Page 11 of Kiss-Fist
Oh, fuck me. I’m fully erect. It’s tenting my pants. It’s so obvious.
If he looks down, he’ll wonder if I’m suggesting a camping trip. In my pants.
My arms drop to my sides, and I turn around, setting the weights down and subtly trying to stick my dick under my waistband. I fail. It’s so clear what I’m doing. No one can miss it. One buff guy even winks at me from across the room, and I want to melt into a puddle on the floor and slide down the drain.
I need a minute. I need time tocalm down. Not even looking his way, I scuttle toward the locker rooms, my eyes laser focused on where I’m walking so I don’t accidentally run into anyone. When I’m finally inside, I move to an empty row of lockers and press my head against the cool metal.
I’ve lost my mind. Really, I have. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. Maybe I need to get a life.
I stare down at my crotch and sigh.
It seems I may be desperate. Maybe I wrote my thing off with Roman too soon.
A hand taps my shoulder, and I spin around, seeing Thom standing there, concern on his face. His shirt looks even smaller now. I think it shrunk since I arrived. It’s now just a strip of fabric down the middle of his chest and has snagged on his torso, showing off his tiger tattoo and his belly button.
And that little happy trail.
My eyes quickly slam upward and into his. His lips are pursed, and the concern on his face hasn’t abated.
I pull my phone out with trembling hands and quickly type out a message. I have zero desire to try and teach him signs. My patience is paper-thin.
Me: I’m done.
I show it to him, and his lips turn into a frown.
He takes my phone from my hand, his fingers sliding against mine and making me bite down on my bottom lip hard.
Thom: ‘U hut?’
I stare at it and meet his gaze. His eyebrow arches, and I sigh. I honestly don’t know what that means. Hut? Hurt? Sex? Want to have sex with me?
No. Probably hurt.
I shake my head and then signno.
He seems to understand, and he takes a step back. But he doesn’t leave, just continues to stare at me. A second later, he reaches for my phone again and quickly types something out. When it’s back in my hands, I stare down at his message.
Thom: ‘Cum bk when you feel btr.’
Oh god, don’t saycum. For fuck’s sake.
I want to shake my head and sign hell no I’m not coming back here, but I end up just shrugging, noncommittal. That’s the best I can do. Seems I can’t say no to him, which is detrimental to my mental health and sanity.
He seems to accept my shrug and adjusts his hat on his head slightly, showing off his armpits and those biceps again. I’m nearly half-dead by the time I walk to my car.
This was a huge mistake. The biggest one. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off, my legs are overcooked spaghetti, and to top it off, my dick is still hard.
Seems I may be spending my shower time jerking off to Thom, the dimple-having gym bro.
I’ll get a nice forearm workout after all.
CHAPTER THREE
ROBBIE
From the smirkon Rhett’s face, I know he put my coffee that far away on purpose. From the second he noticed my arms shaking this morning, he’s been subtly giving me hell. He’s sneaky like that. Plus, he’s a regular at the gym, thanks to his boyfriend, so there’s a good chance he knows all about those four-pound weights and what they did to me.
And the elliptical.
