by Alexis Angel
Which, speaking of fruit—you wouldn’t fucking believe the juicy-ass peach that just walked through Power Plus’ front doors.
She’s got long, wavy, bimbo blonde hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun. And a cute little workout outfit that she obviously just fucking bought.
As she talks with Jackson at the front desk to set up her membership, I can already see him losing himself in her pretty blue eyes and sizing up her glossy blowjob lips. When he puts his dirty hands on her slender shoulders to position her for her membership photo, I imagine ripping his fingers off and making him eat them.
Don’t get me wrong—I like Jackson. But I’m a territorial bastard, and I’ve already decided that this girl is mine.
I raise my eyes to Eric’s office, which is a couple stories up and overlooks the gym floor. Sure as fuck, there he is, eyeing this sexy piece of ass just like I am. Eric lords over his domain from above like some kind of god, but I fancy myself as more of a Jesus-among-the-people type.
When his eyes meet mine, I’m fucking smirking.
He can run down the stairs as fast as he likes—but I already know I’m going to get to this girl first.
Power Plus isn’t a cheap fucking gym—most of our clients are celebrities, billionaires and, worse—so as she signs our membership agreement, I check her finger for a ring.
Not wearing one—which is to my benefit. I don’t mind fucking the hell out of the bored wives of Hollywood fat cats, but if this woman did have a husband, she wouldn’t have one for long.
And if it’s her boyfriend paying for her membership…well. I don’t like the idea of going back to jail, but maybe she could be convinced to suck cock for gym time instead.
My gaze slides down to her wrists as she hands over her credit card to finalize her membership payment. They’re bone-thin and delicate. The kind of wrists that, if I wrapped my fingers around them too hard, I’d be afraid they’d break.
This girl is thin—too thin, in my opinion. I like my women with a little more meat on their bones, and this hot little slice looks like she’s been living for a little too long off of nothing more than diet coke and cheeseburger dreams.
If she’s looking for a workout, I’ve got a workout for her that she won’t forget.
As she struts her stuff across the gym floor, I figure she must be single after all. She’s got a model walk, for one thing—and the way those hips move, they’re looking for trouble in all the right places.
I figure she’ll go straight for the cardio area. Most women do.
They think if they lift anything that’s not bright pink or weighs more than five pounds, their muscles are going to balloon up like fucking She-Hulk or some shit. How else could some jackass have been able to make such a fortune off of fucking Shakeweights?
But to my surprise, she doesn’t hop on a treadmill or start putting in her rounds on a stationary bike. No, this little cutie tucks her gym bag into a locker and makes her way over to the weights—my domain of choice.
I won’t lie. I’m impressed. I like a woman who’s not afraid to pump a little iron, if you know what I mean.
But as quickly as she wins my respect, she wins my concern as well. Dumb little cunt jumps beneath a squat bar that’s still heavy with some other asshole’s weights. I can take one look at her slender model thighs and tell that there’s no way in hell she’s going to be able to lift that—especially not with that form.
But oh, she sure fucking tries.
I see Eric come to the base of the stairs clad in sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt. He spots the danger just as quickly as I do. We don’t even need words to form a battle plan—we just jump into action.
“Oh…shit,” the blonde whimpers, a half-second away from crumpling beneath the weight.
Just as the hot little blonde begins to slump, I catch one side of the bar and Eric catches the other. We ease it back up onto the rack while the blonde’s knees threaten to give out.
“Silly bitch,” I chuckle to myself.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
I raise my eyes to meet her baby blues.
“I called you a silly bitch, sweetheart,” I level with her. “You damn near just hurt yourself—you’re lucky that all that’s bruised is your ego.”
“My ego is not bruised,” she says. She puts her hands on her hips like she’s Wonder Woman or some shit, which only make me laugh again.
And oh, boy. She doesn’t like it when I laugh at her.
“Happens to the best of us, honey,” Eric says, picking up where I left off. “Unfortunately, you don’t get any stronger just carrying around that chip on your shoulder. No shame in biting off more than you can chew.”
It’s then that it clicks for her. I’ve seen the same thing happen a million fucking times, and I never get tired of it.
It’s the moment when a woman shifts from angry to horny. Whatever bitchy attitude she’s fronting suddenly becomes overwhelmed by some little ping from her inner cavewoman as she realizes she’s in the presence of two hot, sweaty men that would make for prime mating material.
I watch her gaze shift down our bodies, until she’s blatantly focusing on our dicks.
When she meets our eyes again, there’s a little fire in her stare that tells me she did it deliberately, too. She let us watch her look.
Fuck, man. Now that’s my kind of woman—this girl is as hot as they come.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she says with a saucy little smirk.
At that point, she tries to leave. Tries to pass between us and walk away with not even a thank you—as if we didn’t just fucking save her life.
But nah—fuck that.
Eric and I close ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder before she can pass.
“I think a thank you is in order. Don’t you, Chase?”
I smirk over at Eric, shifting my shoulders back like the cocky asshole I am.
“I don’t know, Eric. I think we might need two thank yous, actually.”
The blonde’s eyes narrow. “Or, you handsome gentlemen could kindly get the fuck out of my way before you wind up hurt.”
Christ. I know she’s trying to be all bad-ass and shit, but that’s just fucking amusing. Even Eric’s lips are twitching while he fights back his desire to laugh.
I’m not so fucking composed. This little tart? Hurting us?
Oh god, that fucking slays me.
Plus, she called us handsome.
I’m a sucker for compliments, what can I say.
“Sweetheart, the only thing you’re going to hurt if we let you loose in this gym is yourself,” I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Why don’t you let us teach you some proper form?” Eric offers. “Might be useful if you don’t want to end up in the hospital.”
Oh, boy. She doesn’t like that either.
I can see the nostrils flare on her delicate little nose. Her chest heaves beneath her sports bra. I can practically see her heart rate increase as she takes a deep breath, ready to let us have it.
But here’s the problem with women trying to breathe around us: pheromones make it fucking hard for a girl to keep her head straight, and since we’re constantly hitting the gym so hard we’re almost always dripping with sweat…
This little bitch’s temper is quelled with just one whiff.
“Fine,” she snaps. “Let’s see what you jackasses know, then.”
I look at Eric with the biggest fucking smile on my face. Like, are you seeing this shit?
The look he gives me in response isn’t one that I’ve seen since we were rangers together in Afghanistan.
It’s a look that says, Follow my lead, Lieutenant. We’re going in.
Kara
These guys are really getting on my fucking nerves. I don’t understand why they feel the need to get all in my business and my workout just because they’re so fit…and ripped…and muscular.
I mean, okay, they’re gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean they can just inv
ade my space.
In fact, if they weren’t so hot, I would’ve told them off by now. Which is shitty to say, but seriously, it’s harder to turn guys down when they’re this attractive.
There are plenty of other girls in here that they could have cherry picked to get all up close and personal with, but they picked me. I can’t tell if I’m more self-conscious of my body under their gazes, or if I just feel lucky to have such eye candy to stare back at while we sweat.
I scout out the rest of strength training section and land on a large, semi-familiar contraption. I mean that in the sense that I’m pretty sure I saw it in a Rocky movie one time―but that’s hardly the same thing as being an expert.
I make my way over.
Chase and Eric follow me.
…okay. I sit at the rowing machine, puzzled by my new fans.
What do they think they’re going to do here—row it for me?
I shove the key through the hole to add 60 pounds of weight. This seems like a good place to start. I can just adjust it from there, I guess…and if I can’t, I’m sure one of my new shadows will jump in and do it for me.
“You boys wanna take a selfie?” I snark up at them. “Or do you just like to watch?”
I see them both shift in their stances, crossing their arms over their chests and tilting their heads back so their chins jut out, all sexy and stuff.
God, could they be any hotter?
But they don’t say anything back to me, so I turn my attention back to the task at hand.
Here goes nothing. I scoot back and stretch forward to grab the weights. I pull my entire body back and forth and bring my arms in close.
The two of them don’t move a single gorgeous, perfect muscle. They just stand there, bulging arms crossed, observing me. Part of me really wishes they’d just walk away. I came here to run away from Holly-Ann’s bad influence, and these guys are making me blush while I’m trying to do good for myself.
Drooling over two super hot guys is not conducive to a focused workout. Neither is becoming hyper-conscious of my body while I wonder what they’re thinking while they stare at it.
Returning my attention to my exercise, this stupid fucking machine is giving me the run-around. I think I’m doing it right, but I don’t feel any muscles being tested here.
What am I doing wrong? I feed the bar back into its place and move forward to add more weight.
“You’re going to throw your back out if you do it like that,” Eric pipes up.
The tone of his voice sends a shiver up my spine, but I play it off as best I can as I stab the hole of the weight block thing with the key.
“Yeah, well, you’re going to throw your ass out if you keep talking through it like that,” I snap back.
I knew they were judging me, dammit. I fucking knew it!
“Nobody asked you, cupcake.”
“Your form is fucked up,” he replies. He and Chase share a look and chuckle to themselves at my apparent incompetence.
“Gee, thanks,” I return, now pissed off at their candidness. “I’ll make a note of it.”
I grit my teeth and get ready to start rowing like I’m escaping across an ocean.
“Look, you snarky little twat. I want to help,” Eric says. “But if you’re looking to spend the next two weeks in bed on your back…”
He gives me a sexy, pearly white-teeth smile, and I don’t understand why, but I can’t stay upset. Maybe because my pussy just got so wet that I’m going to have to wring my panties out after this.
He’s right, though, dammit. If I’m spending two weeks on my back, I’d rather it be because one of these studs is between my thighs. An injury at this point would just slow me down.
“Okay,” I relent. “What am I fucking up?”
“Well, first off, what muscle group do you think that machine is supposed to engage?” asks Eric. “When you sit at a machine, you should always know what it’s supposed to do to know if you’re doing it right.”
Really? They’re testing me. Clearly, I’ve never done this before, and these meatheads want to quiz me on it. How fucked up is that?
I feel so fucking stupid already.
“I was feeling it in my feet, some,” I answer. “So I’m guessing…my legs.”
“Yeah, that’s awful,” says Chase. “This equipment is designed to work your back, mainly. Here, let me show you.”
He gestures for me to get off the machine, and like an obedient little bitch, I climb right off of it.
A second ago, I was the sass queen of the rowing machine. Now, it’s like I’m begging to let him take the lead.
What the hell has gotten into me?
Chase hops on and shows me every step I’m doing wrong. I’m a little stirred up at how blunt they are―but it does make me realize that I might be able to learn something. Not to mention I’ll probably pull some muscle out of spite just because I don’t want to be on the receiving end of good-spirited advice.
I really need to learn how to just take a step back. Watch and learn. All the shit I’ve had my mind on all day has me on edge.
Plus, watching and learning has never been easier when it comes to the muscles of Chase’s rippling shoulder blades.
“How about you work on something a bit simpler, but a lot more rewarding?” Eric suggests. “If you’re looking to build muscle quickly, the best way to go is benching weight.”
I don’t know how I really feel about learning to bench press, but now that I’m not fighting him, his tone is actually sincere.
I’m just afraid of getting bulky. But something in me tells me to stay with the two of them. Of course, that something is probably just my pussy, but babe…if you could see these men right now, you wouldn’t even blame me.
I can’t help but stare as we walk to the benches. They’re so perfectly chiseled. Both of them look like they fell out of the sky to serve as demigods.
I lie down on the bench and scoot around into position. I grip the bar, and Eric immediately grabs my hands and moves them to the right place. I can feel the callouses on his palms, the brute strength coursing through his fingers.
My heart skips a beat.
“Here. Let me help you for the first couple of reps. It’ll give you a good feel for the motion and the range of it,” Eric offers.
The way that he’s flipped from arrogant to helpful has me confused. See, this flip-floppy bullshit attitude is exactly why I didn’t want a trainer. It’s too much emotional labor to try to keep up.
But as we pump the bar, my concerns fade, and my focus shifts to the workout.
As we pull the bar up off my chest, part of me has a quick little vision of him pulling my hand onto his cock as he lifts the weight up and down against himself. He could shift my fingers in the exact same way he shifted them on the bar. He could show me exactly the way he wants it gripped.
Something about how strong these guys are and how easily they could overpower me gets me so hot for them. I would just melt at the sight of their cocks in front of me.
I caught a sneak peek of Eric’s package through his gym shorts and, holy fuck, do I approve. I wouldn’t mind getting a workout on that thing instead. I would just take his cock and grip it nice and tight and work my biceps and pectorals until I’m blue in the face…or until he blew all over my face. God, fuck yes.
In fact, I could work both arms out at once. A grin on my face and a cock in each hand. How hot would that be? Pumping cock instead of pumping iron.
And when they came, it could just go right into my mouth. Like a quick, all natural protein shake.
“Kara?” pipes up Chase. “Are you ready?” he asks, slightly concerned.
Shit. I guess I was daydreaming for a little while.
“Ye-yeah,” I stutter.
I’m unable to get their cocks out of my head or get my pussy less wet at the thought of them. I shimmy my hips and get myself used to the physical strain of working out while horny, because with these two around, I have a feeling this is just go
ing to be the norm.
“Good. I thought we might have worn you out already,” Chase responds. He gives me a cute smirk as he stares down at me.
Eric brings the bar back up to its bracing. He claps his hands against each other before placing them on his hips. The view is upside down for me from where I lay on the bench…but I don’t miss the way his thumbs settle against the v-shape of his Adonis belt.
“So, Kara. Are you ready to do a couple of reps for us yourself?” he asks.
I want to tell him I’m ready to do a couple of reps on him, actually.
“I think I’m ready to give it a shot, yeah,” I choose to say instead. I take a deep breath and grab the bar exactly where Eric showed me to hold it.
I go to move the weights from the brace, and immediately, the bar comes crashing down towards my chest. But before I’m crushed by a whopping 50 pounds, the guys both grab the bar raise it back up to the brace.
“…right. We have a lot of work to do here, don’t we?” Eric raises a cocky eyebrow as he looks down at me.
Fuck. I’m such a weak ass. I’m mortified.
“Stop the fucking blushing,” Chase reassures me. “Everyone starts somewhere. We’ll just have to spend…a lot of time with you.”
I gulp hard.
A lot. Of time. With me.
I feel my face go even redder. How did I get myself in the middle of this? I’m a perfectionist at heart, dammit, but I’ve never been one to just sit and take criticism from anyone.
Yet here I am, basking in the glow of their muscle-manliness. Getting embarrassed about my own abilities compared to what they’re able to do.
They’re arrogant and cocky. They’re practiced and overwhelmingly strong. They don’t seem to know how to take no for an answer, which pisses me off…but fuck, babe—are they beautiful or what?
They make me want them to like me. I desire to impress them. And I’ve never felt that way before.
These men are going to put me through my paces. All I can hope is that I can manage to keep up.
Eric
