The sound of solid footsteps pounding up the staircase woke Effie up from a blissful dream of living on an island somewhere with a gorgeous man. Upon opening her eyes, she immediately launched into a conflicted reality, laying in this huge bed in Zander’s bedroom with the sun shining through the windows.
The sex last night had been off the charts. Two orgasms. I wonder if I can have more than two? How about four? And Zander likes to get freaky. He’s a dream come true.
But, lingering feelings of their contract made it impossible to see herself as anything more than a prostitute, no matter what Zander had assured her. And that thought brought a heaping dose of shame into her belly.
Oh, well. Effie sighed. Getting paid to be spoiled isn’t the worst thing, I suppose. And if sleeping with a sex god is one of the perks, how can I complain? She pictured the naughty video on Saucy Lady—the one Todd and Roy had given her shit for. The woman kept digging her red nails into her butt while the guy licked and licked. She shivered, remembering her orgasm all over Zander’s mouth and then all over his cock with that ring thingie. Who’s laughing now, Todd and Roy? I’ll bet you didn’t have someone cook you a delicious meal last night then pleasure you until you screamed. Stretching her arms overhead, she yawned and rolled to her side.
A few seconds later, Zander appeared in the doorway, wearing low slung sweat pants and a short-sleeved t-shirt. He held two large pale-orange drinks, one full, one nearly-empty, in his hands. Bright blue plastic straws poked out of the cups. Some sort of garment lay slung over his shoulder.
“Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?” He sauntered toward the bed and handed her the full frothy beverage.
She pushed herself up to sitting. “What’s this?” she said, her fingers curling around the cold glass. She scooted back in the bed, resting her back against her pillow, glancing at the flecks of orange topping her drink.
“Orange protein smoothie,” he said, nudging her hip over so he could sit next to her. “With orange zest on top.”
She wiggled to make space before slurping her smoothie. It tasted like oranges and coconut.
“Yum. You made this I suppose.”
“Sure did. It’s got fresh oranges, a couple of strawberries, protein powder, a banana, coconut milk, and a dash of vanilla.” He beamed at her.
“It’s heavenly.”
“Good.” He dragged the garments from his shoulder and spread them over her lap. “Because next, we’re going to the gym. I had these purchased for you. Your new trainer shoes are downstairs.”
“Oh, no.” Her head fell back on the soft headboard. “I already have PTSD nightmares of gym workouts in high school.”
“Bummer. Do we or do we not have a contract?” He flashed her a stern, mock glare. A hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth.
“Yes, General King. We have a contract.” She took another slurp of the heavenly concoction, loving his playful mood. “Where’s the gym?”
“Not far. Downstairs. Finish your drink, get dressed, and we’ll head there next.” He sucked on his straw, making a noisy slurping sound in the bottom of his cup.
She scowled, wishing he had different ideas for a workout in his mind. Like doing that straddle-his-face thing. I got lots of hip movement with that exercise. Thank you, Saucy Lady, for giving me a clue or two.
Zander swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his chiseled jaw. “I need to shave. I’ll wait downstairs for you.”
She gave him a feeble salute and half-smiled.
“Don’t look so glum. The gym won’t kill you.” He grinned at her.
“Wanna bet? Effie D’Archangel, dead by cardio at the 5th Street gym. Oh, wait. Barbell drops on her head, crushing her skull. I’m clumsy. Ask Haley.”
“That won’t happen. I’ll make sure of it.” He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth before heading out the door. “Get moving,” he called from the hallway.
“Yes, sir,” she said, adding another salute. She finished her smoothie and then rolled out of bed. With a frown at the workout clothes, she slipped them on. Once dressed, she straightened the sheets and bed covers, making the bed. Something beneath the bed caught her eye. She stooped to pick it up. Her mouth went dry at the sight of some chick’s lacy panties. They looked expensive. Not like something she’d ever be able to afford. From the looks of it, they matched the bra she’d found in the pantry. “Ew.” She scurried across the room and stuffed them into one of his dresser drawers. So, he does have a girlfriend. Shit. She forced air into her cheeks and blew it out with a gusty sigh. Don’t develop any feelings for him. This is a contract. A contract. A contract. Just do your thing, be a good little companion, and move on. She quashed any emotions threatening to surface and put her best game face on.
When they arrived at the gym fifteen minutes later, her belly filled with anxiety—the kind that stomped and splashed in her stomach like dinosaurs.
Several members were working out. Each person looked confident as he or she ran on the treadmill, pumped their legs on the elliptical machines, or lifted weights. A wall of windows let the gym members look out at the street, and, far worse, let the passersby peer in.
I so don’t need an audience. Effie gulped. I don’t fit in here. She grabbed her belly roll and squeezed it, wishing she could pinch it off like bread dough. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious.
Zander placed a hand on the back of her neck. “Nothing will bite you,” he said. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Except maybe me, after we’re done.”
Her sex throbbed and pulsed at his suggestion. Remembering the lacy panties, her heart tried to reason with her sex. Don’t fall for him. He’ll break your heart.
Oblivious to her inner torment, he dropped his gym bag on the floor, near the wall, and crouched to shuffle around inside it. When he stood, he held two white towels. He tossed one to her.
Her hand fumbled, and she dropped the towel. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She bent over to retrieve it. “What’s this for?”
“Put it around your neck. I’m going to make sure you get good and sweaty. You’ll need it to sop up sweat.”
“Oh, gosh. I don’t think this is a good idea.” Her knees almost buckled. Working out had never been on her list of things to do.
“Relax, girl. I’ve got you.” He flashed one of his charming, melt-her-panties kind of smiles.
The kind he used to get the lacy panty clad woman into his bed.
“Okay,” she stammered. “What do I do first?”
“One sec.” He lowered next to his gym bag again. When he stood, he held two mobile phones with earbuds attached. He held the one in a red case out to her. “I had your phone replaced.”
“You did? Wow. Thank you.” She reached for the phone. Inside, she bristled. I don’t need favors from him. I’ll only owe him.
“I added a couple of music channels and downloaded some of my favorite tunes. But you can listen to whatever. Even medical journals.” He winked at her.
“I like music, don’t worry.”
“Good.” He grasped her hand and led her to one of the treadmills. “Phone goes here.” He slid it into a holder on the treadmill. “Step up, and I’ll guide you through it. We’ll start you with twenty minutes of easy cardio. Then, I’ll put you through a workout on the machines, all right?”
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
He shook his head. “Just give it a try. We’re going to find the kind of activities you like, not ones thrust on you by your gym teacher.”
She climbed on the machine, and he pressed the start button. The treadmill began to move, forcing her to walk at a slow rate.
He affixed the earbuds in her ears and gave her a soft kiss. “I’ll be right in front of you.” He pointed to the free treadmill directly ahead. “You can adjust the speed here. Okay? You cool?”
“Oh, cool as a cucumber,” she said.
As soon as Zander turned to head toward his treadmill, she caught the toe of her trainer on the side of her machine. She lurched, grabbing for the handles, and righted herself.
The guy next to her snickered.
Asshole. Effie opened the display of her phone, found the music app, and scrolled through the selections. One playlist said, “Zander’s Body Mix.” She chose that one. A heavy metal tune blasted in her ears, along with a wailing male singer. She skipped that tune, opting for the next one, a zippy house beat about “wanting you to take over control, take over control, take over control.” She glanced at Zander’s back.
He’d already worked up to a jog. His muscles expanded and contracted as he ran, distracting her.
He’s gorgeous. Maybe I can overlook the fact he has a girlfriend. You know, enjoy him while I can sort of thing. Effie stumbled once again, seizing the handles lest the next-door asshole was watching. Right. I’m not a casual hookup kind of girl. She glanced at the guy next to her.
Asshole was minding his own business.
She settled into a pleasant walk.
Zander began to run. His legs pounded the treadmill like he was running for his life.
She loved watching him move. It didn’t matter who he was screwing or how many. Simply watching him move was a pleasure all on its own.
Figuring she had mastered the stroll, she tapped the up arrow, forcing her leisurely pace to become a speed walk. Yipes. She stumbled and lurched as her the treadmill belt speed increased.
The asshole stepped from his treadmill and wiped off his sweaty face. He reached over Effie’s handle-grips and tapped the down arrow.
“Don’t kill yourself. I’m a paramedic, but I’m off-duty right now.” He chuckled as he strode away.
Asshole, asshole, asshole. She flipped him the finger, even though he couldn’t see her.
Zander’s pace increased even more if that were even possible. He now dashed in a mad sprint, while she shambled along.
Good thing he isn’t facing me. She kept on sauntering, imagining she and Zander were on a beach somewhere, playing in the waves. The fantasy got the best of her, making the reality of contracts and other girlfriends drift away like soft clouds. She wanted to get sexy with him again. Maybe I can go down on him? She’d been studying Saucy Lady like a bible, fantasizing about doing some of those moves with Zander. And now that we’ve slipped outside of contract boundaries, well…
She lifted her gaze to watch his powerful strides and muscular back. Sweat stained his t-shirt. His neck looked drenched. Perspiration droplets clung to the tips of his hair.
She’d barely cracked a sweat.
After twenty minutes, her treadmill screen displayed something called “Cool Down. 5 min.” Since her pace was already close to that of a turtle, she figured she was cool enough.
Zander’s pace slowed, too, until he resumed a jog. When his treadmill came to a crawl, he put both hands on the grips and leaped to the side. He removed his earbuds, grabbed the towel from his neck, and wiped his face, his neck, and his arms. Then, he tucked his towel into the front of his sweats, pivoted around, and strode next to her.
“How’d you do? You’re not dead yet?” He grinned.
“Not yet,” she said, weakly. “You look sweaty.”
“I’ve barely begun. Let’s work on upper body strength now that you’re warm.”
“Do we have to?” she said.
He scoffed. “Trust me.”
She stepped from the torture device and followed him toward the machines.
He set her up on various devices aimed at targeting her abs, her lats, her glutes, her pectorals—basically, every muscle in her body.
Between instruction, he stacked huge metal donuts at the end of metal bars, lay back, and pumped iron, or worked with large free weights, or massive amounts of weight on machines targeting his thighs and calves.
She practically drooled watching him. But then, sexy lacy panties would bob in her inner mind, reminding her not to get carried away.
“Okay, you’re done,” he said, abruptly shaking her from her fantasies and turmoil. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, giving her fingers a warm, wet kiss. “I’m proud of you. You did everything you were asked to do. Was it that horrible?”
She considered for a moment. “Not so bad as long as I could distract myself by watching you.”
“I checked you out a time or two, myself,” he said with a wink. He leaned forward, placing his lips near her ear. “And, I’m so turned on, now, I could come on the spot.”
Her eyes widened. She let her gaze drift toward the towel in his waistband. Sure enough, a bulge protruded beneath the towel.
“Why do you think I tucked my towel in front?” he whispered. A low, deep chuckle met her ears. “You, sweet thing, turn me on, big time.”
“What shall we do about that?” she said, heat flooding her sex. All reason and caution fled the scene.
“Maybe a private workout is in order.” A wicked grin crossed his face.
Fireworks spiraled up her spine.
“Shall we go upstairs to your place?” she said, hopefully.
“Nah. I’ve got just the place. Give me your phone.”
She handed it over.
He tugged her toward his gym bag, dropped their phones inside and urged her toward a small workout room.
Opening the door, he said, “After you.”
“We’re going to do something in here?” she squeaked.
Wood covered the floor. Ballet bars stretched across one wall. Mirrors reflected her astonished face.
“Come on. It’s a fantasy of mine. There’s no class in here for at least an hour, and no one comes in these rooms unless there’s a class.” His face held an adorable puppy-dog plea kind of expression.
“Okay,” she whispered. I’ll die if we get caught.
He followed her into the room, closing the door behind them. Then, he whirled her around to face him. He pressed both hands against her cheeks and kissed her.
“I got so turned on picturing you on the treadmill,” he murmured into her lips. “I might have glanced over my shoulder a couple of times.” He pressed his muscular thigh against her leg.
Shit. What did he see? Effie tried to smile.
He backed her against the wall and wiggled one leg between her thighs.
She let out a quiet moan. Her body, it seemed, wanted to betray her desire to protect her heart.
He ground his hips against her. His bulging erection felt hot and heavy against her belly. “Shit. This is so hot. I can watch your sexy ass in the mirrors.”
The sucking-him-off idea tormenting her when she was on the treadmill slithered into her mind. Am I brave enough to try it?
There was only one way to find out. But, if someone sees me… She glanced left and right, then, up at the clock. He said there’s no class for an hour. What if he doesn’t know the schedule?
There was only one way to find out. Drop to her knees and open wide.