Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Take me somewhere,” I whisper, twisting my fingers in the front of his drenched gray polo shirt. “Fix me, Daddy.”
His shocked groan causes flutters everywhere. My pulse points, my bloodstream. “I don’t see a choice. Your concentration is all over the map. You’re going to get hurt. You’re going to lose this chance you’ve worked so hard for.” His forehead rolls side to side against mine. “I can’t let that happen.”
“Is that all it’s about?” I whisper, searching his strained features. “Diving?”
A long pause ensues. And then he says, “No,” through his teeth.
My heart wings its way up into my throat and I snuggle close to Everett, burrowing my face into his wet, warm neck. We’re going to have sex. He’s giving in. And afterward, he’ll no longer see me as just as his pupil. I’ll be so much more to him. More than a teenager—
“I’ll need to speak to your parents about it.”
“What?” I squeak, rearing back and looking him in the eye. “You…can’t. You can’t—”
“Calming your body down is a training matter. Bringing you to climax will help you win.” It’s almost as if he’s talking to himself. Trying to convince himself that he’s taking me to bed for the right, noble reasons. Why can’t it just be about the two of us celebrating our attraction? Celebrating this close relationship that I have with no one else? That I don’t want with anyone else? “Get out of the pool and shower up. We’ll go explain the situation to them.”
“No, Everett. We don’t have to tell them.”
“Yes, we do,” he grits out. “I won’t sneak around behind closed doors fucking my diver. We’re going to do this the right way. God knows I do too much the wrong way already.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Everett stares into my eyes for long moments, then curses, shaking his head. “Get out of the pool, warm yourself up and head to the training room.” He blows out a breath that smells like spearmint and cinnamon. How can I want to kiss him and rage at him at the same time? “I’ll ask your parents to meet us there.”
Everett
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
This morning, I woke up with my cock stiff as a board. Covered in sweat. Needing Margot’s spread legs wrapped around my hips. Craving her like the world’s most addictive drug, even though I’ve never been inside of her before.
Yet.
That’s all about to change, isn’t it? I’m a sick motherfucker to do this. But I know her parents—they’ll do anything to help her win. And I mean anything. Even let a man twice her age fuck her into a better performance.
It’s not unheard of for athletes to build up so much steam and stamina that they grow desperate for sex. Especially among Olympians who hook up constantly during the Games, working out their restless energy in every dark corner of the village. This won’t be a completely foreign concept to Margot’s parents, but no amount of knowledge is going to dull the shock.
This is how it has to be done.
Above board.
Officially.
If I simply start sleeping with Margot behind the scenes without some formal parameters, we’ll never make it to the pool again. And I will go off the fucking deep end. I’m already halfway there. I almost shoved my cock inside of her in front of everyone ten minutes ago, needing to feel her. Needing to know she wasn’t hurt. Goddammit, the dangerous way she hit the water…I’m going to replay it every time I close my eyes for the rest of my life.
Margot walks into the training room in a thin robe, her blonde hair in loose waves around her shoulders. She’s wide eyed and nervous. Of course she is. Because her father is right behind her, entering the therapy room for the first time, visibly curious as to why we would ask to meet him there. His wife isn’t with him.
It takes me a moment so commence the meeting. All I can think about is the shameful fact that I stalk this man’s daughter. I follow her everywhere, watch her sleep, steal her clothing so I can take the garments home and wrap them around my pillow, kissing it with an open mouth, shoving it between my legs and rutting, pretending it’s her. My house is an homage to Margot. She’s everywhere. If not her name carved into the walls, then it’s pictures. So many pictures or her in various states of undress. Or simply eating an apple, texting on her phone, unlocking her car. She owns me, body and soul. But the way I’ve handled my obsession is wrong and illegal and I can’t lose sight of that.
I can’t slip those final remaining feet into the abyss.
Which is why I’m making her need for sex about training. Diving.