Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Trust me, it gets worse.
Because Waverly Owens is the daughter of Natasha Owens, a.k.a., the Vice Principle of Winchester Academy.
A.k.a., my boss.
The word you’re looking for is “fucked.”
So that’s why I’m distracting myself, and yelling at shithead Tyler, and doing everything in my power not to look over at her bent over and stretching in that skin-tight swimsuit. Because I should not be thinking about Waverly Owens anywhere near the way I’ve been thinking about her—without knowing it was her, but still—for the last week. I shouldn’t be looking at her the way I want to. Or replaying that kiss on repeat, thinking about the way her pouty lips tasted.
And I abso-fucking-lutely should not have all the nude pictures “MermaidChick01” has been sending me over the last week still on my phone.
…I probably shouldn’t have gone home and stroked my cock to them last night either, after realizing who exactly she was after I ran out of that bar.
I keep stealing glances over there, my eyes burning into her, until finally, she turns, and our eyes lock. I groan inside, my jaw tightening, and when the fire sparks from her big baby blues into mine, the beast inside of me almost tears free completely.
But eventually, me not even going anywhere near that side of the pool where the girls’ team—which I also coach—is warming up is getting odd. So, I tighten my jaw and head over. That’s of course when I walk right up behind her and hear the words that about make my cock throb and pulse right through my swimsuit.
“Fine! Okay? Yes. Are you happy? Yes, I’ve thought about Coach Kirby’s big, thick, fat cock, okay?!”
At just like that, the last my self-control snaps. Well, it hangs on by enough of a thread that I don’t bend her over, yank her suit to the side, and plunge my cock into that sweet little cunt right here and right now on the side of the pool. But it’s barely hanging on.
Barely.
* * *
A grueling hour later where I somehow hold my shit together, I’m finally back in my office. My pulse roars in my ears, my cock is fucking hard as rock, and my teeth grind together.
And then comes the knock at the door, and the thunder inside of me booms in crescendo.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and there she is. She’s out of her suit now, and back in her Winchester uniform with the pleated knee-length plaid skirt, the high socks, the flats, and the white blouse tucked in.
Fucking hell.
She was tempting before. She was sinful out there in a fucking swimsuit. Now? Now she’s the schoolgirl jailbait personified, all plaid, innocence, and forbidden desire.
“Coach—”
“Close the door,” I growl quietly. She blushes, her eyes wild as she swallows. She half-turns and shuts the door behind her before her eyes swivel back to mine.
“Coach, I—”
“What the fuck was that?!” I hiss, lunging to my feet, my muscles clenched tight.
She swallows nervously. “Okay, first, what you heard out there was out of context—”
“Christ, Waverly,” I grunt. “You know I’m not talking about that. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She scowls. “Excuse me?”
“Last night?” I snap. “What the hell were you doing there?”
Her lips purse. “Pretty sure we had that covered,” she says quietly in a way that both infuriates me and gets my balls swelling with cum.
“I mean, fuck, are you even old enough to be on Sparkr?”
She is, and I know that she knows I know. I know she turned eighteen two weeks ago, just like I’ve always known that allowing my eyes to linger on my star swimmer has been a serious problem, and way fucking wrong.
Two weeks ago. I groan, doing the math in my head of when I started talking to MermaidChick01—a.k.a., the tempting little tease standing in front of me. Shit, I was dirty texting her a whopping twenty-four hours after she turned eighteen.
“What was that, Waverly,” I growl. “I mean what the hell were you even doing on that app?”
“What were you doing on that app,” she mutters back.
“I think we’ve covered that.”
Her face turns a shade of pink at my words, but she shrugs it away.
“What. I’m allowed to have dates, you know.”
“With men almost twice your age?!” I snap.
Her lips purse.
“You know what? It’s really none of your business—”
“No, uh-uh,” I mutter, shaking my head. “No, it damn well became my fucking business, didn’t it?”
She swallows again, and for a moment I see a flicker of uncertainty, and maybe even fear. But then, her eyes narrow, and this fierceness comes over her. It’s the same feistiness I’ve seen out in the pool during practices and competitions alike, and it’s one of the big reasons she’s such a fucking incredible swimmer.
…It’s also the reason my cock is so hard right now.
“Oh please. I didn’t force you to go to that bar. I didn’t force you to text me all sorts of dirty—”