Chapter 89 My Hot Coach (9)

• The air in my living room was thick, electric, every breath heavy with the scent of sweat and desire. Derek’s hands were on me, his fingers digging into my ass, his hard dick pressing against my hip through his shorts. My purple training suit felt like a cage, too tight, too hot, and I wanted it gone. I pulled back from his lips, my chest heaving, my hazel eyes locked on his. His smirk was wicked, his blue eyes dark with hunger, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
• “Get this off me,” I whispered, my voice raw, needy, my hands tugging at the hem of my suit. My lips were swollen from our kiss, my thong so wet it was useless. Derek didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up my sides, rough and warm, hooking under the fabric. He peeled the suit down slowly, like he was unwrapping something precious, his fingers grazing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I lifted my arms, and he tugged the top over my head, my tits bouncing free, nipples already hard in the cool air. His eyes dropped to them, and he let out a low groan, like he was starving.
• He didn’t stop there. His hands moved to my hips, pulling the suit lower, past my thighs, my calves, until it pooled at my ankles. I kicked it aside, my white sneakers still on, but otherwise, I was naked except for my red thong. Derek’s gaze raked over me, lingering on my curves, my bare tits, the damp lace barely covering my pussy. “Fuck, Mia,” he muttered, his voice rough, almost reverent. “You’re fucking perfect.”