Isabella’s POV
The music pounded through the speakers as we ran our final routine. My heart raced, my short skirt flipping against my thighs with every move.
I nailed the last tumbling pass, but my foot caught on the uneven turf. A sharp pain shot through my ankle.
"Ahh!" I gasped, stumbling. I tried to play it cool, but the second I put weight on it, my leg buckled.
"Fuck," I winced.
"Hold up!" a deep voice cut through the noise.
Dr. Henry jogged over, his medical bag in hand. The whole squad and half the football team stared, but he stayed completely focused.
He dropped to one knee. "Isabella, right? Don't move."
He knows my name? We hadn't spoken since last month.
Up close, he was overwhelming. Broad shoulders stretched his polo, leading down to strong forearms and big hands. He smelled like expensive cologne and fresh grass.
He cradled my calf, lifting my leg. His warm fingers probed my ankle. A jolt shot through me—straight to my core. I bit my lip hard to stay quiet.
Get a grip, Isabella! I told myself.
"Looks like a mild sprain," he murmured.
He wrapped it with a compression bandage, his fingers brushing the bare skin above my ankle. Every graze made heat pool in my belly.
God, why does this feel so good?
He tested my range of motion. "Any sharp pain here?"
I shook my head, cheeks burning. "Just... tight."
He nodded. "Good job staying off it. Ice it tonight, but I want to check it after practice. Come to my office in an hour. I'll give you a thorough exam so it doesn't wreck your season."
"Yes, sir," I whispered, sounding breathier than I meant to.
His eyes flicked to mine. Something dark flashed in them before he stood, helping me up.
"Take it easy," he said, jogging back.
An hour later, my ankle throbbed as I walked toward Dr. Henry’s office. My heart hammered. My stomach had been doing backflips ever since his warm hands touched my bare leg on the field.
I tried to shake the filthy thoughts from my head. Get a grip, Isabella. I just needed to get my injury checked and bolt.
The team rules were absolute: zero fraternizing with staff. Getting caught would instantly ruin my cheer career, and Dr. Henry was twice my age anyway. It was strictly forbidden. I took a deep breath, promising myself I would keep my eyes forward, stay professional, and get the hell out of there before I did something stupid.
I knocked softly, barely touching the wood, and the door eased open.
Not locked? I slipped inside and shut it.
The cool AC hit my skin, making my nipples pebble against my tight top. The scent of his cologne wrapped around me, twisting my stomach with sudden want. This was just a checkup, but I kept remembering his warm fingers.
I told myself to sit and wait. Then I heard running water from the attached bathroom. Something pulled me forward.
"Hmmm-ahhh."
Shlick. Shlick.
No. I shouldn't.
I crept across the marble floor. The bathroom door was cracked open, thick steam rolling out. I knew this was wrong, but my body begged me to look. I leaned in, peeking through the gap.
Fuck.
Dr. Henry stood under the hot spray, totally naked. My mouth fell open. He looked like pure sin.
I stood frozen. He faced away from me at first. His back was wide, muscles cut deep. Water streamed over his hard shoulders, sliding down to his tight ass. His cheeks were firm, clenching with every movement of his arm.
One big hand gripped his massive cock so hard his knuckles went white. He stroked it with rough pulls. It was huge—way thicker than I could have imagined. The heavy shaft pulsed in his fist like it had a heartbeat. Thick veins ran from the base up to the fat head, turning dark purple every time he pumped it.
Slick precum leaked out, mixing with the water and making everything shiny. His heavy balls swung beneath it with each hard stroke, looking full and ready to unload.
"Ughhh... fuck," he groaned, the deep sound vibrating straight to my core.
His head fell back, eyes squeezed shut as water poured over his sharp jaw. He sped up, jerking himself faster, his fist flying up and down that huge length like a starving man. His hips thrust forward into his hand, totally out of control.
"Fuck, Isabella... just like that," he growled, his voice filthy. "Take it deeper. Let me stretch that tight pussy wide open. Yeah... squeeze around my cock. So fucking wet."
My heart slammed against my ribs. Heat flooded my face, then shot straight between my legs in a rush that left me soaked.
He was thinking about me while jerking off?