“What do you want from this?” he asks.
I look down at him, finding flushed cheeks and messy hair. There’s a small drop of saliva on the corner of his lips. I wipe it away, mimicking his move from earlier, and the last fragments of my rationality splinter when Brody turns his head and sucks my finger into his mouth.
“You,” I blurt, adrenaline-fueled. My hands move to his chest. I try to memorize every divot, every hard slope of his body under my fingertips. I peel his shirt over his head, marveling at his sculpted physique. “Jesus Christ.”
“My name is Brody, sweetheart. Try to get it right next time.” He cups my cheek with the hint of a smile. “Tell me, Hannah. Was this your plan all along? Bag the coach, get him to reveal his deep, dark secret about his crush on you, and have some fun?”
“Fuck you,” I say, embarrassed when he shoves my skirt up my waist and traces his fingers over my underwear. There’s a damp spot on the cotton already, and he groans when he finds it. “My only plan was to attempt to be your friend, but from the way you were eye-fucking me all night, it seems likeyou’rethe one with a plan. You’re conflicted, aren’t you? You want me, but you’re trying to justify why you should stay away from me. You think I’m too young.” I take his hands and pin them against the curve of the couch. Mischief gleams behind his eyes. “Too off-limits.” His pulse jumps when I kiss his cheek, his throat. “Guess what, Brody? I’m a woman who knows what she wants, and tonight, I want you.”
“Where is your room?”
“Down the hall, but we can?—”
Brody stands and lifts me in his arms. He carries me, each step purposeful as he opens the doors on his right and his left. I hide my giggle in his bare chest when he finds the bathroom and curses under his breath.
“It’s a goddamn maze in here.”
“Walk straight.” A full laugh bursts free when he tries the linen closet. “Straight, Brody.”
He finally opens the door to my room and stomps across the rug. He deposits me on the bed and steps back, a hand on his belt and his beautiful body bathed in moonlight.
“You should know something about me, Hannah.”
“What’s that?”
“I like to fuck my women where I can enjoy them.” His fingers work the zipper on his jeans, pulling down the fly before popping open the silver button keeping them on his hips. “Where I can eat them out until they come.”
My heart nearly flatlines when he steps out of his pants, leaving him in only a pair of gray briefs that show off strong legs from years of playing hockey.
Brody kneels on the edge of the mattress and crawls toward me. He eases me onto my back. Strokes his fingers across my stomach in the cruelest form of torture I’ve ever experienced. He bends, whispering, “Let me take care of you.”
“Beg,” I say, and his nostrils flare. He grips my knee, fingers digging into my skin. I lift my chin, realizing the power I have, and my mouth curls in a smile. “Show me how badly you want to take care of me, Brody. How attracted you are to me.”
“Please,” he croaks. He shoves a hand in his briefs, giving himself a slow stroke. The other palm moves higher, to the inside of my thigh. “I’ll make it so good for you. Let me get you out of my fucking head. I want—Ineedto make you come.”
“That was very good.” I grab his chin, my thumb dancing along his jaw. “Go ahead, Coach. Get me off.”
“Hannah.” My name is a rasp. The hand in his briefs moves faster, a sharp twist of his wrist. “Are you sure?”
I take off my shirt. Brody groans when I push my breasts together. “I’m practically naked. I’m wet. You tell me if you think I’m sure.”
“You’re so hot.” Some of his confidence wavers. He blows out a breath. “And your tits…” He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Fuck. You’re making it very difficult to behave.”
“I think the point is tonotbehave. What if I do it first?” My hands move down my body, stopping at my skirt. His eyes are on me again, his pupils blown wide as he follows the path of my palms. “And you watched?”
Brody’s shoulders rise and fall when I bring my skirt over my thighs and take it off. He stops breathing altogether when I twist the waistband of my underwear around my fingers and wiggle the cotton down my hips. When I go to toss the piece of fabric on the floor, he puts a hand on my wrist.
“I want them,” he rasps, taking the underwear from me. He brings them to his nose, inhaling deeply before he runs his tongue along the inside seam. “You taste sweet as hell.”
“Yeah?” I tip my thighs open. My feet slide across the sheets so he has a perfect view between my legs, and Brody wraps the underwear around his wrist. “After you watch, you can have another taste.”
“Fuck,” he groans again, and I don’t think he’s capable of saying anything else. He inches toward me, cock still thick and hard in his briefs. “I want to see.”
I’ve never performed in front of an audience, but his desperation spurs me on. I push a finger inside myself, back arching off the bed at the stretch. “That feels so good,” I whisper, savoring the sensation settling low in my belly.
Brody moves at lightning speed, lying flat on his stomach. His eyes are level with the hand touching myself, attention unnerving while he watches me intently. “How many fingers does it take to get you off, Hannah?”
“Three of mine.” I gasp when I add a second finger, squirming on the sheets and chasing the high I’m craving. “I’d probably only need two of yours.”
