Page 38 of The Sweet Spot

A shaky whimper escapes me. It’s too much and not enough all at once. My thighs try to close on instinct, but his big hands gently push them wider, holding me open for him.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his breath skating across my pussy.

Too long. It’s been too long since I’ve felt someone between my thighs like this.

He rubs his cheek and jaw along my slick skin, coating himself in me. “Gotta make sure I get every last inch of me covered in you.” His voice is muffled against my core and my hips buck, begging for attention.

He starts with slow, broad licks across my lips, cleaning up every trace of my release while carefully avoiding my clit. The flat of his tongue feels incredible as he dips it inside my entrance. Then he rubs his face across me again.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Coach,” he rasps, his voice muffled against me.

He presses another open-mouthed kiss right over my entrance, then drags his stubbled cheek along my inner thigh again, leaving a shiny trail behind.

Every swipe of stubble and slow lick, is building that low heat back up. My pussy clenches around nothing, already aching for more.

JB shifts slightly, and he hooks one of my legs over his shoulder to get closer.

I gasp when the tip of his tongue flicks softly across my clit, followed by slow, swirling circles. The contrast between the soft warmth of his tongue and the rough scratch of his cheek whenever he turns his head is driving me insane in the best way.

I moan louder, and when I roll my hips toward his face, he doesn’t stop me. He just grips my thigh tighter and doubles down, sucking my clit into his mouth with gentle pressure while his stubble continues to rub against my folds with every small movement of his head.

“JB...” I gasp, my voice wrecked. “Don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. He keeps eating me, his tongue working my clit while his face stays buried in my wetness. I’m getting close again, and my thighs start to shake around his head. When I come this time, JB holds me tight against his mouth, giving me no way to get away from his tongue.

I cry out, lift my hips, and JB follows.

He rides out every stroke of pleasure with me, and it’s only when my breathing calms and my orgasm starts to slow that he lets go.

I fall back onto the mattress, and JB sits up, licking his lips.

“A perfect game,” he murmurs as his thumb gently strokes my hip.

I peek down at him, dazed and still trembling.

“What?”

He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, collecting every drop. “That’s what you taste like.”

I drag the pillow back over my face, my heart hammering, already knowing I’ll be relaxed enough not to yell at him for the rest of the day.

When I hear him stand, I don’t try to stop him, but I do pull the pillow away just in time to see him adjust his clothing. Most notably his gray sweatpants.

How he’s managed to get me off three times now and I’ve not touched him is beyond me, but then again, maybe he really does think this is all for luck.

He checks his watch. “You’ve got two hours, Coach. I’ll see you on the first tee.”

“See you later,” I say, closing my legs, unable to do or think about much more.

He gives me a salute as he backs out of the room and when I hear the door of my suite close, I lie on top of my hotel bed in my disheveled silk cami and stare at the ceiling, trying to construct a single coherent thought.

Five minutes. That was supposed to get him out of my system.

That five minutes did nothing but make me want more.

Fuck's sake.

“I’m such an idiot,” I mutter to myself, shaking out my hands as I work through my pre-stretches.