Page 29 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
I gasp when he wraps his hand around my throat and pushes me away. “I need you on my cock.”
I nod, still staring longingly at his lips.
Like I weigh nothing, or my weight is hardly a concern, he lifts me off his chest. “Turn around. I want to watch while I split you open.”
Jesus fuck.
He guides me as I turn my back to him and straddle his lap again. With one hand on my hip and the other guiding his dick, he nudges my hole with his slick crown. Opening for him, I sink back, letting him fill me.
He grunts, giving my ass another slap before taking hold of my other hip. I whimper and my shoulders collapse, hands on the bed to help keep me upright.
When I can speak again, it’s a mess of praise as he stretches me wide. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” I move my hands to grip his thick thighs and give a little bounce like I had on the carousel.
“Oh, fuck yeah. There you go, angel. Ride this cock.”
My mouth drops open, and I gasp. It’s not the first time I’ve ever heard those words, but it is the first time I’m rushing to obey them. “How does it look?” I breathe as I do as he says.
“So goddamn good in you. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah?” I pant as I post up and down on his lap.
“Fucking gorgeous. Aw fuck, there’s a mirror.”
I glance up and see us framed perfectly in my full-length mirror.
It’s mostly me I see—eager to please and enthusiastic as I bounce on his cock.
My hair is a mess since I let it air dry during the movie, and my lips are bright red from all the kissing and his scruff.
My cheeks are flushed, and my own dick is bouncing obscenely.
His hand moves up my chest and he squeezes my pec. “Look at you. Look at that sweet little dick.”
I shut my eyes because it’s unbearable both feeling him and watching the show. I can only handle so much, and the sight of us paired with the slap of my balls against his is getting me close fast.
His hand on my hips clamps down, locking me in place so he can thrust.
I groan with urgency as he slams up into me. “Fuck yes,” I tell him. “Like that.”
“Jerk that pretty dick,” he tells me.
“I’m close,” I admit. “Too close.”
“Mmmm…” he growls, apparently liking the sound of that. “Is my cock in your ass gonna make you come, pretty baby?”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“That’s so fucking hot.”
Apparently that’s all my dick needed to hear because a second later, I’m spraying the air and crying out with total abandon as my core clenches and contracts, a wild spasm between my legs flooding me with heat and perfect fucking pleasure.
“Jesus,” he groans, pounding me deep. “Oh fuck— fuck —” He plants me on his cock, as deep as he’ll get, and throbs hard.
Another gush of cum erupts from my dick and has me yelping as he grunts and unloads in my ass.
His toes curl into the bedding and his thighs tremble beneath my hands before we both go still but for the heavy breathing.
As the bliss fizzles and pops through me, I find myself sagging again. All I want in the whole wide world is to snuggle into his side and fall into a deep, satisfied sleep. “Spend the night,” I hear myself saying.
“Can’t. Beauty.”
“Oh.” Fuck. “Does she like cats?”
“Don’t know,” he says breathlessly.
His dick must get me really high because it’s the only way to explain the words, “I wanted to watch another movie with you.” This isn’t true, of course. Not entirely. I’m spent. But the part of it that is true must be angling for another “date.”
The very, very, stupid part of me.
“Get off my dick, angel, or I’m gonna get hard again.”
Would that be so bad? I want to ask.
Oh my fucking god, who am I?
I lean forward, and he slides out of me. Righting my panties, I get out from between his legs and sit next to them. He doesn’t stay put long. He gets up and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I put my face in my hands and rub.
I guess there are worse things I could be doing besides fucking Marcus’s son. I could be conning men out of their fortunes or torturing animals.
Would Marcus even care?
Maybe.
But that’s not really the issue is it? Samuel would .
I have no idea whether he knows his father cheats on his mother, but the fact that he’s done it with me?
That we’ve been doing it off and on for years?
I should have told him. I should tell him.
Except that feels like a betrayal, too. I’ve made it a point to make Marcus’s marriage none of my business. It’s his infidelity—his problem.
But now…
Okay, okay, back up, Calyx. You’re just having fun. You’re allowed to have fun. And get laid. You’re allowed to have fun getting laid .
The good news is Samuel’s twenty-one years old, sowing his wild oats, and there’s no way he’s looking for anything serious.
It’s not like he’s trying to get to know me or anything.
I mean, not beyond the basics. He’s trying to get into my panties—yes—and stretch out his tailbone or whatever, but it’s not like… more than that. Not really.
So he gets a little jealous when my friend slaps my ass.
So he seems a little bit interested in my life.
A lot of people are. I have three hundred thousand Instagram followers.
His curiosity is totally understandable.
Predictable, even. And I don’t want his friend giving him platonic head for the time being either.
It’s just selfish. We’re both being selfish and needy and so what? It just attraction.
I sigh, looking up as he re-emerges from the bathroom in all his enormous, naked glory. I’m momentarily dumbstruck by how casually hot he is. How he keeps getting hotter. How my dick is stirring again at the sight of his large uncut member resting on his heavy sac.
I swallow some excess saliva and try to put together a few words. I want to say something like it’s okay if he needs to run. I’ll see him tomorrow.
What comes out is slightly different. “If I come with you, can we watch another movie?”
Jesus fucking Christ. I really said that. I meant it, too. As in, I’ll be crushed if he says no.
“We can do whatever you want,” he says with the cockiest grin I’ve seen on him yet, and I blush so hard it feels like my face is bursting into flames.
“I just need a minute to get dressed.”
He laughs softly. “Yeah. Same.”
Oh my God, just fucking kill me now.
Captain Marvel is a woman, and while I guess the movie is okay, I’m not as invested as I was in the first one.
Don’t get me wrong, I watch the whole thing—draped on top of Samuel in his bed while he plays with my hair and snoozes off and on.
Beauty rests at the foot of the bed, occasionally looking at me like how dare I?
I assume that means I’m in her spot, but I’m not going anywhere tonight, so I send her an apology with my eyes while I keep my head on Samuel’s chest and my hand underneath his t-shirt, spread across his abs.
By the time the movie is over, it’s past midnight according to my phone.
Samuel is fully asleep. So asleep that he barely stirs when I slide my leg between his and tuck myself into his body.
Do I want to have sex again? Yes. I especially want to suck on that foreskin again, see if I can get my tongue inside it while he’s hard.
I wonder if anyone’s ever done that to him before?
I don’t really want to think about who all has had his cock in their mouth, though.
It’s not really like me to spend too much time considering that type of thing.
I refrain from molesting him in his sleep because I’m assuming he’s got to train tomorrow, while I’ve got nothing to do until a five p.m. yoga class.
Rachel, Priya, and Bailey all have real jobs, and while Mal and Ryan work from home, their relationship is new enough that I feel like they probably wouldn’t welcome a third wheel hanging around all day preventing them from…whatever.
I used to be so busy I barely had any downtime. If I wasn’t working, I was packing. If I wasn’t packing, I was unpacking, or I was on a flight, or shopping.
Maybe I could go shopping tomorrow .
I wonder what size Samuel is. I wonder what he’d say if I asked to take his measurements before he leaves tomorrow.
Maybe he already knows his measurements. Is that the kind of thing fighters know about themselves? Probably. Making a living with your body would require a certain knowledge of it.
I already know he wears a size thirteen shoe. I peeked at the yoga studio. No surprise there since he’s basically a giant. A warm, sometimes fun and weirdly sexy giant. Okay, no. Not weird. Unexpected.
I must eventually fall asleep really hard because when I wake up there’s no Samuel in bed.
I lean up on one arm and squint my eyes against the light.
Beauty isn’t on the bed either, but through my brain fog, I hear the shower running.
That’s when I spot the dog, lying on the floor outside his bathroom door.
Good. He’s still here.
His bedroom isn’t as big as mine, but it’s set up similarly with the bed under the window and TV on the opposite wall.
He has a long dresser that matches the nightstands.
His gym bag is on top of it, unzipped. His closet is open and holds about a third of the clothes it’s capable of housing.
I’m tempted to rummage through it, determine his wardrobe deficiencies and work to correct them, but that would be insane. Total stalker behavior.
I lurch out of bed, still dressed in the sweats and long-sleeved t-shirt I wore over and leave the bedroom. I brush my teeth in the kitchen sink and try to make myself presentable before lying back down in the bed. I attempt to make it look like I never left the mattress.
The shower stops running, and I think about how I want to play this.
I don’t know how much time he has, so that’s the first thing I need to figure out.
He’s probably in the mood, though, right?
Young guys are good to go ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m guessing.
Granted, I never have been, but today I am. And yesterday.
The day before yesterday.
I adjust my morning wood, and by adjust, I mean I pull at it until it’s aching.
The door opens, and Samuel appears naked in a cloud of steam.
His cock is huge and erect, and he’s looking at me with pure hunger in his eyes. This is a great sign.
“What are you doing under the sheet there?”
Oh God. I let go of my dick and stretch my arms over my head semi-casually. “Nothing. What are you doing?”
He looks down at his erection, then back to me. “Not much.”
“What time do you need to be at your gym?”
“I try to be there by eleven, but it doesn’t really matter. No clock to punch or anything.”
Oh. Good to know.
I also have no idea what time it is. It feels early, though. Like eight-something.
He’s making no secret of the fact that he’s checking me out, and for that, I slide the sheet down to my hips and stretch out like a cat. It’d work better if I weren’t wearing a shirt, but I’m really hoping he’ll take care of that.