Page 130 of Reluctantly You

“What—”

“Relax,” he says and a moment later, I feel the press of something cool against my hole.

“Gideon—” I begin, but he just shushes me as something slides inside of me, past the slackened muscle, plugging me entirely.

“Wear this. Keep me inside of you. For as long as you want.”

I peer up at him and I see his eyes staring at my ass, those dark orbs glinting with pleasure, with lust.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Good boy.”

My chest swells. I am. I’m such a good fucking boy.

And maybe if I can stay this way, he’ll keep me around. Just for a little longer.

I offer him my ass every night after work, after hours, my body bent over his desk, his hips slapping into mine. The way he makes me beg, makes me cum. I’m such a slut for him.

The freak out I was planning on having hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps he’s fucked it right out of me. Perhaps I’ll be okay after all.

“You okay?” Gideon asks me as we stride into the gym.

“Fine,” I say, feeling satisfied, happy. Something I’ve never felt before. I spoke with my therapist about it, not going into too much detail about the actual sex, but came to the conclusion that for the first time in my life, I’m doing what I want. Not what anyone else expects of me.

It’s freeing in a way.

“You sure? I was pretty rough,” he says as his finger curls around mine.

“Yeah. I like it.”

“You do,” he says, his eyes glinting, just as Emery barrels into view.

“Hey, guys!” he shouts as he trips toward us. “Look who I brought with me!”

My eyes swivel and take in a model-worthy man walking next to him—dark blond hair, green eyes, an athletic body.

“This is August,” he says and then sighs. “He found out about my sneaky gym runs after I told him.”

Gideon chuckles and holds out his hand toward August. “Hello, August. I’m Gideon. Emmy and I knew each other years ago.”

“Oh, I told him all about us. He’s been wanting to meet you.”

“He kept forgetting to set something up,” August explains, and then pulls Emery into his side and presses a kiss to his cheek. Emery nearly melts, glancing up at his man with so much affection it hurts my heart.

Will I ever be able to look at someone like that?

Am I even capable of it?

“This is Bitchy Mitchy,” Emery says, and August holds out his hand, his strong grip slipping into mine and squeezing.

“Thank you for helping him with the machines. He told me all about how you’re teaching him how not to die.”

Emery beams at me. “I did so good at not dying.”

“You did,” I reply and then August throws his thumb behind him.

“We’re gonna start with the weights, if you want to join us.”

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