Page 19 of Branded
I grunted as I hooked the bar onto the supports, sweat dripping down my temples, my chest, my back.
Fucking hard work staying in shape.
I just wanted to eat pizza and sushi, lift the TV remote and a beer instead of dumbbells and doing bench presses. I wanted my cardio to be fucking.
There was nothing like having a woman in my lap, her naked body pressed to mine.
Hips and ass and breasts and curves.
Floral-scented shampoo and shining brown hair, bright green eyes.
Okay, I wanted Kailey in my lap, Kailey naked in my bed. But…she didn’t like me. I needed to realize that, get over it.
Sure.
Tell that to my dick that had woken me up at four in the morning, rock hard and weeping after I’d spent most of the night dreaming about Kailey and what she’d look like naked and in my bed…naked and coming in my bed.
There was a reason I was in the weight room, lifting until my arms shook, running on the treadmill until my legs felt like rubber, and the sun wasn’t even up yet.
Practice that day was going to be hell.
But…I had to do something.
And if exercising until my dick got soft was the only something I could think of, then so be it. My body would appreciate it as the season went on.
Stay strong.
Stay healthy.
Stay—
My cock twitched.
Hard, apparently.
Sigh.
Wiping my face with a towel, I stood, moved out of my weight room (which was really just my office with my desk shoved into one corner that I’d stopped using as an office because I always ended up doing any work on my couch, my laptop—and sadly, not a woman—plunked on my lap). Up the stairs to my bedroom and into the shower, giving in approximately thirty seconds after stepping into the scalding stream, wrapping my fingers around my cock, gripping tight, stroking fast and hard, coming in an embarrassingly short amount of time considering I’d done just this same thing after getting back from my hike the night before.
Four hours and I could barely hold out for a minute?
I was in trouble.
Especially since I was fantasizing about a certain green-eyed brunette who wanted nothing to do with me.
I’d barely come, but just those green eyes appearing in my mind was enough for my cock to get hard again.
Cute.
As in, I was either going to walk around with permanent blue balls, or I was going to get tendinitis from whacking it so much to relieve it.
Ignoring my dick—because short of getting to work on that tendinitis, that was all I had. Embrace the blue balls, Smitty! That’s all you’re going to get!
Why did my inner asshole always sound like the announcers at the rink?
No clue.
Except that hockey had been my life for so long that I pretty much always thought in references.
