Chapter 37 #3
And I’m about to tell him never mind, that it’s stupid, but his large hand slips beneath me, and his fingers curl around my neck, lifting me up and off the desk.
His front molds against my back, his cock, heavy and hard, smashed against my ass.
I swallow as his fingers press tighter around my throat, and I swear I can feel my heartbeat in my clit, every unsteady woosh.
Yes, one of my fantasies is to be choked, and he knows that, but it’s not something we’ve done yet.
I want it. With that silly little whistle and his powerful body slamming into mine, using all of his big, bad coach authority to take advantage of me. Using my pussy and body for his enjoyment.
“You’ll have marks on your pretty skin if I do,” he grunts roughly, sweeping his fingers along my neck. “That what you want? Me to choke you, leave my marks on your neck the same way I did this perfect ass?”
Words fail me, my throat too tight with need, so I nod vehemently.
“Fuck me,” he rasps, the words barely above a whisper, like they’re more for himself than for me.
Then he’s moving.
A thread finally snapping inside of him.
He fists the base of his cock and drags it through my pussy, covering it with my arousal. Then he slaps the thick head against me, once, and then again, hissing when I clench, flexing his hips slightly to rock against my clit.
I’m already on the verge of coming, and he’s not even inside me yet.
“Fuck me, Coach.”
Groaning, he slides the hand curving around my throat down to my chest and yanks the front of my dress down, freeing my breast.
His coarse hand curls around it, tweaking my nipple between his thumb and pointer, pinching roughly until I cry out.
Blessedly, finally, he gives me what I’m begging for by driving into me in one hard thrust, fully seating his cock deep inside my pussy, but not until he slides his whistle over my head and wraps the string around his fist, pulling it tight.
Oh God… it’s… perfect.
I moan when he slides out of me until only the head of his cock remains and then powers forward, thrusting so hard that the desk slides an inch.
I thought that Wilder had fucked me before.
Technically, he has.
But this? This is something else entirely.
It’s something raw, and carnal, and filthy, and I know that I’ll be replaying it in my head for the rest of eternity.
He’s pounding into me so hard from behind that my tits shake from the force, hitting the perfect spot inside of me that has my eyes fluttering closed.
The sound of our skin slapping together mixes with the groans and whimpers, the breathless pants, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer.
“Jesus. Fucking. Hell, baby.” He pulls tighter on the whistle around my throat, and I moan, unable to stop it from ripping out of me.
“You fucking love this, don’t you? I can feel you fluttering around my cock.
” His voice wavers at the end, like he can hardly finish the thought.
“Love getting choked while I’m fucking the shit out of you. ”
His filthy words send my orgasm crashing into me out of nowhere, and I catapult off the side of the highest ledge I’ve ever encountered.
My vision dances, black spots floating around the edges, and pleasure doesn’t just take me; it consumes me.
It pulses and throbs in my lower belly, tightening my muscles until they feel like they’re going to snap, replacing the tension suddenly with warm bliss seeping through my limbs.
Of course, he knows, he feels me spasming around him, so only then does he let go of the whistle, freeing up space in my lungs and sending a rush straight to my core, prolonging my climax.
It goes on and on and on, Wilder wringing every ounce of pleasure out of me until there’s nothing left.
“Fuck, I’m coming, baby, I’m coming,” he grinds out, the words low and gruff. I tighten and clench around him, and he groans, “Take it all, every fucking drop.”
I whimper when he fills me, the warm feeling spreading through me. He fucks his cum into me in hard, shallow thrusts, already so deep that he can’t possibly get any further, yet somehow, he does.
I’m completely spent and boneless when he finally stops moving, his dick still buried inside of me to the hilt, twitching from the remnants of his climax.
The room is filled with our harsh breath, the result of Wilder well and truly fucking me to death, I think.
I feel his lips along my back, brushing over the bare skin at the top of my spine, then my shoulder, and then the side of my neck.
It’s oddly… tender.
Especially after a moment like we just shared, and it’s so unexpected that my heart swells and beats too fast.
I have to remind myself that this is just fun. It’s just casual hooking up, and tender and sweet aren’t ways to describe this man. Even if it feels like it in this moment.
He gently cleans me up with a towel from his Hellcats merch stash and flips my dress back down, tugging the front of my dress up and securing the strap. And once he’s done taking care of himself, Wilder gives me a rare grin.
One that makes my pulse flutter.
“Never gonna look at this desk the same again. You realize that?”
Of course I do.
I smirk, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Only fair since I’ll never be able to tab a book the same again.”
What did he once say about nothing being fair in sports?
Guess it makes this my game, then.