Page 10 of Yes, Coach (Bratton Hollow #1)

Murphy

T wo days.

Two fucking days since our conversation in my kitchen, and I've barely gotten five minutes alone with her. Yesterday she had to rush home from school because her mom was having a bad breathing day. She was supposed to be staying at my place again, but her mom needed her. I might be a fucking monster, but for her I’ll do anything.

She stopped by this morning, but could only stay for coffee because she had to cover someone's shift at the diner.

I'm going out of my goddamn mind.

Which is why, when she texted me an hour ago saying her mom was finally stable and she had the whole night free, I didn't hesitate. Told her to pack an overnight bag and prepare for the magical mystery tour, a reference she didn’t get because she’s so damn young. Hell, it’s a reference I shouldn’t get.

Now she's in my truck, smoothing the skirt of the dress she just put on at my house.

"You sure this isn't too much?" Taryn asks, voice low as she tugs at the hem. The fabric catches the light—deep red silk that clings in all the right places. She looks like something out of a dream.

My fucking wet dream, to be precise.

I glance over, take her in, and my chest tightens. "Too much? Hell no. If anything, it’s not enough."

She bites her lip, looking down at herself like she doesn't quite believe she belongs in something this nice.

"You look incredible," I say. "You could wear a garbage bag and still stop traffic, but this... this is how you should be dressed. Like a damn queen."

Her cheeks go pink. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, like she's trying to make herself smaller. "It just... it feels like a lot. I mean, this dress probably cost more than my mom’s rent."

"Doesn’t matter what it cost." I reach over, hook my finger under her chin until she meets my eyes. "You deserve this. You deserve better than you’ve been given."

She swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away.

"Let me do this for you, Taryn," I say, softer now. "Let me take you out. Properly."

A slow smile breaks across her face. She nods. "Okay. Just... don’t be surprised if I trip in these thousand-dollar heels."

"I'll always be there to catch you."

I grab her wrist and pull her closer, my voice dropping to a growl. "And everyone's gonna be wondering why that distinguished gentleman is groping a little girl like she's his personal sex toy."

The crude words make her breath catch, her pupils dilating with arousal. "Let them wonder."

The plan is to take her somewhere nice, but far enough away from home we could be seen together without worrying about running into half the school board.

"Where are we going?"

"Trust me, baby. I have it all in hand."

"Mysterious Daddy," she says with a grin.

I can see her nipples harden beneath the smooth fabric of her dress. Classy enough for dinner, but with enough cleavage to make my mouth water.

"You look fucking incredible," I tell her, pulling away down the drive. "Good enough to eat."

"Best save some appetite for dinner, Daddy."

The restaurant is exactly what I hoped for.

Old school Italian with dark wood paneling, red velvet banquettes, and the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to speak in hushed tones.

We fit right in among the other well-dressed men and women, chatting quietly over expensive wine.

The hostess shows us to a curved corner booth that's practically its own private room, and I slide in next to Taryn instead of across from her.

"This is nice," she says, looking around appreciatively. "Very... adult."

"You are an adult."

"I know. But this is the first time I've felt like one." She leans into me, her hand finding my thigh under the table. "Thank you for this."

"Thank you for what?"

"For wanting to show me off. For not being ashamed of what we are."

The words hit me harder than they should. "I could never be ashamed of you, baby girl. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She kisses me then, soft and sweet, and I don't give a fuck who sees us.

Dinner starts innocently enough. We order wine and appetizers, and I listen to her talk about her college plans, her excitement about finally being able to leave Riverside behind. But somewhere between the salad course and the main dish, her hand starts wandering.

It begins as innocent touches. Her fingers tracing patterns on my thigh, her foot brushing against my calf under the table. But as the wine relaxes her inhibitions, she gets bolder.

"You know," she says, leaning close enough that her breath tickles my ear, "I've been thinking about what you said earlier. About having an appetite."

"Have you?"

"Mmm." Her hand slides higher, dangerously close to where my cock is already harder than a lead pipe. "I'm wondering what you're hungry for."

"Careful, baby girl. We're in public."

"I know." Her fingers find the zipper of my pants, and I have to bite back a groan. "That's what makes it fun."

She's going to be the death of me. "Taryn..."

"Shh." She starts on my zipper, but I grab her hand, her eyes snapping wide.

“Did you ask to touch Daddy’s dick?” I growl, her lips falling open, lashes fluttering. “Touching me is a privilege. Sometimes, I’ll give you free rein, but sometimes you have to earn it.”

She audibly swallows. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” The flush of rejection in her eyes makes my heart ache, but this is a process of her learning, it’s not cruelty.

“You don’t have to be sorry, baby. I didn’t tell you that before, so you had no way of knowing.

We’re going to learn things together, you are going to understand what it’s like to give up control and yet feel how free that makes you.

Touching me is something you’ll crave, and sometimes I’ll say no.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. It just means, not now. Not until I say.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she whispers, working her bottom lip, the pink gloss clinging to her top teeth. She tries to pull her hand away, but I hold it steady.

“Ask like a good girl for what you want.”

Waitstaff and customers walk by, some giving us side long glances. Clearly something is drawing their attention. Our energy, perhaps. The full-grown man with the stunning barely-legal princess practically sitting in his lap.

“Can I touch you, Daddy?” Her words are barely above a whisper, but they shake me to my core. “Please?”

I tap my cheek with the index finger of my other hand. “Give Daddy a kiss first, then yes, you can touch.”

She straightens her spine, touching her warm lips to my rough cheek as I guide her hand to the raging boner under my pants, leaning toward her ear. “Take Daddy out, baby, go slow and easy. I want to enjoy the first time you touch me.”

Her smile sends me nearly to the brink, then when her fingers wrap around my length, I nearly come out of my skin. "Just sit back and enjoy your dinner, Daddy."

The waiter chooses that exact moment to appear at our table, asking if everything is satisfactory. I manage to nod and make appropriate noises while Taryn's hand moves slowly, tortuously, her thumb tracing circles on that crazy spot on the underside of my shaft.

"Everything's perfect," I tell the waiter. “Now, leave us alone unless I wave you over. Me and my daughter need to talk.”

Taryn’s lips fall open on a giggle. “Daughter,” she whispers, her lips on my ear. “Daddy’s little girl giving her first handjob.”

He moves away, shooting Taryn a quick, ‘Are you okay?’ sort of glance, and she just gives him a saccharine sweet smile in return, her hand moving faster, the soft shifting of her body and her shoulder surely giving away what’s going on under the pure white table cloth.

Fuck, that’s hot. Her hand feels so fucking good and knowing that little shit of a waiter was lusting after my girl and damn well is pretty sure she’s jacking off her old man right here in public has pride filling my chest.

“Like this?” She hisses, running her bare toes up the inside of my calf. “Am I doing it right, Daddy?”

Holy fuck.

I grab Taryn's wrist and still her movements. "Enough."

"But I'm having fun!"

"So am I. But if you keep that up, I'm going to bend you over this table and fuck you in front of everyone in this restaurant."

The threat makes her breath catch, her pupils dilating with arousal. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

She studies my face, and whatever she sees there makes her withdraw her hand.

“Now, put me away and zip up my pants.”

Getting me back in is a hellofalot harder than letting me out, and watching her struggle only makes me harder.

Finally, as I take the last bite of my risotto, she’s got me back in the stable, locking up the barn door, but the damage is done.

I'm ready to explode, and from the flush on her cheeks, she's right there with me.

"Check, please." I signal the waiter with a flick of my fingers, then settle my hand down in Taryn’s lap, shoving her dress out of the way and taking a handful of that warm wet pussy. “All mine. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

Ten minutes later, we're in my truck driving toward the address I scouted out on the internet yesterday when I couldn’t get her off my mind. It's a small cabin, all ours for the night, tucked away in the woods about ten minutes from the restaurant.

"Where are we going?" Taryn asks, her hand back on my thigh.

"Somewhere private."

"How private?"

"Private enough that nobody's going to hear you scream."

She giggles, settling back in her seat, and I drive with one hand on the wheel so I can rest the other on her knee. She winds her window down, letting the still-warm evening air tousle her blond hair. So fucking beautiful.

The cabin is perfect, just like the photos I saw on the website. Secluded, set back from the road so once I’ve parked and cut the engine the whole world disappears. Pines crowd the edges of the clearing, and the quiet settles in deep.