Is this all there is to us? Just friends with benefits? Will it ever be more than this? Can it be? If I ask him that out loud, will everything we have right now disappear?
Beneath the pads of my fingers, I feel the cords in his neck relax before that massive arm snakes under me and reaches around the washer, leveraging us both in place.
With my back straight up against the machine, I lean onto his braced arm. My other hand holds the bar above me, steadying myself as he finds my entrance. Usalv’s eagerness turns to impatience, the scorching kisses he scatters across my naked breasts turn to insistent, arousing bites. But he’s a man of eerie self-control and restraint who won’t go further unless I’m ready.
“Come here, Usalv.” My legs wrap around his torso, drawing him inside.
He inches into me slowly, giving my body time to adjust to his considerable presence.
It becomes a little easier every time we’re together.
Usalv is huge any way you look at him, but while he’s above average in length, it’s his girth that makes him monstrous. Over the past few weeks, my body has been adapting to it, so now, we’re focused on ways to cope with his length.
“A-ah.” His grunt is a strange sounding mix of relief and satisfaction.
As my body accepts his presence inside, our hips move in unison, coaxing ever deepening thrusts from him. I feel the intensity of his eyes watching me, gauging my reaction to his inevitable contact with the apex of my intimate core.
“Oh…Christ,” I gasp, as his broad head drums against that deep place inside me. His thrusts stop, but he stays burrowed tight against my cervix. An eternal moment later, I’m engulfed by an indescribable contraction that radiates through my entire body, filling me with all-consuming sensation.
“Breathe, Sweet Lou. Breathe.” His massive hands grab the bottoms of my thighs and hold me in place. I jerk back against the machine, and my grip on his shoulder slackens, leaving me suspended by Usalv’s gentle, urgent strength.
My breathing comes in quick rasps, the way it does on the final fifty yards of a 5K run. When the sensation becomes too much, I grip the bar above and pull myself up as he pumps hard and deep, timing the movements so that Usalv’s vigorous strokes only graze the sensitive apex of my inner core.
The pace of his entry slows, allowing me to adapt to the sensation of being touched there. After several eternal moments, the ache transforms into something else.
Something incredible.
My body shudders as he titillates my other intimate zones, igniting a blast of pleasure I’ve never experienced before. Usalv’s name erupts from the back of my throat, but words abandon me as I utter a guttural cry before fading into oblivion.
He rests his chin atop my shoulder with his forehead pressed against the cool metal of the laundry machine. From his taut stance and firm grip, I can tell he’s beginning to lose himself. But this time, something’s different.
“Usalv?” My voice is a dry and gravelly when it returns.
Instead of the usual panting and accompanying sigh of satisfaction, his chest heaves, gasping for air. I’m starting to get worried when he cries out, a primal, uncontrolled outburst that startles me.
“Careful,” I warn, as his legs buckle and he leans into me for support.
As we start sliding down the side of the machine, I reach up and grab the bar above me with both hands. Our descent halts for a moment, but he’s heavy. My legs squeeze hard around his panting torso but my sweaty hands begin to lose their grip.
Usalv presses his shoulders into me, unjoins us, and falls to his knees. The floor is covered with the dirty sheets neither of us had time to wash. He catches and gently lays me down next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he says after several silent moments.
“Sorry? What? Why?”
He caresses the back of my neck. “I… I…” Usalv swallows hard, “…got a little carried away. You must be wrecked.” He sounds disgusted.
“I’m fine,” I assure him.
“Don’t lie,” he insists. “Please.”
“I’m not lying. And it upsets me that you think I would, especially about something like this.”
He turns on one side, propping himself up on one elbow to study me. “Really? No headaches, or nausea? And your parts are…okay?”
“Everything’s fine. We’ve spent a lot of time adjusting to each other these past few weeks.” I sit up, wrap myself in the dirty sheets, and stare at him. “Maybe today felt special because our bodies have reached an understanding with each other. But nausea and headaches? No.” I shake my head. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugs. “Past experience.”
“What experience?” I tread with caution into the minefield of his life before me.
“Pain. Headaches. Exhaustion.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Women, you know?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” My hands cup his face and force him to look at me. “Nothing we did should cause any of those things.”
“Seriously?” His voice is tinged with disbelief.
“Absolutely not. At least not without other health issues.” I pause, hesitant as snake on a busy bike path. “Did your…your last girlfriend have any?”
“She didn’t have any medical problems. Besides, it wasn’t just her. It’s pretty common set of issues with the women I date.”
“Oh. And, um what women are those?” The bottom of my stomach drops out.
Even he hesitates a bit. “Underwear models.”
“Underwear models?” I repeat. “As in five-foot nine and a dollar-five wet?”
“Yeah.” He winces and looks away. “From the fights. It’s pretty much where I get to meet women.”
“Oh, Usalv.” I sigh, a mixture of self-soothing and understanding. “You do realize if they’re subsisting on coffee, cigarettes, and lettuce leaves, that they might damn well be exhausted and have headaches all the time?”
“What?” He’s incredulous. “For real?”
“Sure. I have an older cousin who used to model. We’re all tall women on my mom’s side. Anyway, senior year of high school, she tells me to try it, has me meet her agent. The guy says ‘Call me when you lose fifteen pounds.’ I was a state ranked cross-country runner at the time. Unbelievable. I said no thanks and never had any regrets.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Usalv sits up and uses his fingers to pry mine away from the sheet wrapped around me. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not beautiful. Aren’t we past the false flattery yet?” I ask. “I just work out a lot. Sports are my escape.”
“Wait a minute. False flattery?” he repeats. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”
“Not usually. What do you mean?”
Usalv sits up against the dryer. “Lou… The ways guys look at you, the way they talk to you, and about you. Hell, we even get into fist fights over you.” He pins me with a direct stare. “What do you think that’s all about?”
“It’s guys being guys.” It’s the truth. “A lot of it is just talk to see how far they can get. And of course, at our gym women are few and far between. Like ten to one, so selection is limited. In situations where there are more women, it’s no big deal.”
“So in school, the guys weren’t chasing you?”
I laugh out loud. “No. Boyfriends have never been my major, especially in high school.”
“Because you were so tall?”
“That and I had a rep.”
“A rep? For what? This I got to hear.”
“No, you don’t.” I’m suddenly uncomfortable. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah. And it still bothers you. Why?”
“Because even though I’ve moved on, it still pisses me off when I think about it.” I shake my head back and forth. “So I try to avoid it.”
“Makes sense,” he agrees. “How old were you when it happened?”
“Ninth grade.” My voice becomes distant. “Robbie
Shooter tried to make Mandy Hayes jealous by asking me to the school dance. Guess it was a safe bet that I didn’t have any plans yet.” A rush of humiliation makes me shiver.
“And then what?” he prompts me.
“When Mandy found out, she was pissed off. A few of her friends tried to jump me on the way home from school.” A wave of satisfaction rolls over me. “Things didn’t go the way they planned.”
“I’ll bet.” He smirks. “They didn’t know you studied martial arts?”
“Nope. My Dad enrolled me when I was small, hoping it would help with my confidence. It did. I was fourteen when Mandy and her friends jumped me. I’d earned my black belt at eleven.”
“That’s young.”
“I guess so. Chong Kim was a former Korean Olympic coach who moved here to live with his adult children. He ran a martial arts-based after school program. I started there in kindergarten and stayed until college.” Happy memories of that time bring me comfort.
“What happened at school?” Usalv asks.
“It all turned into a major shit show.” I hug my knees. “Robbie Shooter was pissed off at me for Mandy’s black eye. He ditched me before the dance.”
“What an asshole,” says Usalv.
“Yeah, it sucked. I was an awkward girl who was really excited that a boy had asked me to the dance. For an entire three days, I was on cloud nine. But it didn’t last. And things got worse from there.”
“Worse? How?”
“Mandy and her friends. When their parents saw their injuries, they complained to the school, and I got called out of lunch by the principal. In front of the whole school.”
“Goddamn,” he whispers.
“I can still remember the oohs of the idiots sitting at the table, and the bitchy comments made by Mandy’s friends as I walked past them.” I twist a loose strand of hair. “When I explained what the girls had done, the principal asked why I hadn’t been hurt. That’s when I told her about being a black belt.”
“What did the principal do?”
“I got a week’s worth of detention, but Mandy and her friends were banned from the dance. Robbie was afraid I’d beat the crap out of him for ditching me.”
“I hope you did,” he tells me.
“Nah. I was already unpopular enough with boys, at least in a dating kind of way. The whole Robbie Shooter mess haunted me through high school. I felt…tolerated, but never like I belonged.” I squeeze my shoulders together. “The good news was that people didn’t hassle me. They even stopped calling me the Ostrich. At least when I was around. But I counted the days until graduation.”
Usalv rubs my back we sit in silence for a few moments.
“Well, that helps explain why you think guys’ interest is nothing but bullshit.” Usalv strokes my hair. “He was an asshole, Louise. So were the guys that never gave you a chance. What happened just plain sucks.”
“It hurts when you don’t fit in, and you’re lonely and sad. But what makes it suck even more is that part of the reason you don’t fit in is because you don’t want to.” I’ve never possessed the emotional clarity to realize that about me until now.
“You didn’t want to?”
“No. I think I wished that things could’ve been different. That if I’d tried harder to join those cliques, it would’ve been better for me. But mean people suck and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to be.”
“They do.” He stares at me with a pensive expression. “You are the kindest, strongest, most patient woman I’ve ever met. And I wouldn’t want you any other way,” he tells me. “Come here, my beautiful Ostrich.”
Usalv draws my naked body into his, rubbing my back before he applies a gentle kiss to my forehead, a tender bandage on my old wounds.
22
“Goddamn it, what the hell was that?” Rodgers rants from ringside.
Lucky Mike, my hotheaded sparring partner, is fast and focused this morning. That’s the second hit he’s landed since we started, which wasn’t long ago.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from him today. He should have been at Paul and Macy’s party a month ago, but he’d never turned up. The next time I see him he’s here, waiting ringside, geared up and ready to go. He’s been calm, collected, and capable ever since.
Fuck!
He tags me again, this time on the thigh with a round kick.
What the hell is wrong with me? My concentration is razor sharp, but my speed isn’t great. As I shake off his last strike, I realize that I’ve probably dipped to about two-forty two on the scale.
“Okay, okay guys.” Rodgers huffs. “Let’s wrap it up. We all know what we need to know today.”
Mike and I relax our stances, and he claps me on the shoulder. “Hey, Madman.”
“Mike.” I bend at the waist to catch my breath.
He hesitates for a minute. “You good, Madman?”
My laugh is flat. “I’ve been better.”
“Damn.” Mike puts his hands on his waist. “I was hoping it was all me.”
“A lot of it was.” I’m honest. “You definitely brought your A-game today.”
He nods, then hesitates. “How’s Louise?”
My breath returns and I stand straight. We stare at each other for a few seconds. But he’s chill and his gloved palms hang unfurled at his sides.
“I’m not trying to piss you off, Mike. But we’re really good.” I meet his eyes without flinching. “I didn’t steal her from you. She was never yours.”
“I know.” He’s calm and collected, so unlike him. “And I’m sorry.” He gives me a stern nod. “For real.” He extends a vertical fist.
What the fuck is going on? “Thanks.” Stunned, I jab my fist into his extended one.
“Usalv?” Rodgers bellows from his perch by the ring. “Come on over.”
“Fuck. Here it comes. I better go,” I tell Mike.
“Sure. See you, Madman.”
“Yeah. Take it easy, Mike.”
Mike nods to Rodgers, who returns a nod of approval. Then he exits through the ropes and heads toward the locker room.
I approach Rodgers, who leans in over the ropes with a pissed off expression.
“Well.” Rodgers grunts as I stop in front of him. “That sucked major ass.”
“All right, I had an off-day. It happens.”
“Not with you.” Rodgers replies. “You’re the most consistent fighter that I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, this diet consistently sucks,” I complain. “And I don’t like fighting at this weight.”
“So it’s the diet, eh?” Rodgers asks.
“Well, it ain’t helping.”
“I see.” He pauses before giving me a thoughtful look. “How’s Louise?”
Rodgers stares off into the distance as he waits for my answer. He’s treading on dangerous ground and he knows it. I’ve become private and protective about our relationship, and I’ll be damned before anyone holds it against us.
Even him.
“If she’s not here by now, she went for a run before going home.”
“Oh.” Rodgers stands and crosses his arms. “So you’re not out partying all night? Boozing it up, maybe?”
I give a short laugh. “Hell no. We’re both too busy. And she’s busier than I am.” I pull off the towel hanging from my waistband and rub the sweat from my face.
“Well, if that’s the truth, then your problem can only be one thing.”
“I haven’t got a problem, Coach.”
“Sure you do. It’s too much sex.”
I freeze, then peel the towel away from my face and stare at him. “What?”
Rodgers looks around the gym, then hops off the edge of the ring and gestures for me to follow. I hesitate a moment, then squeeze between the ropes and jump down beside him.
“You’re having too much sex,” he informs me after a quick look around. “At the wrong times. On the wrong days.”
“Too much sex? Is there such a thing?” I try to turn the situation into a joke.<
br />
“Yes, there is. Especially for a pro athlete.” Rodgers shakes his head. “You know, I’ve never done the birds and bees conversation with you. You’ve always been so consistent with your training. And so inconsistent with women.”
“Well, that’s changed,” I assure him.
“Obviously.”
“Really? What else is obvious?” I feel myself starting to get pissed off, which sucks because most the time Rodgers and I see eye-to-eye on everything training related.
He sighs. “You two are doing it sometime between seven thirty and eight thirty in the morning, which leaves you no stamina for sparring.”
Every now and then, Rodgers checks me with a strong dose of reality and reminds me why he’s a top tier trainer. Because he doesn’t miss a fucking thing. He’s dead right. Louise and I hook up right when she gets home, so she gets enough time to rest and I can get to the gym.
“Mike did a helluva job this morning.”
“Because you were really piss-poor.”
“Ground you’ve covered already.” I wring my towel around my knuckles. “But that’s the most focused he’s ever come to work and it makes this look worse than it was.”
“Damn it, you sure got a never-ending line of shit this morning. You also get here about fifteen minutes later than usual. You’re not late for sparring, but you’re not as focused either.”
Rodgers is an honest man. I value his opinion. But that doesn’t mean he’s right.
“When I lost the first ten pounds, I felt fine. Then you told me I needed to lose another six. After another four, I felt weak.”
“But you were faster.”
“Maybe, but it wasn’t the diet.”
“Then what was it?”
“Elevated testosterone levels.” I tell him after a long silence.
“Elevated…?” Rodgers looks around and ducks his head. “Are you on something?”
“For real?” I glare at him. “You can tell what time of day I’m doing it, but you can’t tell if I’m juicing or not? Fuck that.”
“Okay, my bad,” he grunts. “Elevated testosterone levels? Do tell.”
“After she moved in.” My voice is calm and certain, meant to assure him as much as me. “But before we started sleeping together.” I blow out a breath. “When I got torqued, I’d ice off in the shower. Miserable way to treat a case of blue balls, but that’s what improved my workouts.”
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