by Alexis Angel
“No.” I laugh. “Nothing like that. I’m just…is Eric around?”
“Present,” Eric says, jogging over.
These fucking men. Always fucking jogging. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them walk anywhere for the whole time I’ve known them. They’re so full of energy, and so ripped, and so fucking hot and—
“Do you guys have any Protein Plus merch around? Size small, if you’ve got it.”
Eric nods, ducking back behind the check-in desk and coming back with a cute little T-shirt…and a thong.
“Really?” I ask, holding the G-string up and giggling.
Eric just shrugs. “A man can hope. What do you need merch for, though? You haven’t been sharing those protein shakes with your friends, have you?”
“Oh my god, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been hoarding them like a dragon with liquid gold.”
“Then what’s up?” Chase asks.
Christ, he’s cute when he’s like this. He’s like a puppy that knows it’s time to go on a walk—he knows that I have something exciting to tell him, and he can hardly wait to hear it.
Eric looks like he already knows what I’m going to say, but that fucking figures. At least he has the decency to let me say it anyway.
“I’m your girl,” I say, grinning. “I want to do the pageant and model for Protein Plus.”
They don’t even give me a chance to see their reactions. Chase just picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, and Eric smacks my ass as they carry me up the stairs.
“I knew it, man,” Chase is saying. “I fucking knew she would.”
“Couldn’t resist us, huh?” Eric asks as Chase deposits me in the upstairs office.
“Don’t look so cocky.” I giggle. “You guys were my second choice.”
“Yeah, but your first choice wouldn’t have been as good at getting you out of your clothes as we are,” Eric says, just as I feel Chase pull down the zipper of my cute little pencil skirt. Eric makes quick work of my blouse as the skirt slides to the floor.
“Good point,” I say, pulling the Protein Plus T-shirt on over my head. There’s something about it that just feels right.
Fuck modeling for Wild Rose—this is exactly where I belong. I don’t know why I was fighting it so hard in the first place. Chase and Eric have been supportive of me in ways that neither of my old bosses ever could be, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that I’ve made the right choice.
“And the thong,” Chase insists, pulling down my lacy boy shorts before I can even argue.
“Okay, okay.” I giggle, stepping into the thong. Surprisingly enough, that feels right, too. Maybe because of all the squats I’ve been doing lately—or maybe just because with Chase and Eric around, I feel good in pretty much everything.
“Damn,” Eric says, nodding approvingly. “You look fucking hot with our logo on your body.”
“Hot enough for a pic?” I ask, fishing my cell phone out of my purse.
They crowd around me, stooping a little because they’re so fucking tall, as Chase snaps a selfie of all three of us.
I post it to my social media before I can talk myself out of it, with a caption announcing my big news.
“2 months until Miss Sexy USA pageant here in L.A.! Love my sexy sponsors, <3 Protein Plus!”
Even as the pic uploads, I can see Eric and Chase eyeing my body in an incredibly unprofessional fashion.
“We ought to celebrate, you know,” Chase says, grabbing my ass.
“Oh, my,” I coo as Eric presses his hips against mine. “Whatever did you have in mind?”
Looks like a woman of my age is getting lucky tonight.
Eric
The first time I saw Kara’s pretty little ass walk into my gym, I knew she was a fucking winner. But even I couldn’t have predicted that she would be this fucking good.
Ever since she signed on to model for my brand, Kara has thrown herself into things completely. She’s lifting harder, eating better, and squatting more every day. I’m watching her body change right before my eyes—and wrapped around my cock, too, as often as I can coax her onto it.
The only person I’ve ever met who works as hard as I do is Chase, and there’s definitely something wrong with that muscle-bound son of a bitch. But now, Kara makes three of us—and with a trio as good looking as us, as driven as us, and as amazing at sex as we are, I’ve never been more fucking confident in my life.
We could take over the world together—Kara, Chase, and I. But for now, I’ll settle for conquering the international fitness community—and as much Kara as I can fucking get.
I’m beginning to think I’m actually falling for this girl, which is fucking ridiculous, because I never fall for anyone. I know Chase feels the same.
We’re competitive bastards in and out of the bedroom, but when it comes to Kara, she’s the one thing that we’ve agreed we can’t compete over.
Even though I fucking know I make her come harder. What can I say? With a body like hers, it’s hard not to keep score.
I’ve had my housekeeper scrub my house spotless for Kara’s visit today. I’m not calling it a fucking date, because it’s not one—it’s strictly business between Kara and me today.
We need to talk strategy, areas of focus—her strengths, her weaknesses, and we need to figure out a talent for her to do.
I’m not seeing a woman of Kara’s caliber reduced to launching ping pong balls out of her snatch like some kind of cheap peep-show girl. She’s a classy bitch, and she deserves a classy routine that can really show the world what she’s made of—in her clothes or completely out of them.
If I’m being honest with myself, though, I was sure to shave extra close this morning anyway—even if this isn’t a date. If there are two things in this world that are sure to get my blood pumping, it’s scheming and her.
And when Kara’s around, my blood is usually only pumping in one direction. So once we get business out of the way…well. I’m sure she’d love to feel how silky the sheets are on my king-sized bed.
I kiss her when she comes in—I’m a businessman, but I’m not a fucking eunuch. Obviously, I’m going to get my hands all over her as much as I possibly can. It’s just not in my character to miss an opportunity to take advantage.
“How come when I’m with you, I always end up so fucking sweaty?” she asks, throwing a fist at the punching bag downstairs in my home gym.
She’s got a good right hook, but even as I hold the bag for her, it’s not enough to shift me out of my stance.
“I guess I must be good at getting you all hot and bothered,” I joke, letting her take another swing.
She’s getting fucking strong, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t into it. Our little Kara is getting some muscles on those slender arms of hers. Unsurprisingly, it suits her.
“I think you just like putting me through my paces,” she flirts back. “Walk me through this pageant thing again. First, I lift weights, right?”
“Wrong,” I correct her. “Parade first. You’ll be walking the stage with women from all over the country—completely nude, of course, save for heels.”
“Piece of cake,” Kara assures me. “I’ve walked scarier runways. Then there’s the weights.”
“Also nude,” I remind her. Christ, the image of Kara squatting heavy weight with that pretty little cunt flashing at the crowd gets me hard every time I think about it. “You’ll lift as much as you can—but it’s more about form, physique, and looking good while you’re doing it. Shouldn’t be a problem. You’re improving every day.”
“Then the talent portion,” Kara muses. “Also totally nude, I know. But I’ve got nothing for that as of yet—unless taking two cocks at once counts as a talent. Wait…does it?”
I laugh at her, and she takes an especially hard swing at the punching bag. It’s fucking cute, the way she tries and fails to throw me off balance.
“It would win you points with the viewers, if nothing else,” I admit. “We’ll think
more on that later, though. How’s your public speaking? The last portion of the pageant is the speech.”
“Ugh,” Kara groans. “I’m dreading that part. I never did like talking in front of crowds.”
“Completely nude,” I remind her. “It’s your chance to let your personality shine.”
“Yeah, that sounds like something out of one of my recurring nightmares.” Kara laughs. “Plus, my personality’s shit.”
“It’s not,” I reassure her. “You’re perfectly charming…when you want to be.”
Admittedly, when she swings at the bag that time, she knocks it hard enough into my chest that I finally feel it.
Who am I kidding? I’m fucking falling for this girl, and I know it, too.
After our workout, I cook us dinner. I’m worried that Kara doesn’t fucking eat enough—she’s tried every crackpot diet on the market, and frankly, it’s fucked her perception of food a little bit.
“Pasta? Really?” Kara says, eyeballing the spaghetti noodles on her plate.
“With olive oil, garlic, aaaaand…” I grate a little Pecorino on top. “Cheese. Eat up. I’m an excellent chef.”
“That’s like, ten different things that I’m not allowed to eat, Eric,” she says, staring the plate down.
Breaks my fucking heart that she doesn’t think she’s allowed to enjoy herself like that—but fuck if I’m letting her go on thinking that way.
“You need the fuel, Kara,” I say, pushing the plate a little closer to her. “If you want to work out with me, you need to eat something substantial afterward. Non-negotiable.”
“But the calories…” Kara bites her lip, looking uncertain.
“You need calories,” I inform her. “And nutrients. And you ought to fucking enjoy them, too. That’s an order.”
“Is it, now?” Kara says. Her voice is doing that sultry thing again. Makes my cock even harder. “And what if I don’t, Daddy?”
I lean in nice and close until I can feel her holding her breath.
“Then you don’t get any fucking dessert,” I growl.
“Will you take me over your knee?”
“Oh, Kara.” I chuckle darkly. “I’ll be doing that tonight no matter what.”
With the thought of another orgasm and a nice, hard spanking in mind, Kara relents. I love watching her eat—she really savors her food. Moans the whole way through the meal, too. Little slut.
I push a Protein Plus shake her way for dessert—because I know she fucking loves the things. This one is Pump-kin Spice. If she was moaning her way through the pasta course, she’s having a full fucking orgasm as she drinks down every last drop.
“God,” Kara pants, slamming the empty bottle down on the table. “I swear, those things are too fucking good to be real.”
“I think you just like them for the special ingredients,” I joke—even though, hell, that seems to be the only reason women like them.
“I think I’m still hungry, Daddy,” Kara coos, getting a wild fucking look in her eye.
“Have you licked your plate clean?”
Fluttering her eyelashes at me, Kara dips her tongue down to the olive oil still on her plate and gives it a long, lingering lick.
My cock salutes her effort through my sweatpants. She’s made me hard, she’s done a hell of a workout, and she’s even eaten my cooking.
“I’d say you’ve earned a treat,” I relent, standing.
By the time Kara is on her feet, I’m already around the table, sweeping her up in my arms and carrying her toward my bedroom.
“Is it time for my spanking?” she asks, kicking and giggling the entire way there.
“That’s not a bad place to start.”
Kara
Eric wasn’t fucking kidding about the spanking, as it turns out—not that I mind. On the contrary, I’m way too fucking into it.
I’m screaming, “YES, DADDY! MORE! SPANK ME HARDER!” and Eric is swatting my ass as he carries me over his shoulder until both my cheeks are burning bright pink.
I’m, like, never like this. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Like, yeah, okay. I’m probably kind of starved from two years of low fat, low calories and no dick to speak of.
But even before my great cum fast, I wasn’t this horny this often. With Ryan, we’d bang one out once every couple of weeks tops, and that was only if he wasn’t too tired, and I wasn’t too busy.
I had just as wild and crazy of a sex life before Ryan as anyone, don’t get me wrong—but this is different. This is more.
This is being within a hundred feet of a guy and immediately having a plan for exactly how I can get his dick in my mouth.
This is being spanked by a dude that’s technically, I guess, my boss—who I also happen to fuck sometimes.
This is calling him Daddy, for fuck’s sake!
I’m into it, though. I’m too wet to pretend otherwise. Like, literally dripping through the short little workout shorts I wore here today.
It’s just that the second I started chugging that Protein Plus shake, it was all over for me. A little taste of Eric’s cum with a dumb name slapped on the label might have satisfied one type of appetite, but in the process, it awakened another appetite completely.
I need Eric’s cum. NEED. He could have me crawling around the floor on my hands and knees fucking begging for him to cum in my mouth right now—but instead, he tosses me onto his big, cushy bed and lets me stare up at him with hunger.
To an outsider, we’d look like a couple of wild animals—chests heaving, fire in our eyes, staring each other down like we’re not sure if we want to kill each other or breed.
But the second Eric gets his sweatpants off and his cock out, I think it becomes pretty fucking obvious which conclusion we come to.
Breed.
Eric’s bed is fucking huge. It’s got the silkiest fucking sheets and the softest blankets I could have ever imagined, and enough pillows on it that I could sink down into them and never come back up.
This is a bed that I would gladly allow to swallow me fucking whole, I realize as I stretch out my arms decadently. It’s got four posts, one at each corner, and a canopy hanging over—
What the fuck?
Are those shackles?
When I look to Eric to try and figure out what kind of Red Room Christian Grey bullshit he’s pulling here, he’s gone. All that cardio must have paid off, because he moves too fast for me to stop him.
First, he secures my ankles—one in each leather cuff. Before I can sit up and deal with that, he’s got one wrist pinned, then the other.
“Huh,” he says, rubbing the fabric of my shorts between his fingers. “Should have undressed you first.”
“You kinky bastard!” I accuse, even though—fuck me—I’m so horny, I’m grinning from ear to ear. “Weren’t you going to ask before you cuffed me?”
“Would you have said no?” Eric shrugs, opening a drawer of his bedside table and pulling out a pair of sharp silver scissors.
I consider it for a second, keeping an eye on the scissors. “Well, maybe at first—”
“Of course,” Eric says, moving between my legs on the bed. “You don’t do anything without putting up a fight.”
“I like winning,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Really? I think you like to lose.”
I laugh. “Doesn’t sound like me.”
“Doesn’t it?” Eric slides the fabric of my cute little workout shorts between the scissors, and in one fluid motion, cuts them off of me on one side.
“I think you’ve been begging to lose your whole life, Kara,” he tells me. “I think you’re used to being too much for men—too smart, too funny, too intense, too fucking bright. You cast a wide shadow, and they get lost in it.”
“A wide shadow,” I whisper as Eric’s scissors snip away the other side of my shorts. “Are you calling me fat?” I tease.
“The only thing fat about you are those saucy lips of yours,” Eric says, pulling my shorts away.
> And then there I am—with Eric and his huge fucking cock and his shirtless torso between my legs. My cunt is dripping, my clit is twitching, and he still has those sharp fucking scissors—which, for some reason, I also find hot.
“You’re wet,” Eric observes. “Or are we still pretending that you don’t want this?”
“Ugh,” I groan, bucking my hips toward him. “I want it. Of course I fucking want it.”
“Ah,” Eric sighs. He moves over me, stroking my pussy lips with his fingers. “So we’re agreed that I had every right to tie you up here—just so we’re clear.”
“Mmm,” I moan. “Fuck. Yes, okay, fine. I’ve just…oh god, right there—I’ve never done any of this BDSM bullshit before okay?”
I can feel him laugh as he dips his lips to my stomach, kissing across it and lingering in between lip prints. “Is that so? I’m surprised, Kara. You’re a difficult girl to pin down.”
I don’t know if it’s the tickle of his lips against my stomach—I’m not used to being kissed there—or if it’s the bad bondage joke, but either way, he leaves me giggling as he kisses his way down to my cunt.
Tied to a sexy, buff billionaire’s bed. I wish I could tell Fat Kara about this, because she wouldn’t fucking believe me.
This isn’t some smutty romance novel. Girls like me aren’t supposed to get the dude (or dudes, for that matter).
And yet…there Eric is. Mouth poised between my legs. The humidity of his breath lingering over my clit.
“Are you going to lick that, or do I need to call you Master first?” I sass down at him, because Jesus fucking Christ, Eric. I need an orgasm like, now.
I’m literally going to die if he doesn’t lick me soon—there’s no way he only tied me up so he could fucking look at my pussy!
“You’ll call me Eric, slut, and you’ll like it.”
“Oh…fuck, Eric,” I moan as he finally gives in and makes out with my wet, soaked cunt the way I fucking want.
He teases my clit with his tongue. He sucks it between his lips, rolling it back and forth until I’m whimpering like a bitch. He presses it gently between his teeth, and then he does something.
