Page 76 of Giovanni
“You can touch me all you want when you win.”
I smirk, glancing down at his tiny little Speedo. I have no idea how it’s holding in that giant shaft of his.
“How does all that fit in there anyway?”
As if on cue, his thigh angles out in an adjustment that seems to do more harm than good when his hand plunges into the front of the shiny red fabric.
“It doesn’t,” he grumbles under his breath, something about his muscular thighs, shoving it forward with no space to hang in between them. I merely chuckle, observing him as one of the judges will do.
His body is nothing short of a masterpiece, a testament to his dedication and discipline. Each muscle is defined with precision and sculpted through countless hours of rigorous training. His shoulders are broad and powerful, tapering down to a chiseled chest, sharply defined pectoral muscles, and an unbelievably lean, chiseled waist.
His arms are adorned with veins that map out the effort and dedication poured into every curl and press. His biceps andtriceps are like sculpted marble, hard and defined with strong and sinewy forearms—all a testament to the consistency of endless sessions.
His lats spread like wings, the light and shadow dipping in and out of the depth and definition of each muscle group. His quadriceps bulge with power and definition, hard planes that made giving oral sex to him even hotter with my eyes inches from those broad muscles.
His hamstrings are carved round curves tucked under an insanely hard and high butt that feels like a rock when I attempt to pinch it. The calves he complained and obsessed over, taking the most effort to grow, are perfectly sculpted and symmetrical with his overall body and frame.
Beyond this physical perfection, what truly captivates me is the story of us and how his journey became my journey. I remember early morning workouts, disciplined diets, and the countless sacrifices and surprises he’s made to prioritize my health and his training schedule. That night at the hospital, with plastic candles aglow and a small box with a key, set the course for the best relationship I’ve ever had. We’re a team now.
Something Jenna understands after a chance encounter in the ladies' locker room where I made it a point—to borrow Giovanni’s phrase—is that he is mine, and I am his. She didn’t take too kindly of it, having recently ended her engagement. Yet, she nodded, stuffed her earbuds in, and hustled out of there.
Agreeing never to keep secrets unless it’s Giovanni’s favorite of doling out surprises to me, I told him about the interaction. He gave me an encouraging kiss, saying I deserved to be rewarded more thoroughly when we got home. Any time I stake ownership over him, as primitive as it initially seemed, it makes him feel loved and accepted and very, very horny.
His long fingers pluck at my sweater, plucking me out of my thoughts about him. Glancing down, I notice his things areneatly organized and more compact than before. I meet his gaze with a knowing smile, acknowledging the subtle change.
“And to address what you said a second ago, I plan to touch you all I want when we return home. I already have a tarp down because you and I will play a little slip-and-slide with this oil.”
He returns a knowing smile of his own. Honestly, I won’t put it past him. He’s more resourceful and creative than anyone I know.
“Sounds like you better win, or else I’ll have to go home and sleep alone in my dry, warm bed when we get back to town.”
I hope this banter soothes his nerves as it helps me to stop looking at the dreaded clock and counting down the time until his group steps on stage. As if on cue to release some tension, he starts a series of stretches, targeting his upper body, neck, and arms.
“I can’t believe this day is actually here.”
His chocolate curls are trimmed closer than usual, so ‘his trap muscles look more defined.’ The haircut caught me off guard when he picked me up from work this week. He ran a hand over them, self-conscious that he had his guy take too much off, but I assured him he was still handsome either way. I proved this when I got down on my knees for him, which I’m much more comfortable doing now that I know how he likes it.
“Well, get used to it, O.G. You’re just a few competitions and several months away from the main event.”
His mouth twitches with worry, the same look he gets every time I mention it.
“And yes, I already made the hotel and travel arrangements.”
When I offered to take over the various competition schedules, filing dates, logistics, and deadlines to compile in a spreadsheet, he hugged the life and breath out of me. People are his forte, not paperwork, is what I learned, especially when I sawhis handwriting that first day I met him. It’s as illegible now as it was then.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Kac.”
A sigh loosens from his chest, and his lips roll inward, a sign that he’s getting emotional.
“Luckily, you’ll never know. You’re as stuck with me as you are with our pet shark.”
Jaws lives at his house, seeing as how that key he gave me is used more often than mine. The benefits of him living so close to my office building and the courthouse are endless, especially when I want to dash over, eat lunch, or fool around with him as part of my stress reducer. It’s been especially wonderful since I’ve lost some weight, my blood pressure is lower, and my bloodwork shows improved numbers.
“Our little family,” he murmurs before dipping in for a few kisses as the announcer calls his group overhead. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it. You’ll win.”
I taste the tang of sweat on my lips, a constant scent in the weeks of his training. A wave of emotions surges over me. Anxiety, excitement, and an overwhelming awe at Giovanni and his achievements.
