Derek thought about it. The scraggly green-brown field, the girls who reminded him of his sisters, how it felt to be standing on the sidelines ordering plays like he’d done a billion times.When he was a kid, football was the only thing that he’d liked. The only reason he hadn’t ended up dead or behind bars like his old man. He thought of his little boys. If they liked football, great, but what if they didn’t? He hadn’t earned a shitload of money to force them to follow in his footsteps. But if Adam and Sean didn’t want to play footy, whenwouldhe get back into the game? Never? And if he never got back in the game…
“You miss it,” Mara said. “Everyone knows you do. So, stop being a martyr and coach the girls.”
She made it sound so easy, but as he downed the last of his champagne in one, Derek wondered why he couldn’t just trust her on this. He’d spent most of his life loving Mara, depending on Mara, believing in Mara. She wasn’t just the smartest person he knew; she was the kindest. He’d just jerked off on camera for the woman; whycouldn’the take her advice?
“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll do it. I’ll coach.”
Mara squealed. “Oh, Derek! You really mean it?”
“Sure,” he said grumpily, refilling his champagne. “But the team’s full of pricks. I’m gonna run them ragged before they even think?—”
Mara threw her arms around his neck and kissed his words away. Derek snarled into her mouth, but he soon gave in. Kissing her was like tasting home. Confirming the miracle that he’d found her in the first place, then found her again years later, married her fine ass and made her his own. When they pulled apart, Mara beamed at him. “You’re not going to regret this, Daddy. You’re going to be an amazing coach!”
“We’ll see.” Derek glared at his wife. “You’re probably right. You’re always right.”
“Not always, but about this? Yes.”
Her bikini top had shifted during their embrace, revealing a pink nipple. Derek tucked it back in, smirking at her look of horror.
“Why are you so upset, baby? Beth saw your tits.”
Mara raised her eyebrows. “Oh, she did more than that. She tied me up and took pictures.”
Derek’s cock throbbed, stirring to life for the millionth time that day. Speaking of miracles, he had no idea how a guy his age was pulling this off, but he’d take it. He gripped his cock, pumping slowly. “Tell me more.”
Mara’s eyes gleamed. “There’s not much to tell...”
“So, make something up.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Come sit on Daddy’s big dick and tell him all about it…”
Mara ducked her head, but then she did exactly what he asked. She wouldn’t always, but as his wife kissed the side of Derek’s neck, her tight little pussy sinking around his shaft, he decided he didn’t care. Who wanted to be in charge all the time? Where were the stakes in that?
The End
BEGIN AGAIN AGAIN
1
Beth put the box she’d sealed on top of all the others and straightened, releasing a slow, deliberate breath. It felt like she’d spent half her life moving. In the four years she’d been in Western Australia, she’d shifted house ten times. The first five moves were self-explanatory. She’d come to Perth as a professional housesitter, or whatever you wanted to call someone who checked strangers’ chimneys for dead birds in exchange for rent. The gig would end, and she and her new boyfriend, Byron, would pack up and move to the next place. But after reassembling her shoe rack for the umpteenth time, Byron suggested life might be easier if they got their own place. So, they’d leased an apartment along Tess Beach and finally bought a fridge and a couch. Yet, the ink had barely dried on their rental contract before it became clear the septic tank would overflow twice a week, flooding their laundry with wastewater.
“It’s easy to clean away,” the real estate agent trilled down the phone.
“Not as easy as it’ll be to get your licence revoked,” Byron had snapped. “We’ll get our deposit back, thanks.”
Beth had tried very hard not to be snide about the stability of taking out a lease on a place that turned out to be more toilet than home, but it was hard. Especially when Byron decided that the best way to solve their real estate woes was to get married and buy a house.
“I’m not marrying you,” she’d said as she scoured rental websites. “We haven’t been together long enough, and I don’t even know if Iwantto get married.”
“You do,” Byron said in that annoyingly succinct way of his. “You just don’t trust me enough to say yes.”
“Because you’re clearly trying to trap me?”
“Because you’re scared,” he’d said, his green eyes blazing like traffic lights. “This isn’t about me being younger, is it?”
No, this wasn’t about him being younger; it was about him being too handsome, with his superhero body and supermodel face. But she was tired of bringing that up and being told how beautiful she was, blah, blah, blah.
