Page 145 of Uncoachable

A small, triumphant smirk plays on her face—the look of a strategist who has seen the weakness in the line and moved in for the kill. She doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches up, slowly licking a stray drop of moisture from her thumb with a deliberate, feline grace.

“Then don’t last, Captain,” she murmurs, her voice a low, vibrating rasp that carries the weight of a sideline command.

She doesn’t give me a chance to argue. She goes back for more, her mouth hot and desperate, taking me deep enough to make her choke—a small, involuntary sound that tells me exactly how much she’s willing to give.

She’s being rougher now, her hand pumping at my base while her tongue lashes against the underside of the head.

Just as the edge crumbles, just as I’m about to spill for her, I reach down and sink my hands into her hair. I pull her up, dragging her body up the length of mine while my own is still humming and twitching from the near miss.

I flip her onto her back in one fluid, desperate motion, the bed creaking and the mattress dipping under the sudden shift of weight. I’m over her in an instant, pinning her into the bedding with the heavy, crushing pressure of my body.

I press my knee firmly between her thighs, forcing them wider until she’s completely open to me, and the ragged sound she lets out—a high, needy whimper that breaks into a gasp—is the only permission I need to lose myself completely.

I can feel the slickness of her through the thin lace of her underwear, a promise of what’s waiting, and as she hooks her ankles around my waist to pull me closer, I know neither of us is coming out of this with our composure intact.

“You’re looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world,” she whispers, her nipples peaking against the lace, her body arching toward me instinctively.

“You are.”

I slide down her body, my chest dragging over her aching skin. I reach her thighs and hook my hands under her knees, spreading her wide, exposing her completely to the light.

“Callahan,” she warns, her voice hoarse.

“You’ve spent all season trying to get in my head, Ivy. It’s only fair I finally return the favor.”

I start slow, my mouth trailing fire along the inside of her thighs.

My stubble grazes the sensitive surface until she’s arching off the bed, her breath hitching in a series of sharp, shallow gasps. I trail my tongue upward, marking her, leaving a path of heat until I find her clit.

“Cal—oh god, Cal—”

I use my hands to hold her steady, my thumbs pressing into her hips, anchoring her as I sink my mouth over her.

“God, I’ve spent the last year wondering if you were even real,” I mutter against her thigh. “And now I get to do this. I get to have you.”

I look up the length of her body, watching her chest heave, watching the way her fingers are currently white-knuckled and tangled in the sheets. I’ve seen her dominate a locker room of professional athletes, but seeing her like this—exposed and trembling under my gaze—makes my heart feel like it’s too big for my chest.

“You’re my favorite place in the entire world, Iveline,” I whisper, before dragging my tongue in one long, slow stripe from the base of her opening to the very top of her pussy.

She screams my name, her body bucking with such force I have to lean my weight into her thighs to keep her on the bed.

“That’s it, honey,” I murmur, lashing my tongue against her again and again, watching her unravel. “Show me everything. Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me.”

I’m completely gone for her. Wrecked. Ruined. And as I watch her break apart under my touch, I realize I’d happily spend the rest of my life right here between her thighs, a slave to every sound she makes.

Her fingers find my hair, tugging with a desperate, frantic strength, pulling me closer, begging for more and less all at once. I use my tongue in long, punishing strokes, teasing her until she’s a sobbing, bucking mess under me.

“Tell me,” I mutter against the arch of her hip. “Tell me you know you aren’t alone in this anymore. Tell me you know that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“I am,” she gasps, her voice breaking on a sob of pure, breathless relief as she tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling me back up to her. “It’s you, Cal—it’s always been you. Please, just—don’t ever let go.”

When I finally slide into her, the fit is so tight, so perfect, it feels like a physical ache being soothed. I groan, the sound torn from the deepest part of my lungs. She pulses around me, squeezing me tight.

She’s so wet and so hot that I almost lose my mind the second I’m inside her. I stay still for a heartbeat, buried deep inside her, watching her face fracture.

“Fuck, Ivy,” I choke out, my fingers lacing through hers and pinning her hands to the mattress. “You feel like you were made for this. Like you were made for me.”

I drive into her with a raw energy, each thrust hitting home, making her cry out in a way that fuels my own fire.