“Uh huh,” I said. “And since we’re done working out, what are we doing between now and leaving?”
“What do you think?”
The shiver of anticipation came again, harder. Oh, I liked this. He dropped my first glove and started on the other, and I just watched him. There was nothing I liked looking at more than Nick Mason. He was all muscles and scruff and bad-boy tattoos, all sweaty and mischievous and dangerous, and he was all mine. All mine.
Six weeks we’d been doing this. Playing a sort of game that was fun and hot and, underneath, deadly serious. I was managing a bakery now, working hard and long hours and loving
every minute of it. I spent all day with breads and pastries and the people who loved them, and so far I was happier in my career than I’d ever been, because I’d stopped worrying about what people thought. I just went to work and came home happy, smelling like pie crust and sugar.
And on my days off, like today, I got Nick. All to myself. We played—we sparred and we talked and we took shots at each other. And the sex—oh, my god, the sex. Sometimes I thought I could spend a week locked in a room, doing nothing but having sex with Nick, and it still wouldn’t be enough. We were daring and creative and sometimes wild, and the back and forth we did beforehand always added to the foreplay. With Nick, I always had to work for it. And it always paid off.
Today, he had that look in his eye, like he was going to dare me to do something. I was already wet, just looking at him and thinking about it. But there was something else going on, too. This wasn’t just a sex dare. I’d done Nick’s sex dares—a lot of them—and they were never quite like this.
But there was nothing I could do except wait until he was ready to show me what he was planning.
I couldn’t wait.
He pulled off his shirt and mopped himself with it. I watched, appreciative. “Is this going to be a strip show?” I asked him. “I might give you a tip.”
“You wish,” he said, scrubbing the shirt over his face and his hair. “You know I don’t strip for money. I only strip for sex.”
“Is that what we’re negotiating?” I said, even though I was totally already in. Still. “I’ll think about it.”
“You already are,” said my cocky boyfriend. “You’ve been thinking about it for the last hour, and now you’re all ready to go.” He dropped the shirt and came toward me.
I crossed my arms. “I’m sweaty,” I said.
“So am I,” Nick said, putting his hands on my hips.
“We’re in a gym,” I said. “There’s no way we’re having sex right here, right now.”
“No?” He was walking me backward. I put my hands on his biceps so I wouldn’t fall, and that alone just about did me in. Nick had very nice biceps.
My butt hit something—a stack of gym mats, waist high. Oh, no. “We are not doing this,” I said feebly.
His hands moved from my hips and his fingers hooked in the waist of my yoga pants. He pulled them down, along with my panties. “I’ve been watching your tits bounce for an hour,” he said in that hot growl of his. “Five minutes and I can make you come.”
“Five minutes?” My voice had definitely lost all conviction now. “Really?”
“No one’s here to see.” He pulled my clothes further down my thighs and pressed me back, and suddenly I was lying back on my elbows on the stack of mats while my boyfriend stripped me naked from the waist down.
I’d heard, through the grapevine, that Josh and Gina had broken up. That she’d found out he was cheating. That Josh was now with Alison, the girl from the bank with the Valentine’s Day cake, and they were getting a place, moving in together. I wished her luck. I could barely remember what Josh looked like. Because apparently Nick and I were going to have sex right here, right now.
So much for revenge, then. It felt good to be free.
Nick leaned over me and kissed me. Long and hard and deep. He was hard in his shorts, and suddenly I was uncomfortable, squirming against him. Yes—five minutes was all it was going to take. I didn’t care where we were anymore. I wanted that inside me, right now.
Nick slid his shorts down with one hand, ran his hand over his cock while he broke the kiss. “You ready?” he said.
“Try me,” I said.
He pushed into me, and I moaned. We’d started going bare a week ago, and it made everything different all over again. There was no drug as addictive as being skin to skin with him. He must have felt the same way, because he could barely keep his hands off me, even more than usual.
But it had changed other things, too. Neither of us had ever done it bare before. It was… more intimate. More trusting. And yes, a fuck of a lot hotter.
He pressed his weight down on me, pushing in all the way, and I gripped him with my knees as he started to fuck me. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he growled in my ear, and I was. I was hot from watching him move for the last hour. Hot from just being around him. I moaned and pressed up into him, spreading my knees and changing the angle, and he fucked me harder. I panted as I felt the pleasure tighten inside me, start to clench my muscles. I didn’t care that we were almost in public. I didn’t care that we were sweaty. I just lost myself, like I always did with Nick. I let myself be dirty. I let myself love it without being embarrassed. I let everything go.
Did it take five minutes? Probably less. I only knew I came, shuddering up into him and squeezing him, my knees gripping his hips. He pushed deep into me and came too, the best feeling in the world. Then we lay there, panting.