My Coach, My Stalker

“Why else would you keep such close tabs on me?” she asks, perplexed. “It’s all about diving. Everything in my life is about diving.”

I have no choice but to let her believe this lie.

What would I tell her instead?

That if she stopped diving, if she never competed again, I would still haunt the shadows wherever she goes for the next eighty years? If I revealed myself, she would be scared. She would think I’m disgusting for panting after a girl young enough to be my daughter. She would be outraged at the steps I’ve taken to ensure she never makes a move without me knowing.

“Margot,” I say, as steadily as I’m able when her hips are cradled in my hands. “I’m here because you need something. Don’t you?”

Blue eyes shoot to mine, twin spots of pink appearing on her cheeks. “I…I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” I say, stooping down slightly to capture her gaze. “You came out to this dance club because you’re still aching and wet between your legs.” My right hand slides up beneath her dress, fingers hooking in the side of her thong to drag it down slowly, slowly. “You’re confused by how you’re feeling, thanks to what happened after practice. And when young girls are achy and confused, they make bad decisions and regret them later.” Her panties fall to her knees and she sucks in a breath, her glazed-over eyes fastened on my mouth. “As your coach, I can’t allow that.”

A heavy beat passes, the music swelling around us, the dark keeping us cocooned.

“As my coach? Or as a man?” she asks, biting her lip and searching my face. “The things you said to me when I was…rubbing myself on the towel. I remember them. And the way you wait to end practice when the massage therapist has already gone home…” Her chest rises and falls quickly. “At the very least, y-you’re attracted to me. Aren’t you?”

My erection is pressed to her stomach as we speak.

I’m hard as fucking nails for this girl.

Lying about being attracted isn’t an option.

“Yes,” I rasp, crowding her tight to the wall, circling my hands around from her hips to clutch her bare bottom, watching shock transform her face. Shock and excitement. “I’m attracted to you. You make my dick stiff and angry. Your beautiful tits almost made me come in my pants tonight. Is that what you want to hear?”

She nods, face flushed.

Still searching my expression with inquisitive blue eyes. “Is it just…” She wets her lips. “Is it just attraction or…or…more?”

We’re heading into dangerous territory. My throat aches with the need to tell Margot that I’ve pictured her in a wedding dress more times than I can count. I’ve thought of us on our honeymoon, naked and poolside at some secluded, tropical retreat, me trying my hardest to get her pregnant before we leave to go home. But Jesus…I have to keep this last remnant of restraint. Have to hold on to it. Because if I let this obsession with Margot out of its cage completely, she won’t understand. She’s so young, so sweet, so innocent and idealistic. I’m not about to unleash a monster on her. I have to keep myself under control. The background of her life is the closest I can allow myself to get. Watching. Hungering. Dreaming.

“You have the biggest competition of your life in two days,” I say, hating myself for not telling her that I love her. That I’ve loved her far longer than is appropriate and would die in a heartbeat in exchange for her happiness. Instead, I avoid answering altogether by taking the vibrator out of my pocket and press the button to turn it on. “We need to take care of this little wet cunt so you can focus.”

She makes a sound of frustration. “Stop making it about the competit—”

I shove the vibrator up between her legs, angling the tip of the curve so it’s delivering pulsations directly to her clit. And maybe I should have anticipated her screaming, but I didn’t. I have no choice but to stamp my mouth down over the top of hers and absorb her taste into my bloodstream. Fuck oh fuck. I’m kissing Margot. I’m so immediately consumed by the mint and alcohol taste of her mouth that I growl like a broken beast and give her my tongue, desperate for more, my hand between her thighs working the vibrator up and back. Sliding it through the dripping wet folds of her sex, stopping each time at the apex of her slit to massage that slick, swollen bundle of nerves.

“Everett,” she moans when I break the kiss to let her breathe. “More. More. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

That confession is like jumper cables being plugged into my heart and turned onto the highest setting. She’s wanted me to kiss her? Holy shit. At the very least, the attraction goes both ways. On the heels of that elation, though, I force myself to calm down. Calm the fuck down. She wanted to be kissed. Meanwhile I want to dominate every aspect of her life. I want to feed her and bathe her and have her call me…