Page 99 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

Or why, since I haven’t fucked him in what feels like a while. Since before Oliver’s twisted loyalty test.

I’m going crazy, and the run was supposed to clear my head. Instead, I just… I’m all twisted up inside, and I’m kissing Penn while he finger-fucks me, and it’s like gravity has spun one-eighty on me.

I pull away and drop my head back against the tree.

“I have a confession,” I say in a low voice. “And this is the most inopportune time to bring it up.”

“Wait.” He removes his finger and replaces it with something… well, larger. Stiffer.

I groan when he pushes inside me.

“Okay, now it’s the most inopportune time.”

His eyes gleam, mischief written all over his face. He has some scruff on his cheeks now. His hair is hidden by a black beanie, and the tip of his nose is red with cold.

“Carter and I…”

“Have sex.” He nods. “Yeah, figured that one out.”

“And Oliver?—”

“Is a bag of dicks,” he finishes.

I narrow my eyes. He’s not wrong, exactly. But then I remember something else. Something that slipped my mind because of how I woke up—which was sore between my legs and so turned on I could barely catch my breath.

“You took the note from my windowsill.”

He waits.

It’s not a denial.

“Which means you…”

He chooses then to move his hips. His dick slides deeper into me, and I grit my teeth against a wave of pleasure. Unlike my initial wake-up, I didn’t get myself off this morning. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower.

I cleaned the cuts on my ass.

I washed the strange discharge from between my legs.

I pretended I didn’t know exactly what was happening.

“Say it,” he breathes.

He fucks me harder, wrapping his hand around my throat. Not hard. Not squeezing. But his finger and thumb on my chin make sure I can’t turn away from him. My body jolts and reacts to every little move.

“You sneak into my apartment when I sleep,” I gasp.

“It’s not my fault you’re already asleep.”

“You fuck me.”

He smiles. “It’s not my fault you don’t wake up for it.”

I’m not crazy.

“I’ve been going out of my mind,” I confess.

“Good.” He leans in. Instead of kissing me, he bites my lower lip and tugs. “I like you out of your mind. I like the idea of you unraveling. Like when you come on my cock, but more. All the time.”