A shiver rips down my spine. My body moves before my brain catches up. I push up onto my knees and elbows, flipping over so I’m facing the headboard, phone propped awkwardly on a pillow. I spread my legs wider and reach back to give him a full view, exposing myself completely.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice dropping another octave. “Look at you.”
I glance at the screen, biting my lip. His jaw tightens. I watch his hand disappear beneath the frame and know exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he growls. “Leaking. Legs spread open. Mine.”
A strangled sound rips from my throat.
“Touch yourself,” he orders. “One hand only. Slow. Stroke your cock, but don’t you dare come.”
I reach down with one hand, wrapping it around my length, moving slow and shallow. My head drops back as I moan his name.
“Look at me,” he says.
I lift my head, meeting his gaze through the screen.
“That’s it. Keep your eyes on me. I want to watch you fall apart.”
I’m so close. I squeeze hard, attempting to stop the building pleasure.
“Silas, I’m?—”
“No,” he growls. “Not yet.”
My whole body trembles with the effort of obeying. The sheets beneath me are damp with sweat, and pre-cum drips from my tip. The air is thick with heat and lust.
“Fuck, Luke,” he breathes, voice shaking now too. “You’re gonna kill me.” Another pause where all I can hear is the sounds of us both stroking ourselves. Then he murmurs, “Come.”
The word slices through me. I cry out, spilling all over my hand, abs, and sheet between me and the phone with a full-body shudder. I continue to stroke through my orgasm, panting as my eyes drop shut. When I manage to lift my head to look at him, he’s watching me. The look on his face is soft; yeah, there’s hunger still, but the softness takes my breath away.
Words want to spill out of my chest, silly and stupid words that I bite back, because telling my coach I love him because he let me come is probably a big no, even if he wants me. So I swallow and grin, putting on my usual flirty mask.
“Looks like I made a mess, huh, Coach? And you weren’t even inside of me. Maybe we can fix that tomorrow after practice, if you don’t ride me too hard during practice that is.”
Silas laughs, low and wrecked, but I can hear the edge of something else in it—something tender he probably doesn’t want me to hear.
“I should bench you just for that mouth,” he says, but it’s too soft to be a real threat.
I tilt my head, still sprawled out in my own mess, grinning like I didn’t just come so hard I forgot my own name. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m your star player.”
His eyes darken again, but this time with something more dangerous than lust.
“Go clean up,” he says after a beat, quieter now. “Before I drive across town and make good on everything I just promised.”
I open my mouth to say something—I don’t know what. Something stupid. Something real after all. But he ends the call before I can.
The screen goes dark. And I’m left staring at my reflection in the black glass, heart still racing, lips still parted. I should feel satisfied. But all I feel is the echo of his voice in my head—and the ache of wanting more.
SIXTEEN
SILAS
The sun’snot even high enough to justify how hot it already is, and I’m barely five minutes into warm-ups before I realize I’ve made a mistake.
A dangerous one.
Luke is stretched out on the field in compression shorts and a cut-off jersey like temptation incarnate. And I can’t fucking look away.
