Curved
Crossing Lines
Chapter 132
Noah
So Coach hadn’t talked to me since game night. Hadn’t asked, hadn’t
even hinted about the party or our little late–night chat. He sure as
hell hadn’t tried to meet up–even when he knew I was practically
throwing myself in his path.
I hadn’t missed a single damn beat. Practice? Perfect. Classes? Check.
Tutoring, studying, even hitting the gym every day on top of it all,
just hoping he’d notice. Hoping he’d finally reward me for everything
he said I’d earn Sunday night–and for winning the fucking game. But
nothing.
He even changed his workout routine. Thought I wouldn’t notice.
Bullshit.
So yeah, today I decided to take drastic measures and intercept him
in his office.
And it was going exactly the way I’d planned.
I was already on my knees, and despite Aiden’s warnings, lectures,
and all his “my timing, my terms” crap, his cock was hard as a rock
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Chapter 132
before I even touched him. He could say whatever he wanted–he wanted me choking on him at all times. Whether I’d “earned it” or
not. Which, for the record, I totally had.
But then the director walked in. Shit… Did I not lock the door?
For what felt like a fucking eternity, he droned on about schedules,
funding, and future donor brunches. I could feel Aiden tensing above
me, trying to act like nothing was happening. His thigh muscles
twitched every time I moved, and the way he was leaking pre–cum
down my tongue told me exactly how much he was “not enjoying”
this.
I knew this wasn’t funny. This wasn’t my usual type of prank–like
sneaking candy wrappers into the Tupperware he passed me every
day with homemade, healthy, nutritional lunches. No, this time I was
risking both of us getting tossed out on our asses.
So since I was already fucked–and not in the good way–I figured, in
for a dime, in for a dollar, right?
I fisted him tighter and launched forward, swallowing him down until
I nearly gagged. He almost shot out of his seat, his voice hitching
mid–sentence with the director. My heart pounded, but adrenaline
drowned out the fear.
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And fuck, it felt good.
So I pushed harder, deeper, recklessly, and starving for him, even
though my gut told me I was gonna pay for this big time.
By the time Harris wrapped up his endless talk about brunches and
alumni dinners, I’d shifted to a slower rhythm, long, steady pulls that
made him twitch and jerk but also forced him to relax into it.
Hypnotic. Controlled.
The door finally shut behind the director.
I barely had time to breathe before Aiden yanked me up by the hair so
hard I swore it tore at the roots. His eyes were fire, his jaw tight.
“You fucking brat,” he growled and shoved me back.
He tugged his shirt down to cover himself as he stalked to the door,
turned the lock with a loud, click, then came right back for me.
My pulse shot through the roof.
He didn’t hesitate–just shoved me down, his cock back between my lips, thrusting with brutal force. No rhythm, no mercy. His grip on my hair made my scalp scream as he deep–throated me without pulling out, and when I tried to breathe through my nose, he pinched it shut,
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cutting off every bit of air.
Panic slammed through me. My nails clawed at his thighs, my chest heaving, my eyes watering as he fucked my throat without stopping, without blinking, holding me there like he’d finally lost it. His glare
was murderous, his pace relentless.
And then, just as I thought I was going to pass out, he emptied himself down my throat. Hot and heavy, choking me until I gagged
and coughed.
He let go only to smack me across the face with his softening cock.
“If you ever–ever–pull that shit again, Noah, I will fucking end you.
You understand me, boy?”
I couldn’t answer. I was too busy dragging in air, coughing around the
burn in my lungs.
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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.
