Page 45 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
Good. I push up on one hand and try to fan myself with the other. He leans in and blows on my neck. His breath is still warm, but the moving air helps a little. “I’ll give you a ride for round two.”
Round two works his glutes. He has me sit on top of him while he hammers me from below—a unique partner bridge variation I feel like I could trademark. This one shows strength and speed, like he’s really pushing that cardio.
Helplessly, I come again because his earnest determination to turn fucking into an actual workout is as sexy as it is endearing.
Some might say ridiculous, but that just goes to show what a fool I am for him in general.
Rachel’s right about one thing, I realize after I stop trying to keep track of when one orgasm starts and the next one starts—I do need to tell him I love him before his fight.
I need to tell him because I need it off my chest and also just in case something happens to him. I need to tell him he’s the best fucking thing that ever happened to me and I never, ever saw him coming. That I can’t even consider my life without him anymore.
I’m in a heap on his chest when he calls the next time out.
“How many rounds?” I ask.
“Just one more, angel. Five minutes each—just like a match.”
That was only ten minutes? Why do I feel a year older?
“Remember that time in the shower?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Full body workout,” he says.
“Fuck.”
“Exactly. Also, I really need to come.”
He hands me some water, and I drink it. He takes a long sip after me and lifts me off his chest. I watch in a daze as he puts more lube on his very angry and impatient looking erection.
His balls are a violent purple. I don’t object to the lube this time.
If we’re going to keep going, I’ll need it, especially since he hasn’t come yet.
He hops off the bed like he’s not even winded and scoops me up along with him. “You’re like the Hulk right now,” I say.
“Hulk horny.”
“Hulk needs to fucking chill.”
He grins. “Five more minutes. Then I’ll open a window.”
“Okay.”
I have to brace my hands on the bedroom wall while he hefts me onto his forearms and gets his cock into position.
“Now let go,” he says.
“Babe… ”
“Let me do all the work.”
“Ugh…”
I grab his wrists, and he proceeds to bounce me on his cock while he grunts and groans and makes all the man noises implying an effort is being made.
I can’t get off anymore. I’m wrung dry. I’m no longer animate. More like one of Beauty’s squeaky toys. Noisy and floppy and damp from overuse.
But then Samuel presses his forehead to my back, and I stop bouncing. He releases a jagged breath down my back and holds his cock still, very, very deep. It throbs once, twice, and suddenly I’m desperate to come again.
I wrap a hand around my cock and tug furiously at it.
“Fuck, baby. That’s right. That’s so good.”
He moves me up and down slowly, filling and stimulating every inch of my overused hole. I hold onto his arm for dear life as my body arches to accommodate the sharp, wild contractions wrecking me again. An impressive jet of cum exits my dick, and I definitely sob this time.
In some new superhero maneuver, Samuel turns me to face him, and I wrap my legs around his waist, still sobbing but on his shoulder now. My cock, smashed against him, feels like a livewire.
He kisses my sweaty neck. Hot, wet kisses that send shivers down my arms and back. “Window,” I whimper.
“Can you stand?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
He sets me down on the bed, opens a window, and tells me he’s going to run a cool bath.
I lie back, and when I can think semi-clearly again, I shimmy off my body stocking. It’s more than served its purpose. The cool air off the bay immediately begins to cool the room and my heated skin. If that was really fifteen minutes, I need to seriously work on my stamina.
His voice comes from somewhere above me. “Still with me?”
“I think I had like seven orgasms.”
“Yeah? I think I might need to have you repeat that for my IG story.”
“Fucking—your ego, though.”
“Is it really ego if I’m already hard again?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Hands,” he says.
I hold them up. He takes them and pulls me into a sitting position, then keeps pulling until I’m standing and following him into the bathroom.
He is actually hard, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
I’m guessing this is some fighter thing.
Like to get ready for a fight they have to mentally jack themselves up, and it probably affects their testosterone levels.
There’s only about an inch of water in the tub, but he puts me in, anyway. It’s in no way a built-for-two tub, but if we’re stacked on top of each other, it kind of works.
I lie on my stomach on his chest while he drips handfuls of cool water over my back and legs.
“I realize it wasn’t yoga, but if we do that every night before the tournament, I’ll be in excellent shape. Guaranteed.”
“I’ll agree to it but only if you promise to come up with one new position a night.”
“Done,” he says.
“Oh, don’t be so quick,” I say half-slurring. “Two weeks means fourteen new positions. Good luck with that.”
“I can think of six right now,” he says.
I huff a version of a laugh, closing my eyes.
“Calyx?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you love me? ”
Okay, now my eyes are open. I even find the strength to lift my head. His blue eyes are right there waiting. “I?—”
“Because I love you. And not just because you put up with that,” he says jerking his head toward the bedroom. “But because you’re…” he seems to get lost for words. “You,” he finally says. “I love you.”
“I thought you were waiting for me to say it first,”
He smiles. “Asshole. I was. How did you know that?”
“Because there’s not a thing you do I don’t notice. Because I love you, too. And I was about to tell you.”
“Sure you were.”
“I really was.” I put my head back on his chest. “Maybe not like right this second, but probably within the next twenty-four hours.”
“Ugh,” he groans. “Figures I couldn’t wait anymore.”
I tighten my arms around him and squeeze. Three times.
“That’s what it means, doesn’t it?” he asks, running a cool, wet hand up my back.
Three squeezes. I. Love. You.
“Beat you to it,” I whisper.