Chapter 15
Noah
From the second I threw it in his face–that he was Mr. A–my whole day blurred.
Half of me feared I’d gotten it all wrong. That I’d made a complete fool of myself. That he’d laugh it off or, worse, bench me, toss me out of the program for
crossing the line. The other half feared I’d gotten it right–and that I was in for way more than I could handle.
I avoided him like the plague, but I watched him. Every time he walked past. Every glance. Every breath. And when he finally came close enough to speak, I
thought my legs might give out.
“I know what you’re doing. Do you?”
Then that offer. That goddamn invitation to meet him in his room after dinner…. He didn’t confirm it–not directly–but he didn’t have to. The way he said
it, the glint in his eye, the slow, deliberate walk away…
It told me everything I needed to know.
I paced for hours. Debated not going. Told myself I was being dramatic. Reckless. Suicidal for my entire career, but I knew I was going to show up.
Still, I changed shirts four times. Put on cologne. Tried to look like I didn’t care when I absolutely, one hundred percent did.
I kept telling myself I was gonna confront him. Force the truth out. Make him admit what he was hiding, but then he opened that damn door and every word, every plan I’d rehearsed, vanished into thin air.
He wasn’t Coach Aiden anymore. Not standing there in his tailored black suit, his eyes darker than sin and just as tempting. The shirt clung to his chest like it was made for him. His presence alone was overwhelming.
Commanding.
Hot.
Unforgiving.
I tried to speak, but all that came out was, “Good evening… Sir.”
Fuck.
He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t react. Just stepped aside and let me in like he’d been expecting it all along.
I sat because he told me to. I listened, and for the first time in forever, my mind went quiet. No constant swirl of thoughts. No trying to figure out what to
say or how to act.
I just… Felt; I felt safe, seen, wanted.
And then he gave me a choice.
He laid it out so simply.
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Chapter 15
Two lives. Two roles. One truth.
Was I in or out?
The problem was–I had no clue what he was even offering.
I’d stumbled onto that site without knowing what I was doing. Just curious, Hungry for something I couldn’t name.
The challenge had thrilled me. The teasing, the tension, the feeling of being pushed toward a line I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross.
And maybe… I craved that discipline.
That praise.
Hell, even the idea of being punished–by him–twisted something deep inside me I didn’t know existed.
But this? What he was talking about now?
This wasn’t flirting.
It wasn’t a game.
He wanted more–he wanted my “everything else.”
And before I made any commitments… I needed to know what “else” actually meant.
“I don’t know what being all in involves,” I muttered, voice low.
“If you want what Mr. A has to offer,” he said, his voice lower now, slower, almost intimate, “you’ll need to prove to me that you can keep your grades high, stay top of your game on the field, and follow orders without question. No distractions. No attitude. You give me your best as a player–and in return, I train you, privately. On weekends. In complete submission.”
4
I blinked. “Train me to be your… what? Slave?”
He smiled–not cruelly, not smugly. Just calmly, like he knew exactly how new this was to me. “My submissive.”
“Yeah, what the hell does that even mean? Why would I agree to that?”
He didn’t flinch. “Because some part of you already knows. Submission isn’t about weakness. It’s about trust. About freedom from all the noise in your head. When you give someone your control, your stress, your pressure–you gain peace. You gain clarity. And in return, you’re cared for. Owned. Guided. Pleasured in ways you haven’t begun to imagine.”
My throat went dry. “Sounds like a fucking cult.”
He chuckled softly. “Then leave.”
I stayed silent.
“You came here for truth, didn’t you?” he murmured, standing slowly, moving toward me with deliberate grace.
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Chapter 15
I nodded, throat tight. “I never said I was a submissive. And I’m definitely not into men.”
He stopped behind my chair, leaned down, his breath brushing my ear. “What if I told you you’re both?”
I shivered.
“You’d be wrong… I’m not interested.”
But even to me, it sounded like a lie.
“Really?” His lips brushed the side of my neck–warm, smooth, intentional–and my heart skipped a beat.
“What if everything you’ve been craving–all the heat, all the ache, all the hunger you can’t shake–is right here, waiting? And all you have to do… is kneel and take it?”
I tried to breathe.
Tried to pretend my cock didn’t twitch at his words.
But when his mouth ghosted across my chin, I didn’t flinch–I turned into it.
Licked his bottom lip like I was starving.
Fuck… fuck!
I did not just do that…
“Mm.” He tasted me, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. “Clearly not interested.”
And then–he stepped back.
Cool. Collected. Composed.
While I sat there trembling, hard as a rock, burning with questions I didn’t even know how to ask.
He didn’t say another word.
Just turned, walked to the other side of the room, and busied himself by the window–back to me, giving me the clear message:
This part’s over.
I sat there for a full minute, maybe more, staring at the man who just turned my entire sense of self upside down. Half of me wanted to speak, ask
something, anything. The other half couldn’t move.
Because what the hell had just happened?
Was it attraction? Submission? Curiosity? Or had I just gotten drunk off his scent and done something I couldn’t take back?
I had kissed him–no, wait, not even that… I had licked him! Like, what the fuck? I had responded to him. And not like a confused straight guy
experimenting in college–I wanted him. Craved him.
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1:24 pm
Chapter 15
M
And now, he wouldn’t even look at me.
Because of course he wouldn’t.
This was Mr. A–and he didn’t chase.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
