Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(71)
When she came, I felt it. She orgasmed with her entire body, clenching around me so tight I felt a growl building in my chest. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her mouth dropped open, her eyes squeezed closed, and then she was whimpering my name.
“Erik…ERIK.”
I kept pounding into her, skin slapping against skin, and just as her nails eased up on my shoulders, I started to come, whispering her name against her lips as I buried myself so deep in her she’d feel it for days. I jerked and groaned, coming for so long I nearly blacked out.
After, I stayed right there against her, inside her, our heavy breaths blending together in the hazy alley until I could finally pry my eyes open. She was watching me, curious, as I caught my breath.
I lifted her hips and pulled out of her, setting her back onto the ground gently, watching to make sure she had her footing before I released her.
She straightened her dress and I tossed the condom, tucking myself back into my briefs and then zipping up my suit. By the time I glanced back up at her, she looked nearly as presentable as when she’d left the mixer, albeit a little more flushed.
Her phone rang on the ground in a purse I hadn’t even noticed until she was reaching down for it. I vaguely remembered hearing a phone ring a few minutes earlier as well.
She reached for it and answered with a quick swipe.
“Hey—no…I thought you guys left already.” She glared back at me.
“Hang up the phone.”
She shook her head and turned her attention toward the street. “Erik—er…Coach Winter told me he let you guys know I was leaving.”
I’d lied.
I brushed past her and stood at the end of the alley, surveying the street. The hotel was only a few yards away and I could see the rest of her teammates lingering outside, waiting for her. Noah was there too, hovering near them with his hands stuffed down his pockets like a sad sap. He looked like he’d just lost his puppy.
“No, just wait for me,” she said with an annoyed huff. “I’ll be there in a second.”
She moved to walk past me out of the alley, but I reached out for her arm, pulling her back to me.
I brushed a quick kiss to her cheek and whispered against her velvet skin, “I don’t care who you wore the dress for tonight…as long as you remember who you took it off for.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Erik
I woke up the next morning feeling satisfied and guilty as hell. Brie was young and drunk on authority. She wanted me because I was her coach and she liked the danger of it…and maybe I was taking advantage of the situation. Persuading her to follow me into a dark alley wouldn’t help mold her into an Olympic champion, and yet I’d done it anyway.
We were using each other, f*cking and fighting like it was our job. We’d become each other’s prisoners, twisting ourselves into a sexual Stockholm syndrome, but now that we were in Rio, there were consequences lurking around every corner. I shuddered to think what would happen if someone had seen us together. Brie wasn’t underage, but in the eyes of the public, it wouldn’t matter. I was her coach and she was my gymnast. I was the predator and she was the victim. I smiled at the thought. Brie would hate being labeled a victim; she was a fighter through and through. She’d gone into that alley with me because she’d wanted to; she teased me because she liked it. She wasn’t the flowers and chocolate type of woman. She didn’t want me to hold her hand in public, she wanted me to kick her feet apart and take her from behind. She wanted what I wanted, and that’s why deep down, I knew we were a perfect fit.
I showered and pulled out a black suit from my closet. We’d been in Rio for three days and qualifications were set for the following morning. The Today Show would be covering the competition and interviewing a few of the athletes. They’d requested a pre-qualifications interview from me, and though I would have appreciated a few more hours of sleep, I’d agreed to the segment months ago. Besides, it wouldn’t be so hard. They wanted a one-on-one with me so I could give them information on the girls—if they were ready to compete, what they were like when they weren’t training, that sort of thing.
An hour later, I sat on a stool facing the stage lights and tried not to go blind in the process.
“Y’know, Erik, I have to say, if I’d had a coach that looked like you, I might have stuck with the sport a little longer myself,” the correspondent, Melissa, joked before reaching forward to touch my knee gently. She had a short blonde bob that swished back and forth every time she leaned forward to touch me, which was getting to be more and more often as the interview droned on.
I smiled and adjusted the lapel of my suit jacket. “It’s never too late; I could open up adult classes at Seattle Flyers.”
I was flirting with her enough to make for good television and she was eating it up.
“Oh gosh. I’m scared I’d break a hip or something!” She laughed before turning to her cue cards. “So as you know, we asked our audience to tweet in questions about you and the team. Nine out of ten wanted to know more about Brie Watson. She stormed onto the gymnastics scene a few years back, and it’s not every day you find someone like her: the total package. Can you tell us a little more about her?”
I swallowed and tried to keep my expression neutral as I answered. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what Brie would be like when she arrived in Seattle. She trained at a great gym in Texas and I knew she had the skillset required to compete at the Olympic level.”