One direction intense dirty imagines

Coach Tomlinson Plays rough

Natalie stayed after practice to brush up on her shot. It was her first year on the women's basketball team and she had no intentions of getting benched. Her full-ride scholarship wasn't going to go to waste. Even if she had to spend every waking hour inside this gym, she was going to be the best three-point shot on the team.

"Chin up!" a voice called out behind her. She knew that voice, and it echoed across the court until it reached her. It was Coach Tomlinson.

Although Natalie appreciated his constructive criticism, she felt he had been picking on her since she arrived. She rolled her eyes, lifted her chin and took the shot from beyond the three-point line. The gym was silent as the ball left her fingertips and flew through the air. As it hit the backboard and bounced off the rim, she cringed. Her frustration had gotten the best of her...again.

"C'mon, Legs," Coach Tomlinson yelled. "I know you're better than that!"

Coach Tomlinson had called her Legs from day one. It wasn't enough that she was the tallest girl on the team, that she could run faster than them all, or that she had the gams of a Goddess, but he just had to point it out He was such an ass. Natalie rolled her eyes before turning around to face him.

"Try again," he yelled, tossing her another ball before she even knew it was coming her way.

For the next hour, Natalie took his harsh criticism and brash comments as she made shot after shot; his voice in her ear, his hands on her skin, guiding her follow-through.

Oh c'mon! Focus! What was that? His "help" wasn't helping at all.

"Dammed!" she finally snapped. "Give me a break, will you?"

"You want to be the best, right?" he snapped back, gripping her hips with his masculine hands as he turned her back toward the goal. "Then keep shooting!"

That's when Natalie realized why she couldn't focus. It was the "tough love" Coach Tomlinson gave her on the court that kept her from concentrating, it was him!

As she stood there-right foot forward, arms up as she aimed-Coach Tomlinson pressed his body against hers, holding her hips from behind and assisting her posture. For a moment, Natalie felt like she couldn't breathe.

It didn't help that he was the most stunning man she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall, lean and ripped. Not that she should know what he was hiding underneath his jersey, but she had caught a glimpse one day when she returned to the gym for her sweatshirt. A fleeting moment of silence contained them both as she quickly excused herself. Still, she knew, and those thoughts were hard to ignore whenever he was around. Speaking of around, his hands were still around her waist.

"That's it," he whispered, pressing his hips into her ass as he leaned in to her.

Natalie sighed, pressing her athletic body back against his to simulate his posture. Though it was a somewhat innocent move-part of the training-it didn't feel that way to her. She could feel every muscle in his body flexing against hers. She gasped, wanting to say something, but the words never escaped her lips.

"Now focus," he whispered again.

That was easy for him to say. Her body heat was rising with every breath. Her skin tingled under his touch and she could feel the warmth spreading between her legs. Damn! Why did he have to make her feel this way? Okay, focus, she told herself. But he seemed to be enjoying the physical contact just as much as her.

"Just let me shoot!" she insisted, bucking him off of her.

"Oh, you want to play rough, huh?" he taunted, grabbing her body and pulling her even closer. "How are you going to play against an opponent if you need space to shoot? Huh, Legs?"