by Penny Wylder
It's in here.
Standing in front of two bright green doors, I see lights on through the small windows. Raising onto the tips of my toes, I peek inside. It's the on-site gym for the fighters, a place I've never seen or visited. There's no need for me to ever be down here.
The music is blaring, but I don't see anyone inside. Cupping my hands, I hold them by my eyes and squint, searching deeper in the room for any sign of life. I'm expecting to see a janitor mopping the floor or fixing one of the bags. There's nothing.
Did someone forget to shut this stuff off yesterday?
It's not unheard of for people to get sidetracked or distracted, which can cause any responsibility to get tossed out the window. I've left stuff on and walked out the door before, others can do it too.
Pulling the door open, I go inside, and walk around looking for the radio so I can shut it off. It's hard to follow the sound, because it's coming from speakers in the ceiling. Finally, I see the radio on a shelf against the back wall.
Maneuvering through all the hanging bags, angled heavy bags, and kickboxing bags, I reach the shelf and look for the power button.
Thwap! Thwap Thwap!
Standing up quickly, I whip around, startled at the noise. Across the gym, there's a man whaling on a punching bag. His eyes are deadpan, staring at the bag, his hands are wrapped in white tape, and he's bouncing around the bag on his toes, striking it over and over. Shirtless and alone, this man is wreaking havoc on the bag.
Twisting slightly, I catch his profile. Surprise overwhelms me and I stumble backward a few steps.
It's Phade. What the hell is he doing here so early?
Leaning against the wall, I watch him. His muscles are bulging, sweat is beading up and rolling down the sharp angles of his back. His body is glistening under the florescent lighting, making him look like some sort of Greek god, lost to time, and reborn in front of my eyes.
I can't look away. My pussy clenches with desire, remembering just how good he felt inside me. I'm tempted to speak, but I don't want to, I'm enjoying this little show.
I'll watch him for a few more minutes, then I'll go upstairs.
I'm not going to disturb him, he looks like he's in the zone, doing his routine. The last thing I need is to be sidetracked right now anyway. Which he will definitely do.
Phade is breathing heavily, letting out a quick exhale with each punch. He dances around the bag, never taking his eyes off the target. I spy on him for a few more seconds, before turning to leave.
“You want to try?” he asks, causing me to stop in surprise.
But I don't answer, I'm not sure what to say. I didn't think he knew I was here. He looked so preoccupied, so caught up in his workout that I thought I could get away undetected.
“Well? Do you want to try, or are you just going to stand there like a stalker and watch?”
“Sorry,” I say, walking in his direction. “I'm not stalking you, I heard the music and thought someone forgot to shut it off yesterday. I was going to do it, but then I realized you were here.”
“That wasn't my question.” Landing another punch on the bag, he stops and glances up at me. I can see in his face that he's waiting for an answer. Except, I don't have one to give right then. Every word, every letter, it all suddenly vanishes from my brain.
It's as if just the sight of him all sweaty and shirtless disrupts how the nerves fire in my skull. Crickets are chirping and tumbleweeds are rolling across my thoughts. “I. . . I'm not. . . I don't—”
Phade wipes the back of his arm across his forehead as he stands up straight. I'm frozen in place, unable to speak because I'm mesmerized by his body. His chest is lifting and lowering rapidly, making his abs contract and relax over and over.
The muscles in his chest flex as he opens and closes his hands at his sides. Stretching his arms across his body, he rocks his head on his shoulders. Everything about this man is invading my brain, making it difficult to think straight.
Tracing the steppingstones down his stomach, I swallow hard as I reach where his dick is hidden away. There's an outline of his length against his shorts, his tip plump and thick, perfectly defined under the fabric.
Clearing my throat, I dart my eyes to the ceiling. “What was your question again?” I ask, trying to get myself together. “I didn't hear you.”
“Do you want to try?” Fanning out his arm, he points at the bag. “I can teach you.”
“I know how, I just don't want to.”
“Is that right?” he asks, a small grin playfully tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah, that is right.”
“Then show me.” Taking a long step to the side, Phade holds out his arm, inviting me in. “Unless you're all talk.”
Waving my hand, I shake my head. “I'm not all talk.” Looking myself over, I joke, “I'm just not exactly dressed for this.”
“Well, I've got a super easy fix for that. Just take off your clothes.” He says it so smoothly that I actually think about it for a single second.
Cocking a brow, I tilt my head. “Yeah, I don't think so.”
“That's too bad, it would have been fun.” Phade grabs his hand and starts to bend his fingers, cracking the knuckles. “What brings you in so early?” he asks.
“I can ask you the same thing.” Slowly, I take steps forward. I'm watching him cautiously, keeping my distance.
The closer I get, the more my body reacts. The surface of my skin is getting warm, it's hot and flushed, and my muscles start to tingle. Stopping, I take a step back, leaning over and resting my elbow on a small ledge of the wall.
“Afraid I'm going to bite you?” His smirk widens as he licks his lips.
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “Are you always this full of yourself?”
“Maybe. Why shouldn't I be?”
“Because it's not a good look,” I say, turning to sit my back against the wall. “A little humility can go a long way you know.”
“Yeah, and sometimes you need to embrace the hand God gave you.” Twisting back to the bag, Phade hits it hard. “Why should I be humble when he's graced me with all of this? Shouldn't I enjoy what I have?”
“And what are you going to do when it's gone?”
“It's not going anywhere.”
“It won't be there forever,” I say matter of fact.
“No, but I've got years before that'll happen.”
“Is that what you think?” I ask, veering my stare.
Phade stops and looks at me over his shoulder. “It's what I know.”
“You're wrong. It won't be if you don't get your shit together.” Standing up straight, I walk towards the punching bag. “Do you think Daniel is just going to sit back and let you act this way?”
“So I should just change who I am?” Giving the bag a few quick jabs, he circles it and gives it a kick. “You both want me to become a robot. No personality, no emotions, just a yes man.” Shaking his head, he slugs the bag. “I don't think so. And I don't think us pretending to get engaged is going to do anything to help my image.”
“It won't just help, it's going to fix it.” Kicking off my heels, I step to the bag and give it hard kick with a jab combo. “I know how to do my job, same as you. We're both good at what we do, Phade.”
Crooking his jaw, he peers at me with a pleased look on his face. “I know what else you're good at.” Winking, he holds the bag and nods for me to kick it again.
Kicking with my shin, I grunt loud as my leg connects with the solid mass. “And that needs to stop too. No more sex references, we need to be all business, nothing else.”
“What? I can't compliment you on your amazing ass, and how good your pussy felt wrapped around my cock?”
My chest swells as I inhale a deep breath and my clit pulses with excitement. I can feel him inside me again, the way he spread me open wide, how deep he went, hitting my lower belly.
No! Stop thinking about it!
Forcing the sensation away, my expression harden
s. “Phade, I'm serious. You're going to lose everything if you keep doing this shit. And I won't be able to do anything to stop Daniel. He's in charge, he makes the rules, and both of us are here to follow them.”
“I make my own rules, sweetheart. No one makes them for me.” Circling the bag, we're now eye to eye. Phade's eyes flick around my face as he lifts his finger to my jaw and touches me lightly. “You can't tell me you didn't enjoy what we did. I know I did, and I know I haven't stopped thinking about it since.”
Holding up my hands, I take a firm step back. “We can't do this. Right now we need to focus on cleaning up your image. That's what's important.”
“Or. . .” he says, the word drawn out as he tries to close the gap between us. Taking a step forward, his brows arch high. “We can focus on making yours dirtier. . .” Pausing, he pulls his bottom lip in and smirks. Deep dimples sink into skin as his smile spreads ear to ear. “Doesn't that sound like way more fun?”
“No, that sounds like trouble.” Holding up my hands, I take a step back. I don't want him close to me. I'm afraid I'll lose focus, that his musk and muscles and smile will break the little control I have.
I can feel that thread getting weaker, the fibers brittle and exposed, ready to break with one single touch.
He steps in again. I step away. He steps, I step, he steps, I step. We do this dance through the room, until I feel something hard against my back, and I realize I have no place else to go. Phade has me cornered, trapped between his hard body and the wall.
His eyes ignite with pleasure as he realizes the same thing. Stopping a foot away, he rolls his shoulders back, lengthening his body. Like a hunter trapping its prey, he smoothly closes the gap.
“Look what I just caught.” Taking a long step in, he lowers his face and inhales a slow silent breath. “You smell amazing.” Stroking my jaw, he runs his finger across my chin, drawing a swirl in the center.
Turning my face away, I try to stop myself from blushing. But my cheeks heat instantly, and my chest is warm, buzzing with need. I can't stop it as my insides start to tumble and my muscles become electrified.
Damn it! No more of this!
With open palms, I hold up my hands as a wall between us. It's weak, I know, and I won't be able to stop him if he wants to break through, but I need to do something to keep him from getting any closer. To feel protected from him.
I'm terrified that my body is going to take over, giving him complete permission to do whatever he wants with me. Phade has this power, an ability to steal my self control. I learned that first-hand the other night when I said yes and let him fuck me in the bathroom.
“We should work on our story, make sure we're both on the same page. We can tell people we met at a charity event.” I'm trying like hell to divert all of this, all of his sexual energy and wanton need in his eyes.
My eyes scan around his body, searching for an exit, but I can't find one. Phade's hot skin is so close to mine, I can see the sweat as it trickles down his chest, following all the sharp angles and hard ridges.
His chest flexes, forcing me to dart my eyes back to his, and the knowing grin on his face. “Like what you see?”
“Can we please just focus on our back story, and how we met at a charity event?”
Lifting a hand to either side of my head, Phade boxes me in, lowering his face so his lips hover over my cheek. “That doesn't sound like me at all,” he says, his warm breath rolling across my cheek, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I think it will work.” The words barely squeak out loud enough to be heard.
“It won't.”
I can feel his lips. They're not on my skin yet, but they're so close I can imagine them there, kissing me, tasting me, pleasuring me.
“Why not?” I ask, my voice tense as I try to force the dirty thoughts away.
You could fuck him here, no one will know but us two.
The small devil on my shoulder is giving me advice and I'm trying so damn hard to ignore him. But it's hard, fuck, it's so damn hard. I can feel my chest starting to arch into his, as my breathing picks up and my pussy grows wet.
“Because it's not me.” Resting on his forearm, Phade starts to tease the trim of my blouse. He's pinching the hem, running his fingers back and forth at my waistline.
“Is being you, all the partying and drinking, worth losing it all?”
Phade's lips slip over the shell of my ear and my eyes shut instantly. “I'll always be me, no one can change that. The person you are is burned into every piece of your body, from your pores to the very cells that make them up.” The tips of his fingers run across the curve of my shoulder, moving down the outside of my arm. Tangling his fingers with mine, he tilts his head. “But now you've got me wondering.”
“Wondering what?” My voice is nothing but air as he runs his hand up my throat and lifts my chin toward the ceiling.
“Do you know who you are?” Placing a tender kiss on the underside of my throat, I moan on instinct.
Biting my bottom lip, I wait, anxiously craving for him to keep going. Phade kisses my neck again, moving lower. His mouth tickles across my chest, fluttering light kisses along the way. Exhaling hard, his hand moves down over my breast, slipping over my stomach and coming to rest on my hip.
Pressing up onto my toes, my body leans forward, being pulled like a moth to a flame. My nipples are hard and sensitive, scraping the inside of my bra as my pussy throbs and my belly fills with butterflies.
And just like that, as quickly as he was there, Phade's gone. The heat off his body dissolves as he takes several steps back. Opening my eyes, he's unwrapping his hands from my waist.
“Dinner tonight, you and me.” Balling up the tape from his fists, he tosses it into the garbage and starts to walk away.
“Wait—” I call out, stunned and confused as my body comes down from the high he's sending it on. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, dinner, you know, when two people sit down and eat food together.” Phade turns and is walking backward, his smile thick and amused.
“Dinner where?” I'm still confused, not exactly sure how we got to this point at all.
“I'll send a car for you, seven o'clock, be ready.”
Then he's gone, disappearing behind a blue door.
And I'm left wondering what the hell just happened?
I went into work to get shit in order, but I'm leaving with soaking wet panties and dinner plans with Phade Manson.
This day isn't going how I planned at all.
6
Phade
The limo pulls up to her building, and I feel my nerves as they stir with wild trepidation. I'm eager to see her, to smell her, to feel her heat. This woman has invaded every piece of my brain, there isn't one nook or cranny that isn't focused on her and her alone.
I want to know all the spots that make her moan if I touch her just right. I want to learn about who she is and where she's been. What's her favorite movie, her favorite food, her worst memory, her best gift. . . All of it.
This isn't how I normally operate. Yet I'm not fighting against this desire, I embrace it, I condone it, I want it.
Sylvia's a challenge, a challenge I'm eager to conquer. There's a sense of satisfaction that settles comfortably in my gut when I get what I want. And I want her.
Smiling to myself, I climb out of the car, adjusting my sleeves as I lean against the door and take my phone from my pocket.
'I'm outside.' Sending the text, I'm fixated on the double fold in my cuff. I can't get it to sit flat, so I keep folding it over and pressing it firmly in place.
Stupid fucking thing. I'm never going to that dry cleaner again.
Grunting to myself, I drop my arms to my sides, tucking my hands into my pockets. These nerves are fucking killing me. My mind is jumping from thought to thought, my eyes are drawn to stupid little shit that really doesn't matter, and I don't know how to stop it.
This isn't who I am. I don't get nervous. The feeling is foreig
n, and I'm trying to figure out how to manage it. I'm a one and done type of guy, that's been my motto for as long as I can remember. The fact I'm here is jarring.
What the hell are you doing, Phade?
Ignoring what's brewing inside hasn't been possible, and trust me, I've tried. This feeling is just too strong and loud for me to pretend it's not there.
So, fuck it, I thought to myself finally. Why not embrace whatever the hell this is? Let it play out, see where it goes—enjoy the ride.
I'll let her get on and ride if she likes. . .
Glancing down at my blazer, I see a few stray hairs. As I'm plucking the hairs off the front, a pair of black heels stop in front of me. My eyes stay static for a moment, staring at the shiny heels.
They're high, slim, the black coated in a lacquer that gives the shoe a mirror like appearance. One foot tips on its side, the other one moves the toe outwards.
“Eh hm,” she coughs into her hand, clearing her throat. “You uh, you all right?”
Slow and methodically, I run my eyes up her body, following the smooth skin and sharp curves. Her dress is a soft pink, hugging her full hips and framing every inch of her body like it was made just for her.
The hem of the skirt is ruffled across the edge, and all I can think about is running my palm back and forth over the ruffle to feel it tickle my skin. The neckline dips low, wrapping the outside of her shoulders, her cleavage is the only thing that's stopping the top from slipping down to her belly.
A sparkly diamond necklace is dressing her neck, giving her the perfect amount of bling. Her lids are tinted blush pink, matching her dress, and her lips are nude, natural, with a light layer of gloss. Loose, dark curls bounce on her shoulders, framing her face as a breeze blows strands in front of her eyes.
She looks amazing.
Our eyes connect and she smiles. “A limo—and you're right on time,” she says, trying for sarcasm but her voice catches, “And to think, I wasn't even sure you'd actually show up.”
