Thrust

by Victoria Ashley

  I face toward the wall of mirrors and do as he says. I can’t help but to notice him biting his bottom lip as he watches me. It’s almost as if he’s tasting me with his intense stare.

  “Watch yourself when you move, Calla, not me. See how you control your body.”

  I pull my eyes away from him and watch myself in the mirror, feeling slightly hot from the way he demands control.

  He takes me through four different exercises, doing counts of twenty each, three different times, before he switches it up and ends it with jumping rope for five minutes and holding a plank for one minute.

  By the time he is done with me I’m covered in sweat and my legs are so wobbly that I feel like I’m going to walk into a wall and smash my face into the mirror. What a sight that would be . . .

  I’m standing here, trying to catch my breath, when Kyan appears in front of me with a water bottle. “Drink.”

  I grab it from him and begin to drink it. I notice him watching me with a smile when I pull the bottle away. Yes I’m aware of the water that is covering the front of my face and chest, but is it polite to make it known that you notice? I just worked my ass off. I’m hot.

  With a confidence in his step, he closes the distance between us and grabs the back of my neck, looking down into my eyes. “You look beyond sexy when you’re wet, Calla. I would love to lick every last drop of water from your body.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and hovers his mouth above mine. “Are you free tomorrow for the shoot?”

  Fighting to catch my breath and not fall over, I shake my head. “No. I have a gig tomorrow. I’m not free till Monday.”

  “Perfect,” he says. “I’ll see you then.”

  Then, just like that, he unlocks the door and walks away, leaving me breathless and desiring his touch.

  Stupid gym bag guy . . .

  I HAD TO WALK AWAY when I did. I was more than tempted to kiss her and lick the mixture of water and sweat from her neck and breasts. I can’t do that yet, not until I know that she’s willing to keep things solely on a sexual level. I want to please her . . . not hurt her. Until then, I’ll keep my hands off of her beautiful body.

  Mitch, one of my personal trainers, comes into my office as I’m closing down my computer and grabbing for my things. He watches me carefully before speaking. “Are you done for the day?”

  I look up as I shove Calla’s paperwork into my bag. “Yeah. I think you and Erica have it. You have three employees coming in at noon and another three at four. You know where to reach me.”

  He follows me out of my office as I close it behind me and lock it. “Were you doing personal training back there?”

  “Yeah.” My eyes linger toward the back room to see Calla walking through the gym, checking out the equipment. I feel bad for not taking the time to show her around, but I can’t be around her too much until I can touch her. It’s too painful, physically.

  “You don’t do personal training,” Mitch says with a lopsided grin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

  I stop walking and look him straight in the eyes. “No. She’s my first and only client. Don’t question my decisions.”

  He takes a step back. “Sorry, boss. I didn’t mean any harm. Just trying to be friendly.”

  I let out a grunt and walk away. Friendly my ass. You want to fuck her just like I do. The difference in him and I is that I am willing to pleasure her in ways that this young dick hasn’t even had a chance to learn. I fuck for her pleasure. That’s what drives me. This fucker is nineteen and has slept with half of his trainees, only being sure to get himself off I’m sure.

  Setting my Harley in my sights, I secure my bag, before mounting her and pulling my helmet on. A nice, long ride is what I need right now before I find myself standing outside of her door, rock hard, and ready to hold her on my shoulders so she can mount my face.

  The way her pussy looked in those tight little yoga pants didn’t get past me, and I could smell her body as she started to sweat. That beautiful place between her legs was wet all right, and I have a feeling that it wasn’t only due to her workout.

  Monday . . . I’m going to have her taste all over me.

  I STILL CAN’T GET OVER my workout session with Kyan on Saturday. His amber eyes watched me as if he wanted to taste me and I loved the way his sexy lips spoke to me. His voice is so strong and seductive. Doesn’t he realize what he does to a woman?

  I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. My phone goes off and a text from an unknown number comes through; maybe that’s about to change. The words make it clear that Kyan has taken down my number from the front desk. You would think that in an upscale building like this they would be stricter on the privacy of their tenants.

  Kyan: I’ll see you in 3 hours. Apartment 1020. Wear something comfortable or nothing at all. ;)

  I stare at my phone for a second before responding. I said I was free to photograph today. How does he know I’m not busy for the next four or five hours? He’s demanding, and oddly I find it refreshing and sexy.

  Me: Very funny. I’ll definitely be wearing something . . . and I may or may not be free at seven. You’ll know if I show up.

  I get an immediate response as if he was already typing out his message before I even replied.

  Kyan: I’ve got everything you need. Just bring your camera.

  Not bothering to respond, I smile to myself as I set my phone down on the living room floor and continue to unpack the box I’m working on. He’s so certain that I’m showing up, so there is use in fighting it. Three hours will give me enough time to finish unpacking, eat, and take a quick shower.

  Tori and I spent most of yesterday at the Miller Wedding, but came home late and got a lot of unpacking done. Luckily, we’re down to about four more boxes. Thank goodness!

  “Hey woman!” I yell.

  Something comes flying at me from the kitchen. “Do you really have to yell? I’m like ten feet away.”

  I look beside me at the spatula now lying on the floor. I pick it up and toss it back in the kitchen. “I’m starving. What do you want to do for dinner tonight? We can go downstairs to the bar. The food smelt pretty good when I went there on Friday night.”

  “Sounds good to me. I just want some really good chicken wings. I don’t really care where they’re from.”

  I pull the last DVD from the box and shove it onto the shelf. “Mmm. That sounds really good right now.” I push the empty box aside and go to join Tori in the kitchen. “What’s left in here? If I don’t eat within the next hour I will cry. I’m that hungry.”

  Reaching above her to place some plates in the cabinet, she tilts her head back and turns it to the left of her. “That box right there. It’s full of all the stupid pans. That’s the last box for the kitchen.”

  “Good. Let’s just finish the kitchen, go eat, and then we’ll finish the other boxes before I take off for my shoot.”

  Tori freezes from reaching into the box and spins on her heels to look at me. I may have forgotten to tell her that little detail. “What shoot?”

  I shrug my shoulders at her while ripping the tape off the box of pans. “Kyan . . . the guy I met at the bar on Friday.”

  “Yeah.” She pushes my shoulder. “Go on.”

  Ignoring the fact that she’s standing directly over my shoulder like a damn creeper, I start putting the pans away. “He’s my personal trainer. A local author asked him to be on her book cover and he asked me to photograph him.”

  “What!” She shrieks. “You get to photograph this cute, good smelling guy that you didn’t kiss and you didn’t even bother to tell me about it?” She slaps me in the back of the head with a whisk.

  I whip my head in her direction with my mouth open in shock. “You, hooker. You just hit me.”

  She hits me again, but on the shoulder this time. “And you kept something from me. We’re even.”

  “You think at least,” I say barely above a whisper.

  She looks down at me now holding a wo
oden spoon. “What was that?”

  I grin up at her. “Nothing. Let’s hurry up so we can eat. Being hungry is brewing a love/hate relationship with you.”

  “I second that,” she mumbles. “So stop talking so much and work.”

  I TOSS MYSELF DOWN ONTO my bed with a full tummy. Dane was downstairs at the bar and he recommended the garlic wings and garlic wedges. HOLY shit they were delicious! I don’t know who the chef was, but I so would have kissed him if he showed himself. He didn’t, so I settled with kissing Dane on the cheek since he was only the one that suggested them.

  Rolling over flat on my stomach, I look down at my phone to check the time. We stayed down at the bar longer than expected. I have less than forty-five minutes before I have to be at Kyan’s.

  His words, wear something comfortable, run through my head as I stand in front of my closet. Maybe I should just surprise him and go with his second option: nothing at all.

  I laugh at the thought, trying to picture his face if I were to show up like that. I wonder what would happen. Would he throw me across his bed and give me the best fucking of my life, or would he laugh at me and send me home to put some clothes on? The second thought gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  That would be humiliating.

  Standing in the shower, I start to picture the first option: him coming to his door and let’s say . . . shirtless. Yeah, that sounds good. He comes to his door shirtless, wearing only a pair of snug fitting jeans.

  Closing my eyes, I start to touch myself, slowly massaging my clit. I’m surprised at how sensitive it feels already.

  He notices me standing in his doorway naked, so he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his apartment . . . or maybe he just tosses me over his shoulder like a caveman. He does seem a bit on the rough side.

  I start to rub myself harder and faster as more thoughts and scenarios of Kyan run through my head. It doesn’t take long before my legs become shaky and I find myself holding onto the wall, panting as my orgasm washes through me.

  “Oh wow. Oh wow,” I repeat, breathless.

  A stupid grin tugs at my lips as I lean my head against the shower wall. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced an orgasm that quick. It sometimes can take up to twenty minutes. That’s no fun.

  I jump when I hear the toilet flush. “Shit!” I poke my head out of the shower door to Tori washing her hands. “What the hell? How long have you been in here?”

  She smiles while drying her hands on the pink and brown towel. “Oh wow! Oh wow!”

  Grunting, I turn the shower water off. “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” I can’t help but to smile at Tori’s face as she makes an O with her mouth. “Laugh all you want, but it felt good as shit; probably even better than those half-assed ones that Brad gives you.”

  Her face turns serious. “Shit. I told you about those?”

  Reaching for my towel, I laugh and nod my head. “Yup! All I have to do is give you a bottle of wine and you like to talk.” I get in her face and start moving my hand as if it is her mouth. “Talk. Talk. Talk. I’d be careful if I were you.”

  I push her with my hip and walk past her. “Maybe Brad should get his lazy tongue checked out. Aren’t there some kind of tongue exercises he can do for crying out loud?”

  “I wish,” she mumbles.

  “I need to get ready for my photography date.” I grin, and walk away, leaving her probably hating Brad and his unsatisfying tongue. Strangely, that leaves me satisfied.

  Holding my camera, I run my hand down the front of my white shirt. He said to dress comfortably, so I did. I settled on a pair of cut off denim shorts, a loose shirt, and a pair of my worn out Chucks. I have my thick hair pulled to the side in a loose ponytail. Swallowing, I knock.

  It only takes a few seconds before Kyan is standing before me looking even sexier than the last couple times I have seen him. How is that even possible? He’s magic, that’s how. I wonder what kind of spells he can work with his tongue . . .

  He’s dressed in a black V-neck shirt that hugs his broad chest so perfectly that I start to believe that shirt was made specifically for him. Lowering my gaze, my eyes widen as they take in the way his thick legs look hugged in his dark, form-fitting jeans.

  He rests his arm above him in the doorway and I unknowingly lift an eyebrow as his shirt slightly lifts, revealing a thin happy trail, leading into the top of his black boxer briefs.

  “Ms. Reynolds,” he says with a knowing smirk. “Looks like you were free after all.” He steps away from the doorway, allowing me to enter.

  I take a few seconds to look around as he closes and locks the door behind us. Setting my camera down onto the marble counter top, I walk over to the black, plush couch and push down on a cushion. “Oohhh . . .”

  He gives me an amused smile. “It feels even better when you lay on it . . . especially when you’re naked, in the dark, just closing your eyes and getting lost in your thoughts.” He looks up to meet my eyes. “I find myself doing that a lot after a long, hard day at work.”

  I suck in a breath and try to hide my silly grin as I picture just that in my head. “I can imagine,” I say.

  “I’m sure you can.” He walks into the kitchen and reaches above him in the cabinet. “I’m going to have a beer while we work. Will wine work for you? I’m not sure if beer is your thing.” I hear a hint of humor in his voice, so I make a face at him before nodding my head.

  When he walks back into the living room, he sets a glass of red wine down onto his coffee table before handing me a piece of printed paper.

  “Those are her visions for the shoot. I already know what she wants me to wear so as long as you can pull off the rest . . .” He pauses to take a swig of his beer. “Then everything is all good.”

  I swallow hard as my eyes scroll over the words on the paper. I’ve never, and I mean as in ever done a photo shoot so exposed and personal before. According to this piece of paper I’ll be photographing him in two different places: a white room, and in his bed. What he will be wearing . . . now that is his little secret and for me to find out, but from the covers I’ve seen floating around these days; I’m going to guess it’s going to leave me sweating my ass off and wiping drool from my chin.

  Reaching for my glass of wine, I smile nervously and lift it to my lips. I take a long swig before wiping my mouth off. At least it’s not drool. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Kyan watches me over his beer as he tilts it back. He sets the bottle down next to my glass. “We’ll start with the white wall.” He nods to the open door to our right. “I have a tripod set up and all the necessary equipment that you’ll need to get the right angles. I wanted to make it as easy on you as possible.”

  “Perfect,” I say, trying to sound as professional as possible. “I’ll go set up my camera while you get ready.”

  Quickly, I reach for my camera and hurry into the white room. There’s nothing in here except for camera equipment. I hear Kyan enter the room, but I focus on turning on my camera and getting it placed in the tripod.

  I hear him shuffling around and getting ready. When I look up again, I see him pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Of course my eyes have a mind of their own and I end up checking him out in slow motion as he stands there shirtless, his tight muscles flexing as he leans against the wall, waiting for me to pull my shit together.

  I’ve never seen a man with such a beautiful body in my life. The last time I have been this fascinated with a man’s body was in high school. Hunter . . . That was one fine man. Now, it’s with my neighbor and damn personal trainer.

  I may have released a little moan when his V of muscles appeared as he tugged his jeans down to where he wanted them.

  I will not run over there and lick them. I will not run over there and lick them . . .

  I shake my thoughts off and start giving him orders. I am pleased with every single shot that I take. That never happens. Kyan is just so naturally sexy that it takes no
effort for him to pose, making it easier to feel professional. I quickly get into it.

  I tell him to bring his left arm to the right side of his head and look at me through his arm, and he does. The way his body is placed, all of the right muscles flexed and on display are fucking flawless.

  “Perfect,” I say a little breathy. “Now stand with your back facing the wall and bend your right arm over your head. He flexes his jaw and gives me a seductive look as I snap a few pictures. “That’s so good, Kyan. You’re a natural.”

  We do a few more poses before I decide that we’re ready for the next session of the shoot. We’ve been working on the white wall shoot for nearly forty minutes now and we have well over a hundred good shots.

  Kyan is watching me with a lazy smirk as I look down at my camera. “I guess the next spot is in my bedroom. Not many girls get invited in there.” He tugs on the end of my ponytail as his eyes roam over my body. “Good thing you dressed comfortably. You need to be flexible for this part.”

  I watch the way his ass and back muscles move as he exits the room. “Holy shit,” I say to myself. I pull my shirt away from my chest as I get an instant rush of heat through my body. He does this on purpose; uses the perfect words to make a girl sweat bullets. He’s sexy, smooth, and successful; the perfect blend of trouble.

  I stop in his doorway and watch him as he undoes his jeans and tugs at his zipper. His eyes meet mine and stay there, as he drops his jeans and kicks them aside. I can’t help but to take notice of his thick thighs and how they flex whenever he moves.

  Drool . . . don’t expose yourself now.

  He walks over to stand in front of me and reaches for my camera, setting it down on the foot of his bed. It sinks into the thick, white blanket and we both watch it before locking eyes again.

  “Show me how you want my boxers.” Grabbing my arms, he places my hands on the top of his briefs.

  “Excuse me?”

  He takes my fingers and hooks them into the front of his black briefs. “Pull them down to where you want them. Show me.”