I cover her mouth with my hand.
Her eyes go wide but there’s heat in them. Amusement mixed with arousal.
“Shh,” I whisper, still moving inside her. “You have to be quiet for me. Can you do that?”
She nods frantically.
“Good girl.” My hand is still over her mouth. “But if you get too loud, this hand stays right here. Understand?”
Another nod.
I move my hand slightly, giving her a chance.
She bites her lip hard, trying, but these little whimpers keep escaping.
“You’re fucking terrible at being quiet,” I murmur, thrusting harder. “It’s like you want the whole team to hear everything.”
She shakes her head but the whimpers get louder.
My hand goes back over her mouth. “Last warning.”
Something about it, about my hand muffling her sounds, about trying not to laugh at the absurdity, it all combines and suddenly she’s there.
She comes hard, crying out against my palm, her whole body going taut. I follow immediately, finally letting go, groaning into her neck.
We stay frozen like that. Both shaking. Both trying desperately not to make noise.
After a moment, I slowly lift my hand.
“Five,” I whisper.
“Five,” she agrees, her voice completely shot.
Then someone’s pounding on our actual door.
“Rodriguez.” Barrett’s voice. My fucking COACH is at our door. “Open up.”
Juliette’s eyes open wide in terror. “Oh my god,” she mouths silently.
“Just a minute, Coach!” I call out, trying to sound normal while still inside her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t think Dex would actually complain about this.
I slide out of her carefully and she immediately dives under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. I grab sweatpants, pull them on commando, and crack the door open.
Barrett’s standing there in team sweats and slides, looking exhausted but also... amused?
“Coach.”
“Rodriguez.” He glances past me into the room where Juliette is clearly hiding under the covers. “And Ms. Chastain.”
A muffled squeak comes from the lump of blankets.
“Five goals,” Barrett says conversationally. “Historic night.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“The boys tell me there was... a wager involved.”
My face is on fire. “Coach?—”
