Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
This culminated in her following me back to my office, where Waverly had the foresight to hear us coming and jump naked into my closet until Ramona left. And that about brings us up to the present.
And like I said, this isn’t even the first time we’ve almost been caught. Fuck, it’s not even the second. On Monday, I had my lips on her neck and my hand down the front of her gym shorts while she sat on the leg press machine in the weight room, teasing her slick pussy and her aching clit when Porter Truman, the math and stats professor, walked in to get in a quick workout after school. We came real close to getting caught that time.
And just yesterday, in the faculty parking lot after school, Waverly was bent over the front seat divider of my Land Rover with her tongue on my balls and my hand in her panties when Principle fucking Kane walked out to head to his car.
We’re getting sloppy, and that’s dangerous, for both of us.
“Okay, I should get to my last class” she groans, leaning up to kiss me softly.
I growl. “You sure?”
She giggles. “Sadly, yes. Because if this whole swimming thing goes to shit, it might be nice to have a decent college degree.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess a degree from an ivy league school is decent, huh?”
She giggles, kissing me again before she turns and start to collect her clothes from the closet. She pauses, frowning.
“Wait, where are my… shit.”
I follow her gaze and groan when I spot what she’s looking at—her black, lacy thong panties, lying half under my desk.
Shit is right.
“Do you think…” Waverly rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. “You don’t think Ramona…”
I quickly shake my head. “Nah, no way.”
Fuck I hope not.
She snatches them up and quickly pulls them up her long, muscled legs. I watch her dress, grinning as she turns and blushes.
“Perv.”
“At your service.”
She giggles, leaning up to kiss me slow and deep.
“Maybe after practice we can…” she blushes. “Pick up where we left off?”
“It’s a date.”
She grins as she kisses me once more, before she grabs her bag from the closet and skips to the door.
“See you later, coach,” she purrs seductively, winking at me before she steps out, the door closing behind her.
I shake my head, grinning as I sit back in my office chair. It’d be easy to say it’s just the sex—that I’m smiling all the fucking time these days because I’ve got this gorgeous little eighteen-year-old eager to ride my cock or my tongue. But that’s not it. Well, that’s not all of it. It’s Waverly herself. Shit, she could be fifty years old, or one-hundred, and I know my heart would still race like this for her.
And for the first time in years, I’m genuinely happy. And damn does that feel good, especially since tomorrow is my three-year—
My phone goes off, loudly, and I grimace, shaking my thoughts away as pick it up. I frown at the unknown number before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Kirby?”
I clear my throat. “Yes?”
“Mr. Kirby, this is Steven Fannetti, with the USA Swimming Committee.”
My core tightens along with my jaw, and my pulse quickens. USA Swimming is the governing body for all things related to competitive swimming in the country. The last time we spoke, about three years ago with me lying broken and shattered in a hospital bed, they were “informing me” that I was no longer welcomed on the US Olympic team, or to compete in any ranked race, for life.
…Needless to say, my eyes narrow when I realize who’s calling me.
“Hi.”
The word growls out flatly, and just hangs there. Mr. Fannetti clears his throat.
“Mr. Kirby, I’m actually calling to ask about your interest in swimming competitively again.”
I frown. “Mr. Fannetti, if this is supposed to be a joke, I can promise you, I’m not laughing.”
He laughs quietly. “Mr. Kirby—”
“Camden.”
He clears his throat. “Camden, I can promise you, this isn’t a joke. We’ve been reviewing your suspension, and in light of the… well, in light of the time passed, and your new position as a coach, we’d like to put it all behind us and move forward.”
I blink, my pulse skipping.
“Mr. Fannetti, what exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying we want you to swim competitively again, Camden. At the highest level.”
Hold the fuck up.
“How high,” I croak out.
“We’d like for you to try out for Team USA, Camden.”
The floor falls out from under me, and I almost drop my phone as my jaw just hangs open.
“You—you’re serious.”
“Absolutely. Now, this isn’t a guaranteed spot, and there are a number of candidates you’ll be competing with for a spot. But we want you, Camden. Before you’re… well, before the incident, your trajectory was meteoric, and that’s something Team USA wants.”
I can’t say words. I can barely breathe, actually. Luckily, Mr. Fannetti seems to take it in stride, and he chuckles.