Page 11 of Coach’s Pass (Twin Cities #1)

“Hey, worst case, you lose my money. Best case, you win big and take me out to dinner next time,” I smirk.

He laughs, taking the bill and sliding it into the slot. “Deal. But I’m warning you—I’ve got beginner’s luck.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Jackson taps the max bet. With a dramatic flair, the buffalo sound off. “BUFFALO!” Culminating in nothing. Second spin—nothing again. “Still warming up,” he grins.

Third spin, two buffalo in a row. A few dollars. He glances at me. “I think your money’s cursed.”

I chuckle. “One more. Then I’m cutting you off.”

The reels spin… slower this time. The machine starts chiming. Lights flashing. A roar of digital buffalo and eagles echo through the speakers. “Wait. What’s happening?” Jackson leans forward, eyes wide.

The numbers increase: $200; $400; $600. Mini Jackpot! The words blink across the screen in gold. “Holy shit!” Jackson laughs, turning to me with disbelief. “Six hundred bucks?”

I grin. “Told you I was counting on that beginner’s luck.”

He stands up, fists raised in celebration. “Crab legs are on me, Coach.”

“Damn right they are.” I pad him on the back as we walk toward the buffet. The familiar sweet ocean scent guiding my feet.

We stop and cash out his voucher first. “Here coach, here’s your capital back.”

“That alright, you can keep it. I make enough. I’ll let you cover dinner tonight.”

“Bet.” Jackson grins.

We stuff our faces with sweet and salty crab meat, cracking open shell after shell with the crab crackers and tiny silver forks. Filling up our bucket with shells. Dipping each piece of flesh into the melted butter. A true delicacy in a state two thousand miles from the ocean.

I glance up between bites, watching Jackson tackle another claw like it personally offended him. “What’s your review of the crab legs?” I ask.

He doesn’t even look up. Just murmurs through a mouthful, “These are fucking delicious. Can’t believe I waited this long to try them out.”

I laugh, wiping my hands clean of the buttery mess. God, I can’t eat like I used to—but damn if that wasn’t worth it. Jackson leans back in his chair, licking the last of the butter from his fingers, looking entirely content. I savor the moment.

He finishes up and we head back to the Tahoe. Met with brisk autumn air. A couple more hours on the freeway before we hit Duluth. The road stretches ahead of us, darkness settling in. Plenty of traffic heading north and south.

I glance over at Jackson, he looks at peace. Maybe now might be a good time to get to know him a little bit better. To dig a little deeper. Get to know what’s underneath his QB swagger. Or maybe not. I don’t want to ruin this moment by asking him about his father. When he’s ready, he’ll tell me.

So instead, I turn up the radio and we drive on, listening to my favorite 90’s rock hits. The tires hum along the smooth pavement. Freshly re-done last summer.

The miles fly by while Jackson snoozes in the passenger seat.

He looks absolutely stunning, even when he’s sleeping.

There’s a softness to him that most people don’t get to see.

Delicate, not in a weak way, but in that rare kind of way that comes from carrying too much and still managing to smile through it.

Behind his tough outer shell, he’s still just a guy who’s been hurt more than he lets on.

A guy that needs someone to protect him.

Before I know it, we’re in Duluth. The freeway curves along the hillside, the entire city revealed beneath us as we descend towards Canal Park. I shake him awake for the view. “Hey,” I murmur. “You’ll want to see this.” He stirs, blinking as the view rolls into focus outside his window.

Below us, the lights of Canal Park glow along the shoreline, reflections dancing on the water.

The Ariel Lift Bridge looms in the distance, framed against the vast dark sheet of Lake Superior.

Out past the harbor, a cargo ship is slowly pushing into port, its lights casting long streaks across the water.

Across the St. Louis River, the town of Superior, Wisconsin glows dully. A working class suburb.

Jackson sits up straighter, rubbing his eyes, and stares. “Damn,” he says softly. “That’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” I nod keeping my eyes on the road until we pull into our hotel. Booked a five-star hotel, because why the hell not? We deserve something nice.

As I hand the keys to the valet and Jackson grabs his duffel from the back, I catch the grin forming at his lips.

“Damn, Coach,” he mutters. “You don’t mess around.”

“When I want something I go for it…” I shot back at him. Still couldn’t believe this stud wanted me out of everyone. He has the looks to get a super model. Hell, he could be a super model.

We checked into the hotel and got the room key for suite. The Captain’s Suite. Top floor with a gorgeous view of Lake Superior. Fit with a jacuzzi and double king beds, but we both know we only need one.

I shut the door behind us, the soft click echoing through the vast suite.

We barely make it past the threshold. Our bags hit the spare bed.

Then we are feasting on each other. My lips crashing into his.

My tongue clawing its way past his. He moans beneath me, fingers twisting into my shirt, grabbing my pecs.

It has been a full week since I tasted him.

The wrong things always taste the fucking best.

I ease up, letting us both catch our breath. Pressing my forehead to his, our lungs in sync as we stare into each other’s eyes. I trail soft kisses down along his jaw and then to his neck. He tilts his head, giving me full access. I can feel his pulse flutter beneath my lips.

“I missed this.” I whisper.

“Missed this more,” he gasps back.

I undress him slowly. Revealing his beautiful body. Chiseled every place you could imagine. Finally tearing off his white briefs. His cock springing free. I placed my lips onto his head. First time I’ve ever had a dick in my mouth.

He gasps deeply, as I swallow his head. Swirling my tongue around the head of his dick. His pelvis twitches. Jackson releases precum in my mouth. Surprisingly sweet and savory. I would never do this to another guy, but for him? I might do anything.

“Fuck that feels incredible.” Jackson whimpers, I tickle his balls to feel him tremble in my mouth. “Coach!”

I swallow him deeper, his moans growing in volume.

Letting my mouth adjust to the size of him.

His body shaking as I have his dick in my mouth.

I wrap one hand around him, starting to pump his cock while my mouth lingers on his head.

Tongue opening his slit. He shook, “Stop!” he pants, “I don’t want to cum yet. ”

“I want to suck you off Coach,” he grins, eyes full of mischief. Before I can respond, he’s tearing off every piece of fabric on my body. Then, he pushes me onto the bed. Eagerly taking my cock into his mouth. His lips and tongue are devouring my head. Christ, he’s sensational.

“Is this your first cock you’ve suck?” I say with a surprised gasp.

“Mhmmmm,” he moans, stroking himself. Working his mouth to take all of my cock into his throat. Down to my balls. As if he can’t get enough.

While he’s sucking me off, a ravenous urge awakens in me, to fuck him and make him mine again.

Bury myself deep in his plush ass. To fuck him so thoroughly that the front desk hears his moans through the floors and doesn’t even dare to knock.

I grit my teeth, breathing hard, fingers crimping into the sheets.

“You ready to be fucked by Coach?” I growl, his saliva making my cock all sloppy.

He nods his head vigorously for a resounding yes. Shaking his muscular cheeks at the question, taunting me. That’s all the invitation I need.

I grab him by the hair, not rough, but firm enough to make him whine. Guide him forward, face into the pillows. He arches his back, making my dick twitch at the sight.

His ass is covered with his blonde peach fuzz. Jackson’s hole looking absolutely delectable with a heavy patch of blonde hair. I position myself behind him, spreading his fat cheeks and shoving my tongue into the tender pink flesh. Finally tasting him again.

His musk is primally intoxicating; my tongue massaging his hairy hole. The rough fuzz feels sensational against my mouth. He squirms underneath me. I give his balls a hearty lick to see his reaction. He whimpers delightfully.

“More,” he breathes. “Please…” Begging for more. And as his Coach, how could I tell him no?

I force my tongue into his juicy hole, not able to get enough of him. Devouring him with a rhythm he can’t handle. My cock leaks against the sheets in anticipation of stretching him open again. Giving him more of my cream that he so desires. What we both desire.

I pull back just enough to make him squirm. Letting the cool air hit the places my tongue just worshipped. Jackson groans into the sheets, arching his ass up, trying to bury himself back into my face. “Coach…” he whimpers. “Please don’t tease me.”

But I can’t help myself. I don’t want this moment to end. I never wanted them to end with Jackson. I run my hands over his alluring peaches, “I could spend days down here,” I murmur. “A taste of your ass is better than winning a title.”

He gasps as I press a kiss above the curve of his ass. Then another. Each met with an increasingly desperate moan from his mouth. I feel him tremble under me. His hands clutching the white linen sheets, trying to maintain himself.

“You want your Coach’s cock that bad?” I ask, pushing a finger past his blonde fuzz, into his pink hole.

He shrieks out, clenching around my finger. “Yes sir.”