Page 21 of Kiss-Fist
He stares at my hands and then flicks his gaze up to my eyes. ‘No.’
I grin at that, loving how his fingers move. They’re sexy hands. I want to suck on each finger.
But I don’t. That would be weird and probably against the gym rules, if not the law.
Instead, I point to the treadmill again, and he sighs, stepping up and letting me brush against him while I get the machine moving. His legs start to move, little taps of his feet accelerating as I slowly turn up the speed.
His hands move to the bars, and he holds on, his gaze moving to me and then back to the numbers. ‘Too fast,’ he signs with one hand.
I shake my head and chuckle. ‘No. You fine.’
He stares at me and then shakes his head. He looks slightly impressed that I know so much sign in such a short time. I’m impressed myself, but I also have a great motivation. He’s my motivation. Zev would be proud.
Or maybe pissed off that it wasn’t him who inspired me. Whatever, at least I’m doing it.
I watch him move, his body hunching forward, and I can’t help but slip in behind him, standing on the unmoving edges of the machine. I reach out and thrust his hips forward with my hands, making him stand up straighter.
He lets out a surprised gasp, and I feel my fingers tighten on him. He didn’t expect that.
I didn’t either. I don’t usually touch clients so much. But it’s hard not to when we can’t communicate fluidly and also because, well…I want to.
And it seems hewants me to as well.
He doesn’t move away or tell me to stop. Instead, he seems to lean back slightly. As much as he can while moving on a treadmill, anyway.
After a few minutes of torture, I hop down and meet his surprised gaze.
‘Don’t—’ I bend forward and mime walking.
He nods and squares his shoulders, straightening his back almost comically.
I reach forward and turn up the speed, making him give me another cute huff, and I grin at him, giving him a thumbs-up. He glowers, and I have to dig my toes into my shoes to stop myself from hopping up and kissing him right then.
I willnotdo that.
That would be unprofessional. I’d have to fire myself.
I manage to restrain my urges. I just stand there and watch him walk briskly on the treadmill for ten minutes, my eyes sliding down to his bouncing cock a few times because I can’t help myself. Then, after I’m sure he’s gone on long enough, I turn the machine off, letting him fall against me.
Maybe this is the other reason I wanted him to do this. I like catching him. I’m low-key obsessed with how he feels in my arms.
He pushes away from me after a long, drawn-out second and signs an apology, but I brush it off. He can press against me anytime he wants. Really. I wouldn’t mind it.
I nod toward the weights, and he groans.
It makes something inside of me combust. That sound is detrimental. It really should be illegal. He should not be allowed to make those sounds in public.
Only in private.
As I thrust into his ass.
My fingers wrap around his warm wrist, and I tug him forward. When we get to the weights, I pick out the four-pound one again and hand it to him. He growls, and I grin even wider.
Fuck, he’s so cute. Like really. He has no right to be this delicious.
He shakes his head and points to a bigger weight.
I arch an eyebrow and then sign, ‘No.’
