I beam, puffing my chest out. “Can we do it again?”
He jumps to his feet, and I turn, excitement pumping through me as he steps up behind me. The body heat coming off him seeps through to me and I close my eyes, anticipating the feel of his hands on me. He doesn’t disappoint, wrapping them around my chest, only this time, he grips my wrists, pinning them to my chest. “Now what do you do?”
I push back, my arse pushing into his groin. He hisses, his body tensing. I do it again, trying to push him back whilst trying to free my arms, but he’s too strong.
“Fuck,” he moans.
I suck in my bottom lip as my stomach quivers. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, the tension between us different, electrified. I can’t see him, but I can sense it.
His hand runs down my arm, moving across my stomach to my hip. He pushes my hips, grinding me back against him. “You do anything you can. You bite. You scream. You dig your nails in. Then do any of the moves I taught you. Or improvise with those moves. Then run. You run until you are in a safe place and don’t stop until you are.”
His voice is low, raspy, and I absorb the sound, feeling tingly all over. I lean my head back on his chest, the move causing my chest to push out.
“Charlotte,” he warns, his fingers tightening on my hip.
I step away, turning to him. My cheeks are flaming. “Sorry.”
When I look up, his eyes are burning with need. There’s a deep want, and it freezes me. I can’t move. Can’t find the words.
I close my eyes, images of him taking me at the hotel running through my mind. I want that.
My lids blink open, instantly meeting his gaze. His grows more intense, like he has read my thoughts, watched those images, and before I can say anything, he’s taking a long stride toward me. His hands palm my arse and I grab onto his shoulders as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him, and before my mind can start picking at things, or questioning anything, I lean down and cup his cheeks, pressing my lips to his.
His taste is better than I remembered. I grind my hips against him, kissing him harder. Then we are moving. I don’t pull away to see where. I don’t care. All that matters is him. His touch. His lips.
His calloused hand runs down my back as he bends, taking me with him. Pulling back, my breaths mingle with his.
“Charlotte,” he moans, gripping my hips.
We’re sitting on one of the benches, me straddling his thighs, and it feels so good. I lean down as I roll my hips along his hard dick. “This can be classed as cardio.”
“Maybe we—”
I lean back, unzipping the zipper that holds my sports bra together. My tits fall free and his jaw clenches, his smouldering gaze burning into me as the material falls to the floor behind me.
I don’t have alcohol running through my system.
I don’t have that courage, but I find myself staring down at him, and although I feel vulnerable, and out there, I’m not afraid to show him what I want. Every insecurity I have, each bit of shyness I possess, it’s gone with that one smouldering look. I trust him. Looking back, I don’t think it was ever the alcohol that gave me the confidence, it was him.
“Touch me,” I shakily push out, unable to look away. There’s a stark need in my voice, one I haven’t heard before.
He grabs the back of my neck, pulling me to him until our mouths meet. I kiss him back, my tongue sliding against his.
His hand slides up my side, running over my ribs until he reaches between us, cupping my breast and squeezing. I moan, arching my chest into him.
“Fuck,” he growls.
I was already hot before he touched me. Now I feel alive in a way I have only ever felt once before.
And that was because of him too.
I spread my thighs further apart and grind down, the friction causing electric currents to pulse through my nerve endings.
“I’ve never done it in a gym before,” I tell him, my voice husky.
He pulls back, his eyes darkening. “Well, we can’t have that,” he rasps.
I pout, slowly shaking my head. “No, we really can’t.”
He hoists me up by my waist before setting me down on my feet. Reaching for my leggings, he slides them down my legs. Fortunately, I’m barefoot, so all I have to do is step out of them. He looks up, his pupils dilating.
“You amaze me.”
The touch of his lips on my skin is smooth, yet the texture of his stubble is rough, adding to my arousal.
He blinks up at me as he runs his tongue over my feverish skin, up to my belly button. I moan, reaching for his shoulders. He bends, running his tongue further down before running it through the seam of my sex.
“Oh God,” I moan. “Do that again.”
He does, this time flattening his tongue to press down hard on my clit. He sucks, licks and bites the inside of my thigh, driving me to the brink of insanity. All my emotions are clashing together, thrumming, beating, and with each touch, they spiral.
His fingers slide through my wetness, using it as a lubricant as he pushes one inside of me. My fingers dig into the skin on his shoulder as my knees threaten to buckle.
He keeps up with the assault, pumping his fingers in and out, and each time I come to the brink of wanting to climax, he pulls back, leaving me spinning out of control.
It feels so good.
Torturously good.
He slides his fingers out of my sex, rubbing my wetness back and forth until the tip of his finger probes my arsehole. I grow tense, looking down at him.
“Drew,” I whisper, unsure. This is one thing I know I can definitely say I haven’t done.
I’m not even sure if I want it to be done.
“You can say no,” he tells me. “I’ll always stop.”
He pleads silently for me to trust him. He doesn’t need to, I do. Something must have flashed in my gaze because the next time he runs his fingers through my sex, then moves further back to probe my arsehole, he adds pressure.
My head drops forward, my legs automatically spreading a bit wider. It’s a weird sensation. Not painful, not pleasurable. But I can’t deny I’m aroused.
I grip his T-shirt, and understanding what I want, he pulls back, letting me lift his top over his head. Immediately, I swoon over the sight of his tattoos and strong shoulders.
I reach out, my finger lightly running over his nipple ring. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” he rasps, standing. I step back, his tall body towering over me. He tugs the tie loose on his joggers and pushes them down his legs before kicking them away. “I can’t wait anymore.”
I slide my hands up his chest, marvelling at the phoenix bird tattoo and others before reaching his shoulders. I press my body flush against his, leaning up on my tiptoes. “Then don’t,” I whisper.
He sits back down on the bench, reaching for my hips. “Straddle me,” he orders.
I do as I’m told, climbing on top of him. I reach between us, grasping the girth of his cock, sliding my thumb over the tip. He growls, his fingers digging into my thighs.
“Please tell me you have a box of condoms in that suitcase you carry around.”
I pull back, my lips twisting together. “Um, actually, I don’t.”
“So, you have handcuffs, lube, and a whip, but no condoms?”
“Um, I’m sorry?”