Page 41 of Reluctantly You

“I hate slow.”

“I know, but that’s how you build up your stamina.”

He waggles his eyebrows at me. “I have excellent stamina.”

My eyes roll and I begin to turn on my music when Emery stops me. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Mitch.”

“Mitch, the badass bitch.”

My lips twitch at that and he watches as I stand on the treadmill and start at a slow pace. He copies me, trying his best, but he taps out after a few minutes, lying on the floor and panting loudly.

He doesn’t move until I finally get off twenty minutes later and then scrambles after me.

“What are we doing now, Mitchy?”

I sigh, realizing that I can’t get rid of this guy. I already told him my name. Seems I’m stuck with him.

“Arms.”

I lead him to a machine and show him how to use it. He oohs and aahs over the amount of weight I can press and when it’s his turn, I make sure there are no weights attached to the machine at all.

He scowls at me.

“You couldn’t even lift five pounds the other day.”

His lips turn up in a smile. “I know. I’m just kidding.” And then he starts to move the machine frantically. The metal bangs dramatically as he pumps his arms, and I sigh.

I slow him down and tell him to work at it a little more carefully. He listens and pretty soon, we’re in an odd little routine. He follows me around to different machines, babbling most of the time about random shit while I try to listen. And when it’s time to leave, he holds out his fist for me to bump.

“I’d hug you, but I don’t think you’d like that.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” I say and then knock my knuckles with his.

He grins and then pulls a lollipop from his pocket and pops it into his mouth.

“See you later, Mitch Bitch!”

People turn their heads to stare at me, but I ignore them, disappearing into the locker room to shower. When I head home, I’m thankful I didn’t run into Gideon. Although, why would he be here on a Friday night? He’s on a date with that guy.

I frown the entire way to my house and only let it dissolve when I go through the door and Shitty Pantaloons rubs up against my ankles. I pick it up and let it nuzzle into my neck.

“It doesn’t fucking matter who he’s out with,” I lie to myself and then head into the kitchen to make myself dinner.

That night I have a dream of him, his hands on my neck, his body between my spread legs. His warm breath hits my cheek as he ruts against me.

“More,” I beg, my body arching into his, vibrating with need.

“Say please,” he rasps, and I feel myself melt in that moment.

“Please, please.”

His hands leave my neck and he pushes my knees up to my chest, and then I feel it, the press of his cock at my hole.

And with a cry, a desperate moan, I open up for him…

I suddenly shoot up in bed, my cock hard and aching, my asshole clenching around nothing.

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