My Coach, My Stalker by Jessa Kane
Chapter 6
Everett
Taking Margot to bed has ruined me.
I’m ruined.
Standing at the side of the pool, clipboard in hand, I can hear none of the noise in the massive swimming facility. None of it. All I can hear is the sound of Margot’s heartbeat as she sleeps. Steady and healthy. I hear the squeaking of the bed springs, the slap of flesh, Margot calling out in that breathy, strangled tone she uses when my hand is around her slender throat.
It’s the day of the competition and I can’t think straight. I look down at my clipboard and see nothing but pencil markings in odd shapes. No letters. No plans that make sense. Everything in my life besides her feels irrelevant now. There’s only Margot. There’s only her inhales and exhales and every precious hair on her head. I thought my obsession was at its fever pitch, but I was wrong. This is a fever pitch. I’m living in a trancelike state, oblivious to everything but the need to be burrowed inside of her tight pussy again, to be held in her arms, to count her freckles and tip a glass of orange juice to her lips.
Between yesterday afternoon and now, I’ve fucked her so many times it’s criminal.
It’s a wonder she can even walk, let alone compete in an Olympic event.
I took her doggy style while she cuddled a blanket. I licked her pussy while she giggled and told me to stop. I fucked her like an animal on the bathroom sink, watching my eyes turn black in the mirror over her shoulder. Watching myself turn into an utter maniac. That’s what I am. I’m her stalker. And now I’ve been given permission to let the obsession flourish.
Even now, as she comes toward me in her bathing suit, tucking blonde hair into her swim cap, I can see she needs to be pleasured again. Her eyelids are heavy, her nipples in points. We need to focus on diving. We need to concentrate on getting her form perfect, getting her used to the board and her surroundings.
But I can’t.
I can’t do anything but stash my clipboard underneath my arm, grab her by the wrist and drag her back through the tunnel toward the locker room, hell screeching in my ears. My dick is stiff as a pike. People are looking at us with speculation as we pass, but there’s simply no giving a damn. There’s only Margot. There’s only getting as close to her as possible. My thoughts are in complete disarray around that one clear fact. It’s all I can decipher in my own brain anymore. Margot. Margot. Margot. Get inside of her. Consume her. Absorb her.
We pass the larger locker room, opting for one of the small, private ones and I yank her inside, closing the door behind us, already out of breath, fumbling to get my hard cock free of the zipper confining it. “Take the suit off,” I growl, not bothering to wait for her to follow my instructions before I jerk down the clingy material, baring her supple, naked body. And my goddamn head goes on fire. It’s like I’m seeing her through a red haze of hunger. Need need need. I’m so lost in my starvation, I barely register the fact that I’ve moved her. Slammed her tight ass up against a row of lockers and rammed my dick up between her thighs. Inside of her.
Home.
The only place I can exist is right here.
This is the deep end. I won’t be able to hold back ever again now that I’ve had her.
I was an idiot to think I could.
And that fact only becomes more obvious when she whimpers my name, her melting hot little pussy pulsing around my cock. Sliding side to side. Young and tight and everything right. So fucking perfect that I have to moan. Have to fuck at my hardest right away. I jackhammer her into the lockers and she gasps through every second of it, eyes glazed over in that telltale way, reassuring me that her orgasm is imminent like mine.
There’s a knock on the door, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop. I’ll never be able to stop again.
My life is embodied in this girl. I’m a goner.
Entrenched in the infatuation with no way out.
“Margot?” calls Mr. Summers. Her father. He must have followed us back here. “Coach Everett? Is everything all right?”
“We’ll be out in a minute,” I growl, thrusting her up higher, hands clutching her pert backside, rattling the lockers loudly with every violent movement of my body. “We spoke about this. I’m training her.”
Margot makes a desperate, whiny sound and I start to clap my hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, but why bother? Her father knows exactly what’s happening in here. All through yesterday evening and night, her phone was dinging with text messages from both parents wanting to know if she was okay and I could barely stop fucking her long enough to let her answer. And I can’t stop now. My cock is demanding appeasement, as is my soul. She’s the nurturer of both. She’s the cause and the healer of my sexual agony.
“Don’t you think you’ve…trained enough?” asks her father.
I grind into her hard, slowly, our tongues licking together, Margot widening her thighs like a good little girl, blinking up at me for approval. “I’ll be the judge of that,” I say, my voice like gravel. “I decide when she’s had enough.”
“Never,” whispers Margot for my ears only, her mouth still swollen from kissing me until all hours of the morning. “Never, ever, Daddy.”
“Call me that again,” I grit against her ear, burying my tongue inside that sweet shell, out of my mind with the need to meld us into one being. Mine. Mine. “Louder.”
“Daddy,” she screams, right as I slam her hot ass into the locker and come, groaning unmuffled into the dark locker room, Margot’s sex quaking around my shaft, our combined lust audibly dripping onto the floor between my feet. Her eyes are blind, mouth in an O, head tipped back, her beloved body turning soft and pliant around mine. Satisfied. And I can relate. Momentarily. How long until I need her again? Mere minutes?
The sound of a horn going off in the diving area brings our heads up. We lock eyes, both of us realizing how long we’ve been trapped under one another’s spells. We’re out of practice time now. It’s time to compete.
Reluctantly, I allow Margot to slide down between me and the locker, her feet finding the floor. I help her fit her suit back into place, unable to keep myself from stroking every inch of her skin as we complete the task. When we walk out of the locker room a minute later, I am still in the process of zipping my pants, but I don’t hesitate to look her father straight in the eye.
I’m done hiding my obsession with Margot.
Now that we’ve ripped the lid off our lust, there’s no going back.
Stalking was only the beginning.
Her father averts his gaze. “Is she ready to win?”
“Definitely felt like it,” I say, tight-lipped, striding past him with a hand on the small of Margot’s back, guiding her toward the pool. God, I don’t even like him asking about her anymore. Who is he to show concern for her when she’s mine to care for? The voice in my head that reminds me he’s her father is now being drowned out by the roar that I’m her Daddy. I’m the man in her life now. There will be no one else.
Half an hour later, I’m standing in the coach’s box watching Margot walk to the end of the diving platform. My heart seizes up with pride in her. With hope. I want this gold medal for her, not myself. She’s worked so hard for years to achieve this. She’s practiced every single day. Fought through hard obstacles and injuries and remained positive. I’m privileged to be in love with her. I never had a chance to be anything but in love with this incredible girl.
Her eyes tick to mine just before she dives, a small smile hitching up one corner of her mouth. Gone is the tension that has been plaguing her shoulders, the restless wiggle of her toes. She’s present in the moment. Relaxed. With my heart banging up against my rib cage, I watch her take a deep breath and center herself, then fling herself off the platform.
Her form is perfect. So perfect that the crowd takes an audible gasp. On the way down to the water, she executes three flawless somersaults. Her posture is so straight that she breaks the surface with barely a splash. And I know we’re pretty much a shoo-in for the gold medal before she even comes up for air. It’s the best I’ve ever seen her dive, and with emotion crushing my windpipe, I can’t stop myself from jogging to the edge of the pool, pulling her out of the water and drawing her roughly against my chest.
“You did it, sweetheart.” I kiss her temple. “I’m so proud of you.”
“We’re not even finished with the competition yet,” she giggles, snuggling into me.
“You just set the standard. And you’re the only one here who can live up to it.” I give her a final hard hug. “A couple more dives like that and we’ll have the gold medal. You can do this.”
There’s a fleeting shadow in her eyes, but I don’t have time to question it before she gives me a tight smile and heads off to warm herself in the designated off-camera hot tub. There is part of me that wants to call her back. To tell her that if she never dove again, I would still be the man in her life. To tell her that I’m encouraging her because a gold medal is what she wants. But if she never got a medal at all, I would still think she is the most extraordinary girl on this planet. Those sentiments will have to wait until after the competition, though.
As will my marriage proposal.
I’ll calm down once she’s wearing my ring. I won’t have to stalk my wife, will I?
Yeah right.
She won’t be walking down the goddamn street without me, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I was treading water for so long in the deep end of this obsession. Now it has sucked me down, down. Past the bottom. I’m never coming up for air.
