Page 32 of Resistance Training

VIVIAN

F inally.

Finally, finally, finally!

I climb onto the guest berth like a pirate wench claiming her treasure chest. It’s queen size, with a high, wood base and two narrow carpeted steps leading to the head of the bed.

This room is small and rounded, and I feel cocooned and safe.

There are two small porthole windows on either side of the berth and one overhead, like a skylight.

The sound of rain is a reminder of the world outside of this cabin while buffering us from it.

It’s nothing but water and farmland out there, and this is a sturdy boat, but if it starts rockin’, I don’t expect anyone to come knockin’.

And I am so, so ready for Brad to rock this boat.

The pressure has been building between my legs ever since he grabbed that cleat and pulled the stern in closer to the dock when I stepped aboard. He didn’t hesitate, he just did it to keep me safe. And he was so, so strong, it seemed effortless. I wanted him to grab and pull me around like that.

I just want him on my skin and my bones.

I don’t care if he wrecks me and splits me in two or makes sweet love to me— I want him inside of me.

I want to be able to see and feel and enjoy his body too, but first I want that big, hard cock to come on home.

I don’t care if it’s Mitch who fucks me or Bradley or Brad.

I need this more than I have ever needed anything in my life.

The door to the adjoining head opens, and Brad walks through it.

Naked and stunningly beautiful in the most masculine, sexy way.

A strip of condoms in one hand, his erection in the other.

What a sight for blurry, heavy-lidded eyes.

His jaw is clenched so tight as he stares at me, stroking himself.

I’m on my back, totally naked, propping myself up on my elbows.

My boobs are swollen so big they’re probably affecting the tides.

He grunts.

God, I love it when he grunts.

He tosses the condom packets onto the ledge beside the bed, climbs up, crawls between my legs, and presses me down into the mattress with the full weight of his body and a punishing kiss that shocks me and takes my breath away.

The hot head of his cock is at my entrance.

I take it in, just the tiniest bit, and the way we moan into each other’s mouths…

it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.

“You’re so fucking wet—don’t tempt me.” He grips his cock and teases my clit with it. “You trying to drive me wild, you animal?”

“I just want you to drive into me.”

He grunts. I kiss him again. So deeply, with my entire body and soul, offering him the most passionate, dirtiest parts of me, telling him with my tongue that he had better fuck me this hard and deep right now or he will never hear the end of it.

He pulls away, tears open a condom, dips down to kiss my breasts as he rolls it on himself.

I arch my back, rolling my head around, writhing, bending, and stretching my restless legs, arms reaching for something, anything, and finally, finally, he presses into me.

Hard. Just like I wanted. Crying out, I wrap my arms around his neck, brace my feet against the mattress.

He’s hovering over me, trying to control his breaths.

Concentrating. I force my eyes open and we stare at each other, and even though we’re both dizzy with very grown-up lust, I know we’re thinking the same thing.

We’re pretending this is the first time.

Not just the first time for us, but the first time for each of us.

With each other. Because this is how it should have been.

He lowers himself to kiss me again, thrusts into me. He is so big, so stiff, it stings despite how ready I am to receive him. He is not gentle. Thank God. He isn’t trying to hurt me, he’s taking me.

And for the first time ever, I am giving myself to a man.

I always felt the pressure to perform with other guys. Trying to modulate their enthusiasm or control. Sometimes just trying to get it over with.

But Brad is so strong and so determined and so present.

I can just receive him. Not passively. With gasps and moans and clenching and releasing and rocking. “So good, Brad” may be the last sentence I ever utter. Over and over.

“This what you wanted?” he grits out.

“Yes!”

“This how you thought it would feel?”

“Better. So much better.”

He stops thrusting, grabs my waist, and rolls onto his back, flipping me on top of him. “I wanna see you.”

I straddle him, grip his muscular shoulders, lower myself down to kiss his mouth, so my nipples brush against his skin.

When I sit up and bear down on him, clenching, and rocking my hips, he sucks in a breath and reaches for my breasts.

Massaging them, stroking down my waist to my hips.

Guiding my hips as we find a rhythm and I feel an orgasm coming on, deep and rolling. A thunderstorm in the distance.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re a fucking goddess, you know that?”

And I had forgotten, but I do know it now. “Yeah,” I say.

The storm, the big waves roll in, and Brad lets it ride.

For how long, I don’t know, but all of a sudden, he sits up and maneuvers my legs to wrap around his back and he’s driving up into me, with so much power.

To tempo. My tits are bouncing in his face, and he drags his fingernails down my back and slaps my ass, pulling me down onto him as he thrusts up with controlled ferocity.

Converting all of the chemical energy inside of me into wild and unruly electricity.

My orgasm becomes a tidal wave, and I let myself go because I know he has me.

He’s holding me so tight. Possessing and claiming and owning me in a way that I already know he won’t admit to when this is over.

The rain is coming down above me and I’m coming on top of Brad, and he waits for me to release that final jolt before pulling out of me, moving behind me and pushing into me when I’m on my hands and knees.

This bed is so solid it’s not moving at all, but he is ramming into me with triumphant athleticism.

Very quickly, that athleticism turns primal.

One big hand circles the back of my neck, tugs at my hair, grips my shoulder for leverage, and I would do anything for him.

As much as I needed him inside of me before, I need him to come now.

I want it more than he does, probably. Not because I want this to end, because I want to be the one who makes him feel so good he forgets about every bad thing that’s ever happened to him.

The sound of him panting, his skin aggressively slapping against mine is filthy, beautiful music.

That music is reaching a crescendo. I can feel him resisting, like he’s trained himself to.

I push back into him, hear him grunt ferociously, grip my hips so hard I hope I have bruises there, and when he slams into me and then freezes, I feel the heat of him inside of me.

It’s contained by the condom, but I feel it and it’s so good.

He sighs, hitting a falsetto note that’s so sexy, and it would drive him nuts to know that it makes me think of boy bands.

I wait for him to exhale, feel him start to relax, and slowly lower myself to the mattress, bringing him with me.

I love feeling the weight of him on my back, all spent and limber, pressing me into the comforter.

He starts to lift himself up, but I clench around him, grab his hand, and say, “No. Stay.” With a gentle urgency that doesn’t scare him off.

I know he’ll want to clean up, so I tell him, “Just for a minute, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He rests on top of me again, staying as still as he can while our breaths and heart rates slow. I would imagine his resting heart rate is normally much slower than mine, for workout reasons. But I bet mine will be lower than his while we lie here because I’m not anxious about what this means.

I know what it means.

It means I fractured his fortress and little by little, it will crumble at my feet.

He’ll try to rebuild it, but he’ll have to build it around both of us this time.

I guess I drifted off to sleep, just like I did last night.

Once again, Brad has covered me with the comforter. He is lying with his back to me, which is fine. I’m not big on spooning. Especially when the guy who has his back to me has such a magnificent backside.

And so, for the aftercourse, which is what follows the intercourse, I take a very dainty, ladylike bite of his right butt cheek as he sleeps.

He must be sleeping very soundly, or perhaps I should have bitten harder. He doesn’t clench or move, so I kiss my way up that friendly gluteal slope, down to the small of his back, all the way up to his very powerful shoulders, and over to a part of him that I’m very fond of—the back of his neck.

“ Kissin’ my back, ” he mutters, to the tune of “As It Was” by Harry Styles. “ Somebody’s kissin’ my back. ”

I growl-sing like Eddie Vedder into his neck. “ Heeyyyyy, IIIIIII, ohhhhhh, I had to bite. ”

“That was a first,” he says.

“Was it? You didn’t even flinch.” There’s no way to tell time in here, so I reach around to find his dick to see if it’s bone o’clock again.

He grabs my wrist—not in a rough way—and says, “It stopped raining. I’m gonna go back up there. Pull up the anchor and get underway… Okay?”

I release an exasperated sigh. “One time? Once?”

“Not enough for you?”

“I’m afraid it won’t ever be enough.” I’m not being a drama queen—that’s just the truth. I am a fucking goddess who is speaking her truth. I take my hand back and stare up at the porthole above me. “Is it enough for you?”

“It will have to be.”

“Why? Gym policy? Or Mitch policy? Is there specific wording in your employee handbook? Is there a formal code of conduct? About not dating clients?”

Now he’s sighing and staring up at the porthole above us, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not in the handbook. It’s an unwritten policy…I think.”

Aha. There it is. Another fracture. “Get me a copy of all of your corporate documents and the handbook. I’ll read through them to make sure there’s nothing in them that would get you into trouble.

” He starts to speak, but I continue. “Assign me to another trainer. If necessary, you can have your lawyer change the wording.”

“Won’t that create suspicion?”

“You can either relieve yourself and your employees and possibly other gym members of paranoia and angst and blue balls, or you can run the risk of creating suspicion. Those are your options. Personally, I doubt that your lawyer or his or her paralegal has enough time in his or her schedule to wonder whether or not you’re boning your gym’s members.

Unless, of course, he or she has eyes and can see you with them. ”

He scrubs his face with the palm of his hand. I am exhausting him—I know it—but he wants me to wear him down—I know it. “I don’t want this to change the way I run my gym. I didn’t set out to open a nightclub with exercise equipment. This isn’t Crunch Fitness.”

I cover my mouth, but I can’t suppress the laugh. Oh my God, he’s such a nerd.

He gives the side of my butt a slap, under the comforter, sits up, and says, “All right, that’s it. The clothes should be dry by now. I’m going back up to the bridge. We’ll keep cruising up the channel, but I probably won’t do the full loop around Sauvie, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Captain. I’ll read down here for a bit and then go back up to the cockpit.”

He swings his legs around and takes the weird steps down off the berth. I hike myself up onto my elbows again to watch him walk out. That man really knows how to make an exit. He shuts the door behind him. Which is fine.

I stare out the side porthole. I wish I had my phone with me in here so I could take a picture to send to Aubrey. She’d lose her mind. And then she’d tell me exactly what I already know—that I can’t sleep with him again until he’s read the emails.

I need to have an unwritten code of conduct too.