I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from moaning. It’s a photo of her spread out on her bed in a blue lingerie set, the sheets hiding her lower half while her bra pushes her tits together. The angle of the picture doesn’t help my imagination either, showing off the arch in her back and one hand disappearing under the covers.
Dirty fucking girl.
Me
I need a warning before you send something like that.
I’m on the team plane, delayed because of weather. Anyone could see what you’re sending me.
H.E.
Maybe I should send one to Ethan too.
I whip around and glare at the poker game happening ten rows back. I shove my phone in my pocket and stand, storming to the rear of the plane and not stopping until I’m next to Ethan, holding out my hand.
“Give me your phone,” I say, and he blinks up at me.
“Huh?” He frowns. “Why?”
“You don’t need to know why. Your phone. Now.”
“Oooh.”
“Easy E is busted!”
“I didn’t do anything! I know what the team rules say about posting to social media before, during, and after games, and I haven’t violated that.” Ethan digs into his pockets and pulls out two iPhones. He reaches into his backpack and retrieves a third one, dropping them all in my hands. “But there ya go, Coach. Whatever is going on, I’m innocent.”
“You havethreegoddamn phones?” I stare at the devices. “What the fuck for?”
“One is for all of you. One is for my agent and all the business shit I have coming in. Sponsorships, ya know? Gotta make the money I can since our league literally refuses to pay us as much as the fucking NBA. The last one, well.” He smirks. “It’s for my fans.”
“Don’t look at the photos, Coach,” Riley offers. “It’s probably a gallery of dick pics.”
“Pierceddick pics,” Ethan adds, and I swallow down vomit.
“I should ban you from social media,” I say under my breath, and Ethan stares at me, horrified. “And I never want to hear anything about a pierced dick ever again.”
“People would miss me too much. You can’t do that,” he argues.
“You’ll get these back at the end of the flight.”
I don’t give the group another look, walking back to my row and laying all three of his phones on my tray table. I snap a quick picture, ignoring the seventy-five notifications that come in on his personal phone. My hands need to be disinfected.
“Everything okay?” Mikal asks, and I snort.
“Sometimes I’m glad I don’t know what the fuck these guys do in their free time. I think I would be fucking appalled,” I grumble, firing off another text to Hannah.
Me
*Attachment: 1 image*
The best part of being a head coach is all the power I have.
Anyone else’s phone I should confiscate?
H.E.
Those are all Ethan’s?!
