Page 84 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

Sydney is still asleep. She’s covered back up, her shirt down and her blankets up to her ribcage. Her lips are parted, and she looks too fucking serene like this.

Like she didn’t just get fucked…

A necklace glitters in the low light. I lean forward to inspect it. The gold goalie mask with a snake. I ball my fists and force myself not to touch it. Not now.

It would be easy to make it disappear. Penn Walker’s asinine declaration of… possession.

That’s all it is.

I draw the fucking blinds and flip the lock on the window, just in case he decides to do something stupid. I don’t want witnesses. When I return to her, now in the much darker room, I drop to my knees next to her bed and slide my hand under the blankets. I go by feel, a lot fucking less confident than Penn seemed to be.

Would she orgasm while she’s asleep?

Would I want her to?

The answer comes swiftly: only if she’s thinking of me.

My fingers find the edge of her panties, and then I’m touching her clit. She’s slick with arousal and Penn’s cum, and I stroke her slowly. I wait for any flutter of waking, but she stays asleep.

Did he drug her?

I thrust a finger inside her, then go back to her clit. I lean forward and kiss the swell of her breast through her thin shirt. She stirs ever so slightly, and I pause. I can practically feel her pulse through her clit.

After a minute, I continue.

It’s decided.

I want her to come.

And I think I need to force-feed her birth control, unless she’s already taken care of that… There’s no fucking way Penn Walker is putting a baby in her before I do.

Then—it happens. She shudders, a full-body shiver, and she shifts. Her fingers twist in the sheets, her mouth opening wider as the pleasure moves through her.

I smile.

I pull my hand out and lick my fingers. The taste of her cum mixed with Penn’s… it actually does my head in. I sit back on my heels and fumble with my jeans, shoving them down enough to free my cock. It’s already red, with a bead of precum seeping from the slit.

I return my hand to between her legs, gathering more wetness, and coat my length in it. I jerk myself off with quick movements, and at the last moment I go for her hamper. I find dirty panties, the strip that sits against her pussy still slightly damp from earlier arousal—the naughty girl—and groan through my teeth as my orgasm takes over.

I jerk my hips, thrusting my length into my hand, and let the panties catch what spills out.

Electricity zips up my spine.

Riding along the razor’s edge of right and wrong—or maybe wrong and barely acceptable—makes it even better. I want to do unspeakable things to her. I want to whisper them into her ear and watch the pretty blush creep across her cheeks.

I want to leave her sore and aching and desperate for me. Not Penn. Not fucking Oliver Ruiz.

Me.

I think she could go dark with me. I think she could match my interests with some curious ones of her own…

Fuck.

I ball up the panties and bury them deeper in her hamper, leaving a little surprise for later. I make sure she’s all right, and for all intents and purposes she is. I smooth back her hair and kiss her forehead, silently promising to do even better, more wicked things to her when I can see her eyes.

Another piece of the puzzle of the guys around her slots into place. It’s ammunition, that’s all. And I’m one step closer to rooting them out of her life for good.

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