Page 11 of Coaches Pet

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“Come so I can fuck you, Maya,” I command.

“Yes,” she says, clamping her thighs tight around me as her pussy clenches around my fingers. She soaks my hand as I press against her clit. She squeals and gyrates, and each little noise and movement feeds the fire urging me to take her. My little star coming for me like this … So obedient, just for me.

I can’t wait another second and lift her, flipping her onto her back. Her hair fans out on her pillow just like I’ve imagined it countless times before, and her eyes are glazed and half-closed as I spread her thighs.

Lining up my cock at her opening, I thrust inside her, deep and hard. She cries out as I fill her and reaches for me, and I lower my head to claim her mouth as well as her pussy. The ache of her around me is just as sweet as it was three months ago. Nothing has changed, it’s almost like I never left.

“You’re mine, Maya,” I say. “Every perfect part of you.” I trace her lips as she nods, too breathless to respond. Taking the hand that wears my ring, I press it to my heart. “You’re here always, baby.”

She throws back her head, and her fingers curl against my chest as if she wants to hold my heart in her hand. “I love you so much, Nathan.”

Before the words are fully spoken, I spill my seed inside her. Suddenly, my body is crashing against hers, breathless and spent. I cradle her against me, with her hand still pressed to my heart. “Tell me this is real,” I whisper.

She holds her hand up and turns it so that the ring sparkles in the fading sunlight streaming through her window. I can tell by her smile that she loves it as much as I hoped she would when I picked it.

“It must be real,” she says, turning to nestle into my chest. Just the place I want her to be. “We have so much to think about. We have to make up for lost time. You still need to meet my parents.”

“I can’t wait,” I say, before I admit I’m anxious they won’t like me. She assures me they’ll love me as much as she does. Soon, she’s lazily stroking my chest while she chatters happily about things she’ll have to do to get ready to go to England.

I lie there next to her, sated and happy, not really worried about the details for now. I worked hard and got my reputation in order. I got on a new team with a lucrative contract, and most importantly, I’m with Maya again. It’s all for her. Having her in my life has made me a better man already.

Everything else will fall into place and our life together will be just as bright as my perfect little star.



Seven years later

I wave as I walk past the line of reporters lurking on the way to the private box I have so I can watch Nathan play in peace. The attention is second nature now, so much easier than when I first came to England as his fiancée. There’d been cameras popping out of nowhere and always catching me off guard back then. It still wasn’t as hard as starting school in a foreign country; the players on my new team were all standoffish at first, refusing to recognize I was just a normal student who loved the game. Once they got past the fact that I was engaged to a big, up-and-coming soccer star—oops, they call it football over here—and saw how serious I was about winning, they warmed up to me. That had even helped shield me from the nonsense that came with having a famous boyfriend, though it didn’t hurt their opinion of him when he came around and ran drills with us from time to time. A few of my college teammates went pro alongside me, and while I quit after one season because I was so eager to start a family, I still keep in touch with everyone, despite how busy I am now with the kids and my online sportswear business.

I’m so lost in reminiscing that I miss seeing Nathan make a goal, only looking up once the stadium outside erupts in cheers. Normally, I watch the games at home on TV with the kids, so I have the chance to rewind these lost moments, but since it’s our anniversary, he wanted me to be there, watching from the private box. That way, we can go out and celebrate as soon as he’s done with the press afterward.

I’ll just have to pretend I saw it. I try to pay better attention to the rest of the game, but it passes in a blur because I’m so excited for a rare night out alone with him. Soon enough, he sticks his head into the private box with a smile, looking dapper in a dark suit and crisp white shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. He’s more handsome to me now than the day I met him, and he nearly took my breath away back then.

We take the back way out of the stadium to avoid cameras, but my heart still melts to see that he’s arranged a limo for us. He helps me into the vehicle and takes me in his arms as soon as we get rolling.

“Happy anniversary,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “No regrets?”

“Not a single one,” I assure him. He waits for me to ask, and I grin at him cheekily. “I know you don’t have any. I also know you’re dying to call the kids.”

He smirks. “You know me too well. We should check in though, don’t you think?”

We get the kids on a video chat, their nanny in the background helping with the phone. Our four-year-old, Ollie, tries to hog the camera from his two younger sisters, and they all talk over each other as they fill us in on what fun they’re having without us.

“We’ll be having fun too, don’t you worry,” I say, sliding my hand up my husband’s thigh, out of sight of the phone’s viewfinder.

“We’ll miss you, too,” Nathan says, always a softie where our children are concerned.

He hates away games and having to spend even a few nights away from us, and I know he’s counting the days until his retirement. Our family means so much more to him than the sport, even if it’s given him the chance to build it with me. We end the call and I tease him about just going home instead of enjoying our evening away.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses me until my heart is racing and my thighs spread of their own volition. He runs his hand up my leg and grins down at me. “I think I can handle a night alone with my gorgeous wife.”

I frown when I watch the exit for the hotel we usually stay at when we’re in this part of the country pass by the car window, but he keeps his lips clamped shut when I prod him to tell me where we’re going. After a little while, we turn onto a country road and pull up to a small, privately owned castle I’ve been begging to visit for a while.

“I don’t think they’re going to have tours this late,” I say, but he only smiles.

We’re greeted by a butler, who whisks us inside. “Dinner is ready whenever you are, sir,” he tells Nathan. “And you’ll find your bags in your suite.”

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