Gym Junkie

by T L Swan

  We both continue to exercise in silence for another half an hour, our eyes intermittently flicking to each other. I can tell she’s into me.

  Fuck it, I’m just going to ask her out. This is so not my usual form, but she’s seriously gorgeous. She’s back on the treadmill again now, running before she finishes, no doubt. I’ll go and get on the rowing machine next to her and ease into the conversation from there.

  I take my position on the rowing machine and begin to move. I can feel her eyes on my back.

  My legs straighten as I row harder and harder, and perspiration begins to run down my face. Should I just ask her on a date or should I make it more casual and suggest we go for a drink now? Hmm, it’s Tuesday night. She probably has work tomorrow. I can feel her watching me, so I really give it to the rowing machine. Suddenly, the rope of the rowing machine breaks and I fly backwards and hit the wall. A piece of the rope breaks away and it flies onto her treadmill, making her trip and fall spectacularly to the floor.

  “H-holy shit,” I stammer as I jump up.

  “Ouch,” she hisses.

  “Oh my God, are you all right?” I ask. I grab her two hands and pull her from the floor.

  “Not really.” She rubs her hands over her thighs in embarrassment.

  I look down to see her knee has a deep burn from the treadmill belt and blood is running down her shin. I point to her leg. “You’re bleeding.”

  She looks down at her leg and frowns. “Great.” She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “This is all your fault.”

  “My fault?” I say, surprised.

  “Yes. You’re fault. If you weren’t showing off and trying to be Superman, this wouldn’t have happened. You broke the rowing machine cord by being stupid.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I wasn’t showing off,” I snap. “It was obviously faulty.”

  “Oh, that’s crap and you know it.”

  “I’m telling you right now, I wasn’t showing off. I train hard.”

  “I train hard,” she mimics.

  I begin to get ticked off. “Obviously, Tully Pocket, you were always the child who got angry and blamed other children whenever she got hurt.”

  She rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “Well, obviously you were the child who was always trying too hard to be a superhero.”

  “Trying too hard?” I interrupt her. “I’m not fucking trying at all.”

  She raises her eyebrows, annoyed. “Whatever.” She storms off towards the bathroom.

  Did she just whatever me?

  Nobody whatevers me.

  I pace back and forth for a few minutes until I can’t take it any longer, and I storm up the hall towards the bathrooms. There are four doors. All of them are unisex and all fitted with a shower and a toilet. Each door is now closed, and I have no idea which one she is in.

  “Tully,” I call.

  No answer.

  “Tully Pocket!” I call.

  “What?” she snaps through the farthest door. “Go away. You’re annoying.”

  I take it back, this woman isn’t hot, she’s fucking obnoxious. I open the door and find her sitting on the floor with a wet tissue, trying to wipe up the blood on her leg. I sink to my knee beside her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She shrugs but stays silent.

  Empathy wins, and I do feel bad. “Here, let me clean you up.” I stand and put my hands on her hips, lifting her to sit on top of the basin.

  She stays silent as I inspect her knee. “It’s deep,” I say softly.

  She nods.

  My eyes rise to meet hers, and I’m suddenly aware that we are alone in a small space. I bite my lip and turn my attention back to her leg. “I’m going to get the first aid box. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I go to the office and retrieve the small, red first aid box, and I return to the hall. I stand outside the door for a moment.

  Just fix her leg and go home.

  I open the door and find her sitting up on the counter where I left her. She smiles softly as she runs her hand through her hair, her anger clearly now replaced with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m flustered.”

  My eyes hold hers for a moment. I put the kit down, open it up, and get the saline out, snapping the little pod open. “This might sting a bit.” I begin to pour it on her graze and she hisses, involuntarily grabbing my shoulder. Her touch feels good and I inhale through my nose. This is not the time for sexual thoughts, you dirty bastard. Keep your mind on the job. Band-Aid application, fool.

  I wipe up the excess blood as she watches on in silence. Her hand is still on my shoulder and I can feel the heat burning me through my shirt from her touch. I slide my hand up her calf to lift her leg, and goose bumps scatter her skin.

  I feel my cock twitch in appreciation and I have to grit my teeth. Not fucking now.

  The energy in the room begins to swirl between us and my eyes rise to meet hers.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask softly.

  She nods, and I know she can feel the electricity between us, too.

  “I’ll put the Band-Aid on and you’ll be as good as new,” I tell her, distracted.

  She smiles softly and nods again. “Thank you.”

  She watches on as I carefully apply two bandages and I slide my hand down her calf muscle one more time. Goose bumps scatter again, and my eyes rise to meet hers.

  “Goose bumps?” I ask.

  She swallows the lump in her throat as her eyes hold mine.

  The air crackles between us and my eyes drop to her parted lips. Large, pink, and so fucking hot.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispers up at me.

  My mouth opens to speak but no words come out. My chest rises as I try to contain my arousal. This is ridiculous. Unable to help it, I reach down and put my thumb just under her bottom lip and pull her mouth open so that her lips part. “You want to know what I’m thinking, Pocket?” I whisper.

  She nods, her mouth is open with my thumb resting on her bottom lip.

  “I’m imagining how you’ll look with my cock in your mouth.”

  Chapter 2

  Tully

  My eyes widen and my heart begins to race.

  What the fuck? Did he really just say that out loud? His thumb is resting on my bottom lip.

  I pull away from his thumb, and I run my tongue over the burning spot from his touch. “I’m not the type of girl you think I am,” I tell him. “In fact, I’m offended by the insinuation that you think I’m a slut.”

  A trace of a smile crosses his face. “Is that so?” He pulls back from me and turns his attention back to my knee.

  “That is so,” I snap.

  “Forgive me.” His eyes come back up to meet mine. “I’m not normally like this, but you…” His voice trails off.

  But I what? What was he going to say?

  His large frame takes over the room. His jaw is square, his eyes are dark, and goddamn it if he isn’t the most handsome man I’ve seen in my life. He looks down at me, electricity buzzing between us.

  “I was quite sure you were picturing how my cock would look in your mouth, too?”

  I laugh, not because it’s funny but because it’s such a man thing to say. Is that every man’s fantasy? To have a random woman dream of sucking his cock? “Actually, no.” I chuckle.

  His hand glides up my calf muscle again as his dark eyes hold mine. “If you were to imagine something about me, what would it be?” he asks.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. What are you doing, Tully? This little game of imagination you’re playing here is stupid. “I may have one question.”

  “Such as?”

  I shrug, feeling braver than I should. “I wondered how you’d kiss.”

  His eyebrow raises as he moves closer to me and puts a finger underneath my chin to lift my face to his. “Really?”

  I nod, unable to speak from his close proximity. Why did I just say that?


  Satisfaction flashes across his face. “You want to know how I kiss, Pocket?”

  I swallow again.

  In slow motion, he moves closer and closer, until he’s only a few centimetres away from my lips.

  My heart is sprinting in my chest as I watch him.

  “I’ll tell you what…” He breathes, so close that I feel his breath on my lips.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “I’ll show you how I kiss if you put your arms around my neck.”

  I frown.

  He takes my arms and slowly puts them up over his broad, muscular shoulders.

  “Now what?” I whisper. Oh my God, is this really happening?

  “Now I’ll pull you close.” He grabs my hips and jerks me forward on the counter, pulling my legs apart so he can stand between them.

  My arousal starts to thump at his close proximity.

  “And then…” He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back aggressively. Goose bumps scatter up my arms from his natural domination. His eyes darken as he sees me become powerless to his touch.

  My heart is beating so fast that I feel like I’m about to go into cardiac arrest.

  He slowly bends and licks my open lips. My stomach clenches in appreciation.

  Sweet Jesus.

  His lips slowly take mine, and his tongue slides through my open mouth. Unable to help it, my eyes close as I drown in pleasure.

  I can feel his dick harden between my legs, and he kisses me again—deeper this time. His tongue takes mine and wakes it from its dormant sleep. We kiss again and again. He grabs my hips and pulls me forward onto his hard erection.

  Fuck!

  Then, somehow, I lose control, and both my hands are in his hair while his dick rubs back and forth against my sex and he grinds my body onto his.

  “Fuck,” he murmurs against my lips. We begin to kiss so violently that our teeth clash, and he picks me up and falls onto the bench seat in the corner, arranging me so that I’m straddled over his lap.

  With his hand on my hipbone, he begins to rock me back and forth over his hard cock. Our kiss is slow and erotic and the word ‘whore’ rolls around in my empty head.

  I can’t stop. He’s too good at this. Oh God.

  Stop. Get up and leave, I tell myself.

  But my body won’t let me. It wants what he has.

  Brock’s hand slides down my tights to grab a handful of my behind, and he really begins to drive me onto his body with force. His open mouth is ravaging my neck.

  My legs are open, and I can feel how big he is underneath his thin shorts as he drags my throbbing sex back and forth over him through my tights.

  My body quivers and I jerk. Oh no. I stiffen, realising just how close an orgasm is.

  “Don’t fucking pull back from me,” he growls. He slides his other hand into my tights, grabs my ass with two hands, and really begins to ride me. “Let me have it.” He bounces me up and down as he kisses my almost violently.

  My hands rise from his shoulders, to his jaw, to his hair. I’ve completely lost control of myself.

  God, I haven’t made out through clothes since high school. There’s a lot to be said for it. This is so hot.

  I can feel my orgasm building, back, forth, deeper and deeper. His lips, his smell, his teeth on my neck… the whole combination is fucking lethal.

  “Brock,” I pant.

  He smiles up at me, satisfaction written all over his face.

  Talk me out of this. Say something that will make me leave. “Say something,” I breath as I rock.

  He smirks as he watches me ride his dick like a woman possessed. “No. I’ll pretend to be a gentleman.”

  I frown at him in question, and for a moment my arousal fog lifts. I need to know what else he might say. “What would you say if you weren’t a gentleman?”

  His eyes flash with arousal, as if that’s the very question he has been waiting for. He slides his right hand out of the back of my tights, and in one quick movement, he puts it down the front and then slides his two thick middle fingers into my dripping wet sex.

  Oh God.

  Both of our mouths fall open; his in pleasure, mine in shock. Our eyes are locked.

  “I would tell you that I want you to contract that beautiful, tight cunt around my fingers.” He pumps me hard and I cry out. “Earn it,” he growls, pumping me so hard again with his fingers that my legs come up automatically.

  It’s near painful, but God damn, the burn is good. “B-brock,” I pant heavily.

  What the actual fuck is happening here? I’m in a gym bathroom, being dirty-talked and finger-fucked by a God.

  My face scrunches up as I look down at him. This is too much. I’m too turned on. This is too public.

  I don’t even fucking know this guy.

  As if sensing my fear. “Kiss me,” he whispers up at me. My lips take his again, and this time his kiss is soft and tender. He slowly fucks me with his thick fingers, my legs are splayed open over his parted thighs.

  “You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs against my mouth.

  That’s it, I can’t take it anymore. I spiral out of control and clench hard around his fingers. Brock growls in appreciation as I come in a rush.

  My body jerks violently, forcing me to release a throaty moan as he continues his onslaught. His large fingers slowly circle through my dripping flesh. I’m swollen and tender.

  We kiss, and it’s not a crazy arousal kiss. It’s a kiss of appreciation, as if somehow, he already knows that I’m not the type of girl who would normally ever do this sort of thing.

  Our lips are locked, and I smile against him. “What… the hell?” I pant. “What just happened?”

  He looks up at me as he licks his lips, and I know he’s contemplating his next words. His hair is dishevelled and arousal dances in his eyes like fire.

  “I’m not having sex in a gym,” I whisper.

  “Then come home with me.” His eyes are fixed on my lips, and I know he’s still rock hard under those shorts.

  “I don’t even know you,” I whisper.

  “What a perfect way to get to know me.”

  I smile shyly, and we kiss again. Sense returns at once. Leave. Now. I stand, and he stands too, leaving our faces only millimetres apart. My heart is still racing from my orgasm. “I have to go. I had no idea the kind of medical service you were offering for a skinned knee.”

  “You got the intensive treatment.” He lifts my chin with his pointer finger and brings my face up to meet his. “It’s nice to meet you, Tully Pocket.” He kisses me softly.

  I smile as mischief shines through. “The pleasure was all mine… literally.”

  “Bitch,” he whispers with a cheeky grin.

  I look to the door. “I have to get going.”

  He frowns. “Are you really going to leave me in this state?” He points to his crotch.

  I smile and kiss him quickly. “Lucky for you, you have a good imagination and can easily imagine my lips around your cock. Finish the job for me when you get home.”

  “Tully,” he groans.

  I take off, leaving the bathroom and hearing the door bang behind me.

  Jesus, I’ve got to get out of here before he talks me into going home with him. I power walk to the shelves where my bag is waiting at the front.

  Did that really just happen?

  I pick up my bag and head for the front door when I hear the bathroom door bang open. “Tully Pocket!” Brock calls.

  I close my eyes with my back to him. Damn it, I nearly got out of here. He jogs the length of the gymnasium until he’s close to me, and I turn to face him.

  “I’ll see you here tomorrow night?” he asks hopefully. “Same time?”

  I stare at him for a moment and bite my bottom lip.

  He cringes suddenly. “Oh, shit. I can’t tomorrow night. I have a thing on for my sister’s birthday.” He thinks for a moment. “I’ll see you here Thursday night?”

  I stare at him.

&
nbsp; “Nine o’clock.”

  “How many women do you pick up at the gym?” I ask.

  He smiles softly. “Only one. You.”

  I fold my arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to tell the truth.

  “No, seriously.” He laughs. “I have never done anything like this before. Not in a gym, anyway.”

  I roll my eyes and try to act unimpressed, but I soon have to turn to hide my smile. “Goodbye, Brock.”

  “Where’s my goodbye kiss?”

  I turn and blow him a kiss. He pretends to catch it and then plants it on his face.

  Our eyes linger on each other as the air crackles between us. He smiles softly as he watches me. My stomach flips as I walk away from him.

  There is something about this guy. Could be the white-hot orgasm he just gave me, of course.

  Damn. Go home, whore bag.

  With renewed determination, I turn towards the door.

  “See you Thursday, Tully Pocket!” he calls.

  “Why do you call me that? I’m not a pocket,” I ask as I walk away.

  “I could think of lots of things to put in you.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. Dirty bastard.

  I leave the gym and walk out and get into my car. After I start the engine, I sit for a moment in the dimly lit parking lot and I smile goofily through the windshield as I grip the steering wheel with both hands.

  What the actual fuck just happened?

  I place a drop of the solution onto the glass and smear it across the film. I wait for a moment, and then bend to inspect it through the microscope. I smile as the computer in front of me runs its cross checks. It reads as a 99.5% match… finally!

  “Got him.”

  “You do?” Rourke frowns from his place on the workbench beside me.

  “Yep.” I bend to see the microscopic molecules bounce around on the glass film in front of me.

  “Let me see,” he says, barging in front of me.

  I move to the side and Rourke looks through the microscope, a slow smile creeping on his face before he turns to me and we high five.

  “He did it.” I look through the microscope again. “I fucking knew he did it.”