Page 5

T HE NEXT THREE WEEKS fly by, but I’m in agony. I can’t stop thinking about the next time I’ll see Remington, wishing away the days. So the next time I see him, I’m determined to make it count.

I want to challenge myself. Showing up at the gym with my jacket unzipped, I don’t cover my form-fitting sports bra, and I switch to high-waisted exercise shorts I bought earlier this week that dip in a V-shape at the end of my spine to accentuate my butt.

Remington never comments on my physical appearance, and he doesn’t comment on it today. If anything, I catch him staring just a bit longer when he thinks I’m not looking. I want more of it. On top of enjoying his attention, I’ve performed better without fears about my appearance, trusting him not to judge me.

But my physical strength has increased as much as mental, allowing me to steadily increase my workout regimen. Our agreement has stirred something deeper in me: a confidence I’ve never felt safe enough to express.

We took a break from pulldowns, so my problem hasn’t repeated itself.

Until I lay back on the leg press machine, pushing the heavy slab of metal away from me with only my legs. Tingling sensations whisper between my legs on the third rep. By the fifth, it melts into a widespread ache in my pelvis. I gasp through my deep breathing, half from confusion and half from how quickly this pleasure builds.

Remington is still at my side. “Are you okay?”

Viewing him towering over me, a heavier jolt pierces my core. I retrain my eyes ahead. Opting to imagine boring, non-sexual things like cookies or flowers, I mutter a shaky “Yes.”

“Are you in pain?”

I huff through another rep, and the pleasure blooms even wider now. “No.”

Remington doesn’t reply. When I dare to look at him again, he looks gravely concerned. “Let’s stop and give you a breather for a second.”

Oh, God, is it that obvious that I’m feeling different? I flush, hurriedly locking the machine to step off of it. But my core is still pulsing so rapidly that I stumble off the machine, my knees weak and panties soaked like I was just having penetrative sex. Remington has to catch me when I stumble, and I right myself quickly, speeding for my water bottle.

“You good?” He asks after me, setting up the machine for himself.

“Yes,” I lie.

The orgasm that was building wasn’t like those puny little ones I’ve had from rubbing myself on my pillow when I’m too tired at night after work. This one was deep - like the ones from my G-spot rabbit. After stopping and leaving myself intensely frustrated, I almost wish I had let myself secretly finish.

When Remington finishes his set, he suggests switching to upper body. We head straight for the pulldown machines. My feet slow.

Remington pauses. “Do you want to skip this one?”

I open my mouth to speak, but close it again. I don’t want to skip it, but my reasoning isn’t for the innocent workout we planned.

He frowns, stepping closer. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I drop my head, wrapping my arms over the small amount of bare skin on my lower ribs. “Y-yes. I just– I’m worried how it’ll feel.”

“Ah,” Remington says.

My heart hammers into my throat. That “ah” was loaded far beyond what I was prepared for. How much does he really know?

But he lowers his voice. “We can skip this, seriously. Or we can keep going, even if it’s– Even if you feel sensitive again.”

I bite my lip. “You don’t– You don’t mind?”

The Remington I know would playfully shrug this off or make a sly joke. But the dark, longing eyes I find staring back flip my heart into my throat.

“I definitely don’t mind.”

Oh, my God. Does that mean what I think it does? If he likes witnessing me become aroused, my boosted hormones beg me to let him watch me exercise even more.

And I decide to listen, taking the initiative to finish leading us to the machines.

I’ve never done anything like this. Even when I’ve had actual sex, I’ve always made sure my partner felt pleasure first, or at the very least, at the same time. It’s what I was taught men needed. But one quick glance at Remington’s workout shorts leaves no bulge for me to see.

He’s not aroused. Maybe he’s not understanding that it’s not simply a “good burn” and that I’ve actually been sexually aroused? Or maybe he’s just plain not attracted to me.

My heart hurts. But this workout isn’t supposed to be for sex. Shame compresses my sternum. I need to control my urges like an actual adult.

Diving into the workout, my melancholy thoughts erase all arousal in my body. It’s not until my heart is racing on the last set that Remington spots my form wavering.

“Would you like me to help you correct it again?” He asks.

I’m still too bummed and anxious to feel aroused, so I nod. “Sure, thank you.”

But with my heart rate elevated and Remington helping me to activate my core, it doesn’t matter how disappointed I am: the introduction of his warm hands on my stomach plants a desirous seed in my core. Huffing through the workout, I part my lips as that same creeping pressure builds in my lower abdomen - each pulldown mimicking the sensation of my muscles stretched by a long, stiff object entering me.

“Good job,” Remington says.

My pussy flutters.

“But don’t forget to breathe.”

Shit, I’m holding my breath to stave off the sensation. My nipples harden enough to poke through the thick fabric in my sports bra, and I have no idea if Remington has noticed yet. I have to breathe through my mouth, unable to suck in enough oxygen through my nose with my body’s rising temperature.

“I-I’m sorry,” I choke out.

Remington straightens to meet my eyes in the mirror. “What do you mean? Is it feeling sensitive again?”

I tremble through the tail end of the next rep. “Yes, I don’t understand why. Is it weird for you? I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. Do you want me to step away?”

I bite my lip, my eyelids fluttering as I let myself hang on the bar. I thought it’d relieve me, but the deeper stretch only makes my voice come out even breathier. “N-not unless you want to.”

Silence hangs between us.

But Remington lowers his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with it feeling good. It happens to more people while exercising than you think.”

“R-really?” I whisper.

“Really. So please, don’t push yourself. Either let yourself stop if you feel too uncomfortable or just roll with the feeling and enjoy it.”

“O-okay,” I whisper.

I’ve always kept sexual pleasure to myself, but the way he phrased that carried such ease that he erased all shame from my predicament. I settle into his touch, sinking into the pleasure swirling through my lower abdomen. This is human nature, isn’t it? Maybe it’s not as embarrassing as I thought to feel a little good, unexpectedly.

And maybe I can make it to the end without orgasming, anyway. I rarely ever orgasm in general, especially not without direct stimulation. But with just a single extra rep - now containing the knowledge that Remington is willingly watching me feel good - it feels like I’m having deep, delicious sex. I sputter out a heaving exhale, accidentally meeting Remington’s eyes. It’s almost enough to take me over the edge, so I quickly raise my eyes to the ceiling.

What the hell has happened to me? This is so unlike the old Lilibeth, but I feel so good that my judgment evaporates. I just have one more rep, then I’ll be done. If I happen to come, so be it.

But just as I draw the bar to my collarbone, Remington lightly adjusts his hand on my lower back, sparkling fizzy sensations over my tender mark. It’s just enough movement in just the right direction to nurture my tingling core. Pleasure blasts to my face, and before I know it, I’m having a deep, full-body orgasm. I’m so shocked by its force that I can’t stop my weakened muscles from allowing the pulldown machine to hoist me into the air. I’m left hanging as I come, squeezing my knees together with a whimper and rock of my hips – all for Remington to watch.

Remington grabs me by the waist, holding me steady. “Shit, are you okay?!”

The second lust clears from my head, I crash to reality. Every shadowed possibility of what Remington might think of me tears through my mind at full speed - how slutty, repulsive, or classless I must appear. Mortification throws me from the machine. I crumple onto the bench with a thud, bursting into instant tears. I know it’ll make Remington even more concerned, but I can’t stop myself from sobbing. I can’t bear to face him anymore, curling over myself.

Remington hovers over me, stroking the back of my head. “Oh, sweet girl, are you hurt?”

I shake my head no, too mortified to explain what just happened. Mainly because I really don’t understand how it was possible. I haven’t come in front of a man like that - not even when they’ve been inside me. Remington probably realizes what my body just experienced, and he seems okay with witnessing, if not enjoying it.

But I feel like something is wrong with me. I’ve never heard of this happening to someone else, and even though Remington acted like it happens to some people, I didn’t tell Remington directly that I was about to orgasm. I should’ve been more explicit in case he didn’t actually understand and didn’t want to see it, but once again, I’m too weak to function the same as everyone else.

“What’s making you so upset?” Remington’s sweet, cooing voice over me pulls soft cries from my lips. He cups my cheeks, catching my tears. “Oh, Lilibeth.”

“I’m sorry, I—” I shake my head. He’s a friend. Just a friend. It hurts. How do you tell your gym buddy something like this?

Remington rubs my back softly. “Did I do anything to make you feel bad?”

I hitch through sobs, unable to meet his worried eyes. “No, I'm just embarrassed. Because I— It felt too nice.”

Remington is silent at first. It terrifies me so much that I hold my stare on him, no matter how many nerves punch my gut when we meet eyes.

But I find a smoldering desire behind his black irises. It pulses my heartbeat into my groin in lusty aftershocks.

“So you did —” Remington halts his breath when I wince. “Sorry. It felt really good, I take it?”

Whimpering through another bout of tears, I drop my head. I can’t bear to admit the truth.

Remington draws closer until his nose hovers beside my red cheeks. He softens his voice just above a whisper. “There’s really no need to be embarrassed. It happens to some people from core exercises since it pulls on your pelvic floor. It’s literally called a ‘coregasm.’”

I choke out a sob. So he does know what happened. “B-but you didn’t consent to seeing that. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, you did warn me - multiple times. I’m no stranger to what was probably going on, and I kept checking in to make sure you wanted to let me watch. Did I misunderstand and make you feel violated?”

My lip wobbles. “N-no, not at all. I– You got everything right. I just still feel bad. Even if you don’t feel violated, I could’ve hurt you if I was wrong and you didn’t want to see.” I groan, gripping my stomach harder. “I so wish I was better at expressing myself, Rem. I want to be, but I still suck at it. I don’t want to be so incapable that I hurt your feelings.”

With a sympathetic, sad sigh, he brushes tears from my soaked cheeks. “Oh, you’re breaking my heart. I did want to see, just like I said, and I’ve been thinking you’re better at expressing yourself more than ever lately. Are you sure nothing else is wrong? You’re crying so much, L.L.B., and it’s gutting me.”

I’ve already fucked this up, so I might as well tell him the rest. My heart lurches, sending me into deeper, hitching tears. When I speak, it comes out weak and sad. “I really like you.”

Remington melts into the sweetest smile. “I really like you too.”

I hold my breath, halting my tears. Huffing out a laugh, I wipe my cheeks. “Oh.”

He chuckles, dissolving into his sly, half-up grin. “Which means you actually gave me a fun surprise just now.”

I bury my head into his shoulder with a gasp. “ Remington! ”

His chuckle rises, but he hurriedly rubs my back. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t tease you. But I don’t want you to feel bad about it, okay? This might be a lot to say, but I feel really strongly about you. And as long as you’re not hurt, I’m all good. Or, actually, I’m really happy. I’m so excited we feel the same.”

My heart throbs into my throat. Is this really happening?

Yes, it is. My core is still aching, I’m encompassed by Remington’s embrace, and my heart floats in bliss. With fresh tears, my voice comes out wobbly. “I’m really happy we feel the same too. B-but I’m still a little sad now.”

“How come?”

“I wanted to at least go out to dinner with you before either of us came.”

Remington lets out a sharp, loud laugh, hugging me closer. “Holy shit. You’re so fucking funny and adorable.” The harder he laughs, the more I burst into tiny giggles. Remington sighs, stroking my back. “That was great. But there’s really no problem here, Lilibeth; I’d love to go out to dinner with you - make up for lost time.”

I gasp, sitting back to face him with a rising smile. “Really?”

He laughs, wiping the mascara from beneath my eyes. “Yes, really. You didn’t think I would? I just told you I liked you – a lot, a lot . Even your little snot nose.”

Before I can realize what he’s doing, he swipes mucus from my upper lip. I yelp, smashing my face back into his chest to hide again, and he laughs even louder. His laugh is so boisterous and goofy that I have to belly laugh with him, uncovering my messy face from the safety of his chest. We clean the last of my tears with my temple against his shoulder, and I feel calmer by the second.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for crying.”

“You’re okay. Let me ground you a little, sweetheart,” he purrs. Remington pulses firm, loving squeezes down my arms and back. A soothing buzz in my chest covers more and more of me until I slump into him. He hums through a soft smile. “Good job.”

I hum back, softly rubbing his chest in gratitude. But with the sudden lack of space between us, the massive shift in our relationship finally sinks in.

My eyebrows arch through my smile. I’m simultaneously elated and aching. “So I don’t have to wait a full week to see you anymore?”

Remington’s eyes soften. “Oh, poor L.L.B. You were feeling bummed about that? Fuck, I should’ve asked you out sooner. I was just afraid of losing you if I moved too fast.”

I shake my head. “I-I wanted to move faster with you too, even if it’s scary for me.”

His genuine, soft tone warms my heart. “Then I’m right there with you, and we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

I love the sound of that, beaming with my fullest smile. “Then how’s the Ruby Bistro, Thursday night at 6?”

Remington’s deep chuckle gives me goosebumps. “You’re trouble. Thursday it is.”