Coachs pet lesbian roman.., p.1
Coach's Pet Lesbian Romance: Groveton College, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by S.J. Ransom
Editing by: Victoria Ellis of Cruel Ink & Editing + Design
Cover by: Jacci of JG Designs
Formatting by: Victoria Ellis of Cruel Ink Editing + Design
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
To all the brats out there who just want their own Mommy or Daddy to spank their behinds, this one is for you!
Keep being bratty, my loves.
CONTENTS
Warning:
1. Tia
2. Laura
3. Tia
4. Laura
5. Tia
6. Laura
7. Tia
8. Laura
9. Tia
10. Laura
11. Tia
12. Laura
13. Tia
14. Laura
15. Tia
16. Laura
17. Tia
18. Laura
19. Laura
20. Tia
21. Laura
22. Tia
23. Laura
24. Tia
25. Laura
26. Tia
27. Laura
28. Tia
29. Laura
30. Tia
31. Laura
32. Tia
33. Laura
34. Tia
35. Laura
36. Tia
37. Laura
Tia
Laura
Coming December 2023…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Psychos in Love
Psychos Take Love
Psychos Love Forever
A Psychos Christmas
Kronos
She’s a Mad Hatter
Defiant Queen
Cuffed Love
Please check triggers on my website.
https://www.ransomsbookreviews.com/trigger-warnings
This book is a novel and stand-alone read. However, you will find these characters in a book coming out in December by me.
The smell of my orgasm fills the air as I push the dildo deep into my pussy. Sometimes when I’m talking to a man on the phone, he gets this gruffness about him that makes me need an orgasm. There’s something filthy and exciting about being talked to like a dirty little whore.
“That’s it baby, yeah, fuck, that’s it. Take it deeper. Yeah, oh Goddamn,” the man, I think his name is Craig, says. I pretend to go down on his cock and slurp on the dildo my pussy just spasmed all over. Men love to hear me get sloppy with them.
He comes hard, and the click of the phone tells me he’s gone. I chuckle to myself as I pull the headset off my head and close my eyes as I think about why I am putting myself through this torture. Being a sex operator wasn’t my first job choice, but I needed money—and fast. My mom ended up in prison for fraud and tax evasion, leaving me to fend for myself. Forget about my dad. I have no clue who the fuck he is, and I don’t want to know.
This last year has been hell on me. I found this job through an online camera site and I… Well, it’s been profitable. All I have to do is pretend I’m into the guys that call me, and they pay for everything. The men usually want me to listen to them come as I describe how I’d give them the longest, hardest, blow job of their lives. Sometimes they want me to describe what I would want them to do to me.
The jokes on them, though. Even though I love the gruffness, I don’t want them doing anything to me. It brings back too many memories of my past. Hell, if the pay wasn’t so damn good, I’d still be at the 7-11 working for pennies on the dollar. Not only have I graduated high school without a single debt to my name, but I also have college paid for. Sure, I received a two-year scholarship, but this job has paid for my degree for now.
Plus, I’ve already moved closer to campus in a brand-new apartment and have a sick new Jeep. It’s my dream vehicle—the one I’ve been dying to own since I was fifteen. I stand up from my desk and stretch, getting ready for the live show. Some people would say I should feel ashamed, but I don’t. I’ve worked my little mouth off to get what I want.
It doesn't bother me to hear a dozen men a day tell me to take that cock deep in my throat. I’ll tell them about the raunchy fantasies I read and write about. I mean, it's not like they are going to know I've only ever had sex once. Not one asshole that calls me ever cares. And frankly, I don’t either. At four dollars a minute, I easily make two hundred an hour.
If I’m doing a live show, it’s fifty dollars just to sign-in. You want me to perform? You will pay more for it. I usually only have live shows once a week, though. I have to say, I’m glad I wear a mask, and no one knows it’s me. I get naked and I fuck myself with toys. There’s never another person in my room with me, and I don’t feel like I need it. Besides, live shows literally pay my bills to the point I only have to do them one once a month if I choose. I just like the attention.
Tia Falcon is the forgotten child who was left to fend for herself. For four hours a week and a few hours on the weekend, I get to be Roxy Dragon—the best damn cock tease there is. If others get off on me pretending, then so be it. I’m down as long as I get paid.
“Tia!” My best friend, Jasmine Clarke, runs up to me as I make my way to freshman orientation. I’m technically a junior since I finished two years’ worth of college in high school, but it’s my first day at this new school. Jasmine is the same, but we both signed up for the whole experience. Missing out on this would be kind of upsetting since this is where you learn about the college as a whole as well as its activities.
“Hey, Jazz.” I hug her and she clings to me so tightly, I think she might choke me.
“Did you see all the extracurricular things we can do?” Jasmine bounces on her tiptoes, and I laugh. While we are both smart and can pretty much ace everything in our sleep, Jasmine is all sunshine, and I’m all moody. I prefer the darkness to her light. She complements me in every way. Living on my own during high school was rough. I made it through, though. Sometimes, I wonder if I would have told her about my situation if she wouldn’t have had me move in with her and her mom.
I let the thought go because that would have been a tragedy. My freedom means too much to me to live under someone else’s roof. Besides, what-if they got sick of me? Or worse, they never truly wanted me to be there to begin with? Yeah, better to be alone than dependent on anyone.
“Come on. You need to sign up for the volleyball sorority and the fundraisers for the athletes. Also, I think we should do something else. You know, maybe some kind of booster thing?”
As Jazz continues to prattle on, I look at the schedule. My classes are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I have labs on Tuesday. Volleyball practices are Saturdays, Mondays, and Wednesdays, and games are on Thursdays.
Fuck, that’s a lot of work to keep up with…
“I’m not sure I need any extracurricular activities.”
“Oh Tia, you must be sociable. If you don’t make nice with your teammates you’re likely to end up being kicked off the team. Remember this isn’t high school anymore. Social standing keeps you in a scholarship. It shows you are a team player and a leader.”
“Oh my God, seriously Jazz, just stop. I’ll sign up.” Even if it’s just to shut her up. She will go on for hours about how we have to make a good impression since we’re scholarship recipients.
I’m not sure it really matters since her step-uncle is the dean of education. In fact, it’s probably a given that she will receive special treatment. Not that I care. Hell no. I want to be known for my athletic ability and that’s it.
Before we make it to the table, someone speaks, and I stop dead in my tracks. “Ms. Falcon.”
That sultry, stern voice causes chills to run down my body. Closing my eyes, I count to five before I put a soft smile on my face and turn around. “Hello, Coach.”
She’s beautiful. Her white-blonde hair stands out against her tanned skin. Large blue eyes with feathery eyelashes stare at me as if they are trying to know what’s going on deep within my soul. Coach Laura Landrey looks like an angel, but is a fierce woman, who refuses to back down from what she wants. She stands tall, at almost six-feet, but her body is proportionate. Hard work has sculpted her form.
“It seems you ditched practice today.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, daring me to challenge her.
“Today? I was settling into my new apartment, Coach.” Yeah, I’m making waves, and I probably shouldn’t. At least not on the first day of school. I’m pretty sure I did the right thing by calling her bluff. Her upper lip twitches a half-centimeter, and she shakes her head.
“Yes, today. You’ll need to makeup practice this afternoon. Be at the gym by five.” She walks away but turns back to me. “And Tia, don’t be late.”
There’s more to her words than just a warning. Why does that give me a thrill?
I walk away with a smirk on my face. Tia Falcon has been in my dreams since the day I saw her playing at the state championship game for her high school. Now that she’s a college student—and at my school—I can make sure I nurture her to the point she will grow.
&nb
A loud bang startles me from my thoughts as I enter the locker room. My hand automatically flies to the center of my chest, and I chuckle. I wasn’t aware of my surroundings because I was so focused on Tia’s moan. Girly chatter fills my ears, and I roll my eyes. The one thing I hate most about my job is dealing with all the students. They can be viciously catty and petty.
Making a beeline for my office, I try to hold in the moan that is dying to burst through me. The feeling of an orgasm is on the cusp of happening without even touching myself. Dammit, this is going to be bad. I know I’ll become obsessed if I’m not careful.
“You call that running?” My voice carries throughout the gym as I watch Tia run along the court. She’s nowhere near her normal pace, and I wonder if she has something on her mind. I refuse to go soft on her though. That’s not who I am. “My ninety-year-old grandmother could run faster than you. Pick up the pace, Falcon.”
Tia is short, but she can run faster than anyone else on this team. So why is she giving me a half-assed attempt now?
“Bitch.”
I blow the whistle around my neck and walk over to her. “You need to learn how to whisper your words better, Tia. You’ve just earned yourself a hundred snakes. Get going.”
She takes off toward the bleachers, and I watch her shapely ass bounce with each stride. My left-hand itches, wanting to grab on to her and leave my fingerprints all over her body. My eyes close from the thought of her on her knees, ass in the air, and my handprint shining back at me.
Halfway through, Tia stops on the last step of the bleachers and sits down. “I’m done.”
Oh, little girl needs a lesson in when she’s truly done. Reeling that thought in, I smile and shake my head. “No, you aren’t. Take a moment, get some water or Gatorade, and then get back to it. You have fifty more to go.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Do you really want to refuse, Tia?” My heart is racing with the overwhelming sensation of taking her over my knee.
“I’m done. My legs are tingling, and I can’t seem to catch my momentum.” She doesn’t look at me when tells me this. A lie. I can feel the ringing of truth behind my thoughts. She’s lying to me.
“Very well. Let’s get you on the massage table and work out those legs.” She tries to hide her smile but fails miserably.
“Thanks, Coach.” The way her whole face lights up when she smiles is gorgeous, but if she knew what was about to happen, she wouldn’t be thanking me.
The therapy room is quiet as we enter. Tia goes over to the massage table as I lock the door. For what I’m about to do, we can’t have any witnesses.
“Strip.” The demand comes out before I think about it.
Tia turns around and looks at me wide eyed. “What?”
“If you are truly in that much pain…strip.” There’s no room for argument in my tone as I stare her down. I’m calling her bluff and hoping she walks out. For my own damn sanity and to keep me from crossing a line I know I shouldn’t.
She doesn’t.
No, this girl just shrugs and pulls her sports bra and shorts off, leaving her nude. Fuck. I'll be damned. She called my own damn bluff. Smart little girl. I would give her points for that if I knew she was doing this to push my buttons.
Watching Tia climb onto the table, I get a shot of her bare pussy, and it’s soaked. Is she getting off on this? Biting my lip, I walk over to the counter where all the massage products are. For a moment, I wonder if she is truly in pain, and I’m being the bitch she accused me of being.
Taking the massage gel and two towels over to the table, I think about how I’m going to play this. I could be completely professional and let everything go. Nah. My inner voice chuckles at me. We are going to play this hard and dirty.
She looks back at me, probably wondering what I'm doing. Is she seriously worried I'll do something to her? Shaking my head, I try not to be offended. She doesn't know me, and I don't know her. After this she'll understand that I'm trying to help her.
Pouring the gel onto Tia’s back, I push her head down. “Relax. I’m a certified massage therapist and have been taking care of my players since before you were born.”
“It’s not that,” Tia says through gritted teeth, and I know there’s a story behind those words.
“What’s up?” I ask her, wondering why she was so confident a moment ago and is now rigid as can be.
“I don’t like people touching me.”
This bit of information gives me pause, and I know I should pull back. Instead, I run my hand along her leg and bend down until my mouth is on top of her ear.
“Don’t worry, princess.” Dammit, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Oh well, too late to take it back now.
She shivers and jolts as I touch her. Gooseflesh spreads across her body as she gasps. “Just feel the aches go away as I move my hands along your skin.”
We are closing in on territory that is far beyond coach and player. I should stop what I’m doing and let this girl go. But not today.
My hands knead the toned muscles of Tia’s right leg. She squirms as I move to her calves and feel the tightness in them. “You haven’t been stretching properly. Warming up is vital to keeping your body loose for running.”
“Whatever.” She smarts off to me, and before I stop myself, my hand comes down on her thigh in a harsh slap.
I don’t regret it one bit. Her skin turns red, and she jumps, pulling away from me. “What the fuck?”
“Pipe down, Tia. Get back on your stomach. Your muscles are tight and need to be worked on. The reason they are like this is because you obviously don’t follow instructions.”
“You hit me.” She doesn’t turn and get on her stomach, even though I just instructed her to do it. Little brat.
Pushing her back down onto her stomach, I keep my tone of voice firm, but reassuring. “No. I smacked your thigh to teach you a lesson. One you desperately need.” Gently rubbing the spot I smacked, I feel her relaxing under me. “Tia, I’m not sure how things worked in your high school, but here, what I say is final. If I tell you to stretch five times a day, you do it. Do you understand me?”
We are locked in a staring match for so long, I can see the specks of blue in her eyes. I could easily drown within them, but I must toe the line for now.
“Yes, ma’am.” The words are barely whispered, but I hear them.
“That’s my good girl. Now lie back down and let me get these knots worked out of you.”
Tia does as she’s told and pride swells in me. Fuck. The urge to take care of her and to show her where her place is war within me. For now, though, I choose to take care of her.
Laura’s hands flow along my body, melting my reservations. For once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m being hurt or taken advantage of. It’s almost as if she’s put me in a trance with the way she rubs and digs into my flesh.
My mind, though, isn’t through processing the fact that my coach spanked me. My thigh still tingles, and if I’m honest, so does my pussy. I can’t get over the way she called me “princess.” It almost makes me cry, thinking that I will never be anyone’s princess. Anyone who wants me always leaves.
Ignoring that nagging thought, I give in to the touch of my coach and enjoy the way it feels to be taken care of. My body is relaxed, and I don’t feel the stress of my muscles always hurting.
