I stand over the dresser and let out a long sigh. I want that.
“Let him go,” Sulli says to Banks. “If he wants to pounce and bounce, he can pounce and bounce. We’ll cuddle-fuck later.”
Slowly, I rotate to face them again and lean back against the wood dresser. I zero in on Sulli. “I sense a heavy dose of reverse psychology coming from this corner of the bed.” I wave my hands toward her.
She splays a hand over her heart. “I’m a shit liar-manipulator.”
“Just great at sexual innuendos and April Fools’ jokes,” I tease.
She breaks into a laugh.
Hearing her laugh just adds another ache, a want, to be closer.
“What do you think, Banks?” Sulli asks him.
“That he can cuddle-fuck you later if he wants and you want.” He shifts his hand down between her legs.
She writhes a little at the touch and nearly turns into him for more. For deeper.
My muscles tighten and blood rushes south at the sight of her lips parting. His fingers disappear inside Sulli, and her eyes lock on me. Unmoving. Everything we do together sends my arousal over the edge. And the longer we’re together, the more we all know how to rope each other in.
At the beginning of every morning and at the end of every night, they’re my joy. The origin of my happiness. Stress is harder to fall into when they’re here.
She twitches in pleasure. Her eyes are still glued to mine.
Banks glances between me and Sulli, amusement brewing across his face. “Nine?”
“Ten minutes,” I say with a rasped voice. Swiftly, I step out of my sweatpants and crawl back into bed beside Sulli. She turns on her side, facing Banks. He pumps his fingers inside her, and I cocoon myself against her back. She lets out a trembling breath.
I skim my hand over the curve of her round ass, and I touch the silicone of a plug. Breath against her ear, I whisper, “This feel okay? You want me to take it out?” We’ve been fucking all morning, and this might be the longest she’s had it in. A few weeks ago, we all agreed to start practicing and prepping for the day we try double penetration.
“Not yet,” she says softly. “I think I can go longer.”
“Listen to your body, Lady Meadows. Not to your fortitude.”
She smiles back at me. “I will, Kits. I promise.”
I scoot closer, her ass tucked against me, and I hold Sulli stronger against my athletic body while Banks gets her off. A pleasured sigh parts her lips. She rocks her hips against him. Her ass against me. Until we pin her so strongly with our builds that she can’t move.
She mumbles against his chest, “This feels so fucking good.”
Yeah, I love being this close too. The three of us. Intimate and uninhibited. Everything feels easier when we shut the world out, but in the same breath, these moments feel like a battery charge. Like we’re all powering each other up to face what’s outside.
Today, I face Quinn.
“Shut the fridge,” I mutter to myself in shock.
College-aged twenty-somethings in leggings and muscle shirts—all women—snake around the block, the long, twisting line leading into Studio 9. They hold water bottles filled with water and fresh fruit.
I’m more used to fans of the Hales, Meadows, Cobalts loitering outside my gym. Waiting to spot a famous face or a famous Omega bodyguard.
Crowds of people who actually want to work out?
New.
Tipping my red baseball cap down, I slink to the front of the line.
“Hey, you can’t cut,” a girl with pink hair and boxer braids whines.
I ignore her, pushing my way inside. Surprise obliterates every nerve-ending. The gym is crammed. Not with the typical Muay Thai fighter or muscled gym rat ready to hit the boxing bags. It’s packed with more women, who I’d probably peg as yogis. Way more likely to frequent a Center City yoga studio.
But they’re here.
Looking over a few heads, I spot Quinn at the front desk. Four, I repeat four women are bent over the desk chatting with him. All in the same legging, muscle-shirt attire. Lots of colorful sports bras.
Instantly, a flash of Sulli and her baggy workout clothes fills my head, and I end up smiling. She’d look like a babe in anything, but I like that she’s never changed.
Especially not for me.
After I take a breath, I raise a hand and shout, “Quinn!”
The room deadens quiet like I just shouted Who farted?!
Quinn’s face brightens immediately, and he pushes out of his chair. “Akara!”
“Ohmygod, it’s Akara Kitsuwon!” someone near the lockers shouts. Phones are whipped out. I jab my thumb toward the back room.
“Office,” I tell Quinn.
He’s still grinning as he nods. “I’ll be there in a sec!”
Leaving the women, I enter the sanctuary of the Studio 9 office. A boardroom table lying barren and unused. No papers. No coffee stains. The whiteboard is wiped clean.
Blowing out a breath, I sink down into a leather chair. Have I neglected the gym so much that I don’t even know what’s happening here? Sure, I keep up with the P&L’s to ensure we’re not in the red—and I’ve seen we’re doing better than usual—but besides that I’ve left most of the daily operations and decisions up to Quinn.
I rub my face. This is good. More gym memberships are good. Then why do I feel so strange?
The office door slowly opens, and Quinn slips inside. He’s no longer on crutches, but he occasionally wears a boot on his leg during the day. Right now, it’s off.
He shuts the door. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m sorry it took so long. Everything has been busy with the security firm.” And it’s not like I don’t see Quinn. We live together. And yeah, I’m around less because I crash at Sulli’s, but it’s not like I’m actively ignoring him.
“No worries, bro.” Anticipation lines his brow, and I eye the scar underneath his eye. Quinn can appear intimidating, but once you know him, he has more soft layers under the brittle, tough ones. It’s almost hard to believe he beat the crap out of people in a ring.
Before he can change the subject, I point towards the door. “What was that all about?”
He follows my finger. “What do you mean?”
I laugh. “Quinn, I haven’t seen that many women in my gym…well, ever.”
“Ohhhh right.” Quinn opens his hands. “I don’t know. I guess word got around that I was managing the place. I think Nessa might have Tweeted it.”
Nessa Nolan.
His girlfriend.
The one he met on the ski slopes when he crashed into a tree. Luna calls it a sweet “meet cute” but I just remember how attached Nessa seems to be to social media. I’m worried that part of Nessa will inevitably put a strain on Quinn. But hey, she did something good I guess, if she helped promote the gym.
“So they’re just here for the young stud?” I find that a little hard to believe. Sure, Quinn is considered the best-looking guy on the team, but he can’t pull that many people here.
“I’m also doing Ladies Night. Free classes on Wednesdays. It’s bringing in a lot of new memberships.”
That’ll do it.
I guess I never thought to do something like that. Mainly because the gym had always been geared to pro-fighters over fitness buffs. Change isn’t bad.