by Sadie King
He picks up the pace, his tongue lapping against my clit. I lean back on the dressing table and open my legs, opening myself up to him. His finger slides in, and I cry out as he moves it in and out, creating a delicious pressure against my clit.
The door handle rattles, and the irate stage manager calls again. “Curtain opens in two minutes. We need you onstage now!”
“I’m coming!” I cry breathlessly, which makes my husband chuckle into my pussy. The hot breath and the vibrations of his laughter send me over the edge, and I push myself into him as I reach my climax.
It courses through me with the power of a full orchestra reaching the crescendo. I grip the sides of the dressing table and cry out until my body stops shaking.
I’m still throbbing with ecstasy as I pull up my panties and smooth down my hair. My face is slightly red, but I’m buzzing, and I’m ready.
We’re halfway through my second world tour as a solo pianist. With Ayden’s support and Professor Chomsky’s strict practice regime, I finished the course in just three years. I’ve been touring ever since.
At almost every stop, my husband has some favorite haunt or local treasure to show me. But my favorite stops are when we visit somewhere he hasn’t been before. Then we get to explore it together.
It’s been an amazing few years of performing and traveling, and only stopping to have our two children. They come with us wherever we go.
The oldest is three years old now, and already he’s been to more cities then most people will ever go. We always come back to our home though.
Buddy will be waiting for us on the steps. Mom will have aired it out for us, and she’ll stay for a few days playing with the children in the garden.
I love performing. The critics say I have a raw, powerful energy, as if there’s some secret force inside of me. It’s no secret really. My husband fires my desire and sends me onstage dripping with passion and love.
When I play, I remember that first time he fucked me, and all our lust and love and passion for each other comes out in the music.
It’s even more potent when I’m pregnant, my body ripe and full of hormones, like it is tonight. He doesn’t know it yet, but I took a test this morning and child number three will be joining us soon.
I’ll tell him tonight after the show when we go back to the hotel. After we check on our sleeping babies, he’ll run me a bubble bath. I always like a soak after a performance to unwind. He usually joins me, and we talk about our days and what we want to see in Verona tomorrow before we move on to the next stop on the tour.
We’ve got three more stops left, and then we’re back home for a while.
I open the door and surprise the flustered stage manager bending down to knock
“I’m ready,” I tell him.
My husband walks with me to the stage. He’ll sit in the wings and watch the performance. I like knowing he’s there. And he’s never missed a show.
The lights in the auditorium go dim, and the chatter from the audience dies instantly. It’s a full house. The MC goes onto the stage, and I feel my stomach tighten with nerves. I don’t understand the Italian, but I hear my name as I’m announced.
He holds out a hand indicating my entrance. I look over to Ayden, and he gives me a reassuring nod.
He’s in his trademark tight black t-shirt; he could be one of the stagehands, only sexier. His arms bulge out of the sleeves, and a memory floods my consciousness. His arms holding me tight, balancing me above his cock as he thrusts me down his shaft and onto his lap.
As if reading my thoughts, he throws me a mischievous grin and licks his lips, which are still glistening from our escapades in the dressing room. My pussy contracts with the memory, and the knot in my stomach melts away. I take a deep breath and walk onstage.
Man of Strength
Tyler
We’re losing money at the fitness club, and I’ve gone undercover to find out what’s going on. Then I meet Zoe. From the moment she walks in on me in the gym showers, I know I need to have this woman. She’s gorgeous, she’s defiant, and I’m pretty sure she’s hiding something.
Zoe
There’s a reason I work out every day, a reason I’ve learned to defend myself and run fast, and a reason why I never stay in one place for long. Then I meet the hot new personal trainer at the gym, and suddenly I don’t want to run anymore. But will he still want me when he learns the truth?
Chapter 1
Tyler
The muscles in my back twitch as the hot water hits them. I’m pumped from my workout, I pushed myself hard, and I know I’ll be hurting tomorrow.
I pump soap from the dispenser into my palm, and the smell of lavender hits my nostrils. I frown. It’s nice but not appropriate for a men’s shower, especially at a gym. All fired up after a workout, you don’t want to get into the shower and be reminded of your granny.
I sigh inwardly. Another thing I need to speak to someone about when all this is over.
I lather myself in soap, giving each muscle a vigorous rub ‘til I’m covered in foamy suds. I dip my head under the shower and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of the water running over me. I turn around slowly to wash my back off and open my eyes.
Holy shit. There’s a woman standing by the door staring at me, and she’s fucking gorgeous.
She’s in figure-hugging Lycra that shows off a toned body and perky breasts. Her tanned skin glistens with sweat, and there are dark patches on her top between her breasts. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail and slicked back with sweat. It looks like she just finished a workout and she pushed herself as hard as I have.
The blood rushes to my dick, and it rises out of the soap suds to say hello. It’s lucky there’s a low wall separating the shower area so she can’t see the instant effect she’s having on me.
I lift my arms and run my hands through my hair. Her eyes widen as she watches the muscles ripple in my torso. Goddamn, she’s enjoying the show! And I’m enjoying her watching.
I want to stride over there, rip off her flimsy gym clothes, and press that sweaty body against mine. Instead I run a hand causally over my abs to rinse off the soap. If she wants to watch, I’ll give her a goddamn show.
“This is the men’s,” I say.
“I can see that.” Her chin tilts up slightly, defiant.
“Women’s is the other side.” I indicate the door on the other side of the room. She could go out the door she came in and walk around, but I want to see her cross the room. I want to see her ass in those tight gym leggings.
“It’s my first day here,” she says. “I got lost.”
She sticks her chin out even more as if daring me to challenge her. God, I love a challenge. I want to grab that chin in my hands and kiss her upturned mouth, make her submit to me. But I’m naked with a raging hard–on, and I don’t want to scare her.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She pulls her eyes away from my abs and looks up at my face. God, she’s beautiful.
“What’s it to you?” she says.
I let out a chuckle, and she frowns at me. I wonder what’s gotten her so wary. She’s young, can’t be more than twenty years old, and she’s got an attitude on her like she’s seen too much of the world.
“I’m Tyler,” I say. “I’m new here too.”
She lowers her chin slightly but doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“I’m a personal trainer here.” The lie comes easily, yet she pulls her eyebrows together and squints at me. Damn, she didn’t believe me. Everyone else I’ve spun my story to has accepted it without question. Who is this girl, and why is she so distrustful?
She starts across the room.
“Wait.”
I’m not sure what I’m going to say, but I know I can’t let her walk away.
She stops and turns, but she’s across the room now and at a different angle. I realize too late that when she looks back at me there’s no wall to shield my goods.
Her eyes go wide w
hen she sees my dick standing to attention. She looks up at my face, and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. For one glorious moment, I think she’s going to walk over here and take my cock in her hands.
Her eyes travel slowly down my body. Then she turns abruptly, pushes through the door, and she’s gone.
“Fuck.”
I stride out of the shower area and across the changing room. I pull the door open. It’s only been a matter of seconds, but the corridor’s empty. The door to the women’s changing room is opposite, but the door is firmly closed. If she’d gone through it would still be swinging shut. She must have gone down to reception.
I duck back into the men’s and grab my towel. I wrap it around me and head toward the door. My hard-on sticks out of the too small gym towel. Who the hell made these towels so small?
I can’t go out to reception like this. I take a few deep breaths and try to think of something dull. But the image of the slight woman with the tight muscles and pouty lips keep jumping into my head.
Fuck. I stride over to my gym bag and pull on my shorts. If I can’t lose the hard-on, I can at least hide it. I throw on my green personal trainer t-shirt which helps to hide my bulge and head out to reception. She’s nowhere to be seen. Damn.
“You see a woman come through here?” I ask the girl on reception. “Dark hair in a ponytail, this high—” I indicate her height with my hand, “—wearing black Lycra and carrying a gym bag.”
She smiles at me, twisting a strand of blond hair around her fingers.
“We see a lot of women come through here in their gym clothes,” she says with a smile. I scowl at her. I’m not in the mood to be flirted with.
“Did you see her or not?”
The smile drops from her face. “No need to be rude about it,” she says with a sulk. “She left in a hurry about a minute ago.”
There’s a low gate where members have to swipe their cards to be let through. I leap over it and stride through the door and out to the parking lot.
The cold air hits my still wet skin, making me shiver but doing nothing to ease my hard-on. It’s pretty quiet at this time of the morning, not a lot of people around. There’s a car moving at the end of the parking lot. It must be her. I set off at a jog, my bare feet slapping the pavement. I reach the car as it gets to the barrier arm and bang on the window. A startled-looking man squints at me in surprise from the driver’s seat.
“Sorry,” I mouth through the glass. “Thought you were someone else.”
I scan the parking lot, but there’s no other movement. She must have left on foot and fast.
The gym is at the end of an industrial estate with light factories on the road ahead and open parkland to the right. On the left is a footbridge that runs over a railway line. She could have gone anywhere.
I climb the bridge hoping the height will give me a better view, but there’s no sign of her. I turn in all directions, focusing on any movement that catches my eye. But the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life has vanished.
I walk casually back into reception, jump the barrier again, and lean on the reception desk. The receptionist scowls at me, and I curse myself for not being nicer to her earlier. I lean forward and flash her my biggest smile.
“Did you find her?” she asks.
“She’d already gone,” I say. “Left her phone behind. I was hoping to catch her.”
“We have a lost property box,” she suggests.
“It’s a hell of a thing to be without though, isn’t it...?” I glance down at her name badge, and she thinks I’m looking at her breasts, “...Melanie?”
She picks up the strand of hair again and smiles at me.
“If you have her information, I can drop it off to her.”
“You personal trainers.” She mock rolls her eyes. “Always wanting personal information for members.”
I wonder which hot-headed beefcake has been harassing the gym members, and then I remember that that’s exactly what I’m doing.
“I can’t give out personal information,” she says. “But I’m going out to the storeroom for a minute, and my computer’s open.”
She smiles at me conspiratorially, and I tighten inside at how easy that was. She scoots away and I lean over to her computer, pulling the screen around towards me.
I pull up the info from the exit barriers and find the last one to swipe out. Zoe Canning. From there, it’s easy to click into her information. 18 High Street, right in the center of town. Challenge accepted.
Man of Strength, Coming soon…