my hands. I’m so glad this is the book they selected for this month’s book club. I’ve had it on my Tbr since before it was even released.
Relaxing back into my couch cushions and tossing my legs up, I settle in to read Resilient Love .
From the get-go, I’m dragged right into the prologue.
I tear through the locker room, fists balled as I make my way to Coach’s office. Yanking the door open, it slams against the wall at my entrance. Coach leans back in his chair, his head supported by his forearms as he eyes me with a smug smirk stretched across his lips.
"What the fuck is this about?" I challenge.
"What ever are you talking about?" he asks, his tone dripping in sarcasm.
"You know good and well what I'm referring to."
At that, he sits up in his chair, wiping the smirk clean from his face. He levels me with a flat expression before saying, "You want my job when I retire. Do this for me, and it's yours."
The wind is knocked from my lungs, a rebuttal on the tip of my tongue but it never makes its way out of my mouth.
Coach Auclair relaxes back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't do ultimatums, so the job is yours regardless of whether you accept the position or not, but I really hope you will. I plan to retire in the next two years and I don't want to have to worry about what I plan to do with this team."
I can barely think past the throb of my heartbeat against all of my pulse points as my mind works to figure out what his intentions are. "What's so special about this women's football team that I, of all people, am being requested as their interim coach? And why would you suggest me in the first place? I haven't competed in a football match in years."
Coach Auclair knows all about my painful past with football, and if that weren't reason enough not to include me in whatever plan he has, I’m not sure what is. This isn't adding up.
He lets out a sigh, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, and pinches the bridge of his nose, steadying himself.
"It's my daughter's team."
My brows scrunch together. "I'm still not understanding," I answer plainly.
His eyes finally open, and the pained expression chiselled into his features has my heart clenching in my chest. I know desperation when I see it, it’s an emotion I’ve grown entirely too familiar with.
"My daughter's team has won the National Championship the last two years. Elise plans to make it onto the Olympic team, and that can't happen without a coach. Her previous one was caught in a scandal and no one wants to take the team on right now because they don't want their name involved."
Shaking my head, I ask, "What kind of scandal would deter potentially hundreds of available coaches, especially if the team is as good as you're suggesting?"
"It was with the players,” he reluctantly admits, rubbing the space between his brows where the skin is wrinkled, his lips pulling taut. “The coach was sleeping with the players."
A chill runs down my spine as his words sink in. I blink, the weight of them pressing against my chest, and slowly nod, my mind racing as I trace the quiet tension in the air. My fingers curl into a fist at my side, but I don’t move, standing here, assessing the shift in the space between us. "And you think it's a good idea to send one of your players, who hasn't played football in years and has definitely never coached, to act as interim coach, in the middle of the season? I'm genuinely curious where the hell this idea came from."
"I can't say I trust you to keep it in your pants, okay?” He rolls his eyes. “But at least you aren’t old enough to be one of these girls’ fathers. That said, I'd really prefer it if you kept your dick to yourself."
"Okay," I answer slowly, "let's say I agree to this, how do we plan to make this work with my practice and game schedule?"
"I'll rework practice times to be immediately before or after the Blaze’s practices and I've already arranged to have all of ours on their campus so you don't have to travel between locations. They're a sport oriented school with a lot of money. Their facility is as nice, if not nicer, than ours. It won't be a downgrade. Besides, their season is nearly halfway through."
Shaking my head, I release a grunt. "Fine," I tell him, turning to leave.
"Wait! ‘Fine’? You're saying yes?" he asks, dumbstruck as his hands grip the armrests of his wooden desk chair, his ass halfway out of the seat as he stares at me with wide eyes.
"Sounds like it," I say, calling over my shoulder as I stride out the door.
This is a terrible idea.
Blowing out a breath, I lean back in my seat. “Damn, talk about a lot riding on a single decision.”
I dive back into the book, having no obligations for the night and no desire to stop here. The book is dual point-of-view, so the next chapter is from the female main character’s perspective.
"Elise," the massive Brit purrs as he swipes the head of his engorged cock through my slick heat, "will you be a good girl and accommodate us both at the same time?"
"Yes," I moan.
Leo chuckles, lining his swollen tip up with my mouth. "It's really poetic, isn't it mate?" He pauses, laughing again. "The good little French girl is about to do her first Eiffel Tower."
A laugh squawks out of me, hiding my disdain for the ignorant comment. Leo is often brash, leaning into certain stereotypes about Australians, never one to hold his thoughts in which is something I usually enjoy about him, so I brush the comment off. "When did I say it was my first?" I challenge.
Noah smacks my ass from his position behind me. “He should’ve known better.”
The sting sends a zap of electricity down my spine, and a moan slips past my lips. “Shut up and fuck me already,” I instruct, letting the sass seep into my voice.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Leo responds before plunging his cock into my mouth.
“Oh, we’ve already started, huh?” Noah comments from behind, pushing into me, causing my mouth to drive forward meeting Leo’s hips.
Noah’s pounding thrusts and the slap of his pelvis against my ass causes heat to pool in my core. My eyes are watering with the effort to remain on all fours with Leo’s length threatening to suffocate me.
Noah’s hand snakes around my bare abdomen, his thumb stroking over my clit. Another moan escapes me, and my thighs clench together as the firm pressure starts to coax my orgasm out of me.
Leo’s position changes, his hips angling himself even further, burrowing into my throat.
I look up at him through my lashes, and see that he’s extending his arm over my head, presumably reaching for Leo’s behind me. A real Eiffel Tower, well, I’ll be damned.
It takes everything in me not to laugh with his cock impaling my throat. If I did, he’d likely wind up with teeth marks.
Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I focus on two things. Not choking and having an orgasm before I have to make it to practise.
Leo’s callused hand grips my chin, then drags across my cheek. His fingers dig into my scalp, his groans of approval growing louder.
“Fuck Frenchy, your mouth is fucking delicious,” he moans.
“She’s gagging for it,” Noah murmurs, his thick British accent sending another jolt of pleasure through me.
My walls are clenching around his length, the methodical rhythm of his thumb driving me wild. Tension builds throughout me, my muscles aching for release.
Leo’s body goes rigid. “I’m about to come.”
The hot, salty taste of his release fills my mouth, sliding down my throat. A satisfying moan escapes me as Noah pulls himself out entirely before plunging back in. I bounce my ass back into his hips, taking him to the hilt as I come undone around him. My body writhes against him as he fills me, tendrils of pleasure licking up my spine.
Once they’ve both pulled out, I collapse on the bed. “Fucking hell,” Leo groans.
Noah’s arousal trickles out of me and down my thighs. I’m spent.
Noah slumps beside me, angling his face to peer over at me. He’s wearing a contented smile as he says, “Sorry ‘bout that love.” He nods his chin towards my coated thighs.
A laugh escapes me as I roll over, smacking a hand to his chest and using it to push myself up. “Alrighty boys, stay as long as you’d like, but I’ve got to get going.”
“Your new coach starts today, right?”
I nod, heading to the bathroom to clean up.
Neither of them move to stand, but I leave the door open so we can continue talking while I freshen up.
“Know who it is yet?”
I shake my head before realising that they can’t see my response. “Not yet.”
“Hopefully they're not a wanker like the last one,” Noah drawls.
“He wasn’t a wanker,” I chuckle. “He was a slut. But so are we and I’m not judging either of you.”
“The man was old enough to be our father,” Leo groans.
Grabbing a pair of shorts, I work them up my thighs. “Different strokes for different folks,” I shrug. “Not my cup of tea, but I can’t fault the man too much. If I looked like him at nearly fifty, I’d be sleeping with whoever I wanted too.”
“You already do that,” Noah jokes.
“Yep, and I’ve no plans to stop anytime soon.”
“And why is that exactly, Elise?” Noah asks, a light brow raised at me.
Oh, here we go again. Why can’t he leave well enough alone? I don’t have the time, nor the desire, for more than what we’re already doing and with Noah’s incessant questioning, I’d never be open to anything serious with him, anyway. Of course, I don’t say any of that and opt for a kinder, more rehearsed version of the same sentiment.
“I don’t have time for a relationship right now, and I have no reason to settle for just one cock. Maybe one day when I find one that satisfies me I will, but lucky for you,” I wink, “today is not that day.”
Noah chuckles, but the sound is tense. He sits up to get dressed and my shoulders sag with relief. “Fair enough, but I’m not sure there’s any human cock that could satisfy you. Hell, this bloke and I have been trying for months now.”
I roll my eyes at that. “Don’t act as if it’s some hardship.” Sex is the only time I can afford to feel anything besides the constant weight of loss. Sure, I might’ve let go of the resentment I used to carry around, but it doesn’t mean it’s not impossible to miss the two people I once counted on most. Without them here, focusing solely on my career is a necessary evil to ensure my success.
Bending forward, I double-knot my trainers. “Alright, let yourselves out, I’m gonna be late.” I catch sight of the alarm clock on my nightstand. “Again,” I groan, heading out with a noncommittal wave in their direction. 1
Over the next several hours, I get sucked into the story, unaware of the time passing until it becomes so dark in my living room that I’m forced to put the book down to switch on a lamp.
Well, shit , there’s a reason this author is an auto-buy for me. I’ve spent my entire day reading, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a well-deserved Sunday off from the madness of work.
As much as I love reading, and I seriously value my alone time, sometimes it gets lonely. I haven’t been in a serious relationship in what feels like forever, and while I love my career, I’ve always wanted a family.
I just never thought that I’d have to choose between being a lawyer and having a fulfilling home life.
1. Read It Here!