But it’s gone now.
It’s gone now, so I offer no resistance when Everett growls like a wild animal and throws my legs up over his shoulders, slamming into me so hard I have to reach back and hold the headboard or be thrown from the bed.
I can’t hold all of myself back.
Didn’t he say that?
Well he definitely listened. I barely recognize this man with his bared teeth and lust-laden eyes. He isn’t my stern, reserved coach anymore. He’s a man lost in pain and pleasure. Lost in me. He is chanting my name over and over again like a mantra, his hand wrapping around my throat, his tongue licking me anywhere it can reach.
My breasts, my shoulders, my face.
Is it possible he’s growing larger inside of me? It certainly feels like it and my abused flesh is sore and aroused at the same time. Taking him.
“You have no idea how bad I’ve needed this,” he rasps, gradually tightening his hold on my throat. “So bad I pace my living room stabbing the fucking walls. Just imagining this pussy. Just imagining you flat on your back taking this cock.” He squeezes and I see spots and I should be alarmed, but I’m not. I’m not. I love his possession of me. I love his sexual anger at me. And more than anything, I trust him with my whole soul. “Tell me you fucking love it. Tell me you lie in your sheets with the little daisies on them and get wet for coach. Wet for Daddy.”
“I get so wet,” I murmur, truthfully, because I did. Night after night. Dreaming of him. “I never know what to do about it.”
“Now you know, sweetheart. You spread your legs and show me that slick young pussy and I take care of the rest. Isn’t that right?” He releases my neck long enough to let me suck in a breath, then immediately clamps his grip down there again. And my womanhood begins to throb in that promising way, clenching and flexing around his invading shaft. I like him deciding when I breathe. I like him being in charge of everything. I’m just a little girl. I don’t know any better.
“Daddy,” I wail, working my hips as fast as I can to meet his drives. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” The words are out before I can stop them and if I thought my orgasm released tension, it’s nothing compared to the knot that loosens in my chest after making the admission. As if it’s been sitting there like a ten-ton boulder.
“Oh fuck!” Everett jolts violently, his seed flooding into my body and I go with him, my muscles spasming at the juncture of my thighs, bright light bleeding into the edges of my vision. He flattens me, growling, grunting, grinding up into me with that large appendage, as if wanting to feed his seed into the deepest recesses of my body. “I love you, too. This mad man loves you. Feel it in every single drop. Look into my eyes and see it.” He is pressed forward, bending me in half with his strong upper body, having maneuvered me like a doll, his hips driving and driving and driving, an unstoppable male machine. “I love you in ways that will get me arrested. I’m a sick fuck over this pussy. Over your face and wrists and ass and voice and smell. I’m sick.”
“I’ll be sick with you,” I whisper, holding him when he finally collapses with a groan, his hot, shallow breaths bathing my neck. “I’ll be sick for you.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, so low I can barely hear him.
But then it doesn’t matter because Everett rolls off me onto his side and gathers me close in his arms, planting endless kisses on my forehead until I fall asleep, secure in the fact that he views me as a woman now. That he loves me. We’re together and nothing can break us apart.
Everett
Taking Margot to bed has ruined me.
I’m ruined.
Standing at the side of the pool, clipboard in hand, I can hear none of the noise in the massive swimming facility. None of it. All I can hear is the sound of Margot’s heartbeat as she sleeps. Steady and healthy. I hear the squeaking of the bed springs, the slap of flesh, Margot calling out in that breathy, strangled tone she uses when my hand is around her slender throat.
It’s the day of the competition and I can’t think straight. I look down at my clipboard and see nothing but pencil markings in odd shapes. No letters. No plans that make sense. Everything in my life besides her feels irrelevant now. There’s only Margot. There’s only her inhales and exhales and every precious hair on her head. I thought my obsession was at its fever pitch, but I was wrong. This is a fever pitch. I’m living in a trancelike state, oblivious to everything but the need to be burrowed inside of her tight pussy again, to be held in her arms, to count her freckles and tip a glass of orange juice to her lips.
Between yesterday afternoon and now, I’ve fucked her so many times it’s criminal.
It’s a wonder she can even walk, let alone compete in an Olympic event.
I took her doggy style while she cuddled a blanket. I licked her pussy while she giggled and told me to stop. I fucked her like an animal on the bathroom sink, watching my eyes turn black in the mirror over her shoulder. Watching myself turn into an utter maniac. That’s what I am. I’m her stalker. And now I’ve been given permission to let the obsession flourish.
Even now, as she comes toward me in her bathing suit, tucking blonde hair into her swim cap, I can see she needs to be pleasured again. Her eyelids are heavy, her nipples in points. We need to focus on diving. We need to concentrate on getting her form perfect, getting her used to the board and her surroundings.
But I can’t.
I can’t do anything but stash my clipboard underneath my arm, grab her by the wrist and drag her back through the tunnel toward the locker room, hell screeching in my ears. My dick is stiff as a pike. People are looking at us with speculation as we pass, but there’s simply no giving a damn. There’s only Margot. There’s only getting as close to her as possible. My thoughts are in complete disarray around that one clear fact. It’s all I can decipher in my own brain anymore. Margot. Margot. Margot. Get inside of her. Consume her. Absorb her.
We pass the larger locker room, opting for one of the small, private ones and I yank her inside, closing the door behind us, already out of breath, fumbling to get my hard cock free of the zipper confining it. “Take the suit off,” I growl, not bothering to wait for her to follow my instructions before I jerk down the clingy material, baring her supple, naked body. And my goddamn head goes on fire. It’s like I’m seeing her through a red haze of hunger. Need need need. I’m so lost in my starvation, I barely register the fact that I’ve moved her. Slammed her tight ass up against a row of lockers and rammed my dick up between her thighs. Inside of her.
Home.
The only place I can exist is right here.
This is the deep end. I won’t be able to hold back ever again now that I’ve had her.
I was an idiot to think I could.
And that fact only becomes more obvious when she whimpers my name, her melting hot little pussy pulsing around my cock. Sliding side to side. Young and tight and everything right. So fucking perfect that I have to moan. Have to fuck at my hardest right away. I jackhammer her into the lockers and she gasps through every second of it, eyes glazed over in that telltale way, reassuring me that her orgasm is imminent like mine.
There’s a knock on the door, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop. I’ll never be able to stop again.
My life is embodied in this girl. I’m a goner.
Entrenched in the infatuation with no way out.
“Margot?” calls Mr. Summers. Her father. He must have followed us back here. “Coach Everett? Is everything all right?”
“We’ll be out in a minute,” I growl, thrusting her up higher, hands clutching her pert backside, rattling the lockers loudly with every violent movement of my body. “We spoke about this. I’m training her.”
Margot makes a desperate, whiny sound and I start to clap my hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, but why bother? Her father knows exactly what’s happening in here. All through yesterday evening and night, her phone was dinging with text messages from both parents wanting to know if she was okay and I could barely stop fucking her long enough to let her answer. And I can’t stop now. My cock is demanding appeasement, as is my soul. She’s the nurturer of both. She’s the cause and the healer of my sexual agony.
“Don’t you think you’ve…trained enough?” asks her father.
I grind into her hard, slowly, our tongues licking together, Margot widening her thighs like a good little girl, blinking up at me for approval. “I’ll be the judge of that,” I say, my voice like gravel. “I decide when she’s had enough.”
“Never,” whispers Margot for my ears only, her mouth still swollen from kissing me until all hours of the morning. “Never, ever, Daddy.”
“Call me that again,” I grit against her ear, burying my tongue inside that sweet shell, out of my mind with the need to meld us into one being. Mine. Mine. “Louder.”
“Daddy,” she screams, right as I slam her hot ass into the locker and come, groaning unmuffled into the dark locker room, Margot’s sex quaking around my shaft, our combined lust audibly dripping onto the floor between my feet. Her eyes are blind, mouth in an O, head tipped back, her beloved body turning soft and pliant around mine. Satisfied. And I can relate. Momentarily. How long until I need her again? Mere minutes?