Page 54 of Coach (Heartstrings of Honor #4)

Shane

T here were no buzzer beaters, no last-second shots on which the crowd’s very breath hung. Mateo’s Mustangs’ worst game was won by more than twenty points.

And the championship?

They destroyed their opponents so badly the opposing coach sent in his second string before the first half ended.

I played football. A blowout always felt good.

Like, seriously good.

But the Mustangs dealt such a spanking in that last game of the District Tournament that most of their own crowd stopped watching to chat with their neighbor or play games on their phones.

When Gabe hoisted the trophy over his head, and his teammates threw their hands in the air like gays when Gloria Gaynor walked on stage, the mood in the stands was more “what’s next” than overly celebratory .

Still, I could see the pride and relief in Mateo’s eyes from across the court.

It made my heart do weird things in my chest.

I wasn’t sure that was normal, but it felt really good.

I couldn’t stop looking at him, tearing that purple polo off him and licking his nipples and abs and—

“Mr. Shane?”

I startled at the youthful voice and the boy who owned it now standing before me. I knew the names of all of Mateo’s starters, but this kid was unfamiliar.

“I’m Stan, a freshman. Coach Ricci sent me to get you. He wants you with us on the floor.”

Most of the crowd had thinned. The opponents had already fled to the showers. Some of Mateo’s own players were sauntering away, a girlfriend—or mom—under one arm (or one under each arm in a few cases). I couldn’t fathom why he’d want me down there as everyone faded back into their lives.

But I followed the kid, one bleacher after the next, one metallic thunk at a time.

We reached the hardwood and strode down the center.

“Anything else, Coach?” Stan asked.

“No, thanks, Stan. Save me a seat and some pizza, all right? ”

“Sure thing, Coach.” The boy smiled and ran in the direction of his teammates, now exiting the gym with a flock of parents and siblings following close behind. Less than a handful of heartbeats later, Mateo and I stood alone on the far sideline at center court.

The click of someone turning out the lights echoed off the halls.

An electronic hum heralded the slow decline in light, casting shadows, then darkness throughout the massive chamber.

Mateo closed the distance between us.

“Hey you—” was all I got out before his hands clamped onto the sides of my head, and his lips threatened to suck the breath from my lungs.

We’d shared some hungry kisses, but none were as ravenous as that post-game pucker.

Dear God, Mateo kissed me as though we stood on the edge of the world as an asteroid barreled toward Earth.

And for once in my life, I melted into his arms and surrendered control.

Mateo’s fingers climbed up my neck, to the back of my head, where they dug into my scalp. He wasn’t holding me so much as claiming my space, my skin—claiming me—as his own.

“Mateo.” My breath came out a rasp. “Someone might see us. ”

He didn’t slow or let go, but between kisses, he mumbled, “My office. Now.”

Without warning, he spun me around and shoved me before him and toward the door that led into the bowels of the gym.

We stumbled through the now-empty locker room, past piles of discarded socks and underwear that smelled like something otherworldly had died and festered in place, and into a glass-doored office whose plaque read, “Mateo Ricci, Head Coach.”

The moment the door clicked shut, I heard the zip of Mateo closing the blinds that covered his door.

We were alone. Finally.

Slivers of light sneaking through slits in the blinds were the only light in the room.

“You’re going to fuck me right here, on my desk,” Mateo growled as he turned the lock on his door.

“Uh, babe.” My mind warred with my now-pulsing cock. “We’re in your office . . . at school.”

He didn’t hesitate, just yanked his polo over his head and threw it against the far wall.

“And you’re going to fuck the life out of me. Right here. Right now.”

I blinked. Then blinked again.

He bent down and tore off one shoe, then the other, then his socks.

A second later, his pants landed beside his shirt.

Then his underwear.

I’d barely braced myself against his metal teacher’s desk before the glory that was naked Mateo stood before me.

His chest and shoulders shimmered, still slick with sweat from the humid gym.

His hair was mussed from all the well-wishes of the boys and parents, and his cock .

. . fuck me runnin’ . . . he was already harder than I was. When had that happened?

“You. Naked. Now.”

Time wound backward, and I was in high school again. Mateo was the coach barking orders at me, orders I dared not disobey. No, I’d never been propositioned or molested by a coach or teacher, but the whole naughty school boy fantasy had followed me into adulthood.

And we were about to play it out.

My chest vibrated with excitement.

I wanted this man so badly.

He reached out and unbuttoned my top button. Then the next. Then down the line until my shirt hung open, baring skin covered in a dusting of hair. Mateo reached up and ran his fingers through that hair, across my skin. A shiver raced up my spine.

Gently, he pulled my shirt over my shoulders and tossed it aside.

Then he leaned in and licked my right nipple.

So gently .

Barely a graze.

Before be clamped down with his teeth so hard I saw stars.

“Oh, fuck, babe!”

His lips replaced his teeth. Then his tongue swirled and soothed. Then his teeth, gentler this time, nibbled and released, nibbled and released.

“I’ve never been sensitive there until . . . oh . . . damn . . .”

His hands found my belt, undid the buckle, and slid it out.

Then my pants were around my ankles, dick flopping freely. His hand was on it before it could slap my stomach, stroking and teasing, swirling leakage across the tip where every sensation ever felt lived.

I tried not to twitch, to shiver again, but he rubbed me in the perfect way, sending waves of pleasure with each flick of his thumb.

Still, he kissed me, deep and full, his tongue marrying with my own until I could barely tell where he ended and I began.

He gripped my waist with his hands and moved me around so his back was to his desk, his butt leaned against the metallic edge. While we kissed, one of his hands slid down, opened a drawer, and retrieved a small bottle.

I pulled back and looked down. “You keep lube in your office?”

He grinned and held up the bottle. “This was in my jeans when I got here. You don’t know who put it there, do you?”

My grin widened. “Some very determined guy, I bet.”

“Very,” he crooned, squirting a generous amount onto his palm before reaching behind him and swiping it across his backside.

“Here, let me,” I said, taking the bottle from him and smearing lube all over my fingers. Then I reached down between his legs and rubbed back and forth across his hole.

“Oh, shit, Shane,” he breathed in my ear. “I want you inside me so bad.”

I pressed my finger into him.

“Yes!” he wheezed. “Get it in there, deeper, please.”

“So needy.” I chuckled as I slid my finger past the knuckle, all the way into him.

His body lifted, as though a little prostate pressure could make him levitate.

“Give me another,” he insisted.

So, I did. No longer taking my time or being gentle, my second finger slid inside, spreading him apart.

“God, Shane. I love you so damn much.”

“I fucking love you, Mateo. ”

“Prove it,” he commanded.

My fingers were gone in an instant. A balloon leaking air, his whole body sagged, as though I’d pulled a magical plug and he might never be filled again.

“The couch,” Mateo rasped.

Not wanting to wait, I lifted him off the ground and deposited him onto the couch. It was ugly as sin and bore more cooties than an entire school cafeteria, but it would have to do.

Tossing Mateo’s legs over my shoulders, I gripped my cock and guided it toward his entrance, sliding the tip back and forth, teasing him with every stroke, every motion.

“Damn it, Shane, shove inside me!”

“Beg for me,” was all I said as I stuck my tip inside him and froze. His asshole clenched but couldn’t hold its grip, and I slipped free.

“Please, baby. Give yourself to me. I want all of you, Shane. No stopping or condoms or anything. I want to be yours for real.”

My breath and voice and everything else slammed into my throat.

He wanted all of me? I’d never given that to anyone.

Ever. I knew we were both negative. He’d been tested with his annual pre-season physical, and I hadn’t been with anyone other than Mateo since my last test. Still, this was a massive step .

There would be nothing between us.

Nothing but us.

Together as one.

Fuck me, I wanted this, wanted him, wanted to feel inside him with nothing but our hearts and cocks and . . . damn it, I loved this man and wanted everything he could give me.

But . . .

Mateo’s hands found my hips and pulled me toward him.

My tip slid in again. He held me there. His eyes searched mine, never leaving me, willing me to join my life to his.

I let him pull me deeper, maybe a quarter of the way.

He winced.

I froze.

Then, without warning, he pulled me all the way into him until my cock slammed into the back wall of some barrier deep inside him.

“Oh, fuck,” was all I said.

“Stay right there,” he whispered, one hand reached up to stroke my cheek, his eyes boring into mine with such heat, such intensity . . . such unbounded love. “You’re mine, Shane Douglas. I claim you . . . and I give myself to you.”

I stared down at that beautiful man and knew wonder filled my eyes.

Hell, it filled my chest and heart and soul, too.

“You’re fucking mine,” were the words that came out as I pulled my hips back and slid into him again.

And again.

And again.

By the time we finished, and Mateo was filled with my life, we were both coated in sweat and gym filth and the glorious stench of sex.

Mateo didn’t let me pull out; rather, he held me close atop him, bade me stay inside him and not move.

He said he wanted to be one person with me for as long as we could, and I couldn’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.

Too few minutes passed before Mateo stirred.

“I have to get to the pizza party. They’ll lose their minds if I don’t show up, at least for a while.”

I wiggled my hips, causing my dick to throb inside him.

“Not fair.” He grinned against my cheek.

“Never said I played fair.” I grinned back. “Want some company? I could eat some pizza.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Only if we resume this exact position at home afterward.”

I slipped out and planted a kiss on his lips. “Whatever Coach wants, Coach gets.”