Coach's Daughter

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper against his mouth—and in this moment, I mean it. I can’t imagine myself without this man, every inch of his hard body contouring to mine, his naked honesty making my eyes burn. Pressing a kiss to his jawline, I reach down and gather the hem of his gray T-shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it back over my shoulder. My womanhood responds to the sight of his packed, swarthy muscle, clenching between my thighs, coating my flesh in moisture.

Next, I strip off my tank top and unsnap my strapless bra, letting it fall, arching my back slightly to offer him the sight of my breasts. The knowledge that this internationally renowned athlete hasn’t given in to the ample temptation surrounding him in eleven years? It makes me bolder. Arouses me to a fever pitch. Makes me want to reward him. And I find myself writhing on his lap, dragging my core up and back on the thickening steel in his sweatpants, listening to his choked breaths, watching his white teeth sink hard into his bottom lip, his hands twisting in the bed comforter. “Say it again,” he rasps. “Say you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I breathe, parting my lips over his in a long, moaning kiss, my hips beginning to rock faster. The wet battle of lips and tongue gets out of control almost immediately, but before I can unzip my skirt, Eric is breaking away, his breathing harsh.

“I didn’t forget, Greta. About putting you in charge of your first time. Tying up my hands so I won’t manhandle you—”

“I don’t need you to do that,” I gasp, rubbing myself against him shamelessly.

“When I make a promise to you, I keep it.” Blue eyes glittering, he nips at my mouth. “Go get a necktie from my top drawer.”

My legs are shaking so violently, they barely hold me up, but I manage to make it the short distance to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer and removing a red tie with shaky fingers, returning to Eric. I watch, aching, from the foot of his bed as he positions himself at the slatted headboard, his big, broad shoulders nestling into the pillows. Studying me from beneath hooded eyelids, he crooks a finger and I go, without thinking, crawling on hands and knees in his direction, panting and bare breasted, the tie clutched in my hand.

“Fuck.” He crams the side of his fist against his mouth. “I must be crazy offering to keep my hands off you.”

“Still time to change your mind,” I purr, rising to my knees and slowly lowering the side zipper of my skirt and letting it fall little by little, down my thighs, eventually revealing my nude thong. “You can hold me down and make me beg for mercy…”

I say it teasingly, but he doesn’t join in with my light laughter. “Don’t worry. I’ll be making plenty of time for that, Greta.”

The dark promise in his voice sends a hot shiver passing through me. “Suit yourself,” I murmur shakily, advancing closer, struggling to catch my breath as Eric rolls to one side and presents me his wrists behind his back. I loop the silk tie around them several times, running the material between his wrists and eventually tying it. Tightly. And when he turns over again, back propped against the pillows, I can’t help but take a moment to ogle him, this muscle-bound sports god who is allowing me to rule him for the night.

His blue eyes are already unfocused, hair tousled, his thickly defined abdomen muscles flexed in anticipation. I don’t get intimidated easily, but I am now, my heart leaping up into my throat at the possibility I’ll do this wrong. That it’ll hurt. That—

“Greta,” Eric says, breaking into my thoughts. “Angel. All you have to do is kiss me and everything is going to be okay.”

After a second, I nod and straddle his hips. By no means does my heart rate slow down. I’m not sure it ever will again. He’s right, though, as soon as I lean in and interlock our lips, both of us letting out eager groans, I forget my worries. There’s only room for Eric and the warm skin, the heaving planes of his chest and that wicked tongue in my mouth, mating mine with purpose, turning my thighs restless on either side of his hips until I’m rubbing my breasts against his chest sinuously, whining into the kiss.

Eric’s mouth lets mine go with a pop, his head falling back, his breath coming in short bursts. “Much more of that and you’re going to make me come in my pants again.” He visibly tries to rein himself in. “What do you know about sex, Greta?”

“I know you’ll be inside me. That you’ll…push. In and out.”