by Shey Stahl
Destry looked over his shoulder at the dark-skinned man standing to his left. “Adam. My trainer.”
“A trainer with a trainer?” I’ll admit, I was amused with my comebacks this morning. Naturally, Destry was not. He was so hard to please.
Snorting as if he was disgusted, he rumbled, “Like you don’t know who I am.”
Cat’s out of the bag now. “Well, I suppose I know of you, champ.”
His eyes moved slowly around the basement and landed on the ring, processing what I said to him. He walked past me with a scowl, his shoulder bumping mine. “Thought so. Let’s go.”
Go to the scorecards means that after a fight has gone its scheduled number of rounds the judges' score cards will determine the winner. It is also used when there is a fight stoppage due to an accidental headbutt if the fight has gone beyond 4 rounds.
Destry and I finished our run that morning, went a mile and a half before I tried to convince him to drop me off at the hospital. It would be easier that way since I couldn’t breathe. At all.
It wasn’t entirely from the run either. It was from the stretching afterwards. Yeah, stretching with Destry could and would make you breathless.
“Here, let me help you.” Destry reached for my hands to help me stretch out my calf.
It hurt like hell after the run. He had me sit down on the mat and prop my leg up on the stool he sat down on. When he touched my bare legs that I thankfully shaved this morning, shivers ran up my spine. Destry swallowed—with difficulty—it seemed. As soon as he touched me, I flinched.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
He let out a small laugh, trailing his hands up my leg. For a moment, his eyes were trained on mine until I blinked, and he dropped them back down to his hands massaging my calf. He had long fingers. Really long, strong, masculine hands that I imagined could get a good grip on you.
There went my mind.
Gone completely.
I shifted uncomfortably when his thumbs started a slow motion against my calf muscle.
Not only did it hurt, but I wanted his hands higher, and I had no idea why. He was an asshole. Why was I having dirty thoughts about him? Maybe it was because I hadn’t had sex in close to a year?
Yeah, there’s that.
Nothing was said at first. I wasn’t sure he was going to say anything at all. Wouldn’t surprise me either.
“How’s that?” Destry’s voice was quiet, a smile playing at his lips but delivered in a way that made my body tremble. When he spoke the words, it was if they were carefully chosen to have an effect on me.
“Good….” I nearly moaned, my eyes falling shut slightly. No, scratch that. I all-out whimpered the sound of arousal and he knew it.
He had to have known what he was doing to me. Clearing his throat, he shifted his position on the stool. One thing I noticed right then was his attention on me. It was as though he was studying me. And when his eyes dropped, I understood it was very much focused on what he was doing.
I wanted to say something, maybe thank him for being nice for once, but I didn’t. Instead, I was momentarily shocked that he was touching me like this. Or at all. This was Destry we were talking about.
After a moment, his eyes lifted to mine as I remained motionless before him. There was so much I could have said to him right then. Most of it would have been snarky and upset him. In no way did I want him to stop. The way his fingertips moved over my skin and the way the muscle in his forearms worked with each touch, it was too much to take. But not enough for me to stop him.
“You look deep in thought,” he mused, tipping his head to the right.
Uh, hello. I’m thinking about you moving those sexy strong hands higher. Of course I’m lost in thought.
“It hurts.”
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was low, and I let out another breathy sound.
“No, it feels good.” My spine arched, my breasts on display for him.
He looked.
Destry was never shy about looking, even from day one. And it wasn’t the first time he’d checked me out. But it was the first time his eyes seemed to drink in my every curve like I was doing to him.
He continued and curled his fingers around my calf. I wanted to reach out and touch his forearms. I wanted to run my hands over his chest and thread my fingers in his thick dark hair. And would it be too much to have that scruffy jawline meet the V between my legs? I thought not!
As if he’d heard my internal thoughts, his lips quirked into a small smile, dragging his eyes over me from head to toe. “It’s supposed to. Pain can be pleasurable though….”
Oh God, he said that. He went there first and my mind followed.
Sucking in a breath, I rolled my eyes, flinching when he dug his fingertips in, verging on painful. “Sure, it can be… but it’s not right now.”
He let out a long breath when I sighed, the muscles in his arms flexing and the heat in his hands seemed to feel like fire on my skin. Looking down at me, he gave me this scorching gaze and I understood right then why women would fall for him despite the attitude. It was that stare that got them. I was sure of it.
His eyes were so intense, bright blue as his hands splayed over me. There was something about the way his hands held me in place, and I stared at him. He was like the sun when you stared at it. Yeah, the harshness, the brightness burned, but once my eyes drifted his direction, there was no way I could look away. When I blinked, finally relieving the burn, I still saw that same bright image behind my lids, reminding me of the intensity he held.
Blinking slowly, I looked up at him again, my eyes wide, my breath shallow. What the fuck was he doing to me?
And if I had to speculate his reaction, by the heavy breathing and hooded eyes, Destry had the same response and moved his hands higher. His tongue slid over his lower lip and he leaned forward, hunched over my leg slightly.
Look at that tongue. And look at the way that body curves around mine.
Imagine that hovering over your entire body!
For reasons I couldn’t decipher, I wanted to yank him forward and have the weight of his body on mine. I wanted him to take the breath from my lungs and then fuck me. And I really wanted to know what he was thinking.
Why was he staring at me like that? He blinked again, slowly moving his hands higher and settling at my knee, then working back down the outsides of my leg.
When he spoke, his warm breath washed over me. “The muscle is tense. You should ice it tonight. It’ll keep it from cramping up.”
I bit my lip to keep from gasping when he didn’t let up, and then increased the pressure slightly. I flinched and jerked my leg back.
His eyes hardened, his voice low. “Did that hurt?”
The pain from his grip was worth it. I wanted his hands all over me.
Pull my hair too. Go ahead. Pull my fucking hair and spank me!
Good God, I’d lost my mind. “A little,” I squeaked, glancing up, but I couldn’t stay focused on him. No way. My other leg fell open slightly and left me spread eagle before him on the floor.
Destry glanced away, a low rumble in his chest as his jaw clenched, his warm fingers moving even higher above my knee though his words were a goodbye. “Okay… well, I’ll see you Thursday. Ice that leg and get plenty of water and rest.”
What was that? Was he turned on?
You wouldn’t know it, judging by the impassive expression he wore.
Flattening his palms on my leg, he dragged them slowly down until he reached my ankle and then pulled away, his breathing a little heavier than before. He looked like he wanted to say something as he placed my foot back down on the mat, his elbows resting on his knees, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted his hips as if he was uncomfortable.
We stared at each other, neither one of us moving.
Destry quirked an eyebrow at me, then reached for his sweatshirt beside him and put it in his lap, shielding my view of his hips. He went to stand but hesitated and I th
ink I knew why. He was aroused too. Internally, I was jumping for joy. He had to put his sweatshirt in his lap. That meant something, right?
I watched him walk away. When his body was turned the other way, he raised the sweatshirt and slung it over his shoulder. He was hiding something.
A little dumbfounded, I stared at the ring, shaking my head as he disappeared. Flopping back against the mat, I ran my hands over my face.
You’re in deep, Tallan. Deep.
I couldn’t stay on the mat, or here, since I had dinner plans.
As I gathered my sweatshirt and shoes, I wanted to change into jeans since I was meeting Jared and Catie for dinner at the Crab Pot tonight. I didn’t exactly want to change in the middle of the basement, or in that horrific bathroom, but I remembered Destry saying there was a locker room.
What I thought was a back exit was a small hallway that led to what was surely a locker room. Inside was a charcoal wall with about six black metal lockers, two wooden benches and what looked to be two showers lined with dark gray tile. It wasn’t exactly the cleanest of locker rooms, but you could tell it was used regularly and in much better shape than the one by the stairs.
On the bench was Destry’s sweatshirt he’d worn on our run and his black shorts and white Nike shoes. Which meant he was in here.
Walk out right now. What if he’s naked?
All the more reason to stay.
I peeked around the corner to see if he was in the bathroom. There was no one in sight, but I did hear the shower turn on and nearly pissed my pants when a naked, completely naked, Destry stepped inside. He must have been standing on the other side of the wall and hadn’t heard me come in.
Sweet Jesus, look at his body.
My eyes frantically swept over his entire form, memorizing every inch, knowing any second I would leave here and never get to see something this perfectly toned and delicious again. I’d seen recent pictures of Silas and he had nothing on Destry’s body.
Everywhere I looked muscles bulged and skin seemed tight. Unlike Silas, Destry didn’t have any tattoos, which seemed rare these days. Even I had tattoos. But if my body looked like that, I wasn’t sure I would mar it with ink either. His entire body was a work of art—he didn’t need anything else to make him hotter.
I forced my eyes up to his face, cursing the half wall blocking his lower half from the waist down. All I could think about was stripping my clothes away and showering with him. There was no way he’d allow that. Knowing him, he’d humiliate me even more, so staying out here was better.
I almost left. Almost.
That was until he ducked his shoulder, adjusting the water and I saw his bare ass. I might as well have gotten popcorn at that point because there was no fucking way I was leaving this show now.
The first few minutes of the shower were boring as he washed away sweat, his hair, face. And then the moment of truth… his hands traveled lower and I knew damn well what those hands were touching.
Fuck. Yes!
I felt dirty. Scandalous. And guess what? I didn’t care. Not at all.
My breathing slowed and became ragged. I was a voyeur, a sweaty voyeur who needed and wanted to watch everything he was doing. I knew he was doing something with those hands—he had to have been by the way his head fell forward. He moved and leaned back against the wall of the shower.
If only I was taller! Damn it, where were my high heels when I needed them?
There was a stool in the basement.
Would it be weird if I got it and then came back in here?
I didn’t. He could be done by then and I didn’t want to miss a second of the action.
Destry let out a heavy breath, his eyes drifting closed as he shifted again and pressed his back into the wall. Fantastic! Finally, a view I could work with. My eyes traveled down that gorgeous body and lower to where his hands were.
Destry.
Was.
Touching.
Himself.
The sight before me made my mouth go dry. It was like his stare. A vision forever burned in my memory. Words couldn’t do the sight justice. Blazing heat shot through my body when I saw his hand move and stroke over the best-looking dick I’d ever seen. I had seen four but still, he could have been a cock model. And he was shaved, which made me want to run over there and touch the smooth skin over his balls.
What the fuck is happening to me? Had I been denied oxygen for too long during that run? Was the lack of calorie intake causing me to openly gawk at him pleasuring himself? Who was this person in this body of mine?
Standing there, I pressed my thighs together like I was about to wet myself but really, I needed some pressure, friction, anything. Something. My entire body shook as I tried to stay still and not fall on the floor. Am I having heart palpitations? I even had to put my hand against the wall to hold myself up. My fucking knees were going weak. In that moment, I would have done anything for him. He needed a mouth on that dick. Fuck the hand. He needed my mouth.
Look at that man. Toned muscles, hard and perfect all over. What the fuck was Stella thinking?
Goddamn. It was sinful to look that good.
When he started to stroke himself with some determination, his head leaned back against the tile, eyes closed, I was both captivated and guilty. I shouldn’t be watching. But this porn show was too good to pass up.
Sure, it was an invasion of privacy, but I chalked it up to research for the article. Character development. If I was going to write about him, I needed personal details. At least that was what I was trying to convince myself of.
Oh, come on, Tallan. You’re not writing a fucking novel. You’re writing a sports article.
Shut up, I told myself as I watched his powerful hand give himself pleasure I so desperately wanted to help him out with. I had a good look at his entire body now and it was flawless. So fucking flawless I wanted to run my tongue over every smooth surface and suck on him. I’d totally deep throat this guy.
Make me gag, baby!
What in the fuck is wrong with me?
Clearly, I was being deprived of oxygen.
Let’s be honest though, no woman in their right mind would turn away from watching this. They’d be crazy if they did.
For at least ten minutes, I watched him stroke himself. He had some fucking endurance, that was for sure. Imagine how long he could go. And believe me, I was in awe of his ability to drag this out. I was ready to come myself at minute two watching him.
Look at him. Just look at him.
My eyes burned around the steam from the shower and I tried to keep them open. That was when I realized what was happening. He was about to come and my panties were soaked.
Destry’s feet braced wider, his strong body hunched over slightly as his knees bent. His left hand gripped his dick harder, moving vigorously now, the other splayed out against the tile wall. His muscles in his chest tensed, his head bent forward as his hand moved faster between his legs.
He didn’t make any audible sound, but a moment later, he came on his hand and the shower wall. It was unbelievably hot. That was the single most powerful sexy few minutes of my entire life.
My hand covered my mouth when I saw that white liquid cover his hand. I wanted to run over there and lick it up. Was he thinking of me? My mind desperately wanted that. I could barely remain standing after that. My face pressed against the concrete wall when Destry moved under the spray, water beading off his body.
I’d just watched a porno. A good one too. I wanted to run in there, straddle him, and dry hump the guy. And then beg him to fuck me.
That was the day my pussy wanted to be friends with Destry. Good friends. She didn’t care if he was a dick. Even better if he was. That way she wouldn’t have a silly attachment to him. This way I could get some action, yet still get prepared for Silas.
Shit. Look at me making a plan. A fucked-up plan.
I couldn’t focus after that. All I thought about was Destry in the shower. I wasn’t sure how I would ever fa
ce him again let alone not imagine what I saw every time I heard his name.
As quietly as I could, I backed out of the locker room, changed into my jeans, wished I had spare panties, and walked across the street to the Crab Pot. Jared and Catie were already seated near the window overlooking the pier when I approached them.
My appearance was noticeably flushed.
“Rough day at the gym?” Jared eyed me carefully.
I waved my hand around trying to blow it off. “We went for a run and I couldn’t breathe.”
“That’s not from a run. Told you she’s macking on Destry.” Jared burst out laughing, nudging Catie’s shoulder with his own. “She looks like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.”
Oh my God, if they only knew where a hand was five minutes ago and what I’d been watching. I still had the aftereffects of my unsatisfied arousal on my mind and blushed like I was twelve. So busted.
That made them both laugh even harder. Catie even joined in. Where was the girl’s alliance to her friend?
“Seriously, guys, he’s a dick. He hates me. I hate him. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.” Look at me trying to lie my way out of admitting I’d slowly been falling into liking this guy. Of course, watching him jerk off certainly had something to do with it. My cheeks heated at the memory.
Shit, don’t think about that.
“But you are going to still write that article for Marcus on him, right?” Jared inquired.
Trying to focus on anything but Destry naked and his beautiful cock, I sighed. “I honestly don’t know how I can do it. He refuses to discuss anything that doesn’t have to do with burning calories and getting fit.”
Burning calories, yep, my mind went there again.
“How about I see if I can find any dirt on him by seeing if he has an arrest record? That could be a start?” Jared mentioned this while shoving some of the most amazing calamari strips into his mouth as he patted his stomach and grinned.
“Fucking brilliant idea, Jared, and while you are at it, fuck you and that calamari you inhaled. And your abs.” Jared knew exactly what he was doing, the asshole.