Harder because keeping my hands off Murphy at school is basically torture, especially now that I know exactly what those hands can do to me. Ever since our night at the cabin, we've been fucking everywhere we can manage it.
His truck in empty parking lots. The storage room behind the gym after hours. His office with the door locked and my hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds he pulls from me. Quick and desperate and so filthy I can barely look him in the eye during actual school hours without blushing.
I'm addicted to the way he takes me. The way he whispers the dirtiest things in my ear while he's buried inside me, telling mewhat a good girl I am for taking his cock so perfectly. The way he makes me beg for it, makes me tell him exactly what I want him to do to me.
Three weeks of this and I'm constantly on edge, constantly wet, constantly thinking about the next time he's going to pin me against a wall and make me come undone.
Easier because Murphy was right about the protection factor. Nobody messes with me anymore. Not the mean girls who used to make snide comments about my thrift store clothes, not the guys who thought they could cop a feel in the hallway, not even the teachers who used to dismiss my questions. Word has somehow gotten around that I'm under Coach Reynolds' wing, and apparently that's enough to make people think twice.
What they don't know is that I'm under more than just his wing.
"Earth to Taryn," Chloe says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?" I try to focus on my calculus homework, but it's hard when Murphy is across the field demonstrating a play to the defensive line, his voice carrying in that commanding tone that makes my thighs clench together.
"That thing where you zone out and get this dreamy, slightly dirty look on your face." She follows my gaze to where Murphy is showing Tommy Martinez the proper stance. "Please tell me you're not having inappropriate thoughts about Coach Reynolds during math tutoring."
If only she knew. Yesterday he bent me over his desk during lunch period, my skirt hiked up around my waist while he fucked me so hard I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Thebruises from his fingers on my hips are still there, hidden under my clothes like a secret.
"I'm concentrating on derivatives," I lie.
"Uh-huh. And I'm concentrating on becoming a Victoria's Secret model." She leans closer, lowering her voice. "Seriously, T. The sexual tension between you two is getting ridiculous. Like, visible from space ridiculous."
My heart stops. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he's been watching you for like ten minutes straight while pretending to critique the blocking scheme. And you've been staring at him like you want to climb him like a tree. And it’s not like his hard-on is under wraps." She grins, and I glance over, remembering the too small compression shorts we picked out on a shopping spree two weeks ago where he bought me so much stuff, I had to sneak it in the house to keep my mom from getting suspicious. "Not that I blame you. If I were into older guys with serious BDE—Big Daddy Energy—he'd definitely be my type."
She giggles while I feel the heat rush to my face.
"He does not have Daddy energy," I hiss.
"Honey, that man screams 'I will take care of you and ruin you for other men' from a mile away. It's literally written all over him."
My whole body is on fire because she's not wrong. That's exactly what he does to me, exactly what heisto me. My Daddy, who takes care of me and ruins me for anyone else in the best possible way. I want to tell her exactly how he makes me feel, exactly how he loves me and fucks me like his good little girl.
Instead, I try to keep my voice level. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" She studies my face carefully. "Because I saw you two in the hallway yesterday, and he was standing way closer than a teacher should be standing to a student. Like,waycloser. And the way he was looking at you..."
Shit. We’ve been careful, but apparently not careful enough. Yesterday Murphy cornered me by my locker after the lunch period fuck, checking to make sure I was okay, that he hadn't been too rough. I got distracted by the scent of me still clinging to his skin.
"He was helping me with my locker. The combination gets stuck."
"Taryn St. Claire, you have been opening that locker for months. You do not need help with the combination."
"Fine, he was telling me about a scholarship opportunity. Happy?"
"Getting there." But she's still grinning like she knows something I don't want her to know. "I’m not judging. If he makes you happy then I say go for it. Just be careful, okay? Whatever's going on between you two, people are starting to notice. And not everyone's going to be as understanding as I am."
The warning sends a chill down my spine, but before I can respond, practice ends and the team starts jogging toward the locker room. Murphy catches my eye and jerks his head toward his office, a subtle signal we've developed over the past few weeks.
A signal that means he wants me. Now.
"I have to go," I tell Chloe, already gathering my books.
"Let me guess. More college prep?"
"Something like that."
