The Trainer

by Shey Stahl

Was he fucking serious?

  By the door slamming behind him, he was.

  I can’t say I was pleased about last night and what happened between Destry and me after Stella left. I think I hated the guy more now than I did when I first met him. Like the hate was festering. He called late last night and asked that we workout in the morning because he had plans that night. I said okay but didn’t say much else.

  “Alright, I have a few rules we should have talked about earlier.” He didn’t waste any time going into them either when I got to the bar. “Don’t ask me personal questions.”

  “And?”

  He didn’t look at me when he spoke, instead he stared at the ring to his left. “Don’t waste my time.”

  Why did he have to be so weird all the time?

  “Got it. But let’s be honest here, you wasted my time last night.”

  “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

  Say what? Destry Stone knows how to apologize? Have the stars aligned?

  I would have thanked him for at least acknowledging that he was wrong but I was so annoyed with him at that point I didn’t really give a flying fuck about Destry Stone’s life, or that he apologized. I didn’t want to know anything and I was going to tell Marcus exactly that when I saw him later tonight.

  We were an hour into the workout when all the water I had been drinking these days caught up to me.

  I had to pee. Oh my God, did I have to pee.

  I had no choice but to use that bathroom I swore I’d never use.

  Have you ever used a port-a-potty? Okay. So imagine that but after four days in hundred degree weather after a concert. That might give you an understanding of what that bathroom resembled.

  By the time I got back I was ready to vomit and for some reason, Destry was smiling again. “What’s with that face?”

  “That bathroom smells like someone died in there.”

  He shrugged. “Someone probably did,” and then he cracked a smile, “There’s a locker room. You could have used that.”

  “There’s a locker room?”

  His eyes brightened as he spoke. “Yeah, with a shower too.”

  I threw my towel at him. “You motherfucker.”

  He did nothing but shake his head and toss the towel on the ground. “Come on, let’s go for a run.”

  I wasn’t looking forward to a run but at least I could get some fresh air and maybe get that smell out of my nose from the bathroom.

  “Who is that guy?” I asked when I saw a man come downstairs and set a bag near the ring.

  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.

  Destry was not. I took the weight in my hands and started doing those horrendous hammer curls.

  He snorted, almost disgusted as he grumbled words. “Like you don't know who I am.”

  “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 head butt 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 just 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 can and will make you breathless.

  “Here, let me help you.” Destry said, grabbing 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.

  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.

  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 I was having dirty thoughts about him was confusing to me.

  It’s because you haven’t had sex in close to a year. That’s why.

  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. I felt like when he spoke the words were delivered in a way that made you realize they were carefully chosen.

  “Good…” I nearly moaned, my eyes fading shut slightly. No, scratch that, I all out moaned the sound of arousal and he knew it. He felt my reaction to his touch. He had to have known what he was doing to me.

  He cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the stool. One thing I noticed right then was his attention. 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 in that way. 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 probably upset him. In no way did I want him to stop. The way his fingertips felt and the way the muscle in his forearms moved was almost too much to take.

  “You look deep in thought.” He mused.

  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.” I felt my spine arch, my breasts on display for him.

  He looked. Destry was never shy about looking, even from day one. He continued and curled his fingers around my calf. I wanted to reach out and feel his forearms and run my hands over his chest. Then I wanted to thread that thick dark hair between my fingers and run my hands down that sharp scruffy jaw line.

  Destry’s mouth quirked into a small smile, running 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.

  I sucked in a breath and 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 tensing and the heat in his hands seemed to feel like fire on my skin.

  He looked down at me, giving 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 green, hands splayed over me. There was just something about the way they held you in place like the sun when you stared at it. Yeah, the harshness, the brightness burned but once your eyes drifted that way, there was no way you could look away. When you blinked, finally relieving the burn, you still saw that same bright image behind your lids because it was there, reminding you of the intensity.

  I blinked slowly looking up at him, my eyes wide, my breath shallow.

  Destry seemed to be having the same reaction when I felt both hands move 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. Imagine that hovering over your entire body!

  I’d give anything to know what he was thinking right now. Why was he looking at me like this?

  He blinked, slowly, his hands moved higher and settled at my knee, then worked back down the outsides of my leg. When he spoke, I could feel his warm breath wash 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!

  “A little.” I glanced up but I couldn’t stay focused on him. No way. My other leg fell open slightly and left me basically 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 definitely wouldn’t know it judging by the impassive expression he wore.

  He flattened his palms on my leg, 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.

  He quirked an eyebrow at me, curiously, then reached for his sweatshirt beside him and put it in his lap, shielding my view of his hips.

  He wanted to stand up but he was hesitating and I think 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 definitely 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 was gathering 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 wore 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 the shower. 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 body, memorizing every inch knowing any second I would leave here and never get to see something this perfectly toned and delicious again. I’ve 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’m not sure I’d 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 lower waist down.

  All I could think about was, strip your clothes away and shower 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.

  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’s my high heels when I really need them?

  There’s a stool in the basement. Would it be weird if I got it and then came back in here?

  Don’t do that. He could be done by then.

  I didn’t. But I wanted to.

  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 that sight justice and the blazing heat shot through my body when I saw his hand move and stroke over possibly the best looking dick I’ve ever seen. I’ve 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 has happened to me? Was I denied oxygen for too long during that run? Was the lack of calorie intake causing me to openly gawk at him pleasuring himself? Who is this person in this body of mine?

  Standing there, I pressed my thighs together like I was about to wet myself but really I just needed some pressure, friction, anything. Something. My entire body shook as I tried to stay still and not fall on the floor. 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 just 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 feeling a little like I shouldn’t be watching. But this porn show was too good to pass up. Voyeur, party of one.

  This was most certainly a total invasion of privacy but I chalked it up for 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 watching 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.

  Oh yeah, most definitely deprived of oxygen.

  Let’s be hone
st 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’s for sure. Imagine how long he could go. And believe me, I was in awe of his ability to drag this out. I was read to come myself at minute two just 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’s 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 moves faster between his legs.

  He didn’t make any audible sound but just a moment later and he came on his hand and stomach. 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 at what I just witnessed.

  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 felt like 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’s 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 some sort of 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 face 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.