Page 31 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
He’s no longer grunting but whimpering softly in an unbroken way that I can’t interpret. But he’s also pushing himself against me, using his arms to lever himself back and back until my own movements are short and rough. It’s a deep, intense screw that incinerates me from the cock inward.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” he cries out with a gasp. He trembles, and his arms completely collapse. The sight of him breaking goes straight to my head—so beautifully debauched. His hole flutters—a hundred tiny contractions like a vibrator on my dick that send me the fuck off.
I plant my hand on his lower back, bury myself deep, and let the orgasm blast. It steals my breath—I’m not sure I make a sound as my throbbing dick fills the condom with what feels like a never-ending load.
I rise to the balls of my feet, so fucking overwhelmed by the way this one sends me. He says it keeps getting worse? I’d put it slightly differently. “Christ,” I whisper, pretty sure I lost my voice.
He responds with a groan that seems to agree that one was one for the books.
After a few seconds of shuddering aftershocks, I pull out. I’ve used him enough. Once I’m no longer inside him, he melts onto the mattress in a pretty, boneless heap.
“I’ll be right back,” I manage to say. I take off the condom in the bathroom and wipe off my dick.
I’m tempted to get him an icepack like I would a sparring partner I just put through their paces and landed a few good hits on, but that feels like overkill.
He’s a man, and he’s proven he can take it.
Instead, I crawl back into bed, lying alongside him. He inches over and puts an arm around me, once again positioning his face for a kiss.
Oof. This is where it feels dangerous. He’s so beautiful—that’s an established fact. He’s sexy, too. But when he looks at me like this—like he wants everything I have to offer, it makes me want more.
I give him a short, soft one, which he takes before dipping down to press soft kisses and licks to my neck.
His smooth thigh moves slowly but restlessly over my own while I hold him against me with an arm around his tiny waist. The panties are gone, sadly, but I like him naked, too. I can’t imagine who wouldn’t .
His hand moves from my abs to my chest repeatedly. I feel soft suction beneath my jaw.
“Are you leaving a mark?” I murmur.
“Mmhmm.”
I grin. “Why?”
“To make you less appealing to others. Shut up and let me work.”
“It better not make me less appealing to you.”
“Third degree burns wouldn’t make you less appealing to me. I can’t fucking believe I just said that. Shut up , Samuel.”
I laugh, shut up, and let him do his thing.
“Your poor ass,” I say as my dick twitches again. “You’re just asking for it.”
“Mmhm,” he sighs in the prettiest way possible.
I groan because I’m getting goddamn hard again.
And this gorgeous fucker, when he’s done giving me a hickey, snakes his way down my body, nestles between my thighs, and puts my dick in his mouth.
I prop myself up on an arm to watch him because he’s watching me, too. His hand is working my base, but his mouth is busy too.
He keeps pulling my foreskin over the head of my cock, sucking it between his lips and probing the opening with his tongue.
I’ll say this about the handful of girls who’ve given me head—they’ve pretended the foreskin didn’t exist, pushing it out of the way as fast as possible so they never had to consider it.
Even Evan retracted it before he really got to work on me that one time.
I don’t know if it weirds people out or they just don’t know what to do with it, but Calyx treats it like a fucking delicacy.
When his tongue slides all the way into it, I gasp. It shouldn’t make a difference, but the thin layer of flesh hugs his hot little tongue against my crown, and it’s fucking amazing .
“Shit,” I sigh, touching his hair.
He blinks his doe eyes and works his tongue further inside. It looks fucking salacious from this angle—raw and lacking any inhibition whatsoever. His tongue swirls a complete circle inside my foreskin, and I nearly come off the bed. I also come.
I shoot directly onto his plush red lips, and he smiles like a little devil and starts lapping it up. Kitten licks. Fuck.
I can’t stand it.
Unable to watch anymore because I’m afraid I’ll do something crazy like not leave the bed for the rest of the day, and I have to have priorities, I lie back and throw my arm over my eyes.
“I’m hard again, Samuel,” he pouts when I’ve stopped breathing so heavy.
I pat my chest with my other hand. “Come here. Let’s get it over with. I’ve got shit I need to do today.”
“Wouldn’t it be more fun to stay here?”
“Don’t fucking tempt me,” I growl.
He climbs up my body. I remove my arm, let him straddle my shoulders, and I wrap my mouth around his cock before using my hand to stuff his balls in there with it.
“Oh!” he cries.
He’s not so small that this isn’t a stretch, but I wanted to see if I could do it, and I can.
He comes within three sucks. I let his balls go and milk his cock with my lips, drinking every tasty drop.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” he’s babbling.
“Figured it was worth a try. Did you like it?”
“You’re like a beast.”
“At least I didn’t leave a mark.”
Calyx lies down on top of me, endlessly shameless. He’s wrapped around my chest, his thighs squeezing my hips. If I were capable of getting hard again, I could fuck him like this, too.
Later, though. Hopefully.
The embrace is nice and long, but then the horny fucker starts kissing me again. Kissing and writhing.
“Stop,” I beg. “You’ll get yourself all worked up again.”
“So?”
“So… I have to get to the gym.”
“You have time.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Ugh. Don’t ask it like that.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“Maybe I don’t want to think about it.”
“About why you won’t stop touching me?”
He buries his face against my neck and nods. His hair tickles my nose. “It’s like a dam burst or something,” he murmurs.
“Did I wind up charming you somehow?”
“Apparently.”
I smile to myself. As much as I want to start stroking every inch of his silky body again, I keep my hands still on his lower back. “Don’t burn yourself out too quick. I’m not ready to wear out my welcome.”
“I’ll see you tonight, right?”
“For yoga?”
“Yeah…and…”
“Yeah and , huh?”
“What’s the next movie?”
I think about it for a second, my brain not quite firing on all cylinders yet. “Oh…you’re lucky. It’s Iron Man time,” I say.
“Am I gonna like Iron Man?”
“I think so.”
“Is it another Chris?”
“No. We’ve got three more before we get to the next Chris. ”
“We’re gonna be busy,” he says. “And you still have kung fu to teach me.”
Who the fuck is this guy? Not that I’m complaining. But I can’t think of anyone in my life who’s ever wanted to spend this much time with me. “I can get you started tonight if you can spare twenty minutes of yoga.”
“Or I could add twenty minutes to our studio time.”
“Whatever you want, angel,” I say.
“Mm…you should stop calling me that. I’m not an angel.”
“It’s that or kitten.”
“I’ll take kitten. That I can probably live up to.”
“I can’t help what comes out of my mouth,” I tell him. “Could be anything. You’re just gonna have to deal if you keep glomming onto me like this.”
“I’m not glomming onto you,” he says without giving up an inch of space between us.
“Okay angel kitten. Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will.”
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Probably.”
“Wanna climb off so I can order some breakfast?”
“No.”
I sigh, trying to sound put out, but it comes out sounding contented. He lets out a similar noise. I’m in danger of falling asleep again. I decide to say something obnoxious to bait him into keeping me away. “You’re a hot little piece of ass.”
He snorts, but all he says is “Thanks.”
“Okay, I gotta get up, or I’m gonna fall asleep.”
“Do you have any eggs?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Give me a hoodie to wear, and I’ll scramble you some eggs.”
“You have your own hoodie,” I remind him. “It’s in the living room. ”
“But I wanna wear one of yours.”
Fuck me, I like that.
What I like even more, however, is the sight of him in my black hoodie and his lace panties in my kitchen scrambling eggs.
Technically, the hoodie is long enough on him to cover the panties, but he doesn’t let that stop him.
He stirs the eggs with one hand while the other hand is on his hip, making sure the shirt is hiked up to expose the lingerie and the full length of his gorgeous legs.
Beauty lies at his feet, hoping for crumbs. I put some bread into the toaster oven and crack open a protein shake.
“So what are you training for?” he asks without looking at me.
“Mixed martial arts?” I say, not understanding what he’s asking.
“Yeah, but I mean—how does it work? Where’s this going?”
“Oh. So this gym I train at—basically, I did one of their camps in LA last summer and they said if I was ever in San Francisco to come in and take a look. It’s a good gym—a lot of up and coming fighters, and the coaches know people—promoters looking to put together fights and other important coaches.
Anyway—it’s all about being able to train with the pros and getting your name out there. Getting fights and getting noticed.”
“Was that supposed to make sense?” Calyx asks, turning off the burner.
I laugh. “Did it not?”
“No.”
“Okay.” I try again. “So, I’m considered an amateur. Meaning, if I fight, I don’t get paid, but I can compete with other amateur fighters and get noticed by promoters and other coaches.”
“So what happens when you get noticed?”
“Depends who notices me, but ideally, it’d be someone who coaches more pro fighters, thinks I have potential, and wants to help me go pro.”
“That sounds really complicated.”
“I mean it’s kind of like everything—all about who you know.”
“How often are the fights?”
“Depends. I was hoping to fight at this expo type thing in November, but we’ll see.”
Calyx raises his brows at me in disbelief. “Wait, actually?”
“Late November. But my coaches haven’t set anything up, so I don’t know.”
He rolls his eyes. “Well, obviously you can’t do that,” he says.
Smiling, I look him up and down, trying not to get too hung up on the panties. “Oh no?”
“You’re injured!”
“I’m healing, and I’m rehabbing, and I’ll be fine by Thanksgiving.”
“You sound crazy. When’s the next expo? Do that one.”
“Probably December.”
Calyx scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “I’m thinking more like April.”
“Okay, mom. Listen.” I pick him up, spin him around and set him on the island counter.
He refocuses his dizzy eyes on mine.
“I’m assuming you think I suck because I tore my hamstring, but I actually don’t suck.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s very possible I’ll get a fight in November,” I tell him.
“How do you know?’
“Because before Mitchell came for my hamstring, I was dominating my sparring partners.”
“Meaning fighting other people,” he translates.
“With safety gear. ”
“That didn’t keep you from getting injured.”
“Yeah well, shit happens. And you’re gonna make sure I’m so strong, and so balanced by November, my hammies will be unstoppable.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
I nudge in a little closer. “I kinda think you like it.”
“I don’t know why you’d think that.”
“Wanna see my hickey?”
“Ugh.”
I tickle his waist, and he lets out an ear-piercing shriek before gasping and kicking at me.
To settle him down, I hug him close and kiss his neck, laughing while he calls me all kinds of names. He winds up with his legs locked around me and his hands down the back of my shorts. He kisses my chin and says in the most annoyed voice. “The eggs are getting cold.”
I might have been wrong when I got out of the shower earlier. It’s not my balls I need to be worried about him walking off with.