Free Tackled: A Sports Romance by Sabrina Paige

just want to bone each other but can’t say it in a mature, adult way so they say it through gag gifts."
    "It's absolutely nothing like that," I say. "It stops here. I just need to find something to get him back."
    "You should get him a blow-up doll," Sable suggests.
    "I'm not bringing a blow up doll to his house."
    "Send it to him," Sable says.
    "No blow-up doll. Too pricey."
    "A pocket pussy," Sable says. She flips the channel on the TV and casually pops a tortilla chip into her mouth like she just said something about the weather and not pussy.
    "Should I even ask what that is?"
    "Search it online," Sable says. "It's perfect. He got you dicks, you get him a pussy. I mean, it's obvious both of you really want to give each other the real thing, but if you insist on this back-and-forth instead of verbalizing your wants, then by all means continue."
    "I do not want to give him the real thing," I protest. I'm not sure if I'm lying more for her benefit or for my own. I look at the search results. "Oh my God."
    "You found them," Sable notes, distracted by reality TV. "Did we miss an episode of this or something? Did this bitch get brought back on the show?"
    "I don't know," I say absently, far more fixated on the listing of rubber pussies on my laptop. They're horrifying, but cheaper than a blow-up doll, which makes them perfect. "They're… kind of gross."
    "Why?" Sable asks. "They're just a jerk-off thing. Like a vibrator. Funny and more useful than your dick bouquet. If I were Colton, I'd have gotten you a bouquet of vibrators so you could chill the fuck out. Oh my God. This girl is crying on a date. That's just embarrassing."
    I throw a decorative pillow at Sable.
    Would Colton actually use the pocket pussy? An image of him sliding it onto his hard cock flashes into my head and I have to force it away. Why the hell am I thinking about Colton jerking off?
    I shift uncomfortably on the sofa because of the tingle that shoots through me at the thought. Do not think about Colton jerking off. It's a funny gag gift. That's all it is. Getting him back for those stupid dick lollipops.
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    I 'm running late , taking the steps to the academic center two at a time. The assistant coach wants a "status update" on Colton. I guess he wants to personally make sure Colton is progressing with tutoring.
    I'm totally nervous about meeting with the assistant coach. He's slightly frightening, and if he doesn't think Colton is progressing, I'm probably fired. Which would suck big-time.
    And if he found out I sent my student a pocket pussy? I can't even begin to imagine.
    My phone vibrates in my bag. I scramble for it as I walk down the corridor toward the athletic center. This place is a freaking maze. I can't remember where Coach Walker’s office is.
    I slide my finger across the phone screen as I crane my neck to get a look around the corner.
    Hilarious gift, Teach. I used it last night.
    It's followed up with a second text:
    Ask me what I thought about
    I push the button on the side of the phone and shove it back in my bag, heat rising to my face. What Colton thought about while he jerked off into my gift is literally the last thing on earth I need to be thinking about right now when I'm supposed to meet with his coach to impress him with how well Colton is doing in his classes.
    "You." Coach Walker is rounding the corner. "Tutor. Status update. You need to walk and talk with me."
    He doesn't wait for a response, taking long strides down the hallway, forcing me to pick up my pace. He unlocks his office door and circles around his massive desk, rummaging through drawers. "Let's have it," he orders, his face buried in the bottom drawer of his desk. "Status. Colton King."
    "Right," I say, forcing an air of authority into my tone that I definitely do not feel right now. I feel more like a child in the principal's office being chastised for an infraction. "Colton King. He's attending tutoring sessions."
    And showing up at my house.
    "He's actually