“That’s it, darling. That’s my perfect girl. Ride it out, keep coming, love.”

My bones melt, warmth spreading through me like melted butter as I come down from my release. I can no longer hold myself up, so I fall forward onto Ren’s awaiting chest. Like I’m nothing more than a ragdoll, he flips me over and covers my body with his. Hehoists one of my legs over his hip as he drives into me, nuzzling his face against my neck. His ragged breath is hot against my skin when I feel him swell inside of me.

“Coming,” he moans as he seizes, filling me with his release while somehow managing to kiss my neck as he shakes through his orgasm. I’ve never gone without a condom before, and the sensation of his cum inside me is not something I expected to enjoy so much. He lets his weight settle on to me, his chest pressing against mine. The erratic beat of his heart against my skin anchors me to the moment, and I circle my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through the sweat slicked curls at his hairline.

“Ren,” I say, my voice a hoarse whisper.

“Kira, darling,” he breathes against my neck, rocking back so his softening cock slides out of me, our cum following and leaking down my thigh.

“I never knew how much I’d love feeling like a creampuff,” I say, licking the shell of his ear and relishing the feel of him shivering on top of me. And then that shiver turns into a shake as he begins to laugh. His laughter triggers mine, and before I know it I’ve got tears running down my face and a cramp in my side.

“That was so not sexy, Kira.”

“No, but it made you laugh, didn’t it?” I say, echoing the words he’d said to me at James and Georgie’s wedding.

“You. Are. Ridiculous.” He punctuates each wordwith a kiss along my collarbone. “I absolutely adore you.”

I think I could so easily fall in love with you.I think as he continues to ravish my body with kisses, driving us both crazy until he’s hard and sliding back into me, fucking me until we’re too tired to do anything but collapse into each other’s arms and sleep.

20

KIRA

“In thirty seconds, our warmup is over, and our first interval begins. I want you sprinting like there’s only two minutes left at happy hour and you’re at the opposite end of the bar with an empty glass. One minute all out sprint with a one-minute recovery jog on the other side. You laced up your sneakers and logged in for a sixty-minute high intensity intervals run this morning, I want to see what you’ve got. Heads up, tits up, let’s fuck it up, bitch!”

A remixed version of ‘Tequila’ by Dan + Shay flows through the speakers of the run studio, and as the beat drops, I cue the class to increase their speed and join me in a sprint on the treadmill. To my right, IronDad, Pops and Dean occupy the first three treadmills (Tía Camila stayed back at the hotel, claiming she’s allergic to cardio before nine in the morning) while a few of my regulars as well as some new faces fill out the rest of the class.

It was a fortunate coincidence that I’d programmed a Country Pop playlist for today’s class, since it’s my dads’ favorite genre. I’ve got some absolute bangers cued up that are going to make Pops, IronDad, and the rest of my students lose their minds while their heart rates spike.

I hit the speed knob on my treadmill, upping it by half a point to try to mask some of the exhaustion I’m feeling. I barely got any sleep last night, opting to spend my time wrapped up in Ren instead. And then when I fell asleep, I was awoken by an intense, earth-shattering orgasm ripping through me as Ren rocked his cock inside of me from behind, cuddling me while playing with my clit like some kind of sexy pleasure-cocoon. I mentioned that I’d always fantasized about waking up that way, and damn, did my man deliver.

My body is the best kind of sore, the kind where my muscles are just on edge enough that the increased blood flow in my body feels delicious. I can feel the sex haze all over me. While I was getting ready for class, I noticed the way my skin was glowing and my eyes were sparkling, despite my lack of rest.

I matched my outfit to the way I feel, picking out my sparkliest, disco-ball reflective leggings and matching sports bra to wear on camera today. And even though it’s not my hottest set–I had to be a little demure with my family in the room–knowing that Ren is watching the live production feed makes me feel all kinds of sexy.

“Five, four, three, two, one…recover. Incline goes up. Up, up, up, all our recoveries are on a hill today. We’re recovering on a hill! I said what I said. You’ll thank me when you can sprint faster on a flatter road. You’re welcome.”

Unlike teaching on the bike or even in the strength studio, running requires more of my focus on my breath and coordination, so I’m not as chatty in these classes. But I certainly make time to connect with my students, give shoutouts to people celebrating birthdays and milestones, and pick on my brother as the minutes pass.

“I’m calling today’s playlist a C-U-N-T-ry pop playlist, because every single one of these songs and every single one of you running with me today is serving exactly that–cunt!” I say as Tanner Adell plays overhead. This class is certainly getting an explicit label, which not all the Spin Sync members love, but oh well. I am who I am.

When we break the halfway point of class and reach our longest recovery, I signal for the production crew to focus a camera on my dads and brother.

“Look at that, Spin Sync. We’ve got a legend in the building. Heisman Trophy recipient, seven-time Lombardi Trophy winner, seven-time offensive player of year, 1998 Man Of The Year Award recipient. The absolute GOAT quarterback, greatest of all damn time. You know him as Jay The Killer from the Knoxville Crushers, but I’m lucky enough to call him dad. Give it up for my IronDad, Jay McKenna!”

The room erupts in cheers as IronDad waves like apageant queen. He’s always been so great at the fame-aspect of his career. He’s the perfect combination of humble and self-assured.

“And next to him, the man behind the man, the first athletic trainer to win the Hall of Fame’s Award for Excellence, the brain behind all of IronDad’s brute. Let me hear you make some noise for my Pops, Keith McKenna.”

Pops blushes as the room gives him the same warm embrace as IronDad. He prefers to be on the sidelines, but I’m damn proud of my dad, so I always make a point to shout him out as well.

“What about me?” Dean calls out over the music, and I roll my eyes.

“Oh yeah. My dickhead brother is here, too. Anyway, recovery is over. Take your speed up, we’re headed into our tabata section. Meet me at eight miles per hour if you also want to be faster than a professional football player.” My brush off of thecurrentCrushers quarterback with three of his own Lombardi trophies under his belt earns me an outburst of laughter from the class and a sweat towel tossed at my head from the man in question.

The rest of the run flies by, and by the time the second-to-last song ends, I’m practically squealing for the last working track of the class. I’m not alone, either. The opening notes of Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like A Woman” plays, and it’s like every person in class got a second wind. The energy is infectious.Everyone in the room is singing as they run. Everyone except…

“Dean, you better not disrespect Shania like this! Let me hear you sing, baby!”