Page 19 of Jacked
How would I actually know if I wanted to suck a dick?
I can’t exactly remember back before I ever ate pussy desperately wanting to do that. I just knew I wanted to be close to pretty women, that the thought of a woman coming got my dick hard. But, if I’m beingreallyhonest with myself, my dick was pretty damn hard last night thinking about AJ coming too.
Shit.
I sputter a laugh at myself, stopping on the sidewalk to rub my hands over my face. Okay, I’m probably overthinking this. Maybe I should call Cas or Nolan and get their opinion on the whole thing. They would know, right?
Except as soon as I reach for my phone, I think about that damn candy bar again and how telling Nolan about it turned it from something fun and exciting into something I felt guilty about. I went back to the stupid store the next day and left money on the counter when the cashier wasn’t looking.
I lower my hands again and realize I’m standing right in front of Sweat. Through the huge windows I can see that the place is packed this morning. AJ is with a guy, I’m assuming a client, standing over him while he does burpees. I chuckle at the torturehe’s inflicting. I was right there yesterday while he shouted encouragement over my curses.
As if he can feel my attention on him, AJ looks over his shoulder and his eyes meet mine through the window. My heart stops for half a second, and then a crooked smile stretches over his lips and it starts back up again as a distinct feeling of relief whooshes through my body. He raises an eyebrow at me in question, and I grin right back before finally reaching for the handle to pull the door open.
I’m definitely overthinking things. Besides, AJ isn’t gay. He’s as straight as they come. The broest bro I’ve ever met.
Maybe there’s a teeny, tiny, minuscule chance that I’m not one hundred percent straight, but so what? Does it even matter? If I’m ninety-nine percent straight, that’s still pretty damn straight. Obsessing about it isn’t going to help anything; it will make shit weird between us.
I’m just going to chill and I’m sure everything will be perfectly fine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SLATER
I don’t wantto bug AJ while he’s with a client, so I grab a towel off of the rack and make a beeline for the section of the gym with all the weight machines where I won’t need a spotter. My mad pec envy over AJ’s massive muscle tits has me plunking my ass down at the first open chest press I come across. I adjust the weight and start my first set of reps, grunting softly through each press. Normally I just kind of pick a spot on the wall to stare at while I work out, but I guess I haven’t managed to completely shake the thoughts from earlier, because I catch my eyes wandering.
The leg press is directly in my line of sight, and my attention snags on the beefed-up dude currently using it. His shorts probably fit tight at the best of times, but in this position, reclined on the leg press with his thighs flexing and bulging with each rep, he might as well be wearing a thong. His thighs are so damn thick I wouldn’t be surprised if he could crush a pumpkin between them. My heart rate jumps and a distinctly excited feeling buzzes through my veins like a shot of adrenaline.Do I wish I had pumpkin-crushing thighs or do I wish I was the pumpkin?
I keep staring at his thighs while I finish my first set of reps, and when I pause, I glance up towards his face and notice him watching me right back.Oops, busted. I give him an apologetic smile and pray that he’s not the kind of guy to get all bent out of shape about that kind of thing. The look he gives me back definitely doesn’t look offended though. It’s kind of… aggressively horny.
Shit.
I swallow hard and dip my head, reaching for my towel and pretending that wiping my face requires a hell of a lot more focus than it actually does until I can’t feel the weight of his gaze on me anymore. Okay, I need to be more careful,clearly. My fuckup doesn’t quell my curiosity though. I start my next set of reps and this time I let my attention wander to someone a little farther away, where I’m less likely to get caught. A dude in the squat cage gets into position with the barbell over his shoulders, then hefts it out of its cradle and squats down. In the correct squat position it’s impossible not to notice someone’s ass, but damn his isthicc. Gluteus to the absolute maximus. My mouth waters, and I imagine what it would feel like to sink my teeth into those taut, muscled glutes.
My heart jolts. Okay, that reaction might be a little more damning. But it’s an ass. Ass is pretty gender neutral, isn’t it? Drooling over a dick would be a smoking gun, but a juicy ass? Maybe it’s just a sign that I need to think about trading my hand for an actual living, breathing person in my bed.Womanin my bed.
… right?
I breathe through my reps, counting them out in my head as I watch him. He finishes his set and seats the bar back in place,and then he catches my gaze through the mirror and winks. Dammit, I’m really bad at this.
I whip my head away again as quickly as I can and come face to face with a massive set of pecs. They’re much less hairy than AJ’s, but just as round and perky. Wanting to stick my face between a nice pair of tits isn’t gay just because they happen to be on a dude, is it?
“Trolling at the gym? I can respect that.” I tilt my head back to see Butch’s sunny grin.
“What? I’m not…” I shake my head and let the weights snap back into place with aclang.
“Riiiiight.” He gives me an exaggerated blink with a head tilt that Ithinkis meant to be a wink that seriously jumped the track. “I never try to pull ass at work either.” He says that part loudly, looking over his shoulder towards the guy at the front desk like he’s trying to make sure he’s listening.
The dude at the desk snorts and rolls his eyes.
“Boss?” I guess.
“Andre? Yeah, he owns the place.” Butch takes the chest press next to me. “So, help me wingman you. What’s your type? Who are we scoping for? I might be able to give you some inside info, tell you who’s single, who’s packing the goods, and who’s been hitting the roids a little too hard.” He dips his voice low, all conspiratorial and shit.
“Oh, I seriously wasn’t.” I shake my head again and start on my third set of reps. “I was just…” I use the excuse of needing to breathe through the reps to trail off, but really I have no fucking clue how to explain what I was doing. Checking, I guess? Still not sure where I landed except maybe… confused?
“Sure.” He says again with a smirk.
Should I keep arguing? It doesn’t seem like I’m going to convince him, and maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m checking out guys at the gym? Maybe it’s not somethingI need to defend either way. So I just grunt back and keep counting out my reps.
