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“Mm, no,” I manage on a moan.
“This hard,” he says, and he takes my hand and presses it to the outside of his pants.
Whoa.
Yeah, that’s hard.
I moan again. “Oh my God, Lincoln. I want—no, I need you inside me.”
“You don’t even have to ask,” he murmurs, and he reaches in to yank his cock out of his pants. I yank my panties down, glad I wore a dress today, and I step out of them. He lifts me up and braces me against the door as he slides into me, no foreplay needed because if me asking questions makes him hot for me, him standing on that stage with all that power as he smiles down at me makes me equally hot for him.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he hisses. “Always so wet for me.”
“Do you feel what you do to me?” I murmur, trying to keep my moans soft but failing since all I can think about is coming right here, right now.
I realize his secretary is on the other side of the door. I realize this building is not soundproof.
But I can’t really focus on caring about either of those things when he’s pumping into me. All I can focus on is controlling my body for a beat so I don’t come too early because I never, ever want this pleasure to end.
I squeak as he hits a particularly beautiful place inside me, and he grunts as he starts to pump a little harder. He moves me up and down that beautiful cock of his, and it’s mere seconds later when his body seems to tighten up and he lets out a louder groan.
Knowing I did this to him, that I’m the one who made him fall apart in his office, sends me into my own climax. I stay as quiet as I can as I fight through the brutal and beautiful moment with him as bliss overtakes both of us at the same time.
I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never had it like this. I’ve never come at the same time as my partner, and it feels somehow even more meaningful that the first man who ever made love to me is the one who can also do it best all these years later.
I just wish there weren’t so many damn obstacles in our way.
Once our clothes are back in place, he says quietly, “Have a seat.”
“Excuse me?” I say, confused. I just came up here for a private moment with the Coach. I wasn’t expecting an actual meeting.
He nods toward the seat opposite his desk as he slides in behind it.
My brows knit together as I take a seat.
He draws in a deep breath and exhales loudly. “We have a little wrinkle.”
“A little wrinkle?” I repeat.
He levels his gaze at me. “My parents are moving to Vegas.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
He can’t seem to help a little chuckle at that. “My thoughts exactly.”
“It’s hard enough hiding this with them in New York, but we haven’t really had to test it yet. We haven’t attended any of the same events yet. But we will, and your parents will be at some. My parents will be at some. What do we do then?” My voice is gaining in both volume and hysteria.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly.
I say the first thing that comes to mind rather than what might be the right thing. “Is it worth all this trouble?” As soon as the words are out, I regret them.
He glances at the door he just banged me up against before his eyes return to mine. “If I didn’t just prove to you that it is, then I didn’t do my job very well.”
I squirm a little, those wet panties reminding me just how well he did, in fact, do his job. “You’re excellent at your job.”
He brushes his knuckles on his shoulder as his lips quirk up a little. “It’s just a wrinkle, Jo. It’s not the end.”
I press my lips together. “I hope you’re right.”
