Page 4 of Knot Just a Spectator
But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she walks back over and stops right in front of me again. One hand comes up, fingers sliding into my hair at the back of my head.
“On your knees,” she muses, the command wrapped in velvet.
I drop like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done. My hands go to her hips automatically, steadying myself. I look up at her through my lashes and grin, because fuck it, this is exactly where I want to be.
Sol’s eyes darken. “Don’t get used to this.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Coach,” I lie, already hooking my fingers into the waistband of her athletic pants. I tug them down, taking my time. Her panties come partway with them, black, simple, and already damp at the crotch. I don’t bother pullingthem the rest of the way off. I just shove the fabric aside and lean in, mouth open, tongue dragging a long, filthy stripe up her center.
She hisses out a breath, hand tightening in my hair. “Fuck, Blair.”
I laugh against her, the sound muffled. “Tastes like you’ve been thinking about this too.”
“Shut up and eat me properly, or I walk out right now.”
I bury my face between her thighs and go to work like I’ve been starving for it. I lick and suck and tease, tongue circling her clit before dipping lower, pushing my tongue inside her just to hear the way her breath catches. She’s wet, so fucking wet, and the taste of her makes my head spin. More slick drips down my own thighs, but I don’t care. I just want her to fall apart.
I ease her backward until her ass hits the counter stool, then I nudge her thighs wider and settle in deeper. One hand slides up her stomach under the hoodie, my palm finding the underside of her tit and nothing else. No tanktop, bra... just...nothing.
The other grips her hip, holding her steady while I work her open with my tongue. She’s trying to stay quiet, I can tell by the way her thighs are trembling around my ears, but little gasps keep slipping out anyway.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her, pulling back just enough to speak. “Let me hear you, Coach. Come on. I’ve been good.”
She laughs, breathless and wrecked. “You’re never good.”
I dive back in, sucking her clit between my lips and flicking my tongue just right. Her hips jerk, her hand fisting tighter in my hair. I feel the exact moment she starts to come undone, her thighs clamping around my head, a low groan tearing out of her throat that goes straight to my aching cock.
Every part of me wants to stand up and rip my pants down my legs before fucking into her, but I refrain. She’d kill me. But god, just the fantasy of her locking down on my cock...
A heady groan pulls from my throat as I lick her through her orgasm, greedy for more of her, until she’s shuddering and pushing at my shoulder.
“Enough,” she pants, dragging my head back by my hair. She yanks me into a filthy kiss, tongue sliding against mine, tasting herself on me. I moan into her mouth, my hips rocking uselessly against nothing. She breaks the kiss with a sharp nip to my bottom lip.
“Goodnight, Blair,” she says against my mouth, voice hoarse.
Then she’s gone, pointing one more time to the forms, her pants barely tugged back up, door clicking shut behind her before I can even process it.
I stay on my knees for a second, lips swollen and slick with her. My cock is throbbing, untouched, but when I finally look down, I realize I’ve already come. A wet spot darkens the front of my sweatpants, mixing with the slick pooling between my legs.
A broken whimper slips out of me before I can stop it.
I need more.
I need her to come back and ruin me properly.
I drag myself up on shaky legs, bracing one hand on the counter, and stare at the closed door like it might open again if I glare hard enough. When nothing happens, I grab the folder, because even if my brain is still offline, my body knows the drill. I flip it open on the counter and start signing page after page, pen moving on autopilot while my mind replays every second of the last ten minutes on loop. The waivers are done in under five minutes. I shove them back into the folder and set it by the door, so I won’t “lose” them again.
Then I head straight for the shower, stripping off the ruined sweats on the way. Hot water hits my skin and I lean against the tile, my hand finally wrapping around my still-hard cock. I come again with her name in my mouth and the certainty that this, whatever the hell this is between us, is nowhere near finished.
At Knotlocke, the handbook is very clear. No rules against dating coaches and players. Hell, they auction off Alphas every month to raise money for the sports programs. A little boundary-pushing with my coach? That’s practically tradition.
I smile against the shower spray, already half-hard again.
Yeah. I definitely need more.
