16. Isla #3
But his hands are already sliding under my shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on my back that make me shiver. I can feel his erection pressing against me. The rational part of my brain is screaming that we need to stop, but my body has other ideas.
“Maybe we could...” I start, not even sure what I’m suggesting.
“Just this,” he suggests, his voice husky with desire. “Just for now.”
“Yeah…”
He pulls his hands from under my shirt and brings them back to my hips, guiding me as I begin to move against him.
The friction is intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through me that make my head spin.
Fuck, I haven’t felt this good in so long.
Killian’s breath hitches as I rock against him, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Fuck, Isla,” he groans, his head falling back against the wall. “I want to touch you. Will you let me?”
“Please, Killian,” I’m not above begging. “I’m all yours.”
His hands roam my body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if trying to commit me to memory.
I feel his hardness through the thin fabric of his shorts, pressing against me in all the right places and I’m lost in the sensation, in the way our bodies respond to each other.
His hips roll upward and a moan escapes me before I can stop it.
“One more minute,” I cry, my body betraying every rational thought in my head as I shift over his cock. “Just one more minute.”
“Take all the time you need. I’ll give you whatever you want, Isla.”
I’m so lost in the feeling that I barely notice when his fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt once again, his palms hovering just below my breasts.
He captures my lips again, his kiss deeper and more desperate than before.
His tongue sweeps mine, tasting, exploring, claiming and then he moves his hands higher slowly until his palms are cupping my breasts for the first time.
The contact is an unbelievable sensation, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body that have me gasping for air.
“Oh, my God, Killian!”
“Fucking perfect, Isla,” Killian proclaims, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, making them harden instantly. “Perfect in my hands.”
I cry out unintelligible words, thrusting forward over his cock with more intensity. “I think I…I…” I squeeze my eyes closed, completely overwhelmed with desire. “I think I’m going to come.”
Killian rocks me against him, seeking more friction, and I feel myself getting closer to the edge with each roll of my hips.
He gently pinches my nipple between his fingers, and the sensation sends me spiraling.
My whole body tenses, pleasure crashing through me in waves that make me cry out his name against his lips.
“Oh fuck, Isla,” Killian groans, his hips jerking upward as his own release hits him.
I feel the warmth of him through his shorts, feel the way his body shudders beneath mine as he holds on to me for dear life, his arms wrapped tightly around my body, and it only intensifies my own orgasm, drawing it out longer than I thought possible.
We stay like that for what feels like eternity, pressed together, breathing each other in, our bodies still trembling with aftershocks. His forehead drops to mine, our breath mingling in the space between us.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
Killian’s laugh is breathless, shaky, but genuine. “Yeah,” he agrees, his hands still resting on my waist. “Holy shit is right.”
I should feel guilty. I should feel something other than this bone-deep satisfaction that’s spreading through my limbs like warm honey. But all I can think about is how good that felt. How…right it felt, and how different this feels from anything I’ve experienced before.
“You okay?” I feel his hand on the back of my head, his fingers combing through my hair.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding against him. “I’m good. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Better.”
“Better?” I repeat his word, wanting to be certain he’s really okay.
“Much better,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “You’re a hell of a distraction, Coach.”
I smile, feeling a rush of warmth spread through my body. “That was the idea.”
We sit there for a moment, our foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air. The panic that had gripped him earlier seems to have dissipated, replaced by something calmer, more centered.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” Killian says quietly, his fingers still playing with a strand of my hair.
“Hey, no. Please don’t ever apologize for that.” I pull back slightly to look at him. “I know the anxiety you’re feeling. I’ve been there. And I’m here now, with you. Okay? That’s what I’m here for. I’ll hold your hand every time. I’ll help you through it the best I can. Whatever you need.”
He swallows silently and then shyly asks, “Will you come to the game tonight?”
I rear my head back a little, weirded out that he thinks I wouldn’t want to be there. “Did you think for a second I wouldn’t want to be there to see you play? To see you all play? I mean who’s going to razz you if I’m not there?”
He finally laughs and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tighter. “That’s all I needed to hear, Coach.”